Malgeria
22-01-2005, 08:18
The skies were a bright blue over the large oasis city of Al-Adiri. A slight breeze blew across the surrounding desert, kicking up a cloud of dust that proceeded to roll through the streets. However, this calm was but an illusion. In the streets below, chaos was becoming rule.
In the southern neighborhoods, the rattle of Russian rifles shook the silence, mingling with harsh shouts, and cries of wounded men. The white streak of a rocket propelled grenades culminated in fiery towers and a rain of twisted metal as vehicles, both military and civilian were blown to pieces.
A man crouched behind a building in a cool, dark alleyway, a checked shemagh tied around his face and an AK-47 in his hands. He breathed heavily, building up his courage. Looking to heaven, he said a quick, silent prayer and bolted out into the street, sprinting for an alley adjacent the one he had come from. Gunfire from unknown sources on both sides of the street exploded, bullets landing in the dirt around his feet. As he drew near the opposite end, he leapt forward, careening through the air, and rolling to safety.
Two similarly garbed men dragged him to his feet, and they rushed through an open door into a run down apartment building. They scurried up a flight of stairs into a room, empty save for a table covered in rifles and other small arms.
“Abbud, take this.”
One of his compatriots thrust an RPG-7 into the man’s hands, and gestured towards a shuttered window. Abbud moved towards the window, and crouched. He slowly opened the shutters, and peered down the street to a sandbag barrier where several uniformed Malgerian soldiers were taking cover. Abbud carefully took aim, and fired. The grenade streaked through the air, and slammed into the sandbag bunker, sending mangled bodies sprawling. He hastily discarded the weapon, and rushed out of the room with the others.
“Good shooting.”
They rushed down the stairs and out into the alleyway, disappearing into the depths of the city.
Two months before, this city had been a peaceful metropolitan center. People went uninterrupted to their jobs in the morning, and came home in the evening unafraid. The police kept the streets safe, and the government militias protected the borders. Lately, this had all changed.
The Malgerian region had always been one plagued by ethnic tension, largely between
the minority of nomads that roamed the southern desert and the largely settled Arab peoples of the rest of the nation. However, for the past decade the tension had been muted. Ethnic southern Malgerians had even begun to settle among their northern distant kin in the various cities on the border between the grasslands of the north and the desert plains. Still, buried under the sense of peace and relative prosperity, the hatred between the people had festered.
In July of 1999, in a an election with a largely questionable outcome, Abdul Hassad was elected to the office of Prime-Minister. The man had long been an outspoken critic of government tolerance for the nomadic southern tribes, whom he viewed as inferior, unwashed animals. His ever growing cult of followers were said to be responsible for numerous crimes against former nomadic tribesmen dwelling among them. His election had come as a shock to the more level headed of the Malgerian people.
In the week after his taking office, President Hassad instituted a campaign against the ethnic Malgerians, confining them to certain designated areas, and depriving them of their ability to associate with the rest of the nation’s peoples. As the weeks drew on the ethnic Malgerians grew tired of their oppression, and in several isolated incidents, attacks by Malgerian gunmen were reported on government soldiers.
Presiden Hassad’s men retaliated, moving large quantities of troops into the southern villages, and brutalizing the locals. Violence flared, and soon enough frequent reports were coming in of entire villages being liquidated by enraged generals.
The city of Al-Adiri was caught in the center of this tension. Dominated largely by ethnic Malgerians, though governed by Arabs loyal to the President’s cause, the city had practically exploded, with members of the Malgerian Guerilla Freedom Movement launching an all out war on the soldiers sent in to garrison the city. The city had now become a slaughterhouse.
In the southern neighborhoods, the rattle of Russian rifles shook the silence, mingling with harsh shouts, and cries of wounded men. The white streak of a rocket propelled grenades culminated in fiery towers and a rain of twisted metal as vehicles, both military and civilian were blown to pieces.
A man crouched behind a building in a cool, dark alleyway, a checked shemagh tied around his face and an AK-47 in his hands. He breathed heavily, building up his courage. Looking to heaven, he said a quick, silent prayer and bolted out into the street, sprinting for an alley adjacent the one he had come from. Gunfire from unknown sources on both sides of the street exploded, bullets landing in the dirt around his feet. As he drew near the opposite end, he leapt forward, careening through the air, and rolling to safety.
Two similarly garbed men dragged him to his feet, and they rushed through an open door into a run down apartment building. They scurried up a flight of stairs into a room, empty save for a table covered in rifles and other small arms.
“Abbud, take this.”
One of his compatriots thrust an RPG-7 into the man’s hands, and gestured towards a shuttered window. Abbud moved towards the window, and crouched. He slowly opened the shutters, and peered down the street to a sandbag barrier where several uniformed Malgerian soldiers were taking cover. Abbud carefully took aim, and fired. The grenade streaked through the air, and slammed into the sandbag bunker, sending mangled bodies sprawling. He hastily discarded the weapon, and rushed out of the room with the others.
“Good shooting.”
They rushed down the stairs and out into the alleyway, disappearing into the depths of the city.
Two months before, this city had been a peaceful metropolitan center. People went uninterrupted to their jobs in the morning, and came home in the evening unafraid. The police kept the streets safe, and the government militias protected the borders. Lately, this had all changed.
The Malgerian region had always been one plagued by ethnic tension, largely between
the minority of nomads that roamed the southern desert and the largely settled Arab peoples of the rest of the nation. However, for the past decade the tension had been muted. Ethnic southern Malgerians had even begun to settle among their northern distant kin in the various cities on the border between the grasslands of the north and the desert plains. Still, buried under the sense of peace and relative prosperity, the hatred between the people had festered.
In July of 1999, in a an election with a largely questionable outcome, Abdul Hassad was elected to the office of Prime-Minister. The man had long been an outspoken critic of government tolerance for the nomadic southern tribes, whom he viewed as inferior, unwashed animals. His ever growing cult of followers were said to be responsible for numerous crimes against former nomadic tribesmen dwelling among them. His election had come as a shock to the more level headed of the Malgerian people.
In the week after his taking office, President Hassad instituted a campaign against the ethnic Malgerians, confining them to certain designated areas, and depriving them of their ability to associate with the rest of the nation’s peoples. As the weeks drew on the ethnic Malgerians grew tired of their oppression, and in several isolated incidents, attacks by Malgerian gunmen were reported on government soldiers.
Presiden Hassad’s men retaliated, moving large quantities of troops into the southern villages, and brutalizing the locals. Violence flared, and soon enough frequent reports were coming in of entire villages being liquidated by enraged generals.
The city of Al-Adiri was caught in the center of this tension. Dominated largely by ethnic Malgerians, though governed by Arabs loyal to the President’s cause, the city had practically exploded, with members of the Malgerian Guerilla Freedom Movement launching an all out war on the soldiers sent in to garrison the city. The city had now become a slaughterhouse.