[Asheron] God bless America

The Cheyenne Mountain Complex
El Paso County, Colorado
September 25th, 2521
10:45 AM

Richard stared at the tattered flag infront of him, it was a large square flag with a white star on a blue field. The flag was riddled with bullet holes, a sign of the conflict it had just come from. Afterall it was the city of Houston's garrison flag, a city that for the latter half of three months had been under siege by United States forces making one last push into the now destroyed New Texan Republic. Fighting had been fierce and brutal but now it had finally come to a close leaving Richard and his government to clean up the mess and collect the spoils of war.

Richard looked up from the flag to the man who had just delivered it to him. Staring at him back was an imposing figure, General Lewis Kessler. Kessler was an intimidating man, standinging at a towering 6'4 even at the age of sixty-one he came off as someone who if he wanted to could kill you in sixty seconds. But for as intimidating as he was he was fiercely loyal, a man dedicated to restoring a country he hadn't even really know. Despite that his military prowess was second to none, with him singlehandedly directing the entirety of the Texan Campaign, under Richard's supervision of course. Richard had know Kessler for most of his life, Richard although being ten years younger knew Kessler as they grew up together as sons of officers in the Complex. They were friends and allies, both with deep loves for their country. Richard grasped the flag and raised it to Kessler.

"You've done a brilliant job Lewis, this will be a great morale booster and not to mention a great boon to us giving us access to the city's port and the old Space Center which we will investigate to check for any salvageable tech like we did back in Dallas and San Antonio." He said elated.

"Thank you Mr. President, it was my pleasure," He said staying in his usual solem and respectful manner.

"I would just like to let you know Lewy, that as my greatest friend I am proud of what you've done and for your great service and achievements I think it is fitting that you should be rewarded, so that is why I'm happy to tell you that you are not only getting an increase in your pay, but shall also be receiving the Distinguished Service Medal for the major achievements under your command." Richard turned to his personal secretary. "Maria, can you please send out a memo and schedule for General Kessler's Medal Ceremony tomorrow?" Checking her schedule sheet, Maria made a few adjustments and handed them to Richard. After a moment of looking the sheet over Richard approved and passed it back to his Secretary. Turning back to Kessler, Richard stood and made his way to the couches in the center of his office, although the office was underground it was quite spacious and not at all confining.

"Now, lets talk about southern Wyoming." Richard said, gesturing for Kessler to sit on the couch opposite him. Kessler moved in tandum waling to the couch, placing his service cap on the table in between them.

"What about it would you like to discuss, sir?" Kessler asked, adjusting his uniform slightly.

"I wanted to talk with you about the possibility and feasibility of clearing out the raiders that occupy that territory." Richard said leaning forward, his back at a hunch.

"Well, we could attempt some kind of push but we would first need to recall some forces from the Texas area, to assist with any action in the area. Alongside that we'll need air support, those damn raiders are a fierce and conniving bunch. So a solely ground based force would not be in our favor." Kessler straigtened his back.

"Well thanks to you and your progress in Texas we acquired some pre-flash jets at the airbases that scatter the state, so we can have them fixed up and then use those to gain air superiority." Richard leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms.

"Yes sir, now the only unknown variable would be the two other powers in the region meaning we must be wary of the Casscadian's to the north and the Sierran's to the west who could pose a problem for us if not careful." Kessler also crossed his arms.

"Mhm, well I would like for you and the rest of the Joint Chiefs to form a plan for any incursion into Wyoming, and alongside that I'll talk with you tomorrow about the Sierran's I have been thinking about them for a while now and I think they have somethings we may need." Richard stood. "But we'll talk more tomorrow, I have a meeting with the Secretary of State in a moment to discuss the current strategy with the Casscadian's. But its been great to see you." Kesseler stood and Richard shook his hand.

"It has been good to see you too Mr. President." After picking up his hat Kessler saluted and proceeded to exit the room. Richard walked to his desk and looked at the flag he left there. What once used to be a flag representing the independence of a traitor state now, would be a symbol of what happens when you challenge the Provisional Government, threaten the constitution and attack the continuity of the United States of America. As it says in the bible "For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer." And for that is why we say God Bless America.

The Cheyenne Mountain Complex
El Paso County, Colorado
September 30th, 2521
12:57 PM

The war room was a dark and shadowy place, the room had high, slanted ceilings with a large analog electronic world map on the wall. In the center of the room sat a large circular table surrounded by leather chairs. Above it sat a large circular light, which provided some of the only light in the room. Richard sat at the right side of the table his back facing the electronic map. Around him sat his Advisors and Generals, each of them sat down in the circle conversing with one another in hushed tones. He hit his hand on the table to gain their attention.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, what have you decided is the best plan of action for the invasion of Wyoming and the Iron Angel raider territory?" Richard asked, his voice echoing slightly in the large room. Across from him General Kessler stood and moved toward the electronic map, a small remote in his hand, he pressed one of the buttons. The electronic map displayed a map of the PGUSA* and a bordering map of the Iron Angel Territory.

"This ladies and gentlemen is the border between these United States and the scoundrel raiders known as the Iron Angels. The Iron Angels to fill in those who may not know are a semi-nomadic biker gang that occupies the former states of Wyoming and Montana controlling the area's Slave and Gun trade along with performing raiding operations on neighboring towns and caravans. They are headed by a man named Jayce Dobson, a notorious outlaw who seized control of the gang after a power struggle a few years back. Now they are positioned mainly in the mountains with riders being spread out in the surrounding areas and from these mountains they have set up artillery emplacements and other defensible positions."

Kessler clicked the button again, causing arrows to appear piercing into Iron Angle territory. "We will first move to secure the surrounding areas around the mountain ranges, taking the strategic towns of Butte, Helena, Bozeman, Canyon Village, and Missoula. From there we will move to encircle the mountain range, cutting off their supply and then using our newly acquired air support in the form of repaired Pre-flash jets to bombard their mountain positions. Now if at any point their leader Mr. Dobson is captured it will be first priority to make him surrender openly over the Radio, which will be recorded and played as we proceed to liberate more towns in the area after that Mr. Dobson will be liquidated. Alongside this, the spread of "propaganda" will be required to pacify the local populace but I'm sure the folks in the Office of Censorship will have that covered." Kessler smiled and gestured to the propaganda chief. "From that point on after the destruction of raider forces in the area, more forces will be moved in to complete pacification and quell any and all resistance. Now, are there any questions?" One of the staffers raised their hand "Yes?" Asked Kessler.

"So what about the Sierran's and the GCR?" He asked gesturing to the plan.

"Good question, well the GCR is a bit occupied at this current moment with internal divisions so for now, the bear seems to be blinded by pain. And for the Sierran's they wouldn't be able to mobilize fast enough to put up any meaningful response." Kessler smiled. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes." The staffer leaned back in his chair.

"Now," Kessler announced. "The invasion will begin in a matter of ten days or so. And that means complete silence, not a peep of this must reach the public and as well all know leaking classified information is treason meaning the immediate death penalty. But with that last bit done. I wish us all good fortune in the days to come. God Bless the United States of America, God Bless the Provisional Government, and God Bless President Whitehall!" Kessler raised his arm to a salute. After which every staffer at the table stood and saluted the still seated President Whitehall.

Standing, Richard saluted them announcing loudly. "God Bless America."

Capital Building
Helena, Montana
September 30th, 2521
3:17 PM

The roar of many engines filled the compound. Two dozen motorcycles passed through the gates, coming to a stop in front of the gray building. The raiding party had returned.

Tiama had been napping while nursing little Eli, but had passed the baby off to a slave nurse when she heard the riders return. She put on a jacket made from beaver pelts, and rushed through the old capital building.

As she rushed out the doors she met Jayce rushing up. His look of surprise turned to joy as she flung herself into his arms.

“I missed you,” she said, laughing.

He stroked her hair, his riding gloves still on. She didn’t mind. “Oh my sweet, I was only gone two weeks.”

“That was too long.”

He gently put her down and untangled himself from her hug. She was much shorter than him, her head coming barely up to his chest. “How is Eli?” he asked.

“He’s strong, just like his father.”

“Still being fussy just like his father?”

She laughed sweetly at his humor. “You’re never fussy.”

He gave her a half smile. “Then you’ve never spoken to my riders,” he said jovially.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he had also missed her. They’d only been together a year now, but Tiama had filled a hole in his heart he hadn’t even known he’d had. For once, it felt good to be home and he was already dreading the next time he’d have to leave.

“Will you come see him?” she asked. “He’s sleeping right now, but he’d love to see his father.”

He rubbed her cheek, admiring the shape and her dark olive skin, the near black eyes. “I need to meet with my war ministers first, but I shall come see you both this evening.”

She gave him a worried look. “Is there danger?”

He laughed disarmingly. “Nothing to worry about. Just some new power encroaching on our territory in the south. Nothing the Angels can’t handle.” He kissed her on her forehead. “Now get back to our son. Young children always need their mothers.”

---

Whenever he had to convene the war ministers, Jayce Dobson would have the greatest desire for violence. These men and women, all the meanest and toughest sons of bitches without doubt, were also the most stubborn short-sighted halfwits that Mother Earth had ever spat out. To not see the threat they faced, and instead parade around like peacocks. If guns were allowed in the assembly hall, Dobson would shoot them all down like dogs.

“We shouldn’t fear these Cultists of the World-that-was,” bellowed Karl Hartdegen, Prince of Butte, and the senior war minister. “They will clash against our forces and we will send them to hellfire as we have with all our foes.”

There were roars of agreement, and more boasts of prowess. There were challenges and wagers on the number of widows they’d make, and trophies they’d take. Dobson remained silent and let the boisterous charade continue. He’d let them make fools of themselves for now.

“Any who flies the flag of the old Ooessaye are invalid eunuchs,” roared Kima Chagar, Princess of Great Falls stated. Her words got another round of agreement.

“We shall kill these invaders, and take their wives and children as slaves.” This was said by Hammer Benson, the newest war minister. Just six months ago he had defeated the former war minister in ritual combat and became the new Prince of Big Sky. He was also young, just barely nineteen. Yet he made an imposing figure, broad-shouldered and muscle bound. There was a sinister look in his eye, like he saw everyone as a potential enemy, and always he seemed to be sizing everyone up, especially Dobson.

But the Grand War Prince of the Iron Angels was not afraid of any of them. He knew their types. Thugs who believed only in the power of force. Dobson was far more deadly and dangerous than anyone else in this room. He had not beaten his predecessor through a pointless show of might, but had taken control through war. He’d shattered the Angels, and then built them back up better.

At last he raised his hand for silence, ready to take charge.

“What mighty words,” he said, his voice taking a hushed neutral tone. “The Iron Angels are mighty, their war ministers mightier.”

There was some agreement but most were silent, realizing Dobson was not boasting. They waited for him to make a point.

“We have such a glorious history. We took these lands from tribals and farmers, such glorious foes. What great battles our ancestors fought, butchering unarmed women and children. This was after we fled across the Great Plains, driven from the green lands of Tennessee. But now we raid our neighbors, we take slaves, and pillage munitions from Cascadia and sell them to others we raid, arming our own enemies. What clever people we are.”

He glared at his ministers, giving them a look that was daring them to speak out. They all remained silent.

“Now one of these enemies, one we’ve raided in the past, has consolidated their position and will turn their eyes to us. But we will break them like we’ve broken every other attack on us. Isn’t that what you said, Prince of Butte? Our mighty biker gangs and salvaged altillery will stop a disciplined military force?” He laughed, and it was a mocking cruel laugh.

“They have air power, we have motorcycles. And who’s to say what new technology and weapons they uncovered in Texas. Laser rifles? Power armor? Our fights with the Cascadian s should have taught us we are no match for these things. Our numbers, our prowess, our battle hardened stares will not turn back our enemies. We must be clever and devious. Something none of you are.”

Many voices rose up in an outroar, but Dobson was having none of it. “Shut the fuck up!” His voice roared louder than the engines of their war bikes. “Anyone who speaks again will be leading a war band against Fort Misery. Alone.”

They all gave each other troubled looks. They all knew the Cascadian fort was highly protected and they’d never stand a chance.

“We don’t know how long we have before this so-called Provisional Ooessaye comes for us. Days, weeks, months? But we need to be ready. But I have a plan…”

The Town Hall
Bozeman, Montana
October 11th, 2521
7:39 PM

The sun began to set over the town of Bozeman, the sky was illuminated a brilliant orange and caked in smoke from the town. From inside the city shouts could be heard followed by the sound of machine gunfire. The buildings that lined the streets of Bozeman were riddled with bullets, some less fortunate homes stood destroyed caught in the crossfire of the ensuing battle. From the town center, a gunfight was in progress, PGUSA forces had surrounded the raiders and began exchanging fire.

From his makeshift sandbag fortification, Captain Thompson looked out above the sandbags at the ensuing fight. Lined in front of him in fortified positions sat about twenty to thirty men all with their weapons trained on the aptly named Town Hall, a former dive bar before the flash now converted into what would serve as the center of the town's government house. The building was surrounded by a hodgepodge fortification of all sorts of furniture, blowout vehicles, and a few scattered sandbags. The building itself was riddled with holes, the building barely looked as if it could stand. The defenders inside looked desperate, some hopeless. From behind his fortification, Captain Thompson retrieve his bullhorn which he'd placed on the ground beside him. Taking a deep breath he yelled into the bullhorn.

"CEASEFIRE." After a moment the gunfire stopped, keeping their weapons trained on the building's defenders who now looked out from their barricades in confusion. "Iron Angels! My name is Captain Leslie Thompson, I am the commander of this platoon." He shouted into the bullhorn. "I have an offer for you gentlemen, give us Prince Kompowski and we will let you all go free! Refuse and in the next minute I will call up a mortar team to rain hellfire down upon every last one of you. You have four minutes!" Thompson put the bull horn away from his mouth.

The defenders were abuzz with the sound of chatter with arguments breaking out among them at times turning into small scuffles. But in the end, the group took all of three minutes to make their decision. From the back stood a man, he was bearded, bloodied, and tired looking, over his back was slung an old assault rifle most likely crafted by the man himself. He spoke loudly but hoarsely.

"We accept your terms!" The man gestured to the defenders, who proceeded to grab an angry Kompowski and drag him kicked and screaming to the opposing fortifications. He was handed off and placed into the care of two large soldiers who dragged him to Captain Thompson. The Captain gestured to the two soldiers who had just arrived to wait. As he pulled the bullhorn back to his mouth.

"The Provisional Government of the United States thanks you for your cooperation!" He smiled. "Your reward for cooperating will be that every last one of you will be pardoned for any crimes you have committed under the Iron Angels and not prosecuted by the Provisional Government." Kompowski began to shout loudly.

"Lies, they lie!" Thompson gestured towards one of the soldiers holding him, Kompowski was punched in the stomach stifling his shouts. Continuing on Thompson shouted. "Once you drop your weapons you may leave in peace and return to your loved ones and families." He watched as one by one the former defenders dropped their weapons and slowly made their way out of the town square, hands behind their heads defeated. But for as glorious as it was not over yet. Captain Thompson turned to face the silent Kompowski.

"I want information Kompowski, where are the rest of your raider buddies?" He said unbuttoning his holster.

"I do not know." Cried Kompowski noticing the unbuttoned holster.

"Are you sure?" The Captain removed his service pistol and pointed it at Kompowski's head. "I swear to god I will put two in your skull right now if you don't tell me where they are."

Kompowski began to cry, his body shaking with fear. "I don't know, I don't know." He sobbed.

"Get on your knees Kompowski." Thompson calmly used his service pistol to force him to his knees.

"Please, Please I'm begging you I have a family!" He screamed his eyes now a waterfall of tears.

"Then tell me where the rest of the Angels are!" He shouted, holding the gun to Kompowski's head.

"Ok, ok, they are in the mountains!" He said in anguish, his tears choking him as he spoke.

"Well then, that took much less than expected," Thompson smirked.

"So will you let me go?" Asked Kompowski wiping the tears from his face.

"Traitors get what traitors deserve." Thompson fired his gun, planting a bullet through the top of his forehead. He fired two more rounds into the now-dead Kompowski and reholstered his service pistol. "You two." He gestured to the men who held the former Prince. "Burn this man's body with his possessions."

"Yes sir!" The two soldiers said saluting. The two men lifted the body and carried it away while Thompson went to survey the damage. Approached by one Sergeant Grassley, Thompson greeted the man and began an after-battle report.

"How many dead?" Thompson asked tapping his foot.

"About fifty dead sir and about one-hundred wounded sir." He said checking a clipboard.

"Well it could be worse, we lost a hell of a lot more men than that down when we took Dallas back in Texas." He said remembering the siege, it lasted eight months. A horrible battle filled with the blood of good men and bad. A battle which he wouldn't wish on anyone even his worst enemy. Months filled with dead heat, disease, and the loss of life. Not to mention the brutality, he could almost picture the day he first got there watching as a skyscraper collapsed onto a whole platoon both friendlies and not. It was a bloodbath. But this capture, this capture was child's play. But in the end

This battle was won, but the war was still on.

Ruins of I-90
Coulson Park, Billings, Montana
October 13th, 2521
6:09 AM

The PGSU convoy rolled west, crossing the bridge. Seven trucks, and a dozen smaller transports, with an armored personnel carrier at the front.

The Yellowstone River was little more than a wide stream this time of year, but many provisional troops left the column to dunk their heads in water and refill their canteens. Their officers hollered for them to hurry up and fall back in line.

The city had been pacified a week before. The battle hadn’t been long, the local Angels folding after forty minutes. The Prince of Billings, Goram Whitehorse, had tried to flee north on his motorcycle, but had been blasted into a cloud of dust by a well placed artillery shot.

A large flag now over the Billings Heights Mall, the former fortress of the late Whitehorse. It could be seen for miles over the relatively flat terrain. The troops, fresh from the south, hadn’t yet seen any fighting and the sight of the flag gave them a sense of security. This land was under provisional control.

The convoy rolled around the corner, the last stragglers leaving the river and catching up. The armored transport rolled around the long rusted hill of an ancient semi truck. Then with a loud bang it was engulfed in a cloud of fire and smoke.

There were screams of AMBUSH! Followed by commands to take cover. Another explosion rocked the roadway as the rear truck in the convoy went up in another explosion.

Machine gunfire opened up from the brush. What was once a municipal park was now overgrown with thick blackberries, perfect cover for concealment. Heavy guns tore through men and vehicles alike. The PGUSA troops screamed and bled, the survivors fleeing north into the concealment of old crumbling buildings. Others moved back east, heading towards the bridge which would give them concealment.

Even over the sound of weapons fire and short range mortars, the unmistakable roar of motorcycles could be heard. Four dozen choppers engine’s screamed as they came over the bridge. Jayce Dobson lead the charge, one hand holding an SMG, the other on the throttle.

“Blood and Death!” he screamed, his voice drowned out by the engines.

He gunned down a young man trying to flee. He gunned his engine and his tires caught an officer as he barreled over him. His Angels came behind, firing at anything that moved.

A half dozen men had taken cover behind a transport, and they fired at the attackers. Dobson swerved to get out of the line of fire, but with one hand steering he over-corrected and flipped his bike.

He relaxed his muscles, letting his leather jacket take the friction. He slid to a stop near an overgrown barrier. He’d lost the SMG, but he had a hand axe in a holster on his bike. Running over to it he pulled it out.

The enemy troops had avoided being killed by Dobson’s riders who had already sped to the far end of the killing field. They were hurriedly reloading. Dobson charged before they noticed he was still up.

Screaming as he came around the corner he buried his ace in the chest of a freckle faced kid, yanked it out, and then chopped into his skull.

Next he cut into the arm of a bearded man. He howled in pain, dropping his rifle. Dobson finished him off with his axe to the face.

Another soldier was raising his side arm. Dobson threw the axe, catching him in the throat. He went down, choking on his blood.

Dobson used his foot to hook the dropped rifle, kicking it into the air and catching it. He fired off rounds rapidly, hitting two men grouped together. The last soldier had already turn to flee, racing across the cracked pavement for the city. Dobson dropped to one knee, aimed, and caught the man in the back as he fled.

The rest of the battle ended quickly. Dobson inspected his bike. It was scratched up but still rideable. He pushed it upright and hopped on as his men returned.

“There on the run,” his lieutenant informed.

“Good,” Dobson said. “Put the rest of these trucks to the grenade. They’ll be sending a retaliatory strike soon. We don’t want to be here when they do.”

And as quickly as they’d come his men left the carnage behind. They disappeared into the north, following old dirt roads into the hills and the cover of the forests.

---

Washed in the Blood of the Lamb - Joshua James and Mark Morgan

East Helena
Helena, Montana
October 15th, 2521
4:20 PM

The gentle breeze blew through Captain Thompson's hair, he stood on top of a small hill overlooking the wider city in front of him. Defenses had been prepared, bikers had been mobilized and the walls had been put up. The city sat silent, waiting for an attack. But Thompson had other plans, turning away from the city the Captain walked down the hill and back to his command tent. Inside, waited several soldiers all of whom manned some job or task which they worked away at diligently. As he passed through the tent's green tarp door, the men stood to salute him, saluting back Thompson moved to his desk and turned to one of the radio operators in the tent.

"Operator Conley, give me Air Command," Thompson said distracted fixing some unaligned pencils on his desk. While Conley fiddled with the radio while he thumbed through his radio manual. After a few seconds, the channel was accessed. "Air Command, this is Captain Thompson of Alpha Company. Over." The Captain said loudly moving closer to the radio and its operator. The radio crackled to life, a woman spoke from it.

"Umm, Captain Thompson can you please confirm yourself with your designated passcode, over?" The woman said her voice filled with a bearable static.

"Let me see here," Thompson quickly rushed back to his desk and fished out his codebook, thumbing through it he quickly found the code and repeated it to the woman. "The code is, BRAVO-OSCAR-OSCAR-MIKE-TREE-TOO-WUN, over." He announced loudly into the Radio's microphone, moving its operator to the side.

"The code is affirmed, what are the target's coordinates, over?" The radio said buzzing.

"The coordinates are 46.6172° North, 112.0972° West, over." Thompson stepped back from the radio and moved back to his desk, placing his code book back in its drawer.

"Target confirmed Captain, the strike team is on its way, over." The radio turned silent and Thompson muttered to himself.

"Godspeed." After a few minutes, Thompson exited his command tent and walked back to the top of the small hill. Once again he looked out at the city across defenses still raised, completely unaware of what was about to happen next.

Eastern slopes of Mt Helena
Helena, Montana
October 15th, 2521
4:27 PM

The first air strike hit the city, blasting the old capital building into rubble. Fire and smoke rose up into the sky.

Tiama held little Eli close. He whimpered but his sounds were drowned out by jets roaring through the valley. They were followed by explosions as their bombs hit their targets.

The twin steeples of St Helen’s cathedral collapsed in a blaze of fire.

Others stood around her, their faces shocked at the destruction. They were the Death Riders, Dobson’s personal guards. They’d been ordered to get the woman and her child out of the city. And it had been just in time. They’d started up the mountain as the air strikes commenced.

The baby began to cry and she tried to hush him. “Shh, shh. It’ll be alright,” she lied. But it wouldn’t be alright. The fires told her only one truth. They’d just lost their fight.

The Ruined Capital Building
Helena, Montana
October 16th, 2521
9:45 AM

Smoke piled high into the sky, the charred remains of decimated shacks and buildings littered the area surrounding the Capital Building's steps. The Capital Building itself was devastated, with the dome crumbling in on itself slowly, piece by piece collapsing into the carcass that was the rest of the structure. On the steps stood Captain Thompson beside him handcuffed and kneeling sat the remaining lower princes of the Iron Angels. At the bottom of the steps stood a line of twenty armed soldiers, the men acted as a barrier keeping the civilians in front of the steps away from Thompson and the Princes. Moving a step forwards Thompson shouted at the large crowd that began to form in front of the Capital Building.

"People of Helena, Montana! My name is Captain Leslie Thompson, I am a representative of the Provisional Government of the United States of America. And I have come to inform you that as of today you have been liberated by the Provisional Government from the tyrannical and traitorous rule of these so-called Iron Angels." Thompson gestured towards the kneeling Princes. "From this moment onward, all of these practices will be considered outlawed and therefore illegal. Slavery, Gun Trafficking, Prostitution, Human Trafficking, Raiding, Filibustering and Counterfeiting." Rummaging in his pocket for a moment, the Captain removed a rolled-up piece of paper from it and after a moment of uncrumpling the paper held it out in front of the crowd. "As you may all know this is a picture of the former Grand Prince Jayce Dobson of the Iron Angels Dobson. He is now to be considered an Outlaw and is wanted for multiple crimes against the Provisional Government up to and including Treason, Murder, Human Trafficking, Gun Trafficking, and Prostitution." Thompson moved the photo around for all to see. "For his elimination, you will be rewarded 100,000 dollars and for his capture, you will be rewarded 150,000 Dollars alongside farming equipment." And for information leading to the arrest of Mr. Dobson will also be rewarded with 10,000 dollars. Any information you may have you can deliver it to myself or to another member of the town's garrison." The crowd cheered.

Turning to the Princes, Thompson gestured to the crowd for quiet. "These Princes and Princesses have ruled over this land with an iron fist for decades, enslaving and raping the land and people for their own personal gain. Now, these men and women stand before you in chains. Victims of their own hubris and complacency. They have all committed crimes against the people of these lands and for these crimes they must be punished." Thompson unholstered his service pistol and approached the first prince. "Karl Hartdegen, Prince of Butte you have been charged with the crime of Treason, and I sentence you to die."

The Prince growled with anger. "Fuck yo-" A gunshot rang out, and silence gripped the air. Thompson moved to the next Prince he was a surprisingly young man, about the age of nineteen, "Hammer Benson, Prince of Big Sky you have been charged with the crime of Treason, and I sentence you to die." A quick gunshot rang out and then silence. Finally, he came upon the last one, a Princess. The woman began to plead with him.

"Please sir, spare me! I was only doing as I was told!" The Princess sobbed and looked at Thompson trying to appeal to any pity he had within him.

"Kima Chagar, Princess of Great Falls you have been charged with the crime of Treason, I sentence you to death." The woman began to sob more and more becoming almost hysterical. Crouching down to her level, Thompson whispered in her ear. "Your tears mean nothing to me." Standing back up, the Captain placed his service pistol to the back of her head and pulled the trigger. Thompson shouted out to the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, you may return to your homes and dwellings. If you need medical or financial assistance after the attack please see our camp's displacement specialist team and medical staff. In the next four hours, there will be a message broadcasted via radio and television of the Provisional President giving a speech on what you can expect to come next. So remember, stay safe and God bless America!"