The Rastonia Era

The Rastonia Era

The house was full of angry, armed men and their wives and children. Everyone was silent as the men loaded and readied their weapons. The women were on their knees, praying for the safety of their men and the success of their mission to overthrow the rule of the oppressors. The only sounds were the metallic clinking of clips sliding into place and the click clack of rounds being chambered.

Ever since the end of the civil war, the new regime enslaved the people of Rastonia with threats of death to all who opposed. A group of rebels rose up against the so-called government and were savagely wiped out and publicly chopped into pieces as their families screamed and cried with heart wrenching pain. ''This is the price of treason,'' said Roland Veranco, the head of the regime that forcibly took control of the small state. ''Now, is there anyone who feels this is... unfair? Harsh? Too extreme a penalty for treason?'' The unrest in the crowd died down as the armed guards leveled their weapons at them and grinned with pleasure at the prospect of shooting someone.

''No?'' Roland spoke with sarcastic sweetness, ''Good. Now we can get back to building a bigger and better world upon the ashes of our defeated enemies' burned corpses!'' His voice rose in volume as he addressed the crowd whose families and friends were the defeated enemies upon whose ashes he spoke of building upon. The armed guard of Roland's forced the people out of their businesses and claimed it as belonging to the state of Rastonia. They took any and everything they desired from the people and helped themselves to the women they fancied.The rest of the world looked on in horror but didn't lift a hand to help. Somehow, Roland came into possession of 3 nukes, each with the capacity of turning any 200 mile radius of his choosing into a nuclear wasteland at the push of a button. So, while the world leaders were content with Roland's word that he wouldn't launch any missiles without provocation, the 9,367 residents of the once peaceful Rastonia suffered the oppressive rule of a devil worshipping regime. Roland was believed to be the prophesied Antichrist of the Holy Bible by the militia he'd recruited from amongst the once honorable military of the Rastonian State. They were shown ''signs'' and ''wonders'' by the charismatic and handsome Colonel Roland Veranco. It was simple for Roland to convince the majority of the Squadron leaders to take part in his overthrow of the then government's small military. Once he had over three quarters of the military actively participating in the overthrow of the government, it was simple. The last bit of Rastonia's military that wasn't with it was quickly outgunned and Roland led ''his'' military in the siege of the capitol and the quick assault that left strategic government officials alive and the vast majority dead. Roland was now the dictator and the still living government officials were now simply advisors and executors of his command. These few officials and the militia were known as the ''Chosen Few''. The new State of Rastonia was the cruelest of dictatorships the world had ever seen. The military was the ruling force and benefactor of the people's labor. The people outside the ''Chosen Few'' were not given any rights or protections past that given to one's property. Each section of Rastonia was ''owned'' by a squadron of militia. The people living in the squadron's section were deemed the property of that squadron. Some squadrons were particularly cruel. The small band of rebels preparing for the insurrection lived in Section 13. The Squadron that ''owned'' Section 13'' was run by the bloodthirsty Sergeant Isgard. This was a close knit community and every one of the people present had lost loved ones during the six months it had been since Isgard ruled their Section. Even the children had lost a friend. They were lifetime residents of Rastonia and if it killed them they were determined to restore order to the once tranquil Rastonia. They knew that the only way to gain back their beloved Rastonia was to outgun the militia stationed at Fort Mariato where the 3 missiles were held in their silo's, ready for fire. They then had to alert members of NATO to their control of the nukes in order to neutralize the leverage Roland held on the world leaders. Then, with a bit of luck, or a blessing maybe, they would send in the troops to take back the state. They hoped that once they held the missile silos, the military of the world would come in and completely overthrow Roland and his so-called Chosen Few. Trevorne had finished wiping down his Kalashnikov and was now loading hollow point 7.62 millimeter bullets in the clips he had when his beautiful, sweetheart of a wife came from behind him and wrapped her arms around his body and laid her head on the back of his neck. He turned his neck all the way around like an owl to kiss his beloved on the cheek, his hands still working the bullets into the clip.''Come home to me, Mon B'shert, ''she whispered in his ear.'' ''Always, My Love,'' he whispered back. He loved her nickname for him, ''Mon B'shert''. It meant my predestined lover. Like, truly meant to be. ''Take this, my king,'' she wrapped a necklace around his neck that had a heart shaped locket hanging from it. It was so shiny yellow gold it seemed to give light, not merely reflect it. ''Always remember,'' she breathed lightly in his ear, ''love is always stronger than hate. Darkness cannot run away light, light always exposes even the darkest corners.' 'Mmhmm, I know, Sweetie,'' he replied lightly.

''NO! Look at me!'' she exclaimed in an urgent whisper, taking his face in her hands and turning him to look in her eyes. ''Listen! There is power in the Light! Its in your heart, you just have to call upon it!'' she looked into his eyes with her piercing stare and he felt his soul bared to her gaze. She nodded her head, seemingly satisfied with whatever she saw. He nodded back and continued loading the clip. Atorah was a bit of a seer, or prophetess, or something. She saw events that were taking place in the distances of both time, and space. Her vision was to take credit for the intel they gained for this mission. A month ago she ''saw'' a member of the Squadron about to rape a young girl a few blocks from where they were sleeping. She woke Trevorne up and he didn't hesitate in waking up his friends next door and sprinting the short distance to the house Atorah sent him to. There was a Mercedes in the driveway and since the Squadron requisitioned every car more valuable than a civic, he knew Atorah's vision was accurate. He sprinted the last few steps to the front door and burst through it. He was immediately drawn to the whimpering of a young girl and kicked down the bedroom door. The officer had the child pinned against the wall with her shirt torn and her face scratched and bruised. The officer's uniform and gun lay on the floor at Trevorne's feet. Trevorne grabbed the wimp of a man by the neck and bodily slammed him face first onto the tile floor. Him and his friends beat the rapist nearly to death, then tied him up. They disposed of the Benz, then questioned the officer when he awoke. With a bit of prodding, the officer told Trevorne all about the missiles at Fort Mariato and Roland's use of them as the deterrent to the invasion of Rastonia for the liberation of the people. After gaining all the intel the officer had to give, he was summarily executed and buried. Now Trevorne knew the fort was guarded by no more than 200 soldiers at any given time and after a month of low key recruiting, he was able to count on 71 armed men to partake in his half cocked plan. It was the best they had. He was counting on the element of surprise and his team's training and powerful motivation. These were their personal tormentors. The Squadron was given free run of the section. It was illegal to lock your doors and by law, any member of the Squadron was allowed to walk in your home and requisition anything they deemed necessary for the ''functioning of the militia's squadron. That often included any woman or girl of their choosing. The men that were participating in the plan to take back their state were a mixture of everything Rastonia had to offer. Farmers, store clerks, police officers, gang bangers, doctors, and lawyers. Even a judge. The plan was a month in the making and the moment was almost upon them. Trevorne jammed the last bullet into the 50 round clip and laid it down with the rest of the loaded clips. The entirety of the rebels were broken up into 10 groups and each group met in a different location. It was too dangerous to try to meet up together with so many people in one location. They also had no means of communication between teams, just synchronized watches and a month of planning and coordinating. In roughly 10 minutes it'd be time for the commencement of ''Act 1'', the simultaneous ambushes of 10 key targets. If all went according to plan, they would hold control of the 3 bombs. Then they would alert the U.N. or N.A.T.O. or whoever they could send in a real military to complete the overthrow before Roland's band of creeps could send reinforcements and take back the fort. Trevorne knew that they couldn't hold the fort against any type of military force for more than a couple minutes. He knew they'd need a real miracle. It was a long shot, but everyone agreed they'd rather die fighting for freedom than live enslaved. Each group of rebels had a specific mission to carry out. It was really something to witness the police arming street thugs and gang bangers, who were intent on being frontline.

''Man, this my first chance to do something good, homie,'' one particularly known felon said. Victor had done a couple stretches for drug sales and weapon possession. Now he had firearms strapped all over his body and a police issued vest on. ''Maybe I could join the force when this is all over? Huh, homie.'' he said and nudged the officer next to him.

''No way, 'homie''' the officer replied seriously, shaking his head and sighing. ''Lord, protect us.'' ''Yeah, dog,'' Victor said with enthusiasm, ''we should definitely pray, dude!'' So they prayed. ''Alright, everyone,'' Trevorne brought them all to attention. ''It's almost time. We all know how much of a long shot in the dark this mission is. If anyone does not want to take partake then just stay here when we walk out the door. The reason is once you walk out that door, you might not make it back.'' He looked at every one of them in turn to gauge their reactions. All he saw was silent resolve. ''It's time. Say your goodbyes and let's ride.'' Atolah wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and squeezed tight while he threw his arms around her neck. She let him go and grabbed the locket she'd placed around his neck earlier. ''God,'' she whispered with her lips pressed against the locket, ''protect the wearer of the Golden Heart. Surround him with Your mightiest angels. Swing the golden swords of the cherubim in fiery circles around him so the enemies of Your servants are powerless. Protect him and all the men fighting with him against the darkness! For darkness cannot overpower the Light! The Light always runs the darkness away! Amen, amen, AMEN!'' When she practically screamed the final ''amen'', she collapsed into Trevorne's arms. He nearly went into a panic before her eyes fluttered back open.

''Go now, Mon B'shert,'' she whispered lightly, ''God is with you.''

Trevorne and his team were in place and ready when the stillness of the night was shattered with the rat tat tat of several automatic rifles firing simultaneously. If Trevorne was right, their part was about to begin right, about... ''NOW!'' he exclaimed when he saw the infantry of the regime's militia pouring out of the barracks half asleep. Trevorne and his team ran toward the soldiers, raking them with gunfire. By the time they got to the entrance of the barracks, the men had to watch their step so as not to trip over any of their tormentor's bodies.

Their team and the other team were in strategic spots so as to not hit each other with friendly fire and with the assault taking place on 2 fronts, the barracks were quickly overrun.

As expected, there was little serious resistance from that point to the control quarters of the fort. From the first shot to the taking of the control quarters 4 minutes had passed. Trevorne's techie quickly unlocked the satellite phone and had the vice president of the United States of America on the line within 7 minutes. It took Trevorne another 5 minutes to get the vice president to mobilize the nearest troops.

''Eta an HOUR?!'' he screamed incredulously into the phone. ''How the fuck are we supposed to hold the fort from a military invasion for that long?''

According to the VP, there was nothing to be done to make the team get there any quicker.

It was 34 minutes before the first wave of the regime's reinforcements began to arrive. Trevorne and his team were strategically stationed to defend the fort as best as they could against such a force.

The first wave of soldiers came rushing in like a bunch of untrained natives or something and were quickly wiped down with gunfire and a few grenades. The rebels were hooting and hollering in celebration but Trevorne knew it was too early to count their insurrection a success. After all, they still had to hold the fort for 24 more minutes and the next wave of reinforcements wouldn't be so reckless.

It began 7 minutes later. There was a sniper somewhere out of sight picking off their snipers. Then mortar rounds were blowing up buildings around the control building. Trevorne knew they wouldn't blow up the control building because that could set off the bombs and they wouldn't have landed for people to rule over.

''Retreat to the control room!'' he yelled to his band of rebels. While they were running toward the safety of the missiles, he went toward the front line of the enemies' ranks. There were men in uniform and men dressed casually amongst the regime and he had a plan.

''What the hell is this bedlam of an attack?'' he yelled in the face of a man in the uniform of Squadron Commander. ''What Squadron do you lead, soldier?''

The commander came to attention and crisply replied, ''I command the 12th Squadron, Sir!''

''Alright, Commander,'' Trevorne responded, ''let's get some fucking organization out here! Before the Big Man gets here!''

''Uh, Sir?'' The commander looked at him quizzically, ''Sir Roland is here already. He's in the command post handing commanders their own asses. What Squadron are you from?''

''Right here you idiot!'' Trevorne hoped his arrogance and crude language would get him by, but no such luck.

''Let me take you to the command post to receive your assignment,'' he turned without waiting for a reply and began walking.

This was the first time Trevorne felt scared and unsure of the plan. His doubts rose to his consciousness.

All of a sudden he felt a burning sensation on his chest and grabbed at his shirt, under which was the locket. He pulled it out from under his shirt and it was lit up. With eyebrows knitted in wonder, he opened the heart shaped locket and it was a mirror. He thought that was weird as he glimpsed his reflection. Then he saw a movement behind his reflection and ducked while he turned. There was nothing there. He looked back into the mirror and saw in his peripheral what appeared to be a giant with a flaming sword. Whenever he attempted to look directly at it, it moved with his line of sight to appear in his peripheral vision so he didn't know if he was seeing things or what.

''Ahh, here we are,'' the commander stated when they had reached the entrance to a large tent. ''After you,'' he grinned while holding open the flap so Trevorne could enter.

''Don't go in there!'' he heard a deep voice roar in his ear and turned around quickly. There was nobody.

''Come on in,'' the commander spoke with a sweet smile.

It was that moment that he realized they knew he wasn't with them.

''Open the Golden Heart!'' she heard that same rumbling voice in his ear.

The commander was reaching for his sidearm when Trevorne grabbed and opened the locket. The moment it was open, there was a bright light, blindingly bright, that swept across the fort.