"Dissolve the OGPU, the crushers of liberty, at once!"
"Down with the Communist dictatorship!"
"Get out of here, you Red pigs!"
A massive tide of humanity began to surge toward Yorkshire City Hall and the Yorkshire Soviet Assembly.
Yorkshire was a city that had once belonged to the high nobility. Because it had transitioned to the Union through the surrender of the aristocrats rather than a bloody revolutionary purge, many of its middle-aged residents still harbored a sickly nostalgia for the old era.
Furthermore, as a hub of commerce, Yorkshire was crawling with the petite bourgeoisie.
Consequently, the city was filled with citizens who were, at best, skeptical of the Union, and at worst, vehemently anti-Soviet and anti-Communist. The scale of the mob gathered before City Hall was beyond all comprehension.
Especially for a city with a population of only four hundred thousand.
The mob numbered no less than thirty thousand.
This was the result of the Liberty League mobilizing every party member, their families, and even various subversives and clericalists.
...And, naturally, this demonstration was illegal.
"This gathering is an unsanctioned, illegal assembly! Smaller protests aside, you are well aware that any demonstration exceeding one thousand participants requires a state permit!"
"Disperse immediately. I repeat: all demonstrators are to disperse at once!"
The Yorkshire People's Committee ordered a total mobilization of public security forces.
Militsiya officers were conscripted from every local station and security bureau across Yorkshire, and the Territorial Defense Force of the Yorkshire Regional Defense Committee was called into action.
With thousands of security personnel assembled, they possessed the mass required to check an unarmed mob.
Or so they thought.
'Unarmed,' they said.
—Crack!
A sudden, sharp report of a gunshot.
Blood sprayed across the cobblestones.
Then, a deafening silence.
A shot had been fired from somewhere—whether from the protesters or the suppressors, none could say.
The projectile found its mark: a child standing in the dead center of the crowd.
The piercing bullet tore through the child's frail chest.
Crimson blood soaked the street.
"Aaaaagh!!"
"You bastards...!"
"The Militsiya shot a person! They murdered a child!"
The crowd ignited with a feral fury.
Stones rained down upon the Militsiya.
Improvised pikes were hoisted high, cracking the skulls of officers; batons were wrestled away from desperate hands.
Shop windows were shattered, and anything within reach was hurled as a weapon.
For them, the question of how a child in the middle of a crowd could be hit by a Militsiya bullet no longer mattered.
All that mattered was the purge of the enemies standing before them.
That thought consumed their collective consciousness entirely.
Those who lacked such resolve had already fled in terror.
All that remained were those brave enough to leap into fire for the sake of their cause, and the petty citizens swept up in the violent fervor.
Whether their actions would be remembered as courage, reckless bravado, or mere childish tantrum was of no consequence to them now.
"Re—Retreat! Fall back to the main gates!"
"Casualties are mounting! Please, authorize the use of firearms!"
"Give those rioters a proper thrashing! Prepare to answer to internal affairs later!"
The security line began to buckle and retreat within moments.
The Militsiya officers, who had never received formal training in riot suppression, were forced to either be carried to the rear with broken bones or fall back under the frantic orders of their commanders.
It was as this struggle for control over the main entrance dragged on that it happened.
—BOOM!
"...Great heavens."
"That direction..."
An explosion thundered through the air.
The deafening blast announced the detonation of a bomb.
Everyone froze and looked back.
The Regional Defense Committee's warehouse was engulfed in flames.
**********************************************
"The explosion was successful."
"Our 'cooperative friends' certainly put on a grand show. This should serve as an excellent distraction for their line of sight."
"Indeed, it should."
A group gathered in the corner of a deserted pub muttered as they watched the chaos through the window.
Despite being a pub, the interior was devoid of spirits or food; instead, it was cluttered with maps, documents, and telegraphic equipment.
These were patriots.
To be precise, they were patriots of the Empire—the Empire of Gaul.
"The Union's dogs will be busy tangling with our 'protesting friends.' We need only to loot the research center and vanish during the commotion."
"Easier than eating a slice of cake."
"Still, do not lower your guard."
The Branch Chief downed a glass of water.
He smoothed his hair back with a steady hand.
Yorkshire was the spearhead of Gaul's espionage against the Union—its Alpha and Omega.
Gaul's secret intelligence web began here in Yorkshire and branched out across the entire nation.
Gaul's ears, nose, eyes—every sensory organ—traveled through the neural hub of Yorkshire to reach the imperial center.
For this reason, the Branch Chief refused to even entertain the thought of being caught and having the entire anti-Union network dismantled in one fell swoop.
"If only we had more time... No, forget it."
With the Union's counter-intelligence net tightening daily, this was the only path to the best possible outcome.
Even if it turned out to be a mistake, he believed it was right. He had chosen to believe it with absolute conviction.
He had always found that trusting one's choice firmly was superior to missing the moment due to constant doubt. This was how he had survived to the age of fifty and ascended to such a high station in the world of espionage.
In that moment...
More pillars of fire rose in the distance.
Shouts and groans of agony filled the air.
In this age of turbulence, it was time to mount the horse.
He climbed into a carriage with his subordinates.
Then, he offered a brief prayer to the Lord.
"Let the righteous prevail."
And the icon of the saint glowed softly.
**********************************************
"Kill every last Red!"
"Open fire! Delay the rebels! The Red Army will be here soon!"
The streets were no longer home to the living and innocent.
The only innocent things left on the streets were the cold, pale corpses.
In the blood-slicked avenues, the body count continued to rise.
When did this nightmare truly begin?
If one had to point to the catalyst, it was two hours ago.
The moment the Regional Defense Committee's warehouse detonated.
Radical elements of the Liberty League had raided the warehouse to secure arms.
The gear was second-tier, not front-line standard, but there was enough to arm three full battalions. Emboldened by this windfall, they immediately commenced their campaign of violence.
And so, the massacre began.
Protesters died, Militsiya died, Defense Guards died.
Communists died, Liberty Leaguers died, and candidates for office died.
Party members, unionists, peasants, merchants, students—all perished.
Countless souls butchered one another.
It was a war of all against all, tearing and crushing one another in a frenzy of hatred.
"Hold the line! Stop the slaughter!"
"Sergeant! We're outnumbered, we—"
"James!!!"
A few Militsiya officers who rushed out from their stations were either lynched by the mobs-turned-rioters or collapsed with mortal wounds.
In various sectors, most officers locked themselves inside their stations, trembling with fear.
They fired on anyone carrying a weapon who approached their bureau. This was the only way they knew to survive.
Those who remained in the bureaus, that is.
Then, what of the soldiers who had been mobilized to City Hall and the Soviet Assembly?
"Comrade Police Chief, is it right for us to just sit here? When we should be out there saving our fellow citizens!"
"Listen, Comrade. Are you suggesting I ignore the direct orders of the People's Committee Chairman?"
"It's not that, but..."
They were trapped in a state of paralysis by orders to 'Defend the Current Position.'
The Chairman of the Yorkshire People's Committee, paralyzed by fear of the rioters and the burning city, had tethered them to his own fortress.
The city councilors of the Soviet were no different.
Of course, this did not mean they were defenseless against the mob.
"Fire!"
"Aaaagh!!"
"Those Defense Guard bastards are spraying bullets! Get down!"
They used a new weapon to effortlessly crush the rebels.
The machine gun.
A weapon far advanced from the organ guns of the revolutionary war, it could easily silence both the lightly armed rabble and those who thought a bit of Arts made them invincible.
With a deluge of lead, it did exactly that.
Thanks to this new instrument of war, the security bureaus were able to hold their ground even after most of their personnel had been diverted elsewhere.
This raises one question.
What was happening to the common citizens?
"Hold on! Just keep holding on!"
"Please, have mercy! At least let my child in!"
"We're out of ammunition!"
Communist Party members and their families who could not reach the bureaus or administrative centers fought back from union offices, Soviet chambers, and local administrative halls with archaic rifles and handguns.
While their numbers were technically greater than the rioters, their weaponry was pathetically scarce.
Against mobs of dozens, they were forced to endure with three or four firearms, spears, knives, and Arts.
They were simply overwhelmed.
Tragically, many who encountered the rioters were slaughtered or maimed on the spot.
But it wasn't only the Communists who were dying.
"Wh—What are you doing? We are fellow Liberty Leaguers!"
"Any honorary Red who supports the likes of Maylander can go straight to hell!"
"Burn in hell!"
Moderates and centrists within the Liberty League were also swept up in the purge.
When asked which candidate they supported—Liberty or Communist—some foolishly shouted for the moderate Liberty candidates, thinking they would be safe.
Instead, they were stabbed, slashed, and shot.
Yorkshire's streets were painted crimson once again.
***********************************************
[ "This is a Yorkshire emergency broadcast. We have just received word that the vanguard of the Red Army's 27th Division has entered Yorkshire. Citizens, please remain calm and follow the instructions of the provisional military administration—" ]
"Good!"
Feliksa clicked the radio off.
Before her stood a row of agents armed with pistols.
She clapped her hands twice, the sound sharp in the room.
"Everyone, prepare yourselves. We are entering the research center shortly. When we open fire, the agents already embedded inside will react in tandem, so ensure you distinguish friend from foe with absolute certainty."
She stretched her legs out.
Then, she whispered softly.
"Today, reactionary subversion within the Union comes to an end."
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