121: Turbulent prelude

Central Roma Continent, Santa Maria Mining Area.

The scorching sun baked the cracked earth, and the air was filled with the smell of dust and sweat. Miners, dragging their weary bodies, mechanically swung their pickaxes, digging for ore deep underground.

Electronic shackles were on their wrists, and if they stopped for more than three minutes, they would be electrocuted. On the watchtowers surrounding the mining area, New Harmony Army soldiers manned heavy machine guns, indifferently monitoring the miners toiling below like ants.

"Hurry up! Don't dawdle!" A New Harmony sergeant with a cruel face brandished an electric baton, striking a thin miner hard on the back. The miner grunted, stumbled a few steps, but dared not stop. His eyes were numb, as if he had long grown accustomed to such torment.

The sergeant watched the blood seeping from the miner's back with satisfaction, then turned to his next target.

However, just then, a commotion erupted at the edge of the mining area. A blood-soaked miner stumbled over, his face showing incredible ecstasy: "Did you hear? Hoffman is dead! Hoffman of New Harmony Resources Company was killed!"

The news exploded among the miners like a clap of thunder. The supervising soldiers immediately became alert, and one captain sternly shouted: "Shut up! Anyone who spreads rumors again will be shot on the spot!"

But it was too late; the news spread like wildfire, and the miners' eyes gradually changed. A glimmer of hope ignited in their numbness.

Late at night, the miners were herded back to their dormitory, which resembled a cattle shed. Under the dim light, a low voice came from the corner: "Brothers, the opportunity has come."

Everyone turned to look; it was Carlos.

This former rebel fighter had been captured in an ambush six months ago, and the scar on his face, stretching from his forehead to his chin, was a 'souvenir' left by New Harmony soldiers.

Carlos carefully pulled out a rusty dagger, brandishing it before everyone: "I've been observing for three months. Tonight, there are only half the usual guards. Hoffman's death has thrown New Harmony into chaos; they're drawing troops from various mining areas to reinforce their headquarters."

His voice was very low, yet it struck everyone's heart like a hammer, "I've contacted a few old comrades; they'll act simultaneously tomorrow night. Now is the time for us to reclaim our freedom!"

The miners looked at each other, some nervously swallowing, some fearfully looking out the door, but more of them had the suppressed anger of many years burning in their eyes.

"Let's do it!" a young miner gritted his teeth, "My sister was tortured to death by these beasts!" "Count me in!" another old miner with a wrinkled face clenched his fist, "These old bones should have fought them long ago!"

Carlos showed a ferocious smile: "Good, the plan is like this..." He drew a simple map on the ground with coal ash, explaining each step in detail. Just then, the iron door of the dormitory was suddenly kicked open, and two drunken New Harmony soldiers staggered in: "What are you pigs muttering about?" One of them raised his rifle butt, ready to smash it into the nearest miner.

A cold glint flashed in Carlos's eyes, and his movements were as fast as lightning. The rusty dagger precisely pierced the first soldier's throat, and blood splattered on the wall. The other soldier hadn't even reacted before three miners pounced on him, their rough hands tightly gripping his neck.

In less than ten seconds, the two soldiers became two corpses.

"It seems the plan needs to be moved up," Carlos said calmly, wiping the blood from his dagger, "Get their weapons and keys; we'll act tonight."

Meanwhile, in New Union's Roman Palace, the President was in a rage.

"Useless! A bunch of useless people!" He slammed a stack of reports onto the Secretary-General's face, "Is that guy deliberately causing me trouble? Now all the mining areas in Central Roma Continent are rioting!"

"He's happy, but who's responsible for this huge mess? Me!"

The Secretary-General wiped the cold sweat from his forehead: "Sir, why not bring him back for trial?"

"Bring him back? And trial?" The President sneered, pointing to the protest footage playing on the TV, "Now everyone is cheering for that 'righteous avenger', saying he's a hero who eliminated evil for the people! If I dare to lay a finger on him, these rioters will make me step down tomorrow!"

"Those Militech guys will probably kick us while we're down; we absolutely cannot give them any leverage. Notify all media to downplay this news, just say it's a rumor."

He irritably tugged at his tie, "Also, transfer some border guards; the riots must be quelled within a week!"

As the New Harmony Army was massively deployed to Central Roma Continent to suppress the miner riots, the previously impregnable southern border defense line began to loosen.

At the St. Teresa checkpoint on the border between New Union and the Solarian Federation, station chief Rodriguez was idly flipping through the day's "Economic Times," the headline prominently reading "Central Roma Continent Riots Escalate, New Harmony Resources Company Stock Plummets."

"Sir, we have a situation," a young customs officer hurried over, lowering his voice, "Three suspicious refrigerated trucks are requesting passage. Their documents are complete, but the drivers look uneasy."

Rodriguez slowly put down his newspaper and glanced at the surveillance screen: "Send them to Channel 3 for a full inspection."

"But..." The officer hesitated, "One of the drivers said... they're 'old clients'."

The station chief's eyes flickered. He stood up, adjusted his uniform, and personally walked to the inspection area. Beside a refrigerated truck, a man wearing sunglasses was impatiently tapping the steering wheel.

"Documents," Rodriguez held out his hand in a businesslike manner.

As the man handed over the file bag, a thick envelope smoothly slid into the station chief's pocket. "It's so hot, Sir, perhaps you could do us a favor? This batch of seafood can't afford any delays."

Rodriguez squeezed the thickness of the envelope, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He pretended to flip through the documents, then suddenly frowned: "Channel 3 equipment is malfunctioning; take the green channel instead." He then meaningfully patted the car door.

Five minutes later, three refrigerated trucks drove through the checkpoint unimpeded. The young officer asked, puzzled: "Sir, no inspection?"

"Inspect what?" Rodriguez waved impatiently, "Didn't you see it's an urgent shipment from Juyong Fresh? If we delay the dinner of those gentlemen on Golden Serpent Street, can you bear the responsibility?"

As he turned, he touched his bulging pocket and hummed a tune as he returned to his office.

Meanwhile, in a Europa Union safe house, military intelligence agent Lena was speaking through an encrypted channel: "The goods have entered the country and are expected to arrive at the designated location within 24 hours. Remember, this operation must ensure all traces point to North Steel."

"Cooperation is cooperation, but it's also necessary to let them shoulder more trouble."

A low male voice came from the other end of the phone: "Don't worry, the weapons provided by North Steel are 'obsolete' stock from the last century; the serial numbers haven't even been filed off. We don't even need to help them extra."

Lena hung up the phone and turned to the technician in the room: "Contact our mole in New Union and have him replace the border surveillance system's half-hour recording." She lit a cigarette with a cold sneer, "Let those New Union upstarts enjoy the 'big gift' we're sending them."

After driving 200 kilometers into New Union territory, the refrigerated trucks stopped at an abandoned auto repair shop in the desert. Viktor jumped out of the car, eagerly prying open the back door of the cargo compartment, revealing twenty weapon crates neatly stacked inside, each bearing the North Steel military emblem.

"Hahaha!" He laughed wildly as he opened the first crate, which contained brand-new CK-12 assault rifles. "Those Europa sissies are quite generous this time!" The second crate held six RPG-7 rocket launchers, and the third was filled with C4 plastic explosives.

Marcos, the bespectacled computer expert, was inspecting the last crate when he suddenly gasped: "Boss... this thing isn't right..." He trembled, pointing to the metallic sphere in the crate.

Viktor's smile froze.

He squatted down to examine it closely, his face gradually turning pale and then excited: "Fuck... this is... North Steel's 'Little Ivan' tactical device..." He abruptly turned and grabbed the delivery driver by the collar, "Are you guys fucking crazy? This thing can flatten an entire city block!"

The driver calmly pulled out a satellite phone: "Mr. Viktor, a gentleman would like to speak with you."

Viktor tremblingly took the phone, but the voice on the other end was distorted: "Mr. Viktor, there's no need to panic. This is a personal gift from me to you, to help you better exact your revenge."

Viktor was unsure of the other party's intentions and decided to stall: "Revenge? This batch of weapons and explosives is already enough."

"Considering what the New Harmony government did to your subordinates, I think conventional methods are too gentle." The voice on the other end was unhurried, but filled with 'concern' for Viktor: "This 'little gift' has a yield of only 0.5 kilotons, enough to turn the financial center of Golden Serpent Street into history."

"Anyway, with 'Guixu' and the industrial cities of several companies, the one on Golden Serpent Street is useless; we might as well demolish it."

Viktor's hand trembled slightly, but the flames of revenge burned in his eyes: "What exactly do you want?"

"It's simple," the voice on the other end said with a cold laugh, "Tomorrow at 10 AM sharp, I need the world's attention to be focused on Golden Serpent Street. As for afterward... whether you want to settle scores with the New Harmony government, or take the opportunity to take over their drug market, it's all up to you."

After hanging up the phone, Viktor looked around at his subordinates, who all had varying expressions. Marcos asked, trembling: "Boss, are we really going to..."

"Do it! Why not?" Viktor laughed ferociously, "When they killed our brothers, they didn't hesitate about what kind of weapons to use."

"Anyway, we're already walking dead; we might as well be a little crazier!"