Peltapavlosk
28-03-2007, 21:36
The March Revolution: Peltapavlosk Rebels
“Socialism is the abolition of human self-alienation, the return of man as a real human being.”
~ Eric Fromm, German born American social Philosopher and Psychoanalyst, 1900-1980
'All the way- we'll go the distance now
All the way- stand behind me now
All the way- no turning back
All the way 'cause we are together'
'I'm standin' proud,
We're screaming loud,
I'll lead the crowd
Running wild in the streets'
~ W.A.S.P. – ‘Running Wild in the Streets’
~~~
The crackle of gunfire hung in the air above the city, mixing with the smoke and dust that lingered and cast a dull hue over the bright March morning. Across the city, the peace of yet another day was completely shattered, the streets thronging in the rising pre-noon heat, the artificial architecture shattered by the natural struggles of humanity once again.
The march on the Presidential Palace had initially stalled, as tens upon thousands of weary, angry and dishevelled citizens armed with little more than household implements and private handguns had come up against the Peltapavlosk Republican Guard, the determined steel ring that protected the ‘Great and Loved Dictator’ over the course of his seventeen year rule. For several hours, the citizens had stood, waving banners of crimson, chanting various slogans against President-General Smith. It was a full four hours before Republican Guard Command ordered the troops to attack the crowd.
The beginning of the fight was a bloodbath; armed as they were, the crowd was little match for the heavily armoured Guardsman sporting automatic weaponry, and the crowd was slowly pushed back along Presidential Boulevard, the main road through town leading directly to the palace itself. As yells of anger and cries of pain and anguish intermixed in the cacophony of noise and action, the rumble of engines and the crunching of tank treads pierced the sounds of the battle as six Chieftain Battle Tanks rolled up the Boulevard behind the protesters and grinded to a halt on squealing brakes. Those at the tailing edge of the crowd called out warnings and tried helplessly to stop the massive tide of people from the fate that seemed to await them.
The lead Chieftain tracked its main cannon across the crowd as it was pushed back by the Republican Guard. It aimed its smooth, menacing barrel directly down the street and into the rebelling citizens. Then, slowly, it raised its turret to a higher inclination.
The shell landed directly in the centre of the main group of Republican Guard, throwing soldier’s bodies in all directions as the high explosive shell detonated. The crowd waved, unsure as the tank fired again over their heads and exploded in the Guard columns once more.
After a moment, the hatch upon the tank opened, and one of the crew stood up on the turret. Removing his helmet, he shook his hair free in the breeze and surveyed the crowd. Alexander Andreovitch Rodenbach grinned, and pointed down the Boulevard with a gloved finger.
The crowd bolstered itself, cheering at the arrival of the Socialist Revolutionary Vanguard Party leader. They began moving to the sides, allowing a path through which the tanks could move, chanting Alex’s surname. Behind them, the infantry of the Republican Guard was pulling back to defensive positions within the palace grounds. Alexander grinned.
“Come, comrades!” he shouted over the roar of the diesel engines. “Victory is in our grasp. We have only our chains to lose now!” And, amid furious cheers of support, he dropped back into the turret of the tank as the driver floored the accelerator. The column of vehicles leaned back on their suspension as they rolled forward, their turrets tracking once more. Cheering, the masses of people followed behind, makeshift infantry following the tanks into battle against their oppressors.
Within the Palace there was chaos. Orderlies and other staff ran around the building in panic, not sure where to be or what to do. Guardsmen barricaded doors and windows and trained automatic weapons out of the windows, picking off shots at the advancing masses. Far below the complex, President-General Igor Smith paced the length of the bomb shelter, a group of shivering ministers in front of him.
“How could this happen?” he barked in a nasally voice, much different from the doctored, reassuring tone he took in state propaganda. “Minister Daniels, you assured me that the situation was well under control.”
Peter Daniels, Minister for Law and Order, hesitated. “The situation was always tense, Mister President, but under control. However, the actions taken against those food protestors-”
Smith banged his fist on the table, causing all to physically jump. “They were going against the restrictions, damnit! This is a time of national crisis!”
The Ministers kept their mouths shut, none daring to state that the national crisis had come about due to economic mismanagement and pocketing of state funds by the President and themselves. Smith sighed and turned to his highest ranking military officer, General Haynes. “General, what is the situation?”
Haynes sighed. “Mister President, I have reports of massive protests all over the country and in all major towns and cities. Police stations have been attacked, military bases are not responding to our communications, and we have thousands of armed citizens bearing down upon us with armoured support.”
Smith threw his hands in the air. “Well, where the hell did they get those from? And where is my personal Armoured Division?”
Haynes remained silent, letting the truth dawn on Smith. The President-General slumped down in his chair, unable to comprehend his little empire falling apart around him. As the first shell landed on the Palace above him, he took a revolver from his pocket and placed it on the table.
The rebelling group was almost at the Palace gates now. The tank column trained its turrets across the Palace itself and let fire with volley of simultaneous shots. The Presidential Palace, tall and gleaming marble built from appropriated public funds, was torn to shreds by the cannons as the lead tank slammed into the main gates and slowly pushed the heavy iron off its hinges.
The entire group was in the grounds of the Palace now. Chanting, cheering, the masses began running forward on either side of the tanks, charging for the Palace. Gunfire from the windows above began picking off citizens, dropping in their dozens as they ran for the building, whilst desperate Republican Guardsman reloaded.
The tanks fired again, taking whole chunks out of the building. They ground to a halt several feet from the main doors of the Palace and trained their turrets. Around them, the crowd slowed to a halt as they realised the fire from above had ceased. Then, several discerned a figure leaving the Palace.
General Haynes stepped forward into the sunlight, visibly unarmed. His uniform was splattered in blood, the medals on his chest stained red from the events moments before. The crowd fell silent, literally hundreds of those at the front stopped talking as they surveyed the head of the Republican Army.
The tanks whined, shutting down their engines as Alexander Rodenbach climbed down from the lead vehicle. He stepped forward, never taking his eyes off the man in front of him. The two men stopped, and stared at each other in the deafening silence.
After a moment, Haynes cleared his throat. “It seems,” he said quietly, “that you have me at a disadvantage.”
Rodenbach smiled slightly. “So it would seem, sir.”
Haynes nodded, looking around the crowd. “President Smith is dead,” he said. Several gasps arose from the crowd, and muttering began. “By his own hand, his ministers too,” the General added. Haynes then pulled himself to full height. “As the only remaining figure to represent the government, I hereby formerly surrender to your forces.”
Rodenbach drew himself up, saluting. “You will of course have to stand trial for your crimes,” he said clearly.
Haynes saluted in return. “I am a soldier; I did what was needed of me.”
Rodenbach smiled grimly. “The people will decide upon that.” He turned, climbing the tank once again. “For it is the people who are now in charge!” he called, arising mass cheers from uncountable number of people across the grounds.
“Let this be a lesson to us all!” Rodenbach shouted. “Never again shall we let a tyrant take our freedoms! Never again shall we be seduced by capitalist promises! Never again shall we be enslaved!”
The roar was deafening, and the chants of “Rodenbach! Rodenbach!” were even louder.
~~~
CNN: Revolution swept the small nation of Peltapavlosk today as President-General Igor Smith, tyrant and dictator of the country for over a decade, killed himself following mass uprisings.
General Gregori “Butcher” Haynes, Commanding Officer of the Peltapavlosk Republican Guard, formerly surrendered to the leader of the Socialist Revolutionary Vanguard Party (SRVP), Alexander Andreovitch Rodenbach, in a dramatic scene upon the front lawn of the Presidential Palace. General Haynes is expected to stand trial for his part in the “Bloody Thursday” suppression of protesters last month, as well as numerous other crimes.
Alexander Rodenbach went on air three hours ago, urging citizens to stay indoors as the government was reorganised. “This is a great day for the people,” he said. “Victory over the capitalist oppressors is ours, and we can now look forward to a free, democratic and equal economic and political system.”
Rodenbach met with the other twelve members of the SRVP Politburo at the captured Presidential Palace, guarded by members of the Red Militia, the SRVP’s militant wing that masterminded the capture of several Republican Guard battle tanks used in the final push towards the palace itself. It is understood that a new document outlining the basis of socialist government in Peltapavlosk will be released shortly. Currently, local cells of SRVP members control most of the police stations and public service buildings across the country, whilst entire military bases have seceded to the Red Militia in the light of the formal military surrender.
Further updates will be given as news breaks.
“Socialism is the abolition of human self-alienation, the return of man as a real human being.”
~ Eric Fromm, German born American social Philosopher and Psychoanalyst, 1900-1980
'All the way- we'll go the distance now
All the way- stand behind me now
All the way- no turning back
All the way 'cause we are together'
'I'm standin' proud,
We're screaming loud,
I'll lead the crowd
Running wild in the streets'
~ W.A.S.P. – ‘Running Wild in the Streets’
~~~
The crackle of gunfire hung in the air above the city, mixing with the smoke and dust that lingered and cast a dull hue over the bright March morning. Across the city, the peace of yet another day was completely shattered, the streets thronging in the rising pre-noon heat, the artificial architecture shattered by the natural struggles of humanity once again.
The march on the Presidential Palace had initially stalled, as tens upon thousands of weary, angry and dishevelled citizens armed with little more than household implements and private handguns had come up against the Peltapavlosk Republican Guard, the determined steel ring that protected the ‘Great and Loved Dictator’ over the course of his seventeen year rule. For several hours, the citizens had stood, waving banners of crimson, chanting various slogans against President-General Smith. It was a full four hours before Republican Guard Command ordered the troops to attack the crowd.
The beginning of the fight was a bloodbath; armed as they were, the crowd was little match for the heavily armoured Guardsman sporting automatic weaponry, and the crowd was slowly pushed back along Presidential Boulevard, the main road through town leading directly to the palace itself. As yells of anger and cries of pain and anguish intermixed in the cacophony of noise and action, the rumble of engines and the crunching of tank treads pierced the sounds of the battle as six Chieftain Battle Tanks rolled up the Boulevard behind the protesters and grinded to a halt on squealing brakes. Those at the tailing edge of the crowd called out warnings and tried helplessly to stop the massive tide of people from the fate that seemed to await them.
The lead Chieftain tracked its main cannon across the crowd as it was pushed back by the Republican Guard. It aimed its smooth, menacing barrel directly down the street and into the rebelling citizens. Then, slowly, it raised its turret to a higher inclination.
The shell landed directly in the centre of the main group of Republican Guard, throwing soldier’s bodies in all directions as the high explosive shell detonated. The crowd waved, unsure as the tank fired again over their heads and exploded in the Guard columns once more.
After a moment, the hatch upon the tank opened, and one of the crew stood up on the turret. Removing his helmet, he shook his hair free in the breeze and surveyed the crowd. Alexander Andreovitch Rodenbach grinned, and pointed down the Boulevard with a gloved finger.
The crowd bolstered itself, cheering at the arrival of the Socialist Revolutionary Vanguard Party leader. They began moving to the sides, allowing a path through which the tanks could move, chanting Alex’s surname. Behind them, the infantry of the Republican Guard was pulling back to defensive positions within the palace grounds. Alexander grinned.
“Come, comrades!” he shouted over the roar of the diesel engines. “Victory is in our grasp. We have only our chains to lose now!” And, amid furious cheers of support, he dropped back into the turret of the tank as the driver floored the accelerator. The column of vehicles leaned back on their suspension as they rolled forward, their turrets tracking once more. Cheering, the masses of people followed behind, makeshift infantry following the tanks into battle against their oppressors.
Within the Palace there was chaos. Orderlies and other staff ran around the building in panic, not sure where to be or what to do. Guardsmen barricaded doors and windows and trained automatic weapons out of the windows, picking off shots at the advancing masses. Far below the complex, President-General Igor Smith paced the length of the bomb shelter, a group of shivering ministers in front of him.
“How could this happen?” he barked in a nasally voice, much different from the doctored, reassuring tone he took in state propaganda. “Minister Daniels, you assured me that the situation was well under control.”
Peter Daniels, Minister for Law and Order, hesitated. “The situation was always tense, Mister President, but under control. However, the actions taken against those food protestors-”
Smith banged his fist on the table, causing all to physically jump. “They were going against the restrictions, damnit! This is a time of national crisis!”
The Ministers kept their mouths shut, none daring to state that the national crisis had come about due to economic mismanagement and pocketing of state funds by the President and themselves. Smith sighed and turned to his highest ranking military officer, General Haynes. “General, what is the situation?”
Haynes sighed. “Mister President, I have reports of massive protests all over the country and in all major towns and cities. Police stations have been attacked, military bases are not responding to our communications, and we have thousands of armed citizens bearing down upon us with armoured support.”
Smith threw his hands in the air. “Well, where the hell did they get those from? And where is my personal Armoured Division?”
Haynes remained silent, letting the truth dawn on Smith. The President-General slumped down in his chair, unable to comprehend his little empire falling apart around him. As the first shell landed on the Palace above him, he took a revolver from his pocket and placed it on the table.
The rebelling group was almost at the Palace gates now. The tank column trained its turrets across the Palace itself and let fire with volley of simultaneous shots. The Presidential Palace, tall and gleaming marble built from appropriated public funds, was torn to shreds by the cannons as the lead tank slammed into the main gates and slowly pushed the heavy iron off its hinges.
The entire group was in the grounds of the Palace now. Chanting, cheering, the masses began running forward on either side of the tanks, charging for the Palace. Gunfire from the windows above began picking off citizens, dropping in their dozens as they ran for the building, whilst desperate Republican Guardsman reloaded.
The tanks fired again, taking whole chunks out of the building. They ground to a halt several feet from the main doors of the Palace and trained their turrets. Around them, the crowd slowed to a halt as they realised the fire from above had ceased. Then, several discerned a figure leaving the Palace.
General Haynes stepped forward into the sunlight, visibly unarmed. His uniform was splattered in blood, the medals on his chest stained red from the events moments before. The crowd fell silent, literally hundreds of those at the front stopped talking as they surveyed the head of the Republican Army.
The tanks whined, shutting down their engines as Alexander Rodenbach climbed down from the lead vehicle. He stepped forward, never taking his eyes off the man in front of him. The two men stopped, and stared at each other in the deafening silence.
After a moment, Haynes cleared his throat. “It seems,” he said quietly, “that you have me at a disadvantage.”
Rodenbach smiled slightly. “So it would seem, sir.”
Haynes nodded, looking around the crowd. “President Smith is dead,” he said. Several gasps arose from the crowd, and muttering began. “By his own hand, his ministers too,” the General added. Haynes then pulled himself to full height. “As the only remaining figure to represent the government, I hereby formerly surrender to your forces.”
Rodenbach drew himself up, saluting. “You will of course have to stand trial for your crimes,” he said clearly.
Haynes saluted in return. “I am a soldier; I did what was needed of me.”
Rodenbach smiled grimly. “The people will decide upon that.” He turned, climbing the tank once again. “For it is the people who are now in charge!” he called, arising mass cheers from uncountable number of people across the grounds.
“Let this be a lesson to us all!” Rodenbach shouted. “Never again shall we let a tyrant take our freedoms! Never again shall we be seduced by capitalist promises! Never again shall we be enslaved!”
The roar was deafening, and the chants of “Rodenbach! Rodenbach!” were even louder.
~~~
CNN: Revolution swept the small nation of Peltapavlosk today as President-General Igor Smith, tyrant and dictator of the country for over a decade, killed himself following mass uprisings.
General Gregori “Butcher” Haynes, Commanding Officer of the Peltapavlosk Republican Guard, formerly surrendered to the leader of the Socialist Revolutionary Vanguard Party (SRVP), Alexander Andreovitch Rodenbach, in a dramatic scene upon the front lawn of the Presidential Palace. General Haynes is expected to stand trial for his part in the “Bloody Thursday” suppression of protesters last month, as well as numerous other crimes.
Alexander Rodenbach went on air three hours ago, urging citizens to stay indoors as the government was reorganised. “This is a great day for the people,” he said. “Victory over the capitalist oppressors is ours, and we can now look forward to a free, democratic and equal economic and political system.”
Rodenbach met with the other twelve members of the SRVP Politburo at the captured Presidential Palace, guarded by members of the Red Militia, the SRVP’s militant wing that masterminded the capture of several Republican Guard battle tanks used in the final push towards the palace itself. It is understood that a new document outlining the basis of socialist government in Peltapavlosk will be released shortly. Currently, local cells of SRVP members control most of the police stations and public service buildings across the country, whilst entire military bases have seceded to the Red Militia in the light of the formal military surrender.
Further updates will be given as news breaks.