The tensions in the town simmered, clamped down by the heavy-handed follow-up raids by the military. Desperate to retain control of the city and asset dominance despite having their main barracks blown up, the soldiers initiated yet another sweep through the slums, attempting to capture all those who participated in the riot.
The streets were filled with the continuous sounds of arctech weapon fire and screams as the slum dwellers tried to evade arrest, hiding in every nook and cranny. Many soldiers were initially reluctant to perform such a raid immediately right after their barracks exploded, but Officer Gabriel persuaded them otherwise.
“They do not respect us! Our service to this town, our service to this country! They treat us lower than dogs, lower than even the ants that crawl on the pavement. We upheld justice and the law in this town, yet all we got for it was hatred and terrorist acts. Are you going to let them just blow up our living spaces and walk away scott-free?!” Officer Gabriel riled them up successfully.
The slum dwellers escalated it first! With this thought in mind and a sense of justice still present in them, the soldiers performed their jobs diligently, spurred on by peer pressure as well as the words of their sergeants.
It was only the higher-ups who knew that they were to blame – the local council for poorly managing the food supply and the military for their original suppression of criminals. Officer Gabriel was not oblivious. He understood very well that the tough conditions had given rise to more crime and more dissent among the local populace. However, it was far too late to back down.
Conflict was like a ladder of escalating violence between both parties: it was a matter of who was willing to climb to the higher rung to assert victory. By framing the slum dwellers as the ones who had escalated it by their act of terrorism, Gabriel had more than ample reason to justify his actions of using the machine gun on the people to the local town council, who he stood in front of now, reporting the recent incident.
The members of the town council glanced at him and murmured among each other with worried expressions, having been called to an emergency meeting after the explosion and riot.
“They were responsible for blowing up the barracks?! This is outrageous!”
“Attacking when the governor is away on vacation, how despicable.”
“But we should be careful – too much force, and it would backfire on us.”
“I say we strike harder than ever,” Gabriel spoke clearly, presenting his case. “The size of the explosion was not some mere arctech bomb that blew up a single house – this attack took out most our weapons and ammunition, along with multiple buildings.”
“I understand, Officer. I can see very clearly for myself the effects.” A member motioned to the shattered tainted glass fragments strewn on the floor, yet to be swept up. “But even so, the explosion could have been performed by a small group rather than a concentrated effort by all slum dwellers to do so.”
“You seem to be suggesting that we let them go.”
“Carrot and stick. I still am apprehensive about your order to use machine guns on the rioting populace, which was far too aggressive.”
“You were not there – my men’s lives were at stake. I still believe I made the right judgement call. If I had to do it again, I would.”
“Are you saying you would massacre citizens of Desham again?!” A second member was outraged, wagging his finger at Gabriel.
“I would if they tried to attack, lynch, or kill my soldiers, much less blow up our home. Do you want a military that does not retaliate when attacked? What kind of army just let their enemies destroy their barracks and get away?! I do not want war, but I know war.”
The second member did not retort, though obviously still incensed while the first member resumed: “The point remains. The stick has been used – instead of fostering more hatred towards us and the military, we should be appeasing them instead.”
“Terrorists should not be negotiated with. Your ‘appeasement’ would only let the wound fester and rot, spreading it and allowing the ‘small group’ of yours to recruit more dissatisfied people. All rioters should be captured and, if they resist arrest – executed on the spot. I currently have my men sweeping the slums, but without the barracks, we cannot sustain suppression for long.”
“Execution on the spot is too far – are you bloodthirsty?” The second member spat again. “Do you have an agenda against the slum dwellers?!”
“Far from it. I have reason to believe that the riot was instigated by forces aimed at taking us down.” Gabriel motioned towards an accompanying sergeant who brought in a prisoner shackled at his limbs, still wearing his shabby clothing. “Explain what you were doing at the riot. Tell the truth.”
“I… I was paid in food to get people into the riot! They had mammoth hog meat! Lots of it! An entire hog’s worth, close to six hundred kilograms!”
The accompanying sergeant also brought out a few more captured rioters in sequence, all of which corroborated the first prisoner’s statement.
The council was stirred into a frenzy, their minds running wild.
“Mammoth hog meat? No one has domesticated them. Does it mean we have a rebel force in the Keru Forest?”
“Or could it be the Yual Dominion’s military already trying to topple us from within?”
Multiple theories were discussed for a minute or two before Gabriel interrupted again. “Following the assumption that there is a hidden force attempting to overthrow the council and the military, I hope my suggestion will be taken seriously.”
“You’re asking for a purge. A culling.”
“If that’s what it takes to have peace in Desham.”
“…Thank you, Officer; the council will now deliberate on your suggestion.”
Gabriel saluted and left the room along with his underlings, a satisfied expression on his face. He knew he had already won over the town council members, all of whom were made up of well-to-do people in Desham. The problems of the rich are everyone’s problems; the problems of the poor are the problems of the poor.
He knew the council would do everything to retain both their power and control, as well as influence. Which ruling authority would agree to let revolt foment without control within their own territory? Appeasing the locals would also involve them donating some of their hoarded wealth and food away, which Gabriel knew would never happen, seeing how mediocre their donations to the military were.
Within a short hour, the final approval was given to Gabriel, allowing him full reign to capture or purge any hostile or rebellious elements in the slums. The updated order was relayed to the soldiers, who began to be much more aggressive in their hunt. Some of them revelled in the power they held, raping and looting whatever meagre wealth and items the slum dwellers had, rioter or not.
The slum dwellers were in despair, running to wherever might save them. A large crowd had gathered around the black market deep in the slums, clamouring for smugglers to get them out of the town as fast as they could.
Some desperate mothers even willingly traded their freedom for their children to get out free, entering slavery under contract and earning slave collars. What they did not know was that even the smugglers could not get out of the town easily with the martial law in effect – though they were more than happy to gain a slave for free, sometimes even multiple, if the children could perform labour.
Exorbitant prices and demands were listed as the cost of smuggling, causing even greater despair and depression in the slum dwellers. “How are we to survive? Must we suffer like this for days, months, years?”
“We should fight back; we have nothing left to lose!”
“Look at what happened at the riot: how do we fight back against that with no weapons? We’ll be killed in droves!”
“Where are the fuckers who sold us the mammoth hog meat? Where are they?!”
“I heard it was Diya who has the mammoth hog meat!”
“How dare she use us as fodder!”
A small but growing mob began to surge towards Diya’s office, intending on lynching her. However, she was already outside, guarded by ten well-armed bodyguards bought with food who were holding repeaters, courtesy of Kyle’s appropriation of the military barracks. She stood on a crate, elevating herself above the crowd as though she had already been expecting them to come back to her.
As the crowd approached, they noticed multiple platters made out of polished scrap metal of roasted pork laid out along the street, with already some eating off of it. The survival instincts of the crowd took hold instead, with them scrambling and jostling for the platters.
To their surprise, it was not necessary to fight for the food – there was one platter of roasted pork for each of them, nearly three hundred having been prepared already. With each platter eaten, more came out from within Diya’s office, served by workers hired by her.
For a brief moment in time, they ate like kings, forgetting completely about the military that was chasing them. Nearly all of them could hardly recall the last time they had such a spread in front of them, with their lives only filled with bread and other grains. “This, this is the life!”
The rowdy crowd was turned into a sit-down event, where more and more people were gathered, having a platter each to themselves as they shovelled as much as they could into their mouths. It was like an open-air restaurant, except the food was absolutely free.
There was still a wave of dwellers who were attracted by the rumours and by the scent, streaming in. However, Diya was unfazed, having more than enough mammoth hog meat to go around, thanks to Kyle.
As the first wave of dwellers were finally full from eating, leaning back and joking with each other, some of them suddenly recalled why they were here in the first place, though they could not find much hatred in the hearts to direct at Diya.
“Are you satisfied now?” Diya spoke. “Have you finally come to your senses? As to who the true enemy is?”
“You used us as a distraction! You got the weapons from the barracks!” One of the more astute slum dwellers shouted out, earning nods and agreements, as well as looks of hatred from those who had lost friends and loved ones in the riot.
“I gave you food!” Diya shouted back with force. “I gave you purpose! Look at you now, eating your fill and only complaining. I gave you an outlet to voice your dissent to those who lord over us, to those who oppress us! Think about what the military has done for you over the last few months of rationing. Do you feel protected?”
“You got my wife killed!” Another shouted in response.
“I was not the one who fired the machine gun – it is the military! I too am like you, a slum dweller. I have been here all my life, born and raised here. Yet instead of focusing on the true source of oppression, you come here to eat my food and then blame me for what the oppressors have done?! Look beyond the veil – the problems are because of the council, the military who care nothing of your needs. But I know you. I know everything about you – because I am just like you. A dweller who is tired of the injustice. A dweller who is sick of the shame. A dweller who is looking for strength to fight back against those who would put us down! Are you going to simply sit here and wait for free handouts while the military purges the entire slums?”
“NO!” A few angry dwellers shouted, successfully riled up by Diya.
“Are you going to surrender to the military, letting them imprison you for the ‘crime’ of speaking?”
“NO!”
“Are you going to submit to the council, who discriminate against you for where you stayed, where you were born?”
“NO!” The entire crowd roared back now, the peer pressure and frenzy building up in a rising torrent.
“I GAVE YOU FOOD; I GAVE YOU PURPOSE! AND NOW, I GIVE YOU STRENGTH!” Diya roared, with crates of weapons stolen from the barracks hauled out from the office. There were more than enough repeaters and handguns that were distributed around.
“Promised victory and an end to suffering awaits us, comrades. WHO’S WITH ME!?”
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