Fresh Air
ANS, capital of the leaftree people.
In a shop much similar to the Galapesos in Lýmoca yet globally known. A blondie with creamy white skin and lake green eyes sat in a chair outside the drinks' shop, waiting as she saw the night of the city with its sounds and shouts everywhere as per usual but the occasional calmness. The doors opened to her left, as she rested her arms atop the backrest, making her look that way.
A black man came out of them, bald and pitch-black eyes. He was a tall, handsome young man. As he came out, he awkwardly brought a couple of beverages and some pastries in a bag in his arms and hands.
The woman stood up, and although they were still considerably young, they were of the same 30-40 stage, somewhat similar to Luis Heartez. However, the woman looked slightly older.
She stood up to help the black handsome fella, annoyingly expressing her ‘dissatisfaction’, “Daddy didn’t teach baby boy how to lift things with his own hands? Oww, ‘emme help.”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything when you were stunned last time. This is how you repay me? Next time, I’ll invite whoever embarrasses you again and let them interview me for 2 hours— I have ammunition in storage facilities you don’t know about.” The black young man said, smiling as she took the bag and her beverage.
The blondie looked at him with narrowed eyes, but when she drank from her bottle, she relaxed, knowing it was more bantering. Besides, he picked her favorite again, so she’d let it pass, or so she thought.
“What’ya think of earlier?” She asked him after having a few sips from their drinks. The handsome fella gulped and frowned a bit, “That martial law thing? To hell… who knows what’s happening in a country like that? It’s gotta be so bad.”
She jumped her eyebrows and drank a bit more, “So far, you are the only one not to directly call them barbarians, and that we should’ve done an intervention a hundred years ago or something.”
“Hell no, it’s been too much work. What’s a measly show of power or small conquest compared to the— ‘almighty plan’? It’ll be crazy if the government ever did decide to do that when being so close.” The handsome fella shook his head as they started walking on the sidewalk.
“Yeah, hey.” She nodded and grabbed her bread bun, enjoying the moderate crispy crust on top. “The elder will take the re-elections seriously. You think he’ll really want to stay there, at the very top?”
“Hey, don’t eat in the streets,” the young man grabbed her bread and placed it back into the bag. She complained, “I am hungry! I couldn’t get out of that beautiful confinement zone for the entire day.”
“It’s dirty,” the young man frowned and looked around with narrowed eyes. Some other people were eating, too, and so enjoying their food. The blondie grimaced, exerting force below her lower lip and looking elsewhere as she complained some more, “Not many know how to make southern bread. This shop being built so near the capitol is a huge ground-heaven.”
“Yeah, well. Eat when you’re inside somewhere,” the handsome fella said before continuing, leaving his slightly older comrade to cross her arms, hungry, albeit not thirsty. He then answered her, “Maybe he will. It wouldn’t be a bad show of prowess and ability to keep on with sudden surprises like that Luis. It’s something that ‘breaks’ that small agreement, but not completely.”
“It’s feasible,” he turned his head to her, eyebrows a little raised, “with it, they won’t think they can do anything they want like that. Oh, and the people on the other corners of the world will also know not to think this is a sign, or something. We can’t let a thing slip by.”
“Mmn,” she didn’t say anything but nodded, drinking some more. She dropped her previous complaints, and after a little while, she expressed, “So you do ponder or at least think a thing or two about what happened. What would the others be thinking?”
The young man was Laen Worfield, the ANS representative sent to congratulate Zyckevele’s Lemyonova Morozov, the ‘daughter of the world’ for her genius and young age years ago. He was now senator, and still for long, but more if the current ANS president continues his presidency.
Just a couple of hours ago, when everyone at work in the capitol thought the precinct would be emptied little by little, Luis Heartez’s speech reached them. At first, it seemed only somewhat curious, but by the end of the speech, many found themselves frowning.
This was just ANS, who knows what were other countries’ reactions? Not to mention Zyckevele and Knight Assembly Association, but the Moonblue supercontinent’s south’s reactions were even more important.
Everyone was put to work at it again, but just as they thought they’d be trapped there until midnight, or worse, they were dismissed. But now, they had a tight schedule ahead of time, of course.
“By the way,” Laen smiled and looked at his comrade with a big smirk on the left side of his mouth, “Those aren’t ‘southerner’ sweet bread, they came from Twilight.”
“No, some came from Twilight during those wanna be conquests, but the Lys down south made their own version. Besides,” she grabbed her bitten bread still in the bag and showed it to him, its intricacies. “When one bakes them right, they aren’t flat, nor just filler, and the sweet taste everyone, I, love, is everywhere— not just the crispy crust.”
Laen Worfield rolled his eyes with a small smile from ear to ear and continued walking. They were heading to their homes, but nothing like comrades supporting each other with some humane, spending time company to feel a bit more motivated to keep the hassle ongoing.
***
Lýmoca. Onwards to the 4th day of the 2nd month’s 1st week.
From the night of the 2nd day, many still didn’t know what was happening, but afterwards, there were many who woke up to ‘terrible news’ of the authoritarianism finally showing. The president was going to start with the capital, taking control of it and then spread his hands to become the president again and again, truly emerging as the tyrant, the cruel king of all.
Naturally, ‘the’ people came out to the streets to start rebelling with their neighbors, only to find out the information they read was only a part truthful; the fact that the capital would experience a martial law. And that they were the minority.
They also found their neighbors and even some patrolling cops to tell them the news from actual, verified sources, and transparency. The capital would experience a martial law, but only for a day, from 5 AM to the next day’s. After that, with all the resources and tips provided to the people, the martial law will be lifted, and the people’s life can return to normal.
There were many prohibitions during that time, however, and warnings. While those who were incensed from hearing the larger side of the news still focused on those points to show their dissatisfaction and newfound hatred. But the rest of the civilians were calmer and more reasonable, worried but waiting to see what happened.
This was everywhere, but in the capital itself, the people were moving in all places and streets in order and with peace. If there weren’t so many national guard and army trucks around, it might not have been so. There were some instances of young troublemakers, which were immediately preemptively jailed. As an extra note, the SCJ building was surrounded by some vehicles, too.
This martial law wasn’t a joke, and from the morning of the 3rd day, the people began to focus in garnering their supplies and contacting their loved ones. They wanted to tell them everything was fine… and that they hoped it will continue to be.
The night of the 3rd day came, with little to no activity in the streets, and only lights turned on in the buildings, but that would change soon, and those who remained awake might be too afraid to keep them on.
Slowly, the 3rd day was left behind, with Lýmoca welcoming the 4th. During the 3rd day, from morning to night, the neighboring countries to the south expressed their views on this, while ANS and the rest of the world remained silent.
Cors, Collan, Preato, Argopolas, and Mount Veneta publicly relayed their profuse concern but support, giving the president the benefit of the doubt.
On the other hand, Terka, Torka, and Cerka showed varying, disagreeing views and almost ‘ordered’ Lýmoca to take these matters seriously, not to indulge in the caprice of one before the elections. Practically, giving to understand that the current president would lose his seat.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
This resonated strongly, be it in the south or in Lýmoca, gaining quite a few sentences and nods from people. But compared to them, the positivity from Pyot Island, Meztle Island, Endesa, Carnge, and Melenon came like a bouquet of roses to a beaten girlfriend stuck with a toxic boyfriend, or vice versa.
In a press conference before the 3rd day’s night, Luis ignored the negativity, thanked the positivity from its neighbors and further discussed a future yearly event to participate in army and naval exercises. As for the rest, Luis welcomed their doubts.
It was during the night of the 3rd day, where Luis couldn’t sleep, that he felt the heaviness from his speech before, and that it reached the entire world. There were some light, brief discussions of what he did, even in Zyckevele’s parliaments, and the Nation State of Safe Haven City.
Lýmoca was known everywhere. If not for their history of such civilized engineering and firm, public-aligned ideals from yore; it was their brutal conquest to the nowadays ‘untouchable’ ANS.
While Luis had attended some business to deal with other countries’ trading agreements, continuation, and even events to invite them or send delegates to, he didn’t know… Only now did the lingering importance of his country, which he’s led for 12 years soon, in the rest of Resilient weighed down on him heavier than several mountains.
… Thus, the time neared ever closer. While Luis remained awake, with Lesly, Roam, his sister, and a few more by his side, Fox stood on the tallest building in the south of the capital city.
Wheeeesh, whoosh, whoosh, wheeeeesh~… The night was strangely breezy. A bit fresh and cold, but still polluted. Fox stood atop a building and looked down at the night city, with many lights that were previously on off, and with some whispers in between.
There were clearly some people who wanted to see what could happen. Time was coming closer to meeting the ‘deadline’, but the streets remained mostly empty, with the vehicles from the army and national guard remaining immobile.
They were a bit smart, but dumb anyways.
As Fox relaxed, with a new weapon hanging from his right shoulder beside his arm, and his left foot on an instrument from inside the building, a noise sounded gently behind his right. He didn’t turn to watch Nala walk to him, wearing red paint and both inner and outer uniform for today. Fox did the same, not using his well-known suit.
What was on his hand was what only the army had the luck to have. The D/LM, DM or LM, or just DLM. It was the Dust/Light Moon, the heaviest yet most penetrating assault rifle of the western supercontinent.
It had an orange-brown underside, slightly obscure, and a nearly black green, that could be also blue or yellow, as its main color. It is a rifle assault as default, with an effect range of 780 meters and a feed system of 90 bullets in a slightly thick box magazine.
The magazine has a distinctive function. It could hold more bullets due to its interiors, moving bullets whenever another one is being used without disrupting the immediate quick fire rate in case of need, but it could also get jammed. Although the probability was minimal, it could still happen, and for that, there were small ‘sticks’ camouflaged and attached to one of the magazine’s sides. One could pull a stick out and arrange the insides by rubbing its side. It required one’s accustomed mindset to employ the technique well.
The funny thing, and one which the eastern supercontinents still don’t know how it came to be, was that it could become a submachine gun. One has to activate its mechanical function and pull out its gunstock, extending it as well as rearranging the DLM.
It is the reason why it is so heavy despite having not so much equipment added to it, always looking quite simple. The submachine mode also reveals a handle and a light, super digital, hologram-like sight, whose battery lasts 13 hours. It can only be recharged with a smallish Pugor battery. Its overall structure becomes slightly thicker, as if developing muscles.
Its effective range is 350 meters, whereas it can unload all 90 bullets in a much faster speed, albeit not as fast as the SS, Solstice of the South, which is Twilight’s developed firearm. One could switch its magazine mode, using only 30 and then wait a couple of seconds for it to immediately recharge automatically; but it was all depending on one’s comfort.
Fox could now use one, for free, with Nala, and some other District SAs being granted the same chance. Only the national guard couldn’t use these, while the soldiers all had one. They all had to go through rigorous training just for the sake of holding the DLM, let alone its mastering.
“Hey, all monsters are in their den. Ready to move out when you give the order.” Nala murmured under her breath, letting only Fox hear him.
“How is Bluebug?” Fox asked, lifting his face a little as 4:59 AM finally hit. Nala nodded slowly, “Anxious. The boy is waiting to do this right. He is only worried there might be some expert throwing cyberattacks when or before we do this. He’s on high alert.”
“Criminal technology or foreign?” Fox asked again, his arms crossed as Nala stepped forth to stand beside him, rubbing her left shoulder on his side. “The latter.”
“Mnn,” Fox made a ‘pu’ sound before humming. He looked at his woman, who looked up at him naturally. Leaning his head on hers, together, they turned to the city, with White Bloods hanging from the sides of the building, at the top. They didn’t have an issue staying like that for hours, let alone half an hour by now. They were shadowed by the night, and even in light, they’d be unseen.
Soon, the time to act arrived. 5 AM of the 4th day. But Fox didn’t give the order. Nala separated her head from his shoulder for a moment, looking up at him in askance. A few seconds was all she needed to know she didn’t have to ask him what was going on, and returned her head to his arm, nuzzling a bit.
In the presidential precinct, Luis looked at the enormous, thin TV screens depicting the southeast and southwest, wondering why there was nothing at all. The comms were open for him to hear, although only from the higher ups, meaning Fox was silent on purpose at these moments. Some other screens with people sitting before them checked the incoming comms from the rest.
When Proteros welcomed 5:01 AM, Fox made another ‘pu’ sound, which Nala separated from his body with, and straightened her back. The strap on her back pulled her assault rifle, almost as if sticking it to her back. Fox did the same to his and pressed a small device’s button with his right thumb, which he destroyed afterwards in a tight grip.
Step! He placed strange covers for his fingers with what looked like solid and flexible transparent silver plastic, and stepped towards the edge. Before impulsing his body into the air, he crouched, grabbing something from under his ribs at his back, and kicked the rooftop.
Nala and the other White Bloods followed, with many people on the ground rushing to the other side of the street with them, making no sound. Fox’s right hand held onto a device, looking like a gun with its mouth spitting a rope, whose end was already embedded into the rooftop he just jumped from. Nala was the same, and the White Bloods had similar equipment attached to the sides of the building. Furthermore, they weren’t the only ones in the city.
The rope rapidly exited the gun, but it wasn’t a free force. It was somewhat restrained, generating a thin stream of smoke at the muzzle. Unnoticeable in the night or day. It slowly halted their strong impulse as they headed to another, smaller building. Slowing their planning speed.
When they neared it, they pulled the ropes from the building they jumped off from, with the other end retracting to let go of their hold. Meanwhile, Fox and the others used their fingers to search for a spot, with the tip of their shoes having the same gut bions, guts.
Prr- sswuup! Swwuup! Fox’s fingers hit a smooth wall, while others held onto a protruding structure or the sill of a window. His shoes also hit a smooth surface, while the others held onto one or stepped on a structure. Some also didn’t get a good spot, but like him, they didn’t just fall and cry to their deaths.
Like cheetahs running in the wild, Fox lifted and lowered his limbs, impulsing himself as his fingertips and the tips of his shoes sucked the air between them and whichever surface. The non-unlucky ones immediately climbed, agilely getting to the rooftop while Fox and the others struggled still.
Their guts kept sticking their bodies to the wall, climbing until finding a good stop to dash upwards. Fox wanted to use his ultra nails, but he did the same as everyone else until he arrived at the rooftop. When he did, the others were already jumping to the next building. Meanwhile, there were shouts and gunshots behind from the ground to higher floors behind him.
“Stop right there! You are under arrest!” - “Why are you people here!? I didn’t do anything!” - “Baby, what’s going on?” - “You are a fucking recruiter, miserable fuck. To the ground! One way or another!” - “What? You can’t bring me awa-” Bang bang, trrr trrrr rrr…
The martial law had started. Just as many people suspected and were fearful about, whether it was themselves or their immediate neighbors, soldiers and/or the national guard rushed into certain houses or apartments.
After some talks, either one of two things happened. Gunshots descended, scaring the living hell of others, or there was silence, followed by a slamming door quickly after. The time has come, and it wasn’t simple for anyone. Any building that had people that the army or national guards were looking for were raided simply and selectively, with utmost precision.
It wouldn’t be known to others, but the residences which some chose to not remain in were ignored, known with the PSD intelligence and Miros’s sneaky, further detailed methods.
The arrested were brought to the police, ready to take them all to specifically prepared facilities to pre-emptively jail them all. They weren’t that many, but not a small quantity neither. Additionally, they were supervised by drones, which they didn’t know if it was that ‘unknown’ agency or the government guarding against possible corruption.
Things started. Proteros south became noisy, with many vehicles seemingly appearing out of nowhere, driving into the streets and leaving off some soldiers or national guard elements with the police. After the arresting, the vehicles who dropped people returned and brought them away, just in time to encircle and raid a building or space.
After some time, when the soldiers and national guard left, arresting or after killing presumably criminals, some people wanted to come out. Few actually did, getting arrested by the patrolling police elements. Those who didn’t but started feeling better that nothing happened to them, and everything seemed to end soon, were ruthlessly awoken sober from thinking they lived a perfect world all along.
“Come out and surrender! You have 15 seconds to sound your mind! Lýmoca’s army will enter in that time and bring you down!” - “Step out and surrender, you have 15 seconds! Dare you fucking stay like that and we’ll put you to the ground! A ver perros, what is your choice!?”
Incredibly rough, uncaring shouting was followed by an eerie silence after a series of arresting or killing in the buildings. Some buildings were unfortunately the focus of these actual raids, with more than a few dozen military elements preparing to enter in no time.
When the people, innocent civilians, thought they were safe and barely heard this shouting in the distance or nearby, they paused. Thus, unfortunately for the Lys, most of them had to hear a gunfight that lasted approximately between a minute and 10 minutes, with some vehicles rushing into the distance.
But the latter weren’t military vehicles fleeing. Instead, they were chasing those the Ly forces saw fleeing from the distance, or received a report from a drone or a scout. It was all a synergized, conjunct operation with possible cases well-thought-out.
And this had just started.
…