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Region: The Celestial Empire

IEDs and Hell
March 1912 - The Rebellion Headquarters

Richard watched as the final stick of dynamite was wired with a timer. Behind him, a young but brash rebel stood, fiddling with his rifle. “Careful you idiot, you'll set that off.” Richard barked. The boy returned to attention.

He turned his attention back to the dynamite. The master dynamite, which contained the timer and the fuse, was the largest and beefiest of the lot. It would have to be, as it was the start of a chain reaction. A small block of dynamite sticks would hopefully set off the rest of the TNT that would be stacked behind it.

Four other, similar constructions were present, each of which would be sent to four targets across the four richest cities in Kushmire. Kushmire Star Pier in Zimford, Ockset Church, Department of Border Control headquarters in Qaidong and The Citadel in Barricus. Richard had spared Halford and Sparticus. They wanted to send a message to the upper-class. Those on the other side of The Line, will not be held back by their class.

Harry Montgomery entered the spacious cavern where the bombs were being stored. His eyes widened at the scale of the explosives. “Well done Richard, you have outdone yourself, but please explain to me how we are going to get these bombs into our targets. We can’t roll them down the street in carts, that’s not going to work. I think the police might notice us.”

Richard checked his watch as the final rays of the sun receded from the room. He ordered the careless riflemen to turn on a lamp, “And be bloody careful with it!” Richard and Harry then walked over to a table at the far corner of the room. On it were several maps of the four target cities. Red circles highlighted the target’s location within the city boundaries and a line dissected each one, originating from outside the city boundaries.

“I’ve talked with allies and outposts still standing in the East. They have organised some dig teams. We are going to start on the outskirts of each city and make our way in. Place the bombs underneath the foundations, or deep within the basement. We’ll take them out from under their noses. Dig sites, in the styles of mines have already been set up. The biggest part now is to keep the authorities from finding out.”

Harry analysed the plans. “Tunnels? But won’t that take weeks, hell, even months to complete? It took us almost a year to acquire all the explosives you needed.”

Richard nodded. “Yes, potentially, I know that it may be tight with KFP taking out our operations in the East, but the Army here still cannot do anything, they know that we control the West, any move by them can be spun out of control by us. This will throw them off, perhaps even set them back years of intelligence, they might be back to square one all over again.”

Harry rubbed the stubbled growing on his chin. “Very well Richard, I suppose it is better than nothing.”

“Also send Louis to lead the dig sites, if that makes him feel better.” Richard said as the two men left the cavern and into the vast, expansive network of tunnels and rooms. “This has been awhile in the making Harry, the authorities, well, the military network takes us seriously, now its time for the whole country to take us seriously.”

South Harbourview Countryside

The group of horses pulled up to the small shack in the small field. The soldiers had their rifles slung across their shoulders. Behind them, a contingent of police officers were also waiting with batons and handcuffs. Inside the shack several rebellion conspirators were frantically rushing about, or destroying evidence. They wouldn’t get time.

The guards raised their rifles and opened fire on them. Emptying their clips, then reloading and emptying again. Once the house had been covered in bullet holes the group entered. Rounding up stragglers and finishing off those who resisted.

A lieutenant approached a young man with blonde hair lying on the ground. Both his kneecaps were shot out by the earlier firing. “Do we even get trials in this country anymore?” He asked, specks of blood flying out of his mouth between gasps.

“Not for you, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.” The lieutenant said as he raised his revolver and shot him. The soldiers and policemen dragged out the survivors and cuffed them before taking them away to the prisons across the country.

The blonde man in particular, was thrown into a cramped rail car. Adorned with the symbols of the Department of Prisons. A darkened Blood Eagle holding handcuffs in its talons with its wings spread out behind a small castle-like structure.

The train was manned entirely by staff wearing the blue uniform of the Kushmire Prison Network. Rolling away from a small station in Zimford, located near the city police station, the carriages, pulled by one of the largest locomotives in Kushmire, made its way towards Mt Kushmire.

Mt Kushmire Corrections Facility

The prisoners inside the carriages were kept apart from each other in separate, but small and tight compartments. The more deranged amongst them clawed at thin walls separating them. Guards walked up and down, batons ready. Struggling up the steep incline, the train sounded its horn as it arrived at its intended destination. The prisoners whom had a window view watched, as Kushmire’s most revered and mythic prison loomed over them like a mad dictator over its subjects.

Outside, the guards were waiting, with thick woollen coats and rifles. Outposts with the same guards dotted the side of the mountain. The prisoners were unloaded and forced onto their knees in the freezing cold with nothing but the thin rags they had on their backs. Each guard was on edge, every move by a prisoner out of order was met swiftly with a blow to the back of the head.

One by one, the prisoners were taken, a number inked into their forearms in the processing room and then sent to their cells. Mt Kushmire Prison, or as it was known around the country, The Devil’s Playground. The guards that patrolled the cell areas were not the blue-clad officers on the train.

These guards wore thick, black woollen coats with white fur collars. Each carried a rifle and a sabre alongside their baton. New arrivals were soon beaten into routine, warned to respect guards and stay away from particular individuals. If they complied, freedom was still a distant hope. Though for most, other than a rare clear sky, high up in Mt Kushmire where the gods cried, it would be the last time they would see sunlight.

Solitary confinement was a topic rarely discussed even amongst the toughest of the prisoners in containment. Located deep within the prison, the animals kept down there were the worst of the worst. Even child killers and rapists were above them. They were kept with their hands, neck, feet and torso chained in restricting, heavy metal brackets.

They stayed in complete darkness, alone for 23 hours a day, other than the one meal they are fed. For one hour they are released, and taken, flanked by four guards armed to the teeth for a walk around the boundaries. During this time, every other prisoner is cleared and placed in their cells.

The prisoners kept in the furthest wings were lucky enough to have windows. Unforgiving iron bars that looked out over a sheer cliff face. However, the dark foreboding figure called The Line could be seen in the distance. Lights, dotting where Border Control outposts lay. Even further in the distance, if the sky was clear and the light was good. The city of Halford could be seen, even its dim lights, though reeking of a lack of wealth, seemed like heaven compared to the conditions inside the prison.

Inside, screams of many went unheard as the guards turned their ears away, and tuned out. They were human, after all.

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