The Macabees
27-05-2005, 00:31
[Acera, Ghana]
The streets of Acera, Ghana's capital and most prosperous city, were strangely empty of pedestrians, tourists or even foreign soldiers. Indeed, ever since the country had fallen into disrepaid, due to the general apathy of the occupying nation, Binthor, Ghana had become a scene of poverty and new grown religious and racial tensions. It was rather saddening, however, it created a scene within a country that would ultimately prove beneficial to other imperialist in the sorrounding area.
In the vacuum that was created after the decension of Binthor's hold over Ghana the political world of said country revolved around the ever present problem of tension between the Catholic and Christian population with those of the Muslim faith. The latter's overwhelming presence in the country, however, had allowed for a man named Abwon Komani, Field Marshall of Ghana's home army, to gain power inside the corrupted hallways of Acera's government buildings. Although, officially, he was nothing to the international world, in Ghana he held the strings which pulled every day life, and in his hands were the lives of every single person inside the country.
His policies had been debatable amongst scolars of the foreign world. Regardless, they did not live inside Ghana, and consequently, did not understand how the people thought. Simply put, the people did not think, ergo Komani had found it relatively easy to twist their minds into believing his false ideologies and preachings. Immediately after his accension to power he had begun a series of reforms which gradually limited the rights of Ghana's Christian population, but nonetheless, the latter had held their ground. The situation has grown so much that it was now ready to explode - and it appeared that it would do so any given day.
Acera had turned from a fairly prosperous coastal trade city, receiving trade from Nigeria, Benin and Cote d'Ivoire, as well as other African countries, and other more powerful European and American nations. However, it had fallen into disrepaired and shown. The housing was rundown, at least compared to the shanties that had spreckeled the city before, and the city center, a once attractive tourist center had become cratered with war and the generally oppressive rule of Binthor. Now, roaming bands of para-military, the once guerilla units that had bowed to fight Binthor to the last, controlled the streets, their small Nissan pick-up trucks visibly moving up and down the unpaved roadways, through housing and other buildings.
With this situation around him Colonel Faras al'Luftana, an Islamic member of the Ghanan para-military force, which now numbered around seventy-thousand men, spread around in seven 'armies' spreading Komani's control of the country, took another drag from the imported Cuban cigar in his mouth, tightly held by his two closest fingers to his thumb. He took it out, and let out a puff of smoke in a beautifully created ring, and then he took yet another drag, his eyes and his emotion hidden began thick, black aviator glasses snugly on his nose. He turned his head, gradually, and took a look at the men under his command raiding Christian housing deep within the city, and yelled,"Move."
Women, children and men came weeping out of their houses, lined up on the dirt road which connected them to the center of the city. Perhaps a full load of sixty or seventy people were dragged out of their houses and lined up. Faras a'Luftana looked at them, his face rock hard without emotion, and he turned to his men who had finished their looting and waited for his orders. He only let out two words, "Shoot them."
Immediately, his gunners, carrying antiquated Ak-47s and Soviet submachine guns, opened fire, lead pouring out the muzzles of the guns. The fire penetrating through the air before their eyes was nothing compared to the red tide of blood flowing from the gushing wounds of those dying. The entire row was raked and slaughtered. Some attempted to dash and run, but they were shot down all the same. The death squad left no man, woman or child alive, and with their deaths, so died their screams and wounds.
The colonel lifted his glasses to survey the situation and finished off the bloody operation with,"Get what you can carry. We leave in ten minutes. Off!"
[Sekondi-Takoradi, Ghana]
"God, the son and the spirit," finished father Ramon Perez, a Spanish missionary to Ghana, who had come to spread the dying faith in Africa. He had lived in the country for thirteen years and had actually been relieved when Binthor had occupied it, thinking that the western occupation would bring Ghana peace at last. However, Komani's rise to power had brought no peace to his own thoughts, and he could only think of the violence that could ensue. However, he had vowed not to run, and instead to focus on the safety of those who trusted him the most - it would turn out to be his largest mistake.
Sekondi-Takoradi, a large town about three hundred and fifty kilometers SouthWest of Acera had not been the target of Komani's para-military or conventional military forces until a few weeks back. However, the two weeks of occupation under Komani had brought hell to the predominately Christian population, and ergo, to Perez himself. It had come to a point where clashes between para-military forces and Christian para-military forces were frequent.
As he finished his Sunday mass sermon the thick wooden doors to the rural church opened with a thud. He turned around screaming,"This is a house of God. Only peace can remain here! Who dares interrupt the most holiest of days in the week?"
As he saw the two soldiers walk in, armed with heavy Ak-47s, he thought to himself the mistake he had just made. However, one of them, obviously the leader, chuckeled and said,"Be quiet old man. God no longer rules here. Komani does."
Perez shuddered at that thought, and then realized the man was right, but he did not give ground,"We do not want your war, or your violence. All we want is to serve God."
The man retorted,"Again, there is no God to serve in Ghana."
With that the two soldiers swinged their Ak-47s from their shoulders and put six bullets into the father, killing him instantly. They pointed their guns over the others, sitting on the wooden benches around them, and small screams let loose. The man laughed louder and then turned around, leaving the other man behind.
What happened next was something that no one could re-iterate. But when the two men finally left the vicinity of the church, all that was left was a smoldering, black frame of a building, with shot out glasses. There were no other survivors...
The streets of Acera, Ghana's capital and most prosperous city, were strangely empty of pedestrians, tourists or even foreign soldiers. Indeed, ever since the country had fallen into disrepaid, due to the general apathy of the occupying nation, Binthor, Ghana had become a scene of poverty and new grown religious and racial tensions. It was rather saddening, however, it created a scene within a country that would ultimately prove beneficial to other imperialist in the sorrounding area.
In the vacuum that was created after the decension of Binthor's hold over Ghana the political world of said country revolved around the ever present problem of tension between the Catholic and Christian population with those of the Muslim faith. The latter's overwhelming presence in the country, however, had allowed for a man named Abwon Komani, Field Marshall of Ghana's home army, to gain power inside the corrupted hallways of Acera's government buildings. Although, officially, he was nothing to the international world, in Ghana he held the strings which pulled every day life, and in his hands were the lives of every single person inside the country.
His policies had been debatable amongst scolars of the foreign world. Regardless, they did not live inside Ghana, and consequently, did not understand how the people thought. Simply put, the people did not think, ergo Komani had found it relatively easy to twist their minds into believing his false ideologies and preachings. Immediately after his accension to power he had begun a series of reforms which gradually limited the rights of Ghana's Christian population, but nonetheless, the latter had held their ground. The situation has grown so much that it was now ready to explode - and it appeared that it would do so any given day.
Acera had turned from a fairly prosperous coastal trade city, receiving trade from Nigeria, Benin and Cote d'Ivoire, as well as other African countries, and other more powerful European and American nations. However, it had fallen into disrepaired and shown. The housing was rundown, at least compared to the shanties that had spreckeled the city before, and the city center, a once attractive tourist center had become cratered with war and the generally oppressive rule of Binthor. Now, roaming bands of para-military, the once guerilla units that had bowed to fight Binthor to the last, controlled the streets, their small Nissan pick-up trucks visibly moving up and down the unpaved roadways, through housing and other buildings.
With this situation around him Colonel Faras al'Luftana, an Islamic member of the Ghanan para-military force, which now numbered around seventy-thousand men, spread around in seven 'armies' spreading Komani's control of the country, took another drag from the imported Cuban cigar in his mouth, tightly held by his two closest fingers to his thumb. He took it out, and let out a puff of smoke in a beautifully created ring, and then he took yet another drag, his eyes and his emotion hidden began thick, black aviator glasses snugly on his nose. He turned his head, gradually, and took a look at the men under his command raiding Christian housing deep within the city, and yelled,"Move."
Women, children and men came weeping out of their houses, lined up on the dirt road which connected them to the center of the city. Perhaps a full load of sixty or seventy people were dragged out of their houses and lined up. Faras a'Luftana looked at them, his face rock hard without emotion, and he turned to his men who had finished their looting and waited for his orders. He only let out two words, "Shoot them."
Immediately, his gunners, carrying antiquated Ak-47s and Soviet submachine guns, opened fire, lead pouring out the muzzles of the guns. The fire penetrating through the air before their eyes was nothing compared to the red tide of blood flowing from the gushing wounds of those dying. The entire row was raked and slaughtered. Some attempted to dash and run, but they were shot down all the same. The death squad left no man, woman or child alive, and with their deaths, so died their screams and wounds.
The colonel lifted his glasses to survey the situation and finished off the bloody operation with,"Get what you can carry. We leave in ten minutes. Off!"
[Sekondi-Takoradi, Ghana]
"God, the son and the spirit," finished father Ramon Perez, a Spanish missionary to Ghana, who had come to spread the dying faith in Africa. He had lived in the country for thirteen years and had actually been relieved when Binthor had occupied it, thinking that the western occupation would bring Ghana peace at last. However, Komani's rise to power had brought no peace to his own thoughts, and he could only think of the violence that could ensue. However, he had vowed not to run, and instead to focus on the safety of those who trusted him the most - it would turn out to be his largest mistake.
Sekondi-Takoradi, a large town about three hundred and fifty kilometers SouthWest of Acera had not been the target of Komani's para-military or conventional military forces until a few weeks back. However, the two weeks of occupation under Komani had brought hell to the predominately Christian population, and ergo, to Perez himself. It had come to a point where clashes between para-military forces and Christian para-military forces were frequent.
As he finished his Sunday mass sermon the thick wooden doors to the rural church opened with a thud. He turned around screaming,"This is a house of God. Only peace can remain here! Who dares interrupt the most holiest of days in the week?"
As he saw the two soldiers walk in, armed with heavy Ak-47s, he thought to himself the mistake he had just made. However, one of them, obviously the leader, chuckeled and said,"Be quiet old man. God no longer rules here. Komani does."
Perez shuddered at that thought, and then realized the man was right, but he did not give ground,"We do not want your war, or your violence. All we want is to serve God."
The man retorted,"Again, there is no God to serve in Ghana."
With that the two soldiers swinged their Ak-47s from their shoulders and put six bullets into the father, killing him instantly. They pointed their guns over the others, sitting on the wooden benches around them, and small screams let loose. The man laughed louder and then turned around, leaving the other man behind.
What happened next was something that no one could re-iterate. But when the two men finally left the vicinity of the church, all that was left was a smoldering, black frame of a building, with shot out glasses. There were no other survivors...