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===[CHAPTER 40: MUSHROOM CLOUD BLUES]===
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It wasn’t long until Misfit was back on the ground trailing the rebels. The band of prisoners and rebels snaked their way through the downtrodden streets of Helena. The further they travelled, the more the scenery of the city began to shift. With every step taking them closer into the Riverland's corrupted heart, the slums of dilapidated tenements and run-down buildings faded. The sprawling mess of vine-like electrical wires, discarded propaganda posters, and trash heaps became fewer and farther in between. The reek of urban grunge faded. And in its place were more colorful-looking buildings, homes for people rather than cages for rats. The new residential neighborhood was slightly better than the literal slums they had just emerged from, but it was still far from anything considered "good" even by Earth standards. Eli thought about it for a moment, trying to conjure up images of places he's been to on Earth. It was miles better than The Zone, for sure. Anything was truthfully. If The Zone was set as the baseline for what could even be considered as 'habitable' for human life, it'd make even The Nexus look like paradise in comparison. He chuckled to himself thinking that Kovic may have been able to achieve his Utopia if he just fudged some definitions here and there.
No matter what, they were closer to Helena's core. The surrounding neighborhood was wealthier, somewhat, though not quite prosperous. The cars here at least had matching doors. But the never ending feeling of being watched continued. The propaganda posters, though fewer, were distinctly noticeable. Parks where palm trees lined fountains and marble statues of figures ingrained in the Riverlander mythos. And in the horizon, standing high above the rooftops of Helena's core, something caught his attention.
They were massive blocks of concrete, uninterrupted, expansive, grey. Like giant slabs of stone placed into the dirt and built upwards. They towered over the city like the Avonian Behemoths. There were dozens of them, if not even more. Each of varying height among themselves, but titans in their sheer scale. A few were still under construction with construction nets and cranes hugging their uppermost portions. But the majority had been completed. Some of the towers carried what looked like insignias and logos that were visible even from here, and judging by the way they were built, Eli assumed they were supposed to be illuminated during the night, though it was unlikely anybody was home to turn the lights on now. Each of the towers were dotted with windows that gave him at least some idea that people were supposed to live and work inside of them. The grey monotonous buildings were obviously newer compared to their surroundings, lacking the almost gangrene-like rot that chipped away the concrete everywhere else. They were the same titans that had been illustrated on the propaganda posters from earlier, always accompanying the face of that one military-elf to the point that Eli naturally associated the buildings to him. Whoever he was. If the point was to remind Helena's residents of who ruled over them, it was effective. The mere presence of the buildings cast shadows across half the city. Eli pictured himself waking up to a city covered in smog and urban decay, only to look up towards glittering office towers that housed the very ones ruling over him. All seeing. Perhaps all knowing...
“That’s the Renewal District,” Sparrow remarked, noticing as Eli’s eyes couldn’t help but stare at the buildings ahead, “The Junta built it to give all their powerful friends a home in the skies. The Republican Guard likely has a garrison there.”
“Renewal District?” Asked Dutch, “Odd... reminds me of New Cairo. Eli?”
And then the eerily similar connection was made in Eli’s mind. Both he and Dutch fought in New Cairo for the Coalition, of course they were in different units then. But the city there back on Earth was much like the grey concrete blocks of Helena here. Massive glistening skyscrapers, bright blue pools surrounded by almost artificially green parkland, placed smack in the middle of a sandy desert. But around the homes of the rich and well to do, were the sprawling ghetto’s of New Cairo. A failure, intentional or not. Makeshift homes made of salvaged metal scraps, walled off from the skyscrapers by a solid concrete wall. Eli remembered his time there bitterly. A utopian world walled off from the suffering of those who built it. New Cairo stood as the last glimpse of a better future for those who lived at the dawn of the millennium. For Matteo and Kovic's generation of people, now old and refugees in a decaying world. New Cairo had utterly failed, Eli and Dutch were there to see that first hand.
Was that the fate of the Nexus? Another failed attempt at Utopia? Like New Cairo on Earth or the Renewal District here? Was that what Kovic and Overwatch Command were committing all of this to build? Was that truly Utopia?
As they marched along the streets of the slums, the towers of the Renewal District appeared closer in view. The elite of the city must’ve vacated the area long ago, yet the lights were still on in many of the rooms that looked down on the rest of Helena. Eli assumed that Helena's electrical grid had been knocked out during the invasion, but it might've made more sense if The Renewal District had its own power supply, or was somehow isolated from the grid here in the outer neighborhoods.
“The Junta built them as a symbol more than anything else. When the old Republic was overthrown, the Renewal District was the first eyesore they built. Homes for absolutist dictators. Marshal Navarro wanted to put on a fresh coat of paint for the Republic. Tell everyone, especially his masters in Avonia, that they were a modern and civilized country now. What better display than putting his friends and the wealthy in giant concrete boxes that tower over the shit filled slums surrounding them? Makes the bastards feel all high and mighty I’ll bet.”
"The River Republic prides itself on being the only 'civilized' nation in The Kiote Peninsula," Informed Bell as she continued along side as if she were remembering some hidden encyclopedic knowledge, "The Junta tries to justify itself as a civilizing, modernizing, force. If you manage to get a hold of a translation spell, I'd recommend taking a look at some of the propaganda posters littered around here. They fantasize constantly about killing The Sevillans and Warrior Elves off. Their depictions of everyone south of the Republican border paints the Kiote Union's populace as little more than primitive tree huggers at best. A mindless horde of barbarians in need of salvation at worst. It's that sort of national pride that sustains the Junta and reinforces its existence in the eyes of their few supporters."
"Doesn't that conflict with them being puppets to The Avonians?" Asked Rafael.
"That's the funny part, they've managed to make that work for them too. They see the Empire as a leader. A patriarchal figure, willing to guide the Republic to prosperity and salvation so long as the Riverlanders shed themselves of their cultural and ethnic ties to the rest of the Peninsula," Bell told him, "Not too long ago, a few years before you humans showed up in fact, there used to be more orcs and goblins that lived right here in Helena. They've since been forcefully relocated to the Riverlander heartlands, arid mountains completely separated from their original rainforest like homes. The Caliconi I believe. They were a strongly indigenous people, connected very deeply to their Kiote brethren across the border. They needed to be disposed of for the Junta to solidify its rule."
"Genocide..."
"Not by Avonian terms. To the Avonians and the Junta, genocide only counts if you kill someone directly. Bullets to the head, facing the wall, sending people to be hung, that kind of thing. According to them, they didn't kill the Caliconi off intentionally. They simply relocated them, and the orcs were just too stupid to learn how to feed themselves in a barren desert hostile to life. In the instances where direct killings did happen, those occurred because of individuals acting out of their own accord. Not Imperial policy. And if you ask them why those individuals hadn't been punished for murder, they'll shrug their shoulders. If you asked the Imperialists, nothing would be their fault..." Bell sighed as she took a look around, "That's why we're here. The Empire needs to be destroyed at all costs, their institutions are a disgrace to sapient lives everywhere, and they'll keep getting away with murder if nothing is done. Only The Heavenly Empire exceeds their cruelty... luckily for us, Emperor Ironscale and his dragons are all the way on the opposite side of the world. Unfortunately, The Avonians are right here."
Sparrow smirked, glancing over at Misfit, "Unlike the rest of us, Bell actually graduated from university. She's Valdacian, they practically worship schools over there. She's got a fucking textbook for brains. Don't try and argue with her, you'll never win."
"I won't apologize because you insist on being a complete dumbass."
"Yeah, right," Sparrow rolled his eyes, "Anyways, what she said is completely true. As per usual. The self-proclaimed Revolutionary Junta is led by an elf named Marshal Navarro, that's the ugly face you've been seeing on those posters everywhere. He’s the one that the Avonians supported, and he was the general who led the coup against the First Republic. Navarro and his gang have been at the helm ever since."
Marshall Navarro? Finally, Eli had a name to connect to the faces everywhere, and a idea of who was truly behind the Republic. He's heard Otaes talk about people like Emperor Kirk before, but outside of that, he was woefully uninformed of the world around him. That was funny, considering that the Coalition believed Misfit to be the most knowledgeable of them all on Narva's affairs. The blind leading the even more blind.
"It was what started the Kiote War. All of that devastation, and for this,” Sparrow gestured at the towers, “For the Avonian businessmen to have a vacation home above the masses working in their factories.”
From over the tops of apartment roofs and townhomes, arose what looked like a rather large building. Yellow stucco walls lined with white stone, hundreds of elegantly designed windows glittering on several floors. It would’ve looked like an old Iberian Cathedral or Missionary, had it not been for the dark steel constructions built into the far flung sides of it like a metal tumor. The dark steel was reminiscent of the type the Avonians used in all of their war machines. Characteristically, red ekron energy could be found glowing and ebbing from within. Electrical wires spanned from the steel extension, carving its way over rooftops and through the city streets to trace their way towards the tumor. Antennae sticking from the extension signaled that its purpose was as some sort of communications grid, definitely one engineered by the Avonians. In the core of the building proper was a massive dome that was covered in even more of those Imperial additions. Like scaffolding that would permanently remain over the building's original frame. The wires and dark metal gave the otherwise beautiful building a far more ominous feeling that couldn't be shaken off.
Walls painted dandelion yellow, an orange tiled roof, white trimmings, the building stood at about three floors in height and was the final building that stood on the outskirts of the slums. It was visible from all sides through the expansive parkland, central to the area. Further beyond even that were towers of buildings in the city’s downtown. The very same ones from the propaganda posters.
They crossed through the front plaza, past the palm trees and hedges, up towards the yellow stucco walls of the ULA’s headquarters. As they passe by the front they could see a noticeable difference from the rest of the city. The junta’s propaganda posters which had been plastered on almost every surface within the ghetto of the city, had been torn off. The green and red flags of the River Republic had been littered around the floor, some of which were burning.
Rebels patrolled the perimeter with the odd mismatch of rifles that both came from the Republican Militia and from the Imperials themselves. Old Kalashnikov-like wooden guns were thrown in the mix with the now-familiar dark alloys and glowing red ekron balls of the Avonian pulse rifle. The rebels wore no uniform, only dressed in the same “civilian” clothing that Sparrow and his squad wore. Among the rebels were humans, elves, and even more species that Eli couldn't identify at first glance. Some were human or elf like, many were more like Sosa. Animal people. At this point, Eli didn’t spare a second glance at them. The outlandishness of Planet Narva had become almost natural. The strange no longer felt as such and instead felt as if it were expected. Normal. If he kept being shocked by every new thing he saw, he'd be having a mental breakdown every five minutes.
The exterior of the building had been lightly fortified, with sandbags being placed around the main entrances. Large wooden doors, some of which had already been opened to allow the rebels to enter and leave.
As Misfit passed by the rebels, he noticed that a few of them were glancing back at them. Taking them as strangers. Their eyes focused particularly on Misfit’s prisoner uniforms. They took special interest in the Coalition’s flag and the cyan delta imprinted on their shoulders.
“I think these guys are eyeballing me,” said Rafael, his voice low in a whisper.
“Just act natural,” Badger whispered back.
“Natural? Do I look like an elf to you?”
“Otaes should be back with the sentry any second,” Eli said, distracting from the tangent that Rafael and Badger had gone down, “You said you had weapons here?”
Sparrow nodded his head, “A few. Mostly whatever scraps the Ostralanders gave us.”
Hearing that term, Ostralander, made Eli pause for a moment, "Ostralander? You know, when I was first brought to this planet, the Warrior Elves thought I was one of them," He said, "Why? Who are they?"
Sparrow nodded, "No surprise there, The Ostralands are a primarily human nation that live on a cold, wet, miserable little island just across the channel to Avonia's north. I should know, I grew up over there," He smirked, "Whenever the bastards see humans with guns they think they're Ossies. That's just how it is around these parts. Though I will say, you certainly don't sound like an Ostralander. Ossies have got an accent, you know? You sound more like a Colly."
"Colly?"
"That's our term for Oceanians. They're the biggest colony of the Ostralands. Colony, colly," Sparrow emphasized his point with a imaginative hand gesture, "You get the idea."
“Right. If these Ossies, have guns themselves, why won't they come and help us? I mean, you already said they're enemies with the Avonians right?”
Sparrow's face soured a little as he tried to recall the history, “Well… the thing is they did during the last Kiote war. But they lost a lot in the fighting, and they don’t want to get directly involved again. Especially now that the Avonians have a glitterbomb.”
“Glitterbomb?” Eli asked, his interest suddenly piqued.
“The weapon to end all weapons. I’ve only seen photos of it but, apparently just one can wipe out an entire city, bathing the entire region in deadly radiation, and destroying the magical fields permanently. It's the ultimate end-all weapon. Radiation poisons your troops, and you can't use specialized mages to try and ward off the effects because the glitterbombs destroy the very magical energy that ekron stones depend on to summon spells of that nature. That's what makes them so powerful. There is literally - nothing - that can top it. It's the ultimate card up the sleeve. The Ostralands used to be more aggressive when it was just them who had it. But ever since the Avonians got their hands on one… well, it’s not really a popular move to end the world in just one war. I'm sure you know what I mean.”
“Nuclear annihilation...” Eli whispered, "Just like in the Cold War."
"Well, not nukes. Nuclear weapons are different. They're bigger, more powerful, and release far more radiation, sure. But they don't have the ability to knock out magical fields like glitterbombs do. Other than that though, that's exactly what it is. A Cold War," Sparrow raised an eyebrow, "How did you know?"
"On Earth we had one of our own between The United States and The Soviet Union. It never went hot, but from what I know there were plenty of times it almost came close to wiping out our planet."
"But aren't you all humans?" Sparrow asked with a rather shocked tone peppering his voice, "You guys have it good. Don't have to deal with genocidal Orderite elves, or dragon-gods trying to erase your species from existence, or demonic kings trying to enslave you all the time. What gives?"
Eli chuckled, "Hell if I'd know. It's ideological, I guess. Or it's about the resources. Humanity has been fighting each other since as long as humans have been around, I guess. We've had our fair share of genocides, slavery, oppression. The list kinda goes on and it doesn't really stop."
"Well that's grim. I mean, sure humans fight each other here on Narva too. All the time, in fact. But I always thought that it was just due to circumstance... we've always banded together to resist in times where other species have tried to murder us all. If humans are just as bad on Earth as they are here, if not worse, well... that kinda says something about us, don't it?"
"Humans are evil?"
Sparrow shrugged, "Maybe we are..."
Eli knew about the Cold War back on Earth before the Resource Wars. The ancestors to the Coalition and the POA, duking it out by sending guns and money to smaller parties to fight their wars for them, constantly trying to subvert one another with the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over the minds of billions like a twisted sword of Damocles. One wrong move, and the human species would've went nearly extinct. The atomic era had laid the foundations for the Cold War, giving rise to a jaded new millennium. Was it possible that this world was in much the same spot? Two powers, Avonia and the Ostralands, battling for supremacy in a cold war. A cold war in another world…
The similarities between Earth and Narva grew larger each passing moment. Was this world going to end up the same way as Earth? Torn? Fragmented? A broken planet meeting a divided world. And the Coalition thought this was the place to build Utopia? How could they build a utopia here when Narva hardly differed from the disaster-stricken, chaotic mess that was Earth? If anything, Narva was probably worse off. Here it seemed that warfare was far more brutal than was even possible on Earth. On Earth, nations would at least attempt to maintain the facade of cordiality with each other and their populations. Calls for genocide and extermination died with the collapse of the fascist regimes in the early 20th century. But here? On Narva? It was difficult enough trying to convince humans on Earth that the nearly identical humans living across the border were normal people like they were. But what of a world where the differences that existed between each "race" were no longer as mundane? Constant, never ending, conflict. Chaos. He glanced at Sosa, the wolf was still limping along with assistance from his friend, Vega. A human. And of course there was Bell too, an elf. These guys seemed to be united despite their very obvious physical traits. But this was a rare exception, if anything. Most likely, it was far from the ordinary to see humans cooperating with elves to this degree. It sent a shiver down his spine as Eli realized how easy it would be for any murderous government to justify erasing another group of people here on Narva...
Narva may not have been any better than Earth at all. If anything, Narva was worse... a planet on the eve of complete destruction.
“You were right Otaes,” Eli whispered, “Our planets might not be so different after all.”
“What's that?” Sparrow asked.
“Nothing.”
The group walked up to the massive doors of the base, guarded by a few rebels who quickly stood aside once their eyes landed on Sparrow. Yet they guarded their weapons at the presence of Misfit. He could feel their suspicious eyes watching them. Burning into their backs. Eli couldn’t wait to get inside as he carried the wounded Omar into the headquarters.
But when the doors opened to the dimly illuminated hall of the rebel garrison, his heart sunk.
There were beds and sheets sprawled across the floor. The smell of dirty clothes and infected wounds fuddled his nose, and he held his breath for fear that the infection would spread to his lungs. There was the wails of a baby, no – babies – crying in the background and frantic parents trying to soothe them. Coughing and groans from the suffering serenaded his ears.
He froze in his tracks, staring at the scene. His heart thudded against his chest like mallets pounding on the leather surface of a drum. And in that moment, it was all he could notice. His heart, and the scene ahead of him. All while a cold sweat formed on the surface of his skin. He could do nothing but stare.
It was a refugee camp. Like the one he grew up in all those years ago. The sick, injured, wounded, refugees sprawled all around while frantic staff tried to tend to them as best as reality allowed. He was nine years old again.
What he could remember had been fragmented to time. The most vivid parts were his brief stay in a Coast Guard helicopter, flying over the storm blown coastline that Newark had become. Sunken homes, some collapsed, others in the process of collapsing. And many other abandoned as lightning crossed against an angry sky. Nature’s wrath against his hometown.
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The other part he remembered was being dumped at the Philadelphia Center. The largest Phantom Refugee camp on the American east coast. The scene inside of the church brought back terrible memories of the smell, of the screams, of the wailing. The tens of thousands who were cramped inside, given only a small tarp and a thin sheet to call a bed, while soldiers guarded them. He could recall being lost, waiting for hours, days, even weeks, for the Coast Guard to bring his parents back to him.
And they never did.
He was lost in a crowd of complete strangers. While there were other children there, most had their parents with them. And the ones who hadn’t were too distressed to talk to him. Just like he was with them. It wasn’t until months had passed, staying within that one refugee center alone did he start to accept his “Phantomhood” as the new normal. And it wasn’t until the first pangs of hunger, the traces of disease crossing through his body, and the complete lack of safety in the crowd, did he understand the place of the Phantom in a world which had all but abandoned them.
And here he was now. Looking at yet another tragedy much like his own. His eyes flashed to the lone children in the hall, curled up into balls. Their parents probably never to return. Some of them elf, some of them far-far from anything like a human. But it didn’t matter. His heart wept for them either way, in the same way he wished that others would look at him with sympathy when he was in their spot. But that’s all he ever got. Sympathetic looks from strangers, and the cold shoulder from those who functioned as his protectors. What more could be done or said to him? When he was just one face in a sea of thousands of other sorry, downtrodden faces.
"These are all the Empire's victims," Said Bell with a spiteful tint saturating her voice, "Navarro's Junta is cracking down on dissent now that the city is under attack. They're driving people out of their homes. We've had close to a hundred people turn up here with nowhere else to go. And that's without considering the collateral damage from the invasion, there's refugees all over Helena now. But right here, I believe we have the most."
"So you're trying to get them out of Helena? Sounds like a good idea..." Dutch shrugged, "They should be someplace safe."
"We can't," Sparrow admitted with a semi-defeated shrug, "There are no plans. We don't have the resources to take care of nor transport this many people, and we can't turn them away. I'm afraid once my revolutionaries link up with your transport out of here... we'll have to leave them behind. To the Imperials."
"That for one sounds like a horrible idea," Dutch insisted.
"The Avonians have forced our hand. If there was more we could do, we would. But for now, all we can do is help tend to the wounded and spread a bit of the cause around. You know?"
Dutch's lip quivered a slight bit when he heard Sparrow brush the idea off. It looked like Dutch wanted to say more, but before he could get another word in about the matter, Sparrow had already taken off in a different direction. Disappearing behind the ranks of other rebels within the building, leaving Misfit alone. Bell too had followed him deeper inside of the building, perhaps to warn the other rebels of the sentry hot on their heels. Sosa and Vega on the other hand took the opportunity to recover from the fight, with Sosa now getting his leg healed by one of the rebel medics on hand. Eli was lost in the crowd, snatched out of the real world and taken somewhere else for a moment. Every detail seemed intent to burn its way into his mind. Something within him felt sickened. It must've been obvious, for he felt a tug at his uniform - only to look down at Badger's concern laden face.
“You alright? Soldier Boy?”
Eli swallowed hard, nodding to himself, “Yeah… yeah it’s just. I'm still a bit woozy from the helicopter crash. Sorry," He lied, hoping that would be enough to make her ignore him for the time being.
“Ah.”
“Who told you about Soldier Boy?” Eli asked her, forcing a smile onto his face.
“Rafael keeps calling you that. I just sorta adopted it. I guess.”
“Ah,” Eli nodded to himself. Not realizing how clammy his skin had become, how much the fear really showed on his eyes, or how nervous he truly looked.
“Are you sure you’re alright? You look… I dunno, sick?”
“No. I'm not sick. It’s just...” Eli trailed off when he sensed how distant his own voice had become even to his own ears, “I grew up in a Phantom Camp, you know? A bunch of them actually. I got moved around a whole bunch across The States back in the day.”
“Bad memories?”
“I guess you can say that," Eli whispered.
Badger nodded her head looking out towards the sea of people who occupied the floor. The needy, the homeless, the desperate. They clung to life here under the relative safety of the rebels and the roof of the church itself. She sighed, “I’ve never been in a Phantom camp. But I’ve heard stories about them. Stuff of nightmares. Like in Belgium,” She looked as if she wanted to say more on the topic, but she struggled for words. The Zone, of course, being what she was referring to.
"Cato grew up in The Zone, you know?" Eli told her, "He told me that before he, um. You know..."
"He told me and Rafael too when we left for the first time. I still feel bad for him now, after all this time," Badger whispered as she watched the crowd.
Eli averted his gaze from the sight of people. He felt sick. Knowing that there was so many people and little that they could do to help any of them apart from defending the church. He just wished that they could do more. Reach out a hand to pull them to safer shelter, like how he wished would’ve happened to him when he was stranded in refugee camp…
Misfit wandered through the hall.
There were places for electric lights, but as with the rest of the city the power had been cut. Emergency power was running from generators placed around the base, shining faint flickering lights over the heads of the refugees. Eli turned on his flashlight, careful not to accidentally step on one. Badger had described his feeling perfectly. He felt sick. Looking at them all. He felt useless to assist.
“They’ve got Phantoms here too,” Said Rafael, shining his light over the sick and wounded, “Some place for a Utopia. Phantoms, nuclear bombs, dictators... Kovic really couldn't have chose a worse place if he tried.”
“I just wish there was something we could do to help them,” Dutch's shoulders drooped as he surveyed the crowd. Eli knew that the moral concern must've been gnawing on Dutch, heavily. And it was gnawing at him too, yet he knew that there was little Misfit could actually do.
“And go where? The Nexus?” Badger asked, “Even if Captain Juma or Kovic approved of them going – which, let's face it, they won’t – there are barely enough supplies in The Nexus to give. Besides, do you really wanna turn them in for Overwatch to rule over? They’re better off here, if anything. ”
“Better off? In a warzone? At least there aren’t any bombs being dropped on the Nexus. Kovic wants to build a utopia, right? Here’s his first step. I say we bring the refugees back with us.”
"That's a stupid idea, and I think you're aware of that," Matteo plainly said, "Like Badger said, between Navarro and Kovic, who would you rather be in charge of these people's lives? For all we know you could be bringing them out of the frying pan and into the fire."
Again, Eli found himself agreeing with Matteo. Unfortunately, the man's cold rationality logically checked out. But that still didn't stop the awful feeling from building in his core. He wished there was something Misfit could do, but there was absolutely nothing. In the event that they somehow managed to get back into contact with Overwatch in the first place, breaking through the Avonian signal jam, and get their ride out of Helena without it getting shot down, Overwatch would flatly refuse to allow anybody outside of Sparrow and his rebels to come with.
"It's out of our hands, Dutch," Eli muttered, giving the Canadian a pat on the back. Dutch's lip twitched for a split second, before he shook his head and sighed.
"Yeah, I know. I just... I wish... never mind. I guess they'll find their own way back home," Dutch muttered, "The Imperials won't bomb their own people, right? That wouldn't make any sense. I guess they're safe enough here."
That's right, the Imperials wouldn't bomb their own people. That shouldn't make sense. It doesn't, actually. As cruel as the rebels and Otaes made the Avonians out to be, there was no sense in that kind of indiscriminate slaughter. Even on Earth, rules were made to prohibit that kind of total warfare... surely on Narva, a world with guns, nukes, and weapons far more horrifying than anything Earth could come up with - similar rules would have to be in place, right? Some kind of elf version of the Geneva Accords, perhaps? Briefly his mind flashed to the mushroom cloud hanging over the blown out skyscrapers of Seoul, but he shook his head clear of that idea. Seoul wasn't a North Korean city, to the military leaders there, it was the enemy. It'd be more like if the North Koreans had bombed Pyongyang themselves. Surely, Avonia and The River Republic were aware that their own innocent people took refuge here. Right? Afterall, this was their capital city...
Yet, that begged the question of why they even brought to the rebel headquarters in the first place. The rebels must've known that their headquarters was smack in the middle of an active battlefield. It shouldn't have been too hard to redirect these people somewhere else outside of the city where they'd be safe, rather than harboring them directly in harms way. It would've made sense if the rebels couldn't afford the manpower to spare at all in taking them in, but they had enough numbers to nurse the wounded and injured here. In fact, the more Eli thought about it, the less sense it made. If the situation was this bleak, the rebels should've simply moved the phantoms somewhere safer...
Before Eli could interrogate that chain of thoughts further, Omar gave him a nudge on the arm, gesturing with his head to someone among the crowd. The figure was hunched down a bit among a flock of other elves and humans who were busy addressing the wounds of a man whose head was doused in blood from injuries. Eli narrowed his eyes, seeing distinct tribal garments that stood out from the more modern clothes of everyone else. A plain bony mask covered his face through which two cobalt blue eyes glowed from the holes drilled into it, with a mop of curly silver hair on top of his head. Just above the elf, a small drone hovered casting a light over the patient that allowed the doctors to see what they were doing. "Temetet!" Omar called out.
Temetet's blue elven eyes looked up from his work trying to identify the source, until he locked on to Omar. With a giddy cheer, he stood up, excusing himself momentarily from the other medics who worked alongside him. He half-walked, half-ran, to link up with the Phantoms, "Misfit? Oh my stars, you guys are actually alive! I thought it was over when I saw your helicopter get smacked by an Avonian missile!"
"You can't kill us that easy!" Rafael grinned.
"Good, I was worried sick... like really," Temetet said, "I'm glad you guys are here! I've been working with the rebels to help some of the people out around here. Putting my talents to good use as you can see," He gestured to the drone.
"You haven't been giving anyone brain damage, have you?" Eli asked him.
"Oh don't worry about that. They won't let me use my magic to heal anyone. They say I'm don't have 'the qualifications'," Temetet muttered that phrase, sounding genuinely disappointed, "But I've been trying my best to help in other ways, without my magic. That's what I'm better at anyway. If this works, I might be the first magicless Kitchi in Kiote history!"
Omar turned to Eli, leaning in for a quiet whisper, "Brain damage?" he asked, thoroughly confused.
"It's a long story," Eli whispered back, "Forget it."
"Where's Otaes? She left with Archer not too long ago, I figured she was going to look for you guys," Temetet asked.
"She did but we got caught up by a sentry along the way. She led it off of our backs for the moment with Archer, if I remember correctly, she's supposed to bring it here," Badger told him.
Temetet nodded, "Huh... that explains the rocket launchers," He gestured over to a squad of rebels that had recently emerged from the depths of the base, carrying more of the explosives on their shoulders, "When is she coming?"
"Well, she's taking the sentry around the long way to give us time to prepare I'd figure. And it took us a little while to get here... so I guess-" Badger was interrupted by a quiet, though very noticeable, siren in the distance. The familiar foghorn-like cry of a sentry. It was far, but obviously close enough, "She's about that close, I'd imagine."
Immediately, there was a shift in urgency within the base. The rebels gathered their weapons and began moving towards the entranceways of the base, covering the approaches.
"DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!" Shouted a commanding voice from farther within. As Eli looked to see who was speaking, he saw that it was Sparrow himself, holding a loudspeaker up to his mouth and ordering the rebels to move, "WE HAVE A SENTRY INCOMING! GET A MOVE ON IT! ROCKET LAUNCHERS UP FRONT! LET'S GO!"
Eli turned to the rest of the squad nodding his head, "Come on! Let's get out there, it's about time we finished what we started..."
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image [https://i.imgur.com/dWDi6nN.png]
==The Revolutionary Department Of Intelligence==
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==[WEAPONS OF THE COLD WAR]==
image [https://i.imgur.com/I17ifan.jpeg]
Name: GLITTERBOMBS
Type: Ekron-Assisted Atomic Weapon of Mass Destruction
Country of Origin: The Ostraland Commonwealth, The United Provinces of Oceania
Information: Since ancient times, our world has been ruled by forces that far exceed the strength of the mortals that inhabit Narva's surface. Elves, Beastkin, Kobolds, Lizardmen, hellspawn, orcs, fae, and especially - humans - have struggled to live in a world dominated by vile demonic creatures, all-powerful dragon demi-gods, and constant rule from totalitarian regimes with armies unmatched in scale and power. The sentient races of the world have had to suffer, keeping our heads down, knowing that even if the armies of the dragons could be resisted, the dragon gods themselves could never be killed. A never ending state of fear, paranoia, and militarization was necessary to keep the sapient races alive in a world supernatural world that seemed so hostile to free life... none, more so than the magicless, flightless, and relatively weak, moderately evolved primates known as... "Humans". Humans have had to deal with living as slaves and servants, or in some instances, as food and fuel to the empires that dot Planet Narva in almost all areas except for a select few where humans managed to resist supernatural tyranny. It was a miserable experience. But now, things have changed...
During the advent of the industrial revolution brought about primarily by the Ostralander humans and Avonian elves, an increasing fusion of magic and technology allowed for newer and ever more powerful devices to be born that would far outmatch the abilities of any mortal creation that came before. As the industrial powers of the late 1100s and early 1200s faced against each other, first in the Trench Wars and again in The Sacred War, newer technologies allowed for the creation of weapons that would later define the very essence of Planet Narva's structure. No weapon has changed Narva more so than Humanity's salvation... The Atomic Bomb.
Developed during the most desperate days of The Sacred War, when the forces of Orderite and Heavenly Dragon oppression seemed on the cusp of emerging victorious over the free humans, elves, and beastkin of Narva, mankind needed a weapon that could save them. The best scientists were brought together in order to split the atom, and in a world first, the atomic bomb was developed. The atomic bomb was an explosive that released unimaginable quantities of energy, with only a relatively miniscule amount of fuel. Glitterbombs gain their name due to the distinct "glitter like" apparitions that form in the sky that is the result of magical fields being disintegrated upon contact. Utilizing scientific principles, possibly only thanks to the leaps and advances of science that the Industrial Revolution brought about, Commonwealth scientists had developed this weapon primarily for use against the Oranian Orderite Empire's avian legions, and then for The Valdacian Orderite elven exterminators, hoping to eviscerate Orderite cities, armies, and logistics in a fiery radiation-fueled inferno. And while the weapon would have been effective in doing just that, making it a gamechanger for The Commonwealth, as The Oceanian Marines struggled to beat back the magical Dragonian forces in The Western Front and in the far East against the naval forces of the United Dragonian Kingdom, there was a distinct feeling that the current A-Bomb was not nearly enough.
Mankind went to work again, this time with the hopes of manufacturing a weapon that could kill Emperor Ironscale himself...
The Glitterbomb is an advancement of the nuclear weapon. While both Nuclear and Glitterbomb weapons are classified under the same Atomic umbrella, they both differ wildly in purpose and implementation. While Nuclear and Hydrogen Weapons utilize conventional approaches to splitting atomic molecules using uranium or plutonium based elements, Glitterbombs derive their energy from the breakdown of Ekron matter itself. By acquiring a single magical ekron stone, enough energy can be released to cause a rapid decay of ekron glass, and thus - create an explosion of disproportionate scale. While the actual TNT yield and amount of radiation released by a Glitterbomb is quite smaller than that of a Thermonuclear warhead, the Glitterbomb has the unique ability to disintegrate the background energy fields that allow all forms of magic to be utilized - both natural magic (Ie: Dragons, Elves, The Fae, summoning utilizing their natural magical abilities) and artificial magic (All Ekron-based, non-natural magic. Ie: Ekron stones used to power computers, summoning tools human mages use to cast spells, or ekron glass that some guns utilize as ammunition).
This unique ability makes Glitterbombs far more desirable in the strategic minds of the Commonwealth. And during The Sacred War, they have been championed as the savior of mankind.
In The Sacred War, during the Commonwealth Invasion of The Heavenly Empire (Operation: ENDGAME) Oceanian Marines managed to make landfall in the far eastern lands of Drakara, liberating vast swathes of land in the Bawha territory. But the Heavenly Army soon launched their counter attack, managing to successfully outnumber and then force The Marines into a retreat. In order to prevent nearly 500,000 Oceanian, Ostralander, Katudanite, and other Commonwealth soldiers from being captured or killed by the Dragonian exterminators, the ultimate decision was made...
Drop the bomb.
image [https://i.imgur.com/0tTWbz3.jpeg]PICTURED: Commonwealth Marines witness the Glitterbomb being dropped on top of Heaven's Armies that were pursuing them during the latter stages of The Sacred War, part of Operation HEAVEN'S FALL.
Within the span of two months, several Glitterbomb weapons had been dropped across the current border of the Belford-Aligned Bawha Free State, and the Heavenly Sphere-ruled Bawha Client State. A total of 28 bombs were dropped across the frontlines, killing an estimated 600-800 Thousand - both Heavenly soldiers and civilians caught in the crossfire. The bombing campaign would go on to be the most infamous military operation ever pursued by The Commonwealth (Known as Operation: HEAVEN'S FALL), and though it would succeed in saving the Marines trapped in Bawha and on the Drakaran continent - causing the Heavenly Army to experience its first total defeat at the hands of human forces in nearly four centuries - it would forever shape the world afterwards, bringing Narva into the Nuclear Era.
In the immediate aftermath, a roughly 1200 Kilometer wall of radiation, magic-void territory, and destruction, separates the liberated Bawha territory from The Bawha Client State aligned with Heaven. It is impossible to cross, and remains to this day as a hideous mark of The Sacred War's brutality - known as The Iron Curtain. After the "success" of HEAVEN'S FALL, The Commonwealth Airforce drafted up plans to bomb The Heavenly Capital in a attempt to kill God-Emperor Ironscale, but surprisingly, Heaven offered a conditional truce to The Commonwealth - citing that "Humanity had utilized its access to degenerate sciences and cruel tactics to achieve what was once impossible", ending the Sacred War's far eastern conflict in a unresolved stalemate that still persists to this day.
On The Oceanian continent, things were different.
image [https://i.imgur.com/UAIZyeE.png]
PICTURED: Oceanian Soldiers during The War In The Desert, marching towards the glitterbomb bombardment of defensive strongholds belonging to The United Kingdom of The Dragon Isles
On the Oceanian front, both Nuclear and Glitterbomb weapons were utilized by The United Provinces of Oceania to destroy Kobold and Dragonian held defensive positions in the deserts and mountains that bordered Oceania's western frontier. Though fighting in the desert between Oceania and The Dragons hadn't been nearly as brutal as it was in Farewind where the Valdacian Exterminators and the Tsarist Armies of Bizonia fought in battles that saw hundreds of thousands perish, or in Drakara where Heaven's armies and Commonwealth Marines engaged in constant never-ending fighting in the hot jungles of far-east, The War in the Desert was just as important in the face of a glitterbomb era. After constant fighting between Dragonian and Oceanian forces for the past 5 years, fighting through the difficult terrain of the desert mountains, the decision was made to utilize glitterbombs in order to shatter Dragonian defensive strongholds and key army formations. The nuclear weapons worked as intended, and the hot desert of Oceania's west grew exponentially hotter with a nuclear mushroomcloud's shadow baking them in radiation. The atomic weapons would work, shattering the morale of the primarily slave-based armies belonging The United Kingdom, and forcing them into a full retreat that would see Oceania emerge semi-victorious in a pro-Commonwealth ceasefire that ended The War in The Desert for good.
Now, the world is forever changed. Mankind's weapon of salvation has kept the Commonwealth a superpower, and the effects of the glitterbomb continue to haunt Planet Narva. As Avonia, and now The United Kingdom, have gained access to the weapons, Narva's greatest powers stand on the cusp of a final war that could destroy the very planet they live on for good. A war to end all wars. Across the more esoteric and far-flung regions of the world, cults have emerged that worship the atomic weapon as a means by which humanity not only fights, but thrives. If magic is innate to elves, immortality the mark of the Dragon emperors, and inhuman strength and senses the power of the beastkin, then The Atom is Humanity's only true weapon. The glitterbomb is a testament to mankind's cunning, progress, and will to survive in the face of a hostile world... but also, a sinister shadow. One whose specter haunts over the heads of all life on Narva, and one unlikely to go away any time soon...
Here in the RDI, we wish nothing more than to see Ironscale burn in the pits of a fiery radioactive hell.
[MAY THE REVOLUTION ALWAYS BE IN SAFE HANDS]
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==[END TRANSMISSION]==