Socialist Commonwealth
Establishing Nation
A cool breeze whizzed through the trees along the road, causing the leaves to fill the night with a quiet rustling. The small clouds of steam rising on the middle of the countryside street were quickly dispersed by the wind and the bright light of the full moon, shining through the branches of the oak trees, added a subtle beauty to the otherwise horrid scenery in front of Inspector Hribar, who struggled to maintain composure even though he had been investigating such cases for more than twenty years now.
The bodies of several men and women were draped across the tarmac, hot blood still running from their wounds, some caused by bullets, others obviously cutmarks. It wasn't just the view on death, not just the lake of blood forming below the dead, and not even the intestines that had been scattered over the distance of several meters. What made this scenery unbearable for even the cynic that was Inspector Hribar, was the look of sheer horror on each every face of those killed here. Whoever did this clearly wanted to convey a message to everyone in the country. These people had suffered terrible pain and the murderers would do it again.
"They can't be far," Hribar murmured, watching another cloud of mist form from the hot blood that dripped from the wounds. "Probably left through the fields..."
Just as he finished his words, the night filled with a deafening roar, the sound of a jet engine approaching from the distance until the silhouette of a large military helicopter passed over the scenery, searching the surroundings with a bright searchlight. The Revolutionary Army had already been informed by Hribars colleagues and operations in a perimeter around the crime scene had begun. With a bit of luck, those responsible for the attack would be found - but that was far from likely, Hribar knew. This was just the most cruel of a great number of murders in the last weeks.
"We're in a warzone," Inspector Bizjak, a colleague of Hribar, said as he walked up. "Mezhists, no doubt," he claimed, watching the army helicopter pass into the dark behind the wheat fields of the Vrbas Kraj.
The bodies of several men and women were draped across the tarmac, hot blood still running from their wounds, some caused by bullets, others obviously cutmarks. It wasn't just the view on death, not just the lake of blood forming below the dead, and not even the intestines that had been scattered over the distance of several meters. What made this scenery unbearable for even the cynic that was Inspector Hribar, was the look of sheer horror on each every face of those killed here. Whoever did this clearly wanted to convey a message to everyone in the country. These people had suffered terrible pain and the murderers would do it again.
"They can't be far," Hribar murmured, watching another cloud of mist form from the hot blood that dripped from the wounds. "Probably left through the fields..."
Just as he finished his words, the night filled with a deafening roar, the sound of a jet engine approaching from the distance until the silhouette of a large military helicopter passed over the scenery, searching the surroundings with a bright searchlight. The Revolutionary Army had already been informed by Hribars colleagues and operations in a perimeter around the crime scene had begun. With a bit of luck, those responsible for the attack would be found - but that was far from likely, Hribar knew. This was just the most cruel of a great number of murders in the last weeks.
"We're in a warzone," Inspector Bizjak, a colleague of Hribar, said as he walked up. "Mezhists, no doubt," he claimed, watching the army helicopter pass into the dark behind the wheat fields of the Vrbas Kraj.