Not long after the planning session concluded, the assault began. Not with bullets. Not with bombs. With information.
People throughout Latveria suddenly discovered sothing unprecedented. Anyone with a mobile phone or other electronic device began receiving ssages. Countless ssages. Materials signed by the rebels, flooding inboxes and notification screens with relentless persistence.
The content was diverse, carefully curated to build a narrative.
At the beginning, the information was basically dirty secrets belonging to the Fortunov family. Financial records showing corruption. Photos of extravagant parties while citizens starved. Videos of family mbers draped in jewels and furs, laughing as they stepped over beggars.
The contrast was stark..
People saw their rulers' true faces. The opulence purchased with blood and suffering. The contempt in which they were held.
Discussions erupted. In hos. In markets. In hushed conversations on street corners. Everyone had opinions. Everyone shared what they'd received.
Wait until everyone had discussed these revelations thoroughly, until the shock had tabolized into sothing approaching acceptance, until they'd grown accustod to daily revelations of excess and cruelty.
Then the second wave arrived.
Every adult received new information. Restricted-level content that made the previous revelations seem almost benign. Images and videos of the Fortunov family's army carrying out terrorist suppression operations. Bloody massacres executed on innocent people in rural towns and satellite cities.
Children shot in streets. Elderly beaten to death for insufficient deference. Won violated and discarded. Entire families disappeared for speaking against the regi.
The docuntation was comprehensive.
During this period, these ssages were accompanied by other content. Video images of rebels fiercely resisting the Hassenstadt army. Brave n and won standing against overwhelming force. Footage of firefights and last stands, all set to emotional and tragic music that pulled at heartstrings and stoked righteous fury.
Most of the rebel images were fake, of course. Scenes temporarily concocted by Nolan and Doom, leading the resistance mbers in staged battles. Professional propaganda, carefully constructed to inspire.
But the emotions they provoked were real.
And as ti passed, those inexplicable feelings gradually fernted in people's hearts. Anger. Sha. Desire for justice. The need to act rather than simply endure.
The ruling power of the Fortunov family inevitably beca aware of the campaign. Their intelligence services, sluggish but functional, reported the information warfare.
Their response was predictable. Heavy-handed. Desperate.
The rulers imdiately chose to enforce physical disconnections in every location up and down the country. Internet cut. Cell towers disabled. Communications severed at infrastructure level.
At the sa ti, they sent troops to force everyone to hand over their electronic equipnt. Soldiers went door to door, confiscating phones, tablets, computers. Anything that could receive ssages.
They were trying to eliminate the deadly threat that shook the foundation of their rule through brute suppression.
The result was inevitable. Bloody conflicts between the two sides erupted one after another, following the script Nolan and Doom had predicted with depressing accuracy.
People refused to surrender their devices. Soldiers insisted. Violence followed. And with each confrontation, more resentnt built. More hatred crystallized.
anwhile, unknown to the Fortunov family, counterasures deployed.
Automatic servo robots, each one installed with network signal amplification devices, were quickly mobilized from the Twin Islands base by David.
They infiltrated satellite cities under cover of darkness. Positioned themselves in optimal locations. And began broadcasting.
When the conflicts between the local people and the Hassenstadt army intensified to breaking points, when blood had been spilled and positions hardened, a considerable number of people who had successfully hidden their electronic devices received new information from the rebels.
However, the content had evolved. This information was practical.
Instructions on how to use nearby buildings and roads to resist effectively. Which structures offered best cover. Where chokepoints could be created. How to turn urban terrain into advantage.
And how to manufacture improvised weapons. Explosives from household chemicals. Molotov cocktails from bottles and fuel. Barricades from furniture and debris.
The ssages transford ordinary citizens into potential combatants. Gave them tools. thods. Hope.
As a result, a small group of n, won, and children who already harbored burning hatred for the Fortunov family made their decisions. They rushed into the streets of various satellite cities, ard with crude weapons or homade explosives. Fear mixed with determination in equal asure.
A more fierce and bloody conflict began with the ruling army of the Fortunov family. This ti, the civilians fought back.
But they weren't alone.
Before the riots erupted, many old rebels in disguise had already infiltrated the satellite cities. Positioned. Waiting for opportunities. Ard with proper weapons and training.
The bloody conflict had just begun when precision strikes landed. Important facilities exploded. Arsenals detonated, sending ammunition skyward in spectacular fireworks. Power stations went dark. Communication hubs died.
Chaos blood like flowers across multiple cities simultaneously.
At the sa ti, the Stormtrooper team, ard with laser sniper rifles and accompanied by several automatic drones, arrived at the satellite cities where riots occurred. They moved through confusion like ghosts, power armor carrying them across rooftops and through shadows.
Accompanied by bursts of explosions and flas shooting into the sky, by noisy shouts erupting from every direction, systematic elimination proceeded.
The highest officials of several satellite cities fell first. Then military commanders. Each one called out by the Automata and Stormtroopers through precise intelligence.
Each received the highest courtesy: death by headshot. Clean. Instant. Decapitating the command structure.
Military personnel who temporarily lost their leadership faced impossible choices. So fought on, driven by training or loyalty, and were beaten to death by the angry people flooding the streets.
Others simply turned. Switched sides with smiles on their faces, leading the rebels to remaining loyalist positions. Survival instinct overriding ideology.
The satellite cities fell like dominoes. One. Two. Three. Resistance crumbling faster than anyone had predicted.
Wait until everything developed and the dust had basically settled, until fires were extinguished and bodies counted.
Doom, as the leader of the resistance, led part of the rebel army into the satellite city closest to the mountain stronghold. The city where resistance sentint had always run strongest. Where his na still carried weight.
He addressed crowds through consistent speeches. Made commitnts to walk the talk. Promised change backed by visible action.
The response was overwhelming. He once again received strong support from the vast majority of the public. Even those who had originally maintained wait-and-see attitudes, skeptical of yet another revolutionary promise, joined the cause.
The evidence was undeniable. The Fortunov family truly fell. Doom truly delivered.
As a result, the resistance army, whose numbers had increased dramatically through popular support, imdiately marched toward the next satellite city. No rest. No hesitation. Montum demanded exploitation.
A week later, the tally was stark. Six of the only eight satellite cities in Latveria were back in rebel hands.
As for the remaining two satellite cities and the only capital city of Hassenstadt, the internal situation churned with barely suppressed chaos. The public opinion offensive against every local population showed no sign of stopping. ssages still flowed. Anger still built.
The more powerfully the rulers of the Fortunov family oppressed the people below, crushing dissent with escalating brutality, the more intense the resistance they received. Action and reaction, spiraling upward toward inevitable explosion.
A few days later, Nolan personally led the Stormtrooper team to launch beheading operations in the two satellite cities outside the capital Hassenstadt. Ti for direct intervention.
Doom had prepared them well. He'd given the Stormtroopers witchcraft blessings and special stealth thods. Spells layered over technology. Magic supplenting the "Invisible Man" effect.
The people wearing power armor moved through cities like invisible ghosts, perception sliding away from them like water from oiled surfaces. They took away the heads of local chief executives with surgical precision. Literal heads in so cases. taphorical authority in all cases.
Even the already panic-stricken Hassenstadt army, jumpy and trigger-happy, found themselves systematically eliminated. Nolan and his team wiped them out one by one. Silent kills. Professional executions.
When the angry crowds, who could no longer suppress their rage, finally gathered courage and numbers, they rushed into the territories belonging to the Fortunov family inside the satellite cities.
They found only broken corpses everywhere. Horrific scenes of massacre. The work already done. Their oppressors already dead.
Justice delivered before they'd even arrived to claim it.
In the end, the accounting was remarkable. It took only half a month for the resistance under Nolan's coordination to regain fruits of victory that far exceeded those of the past several years of struggle.
This certainly didn't an the local rebels had been useless before. That would be unfair assessnt.
In fact, Doom had been conducting operations quite well in the past. His tactics were sound. His strategies viable. Without Leviathan's forcible intervention, backing the Fortunov family with resources and expertise, it would have been only a matter of ti before he successfully liberated Latveria.
Nolan's contribution was specific. He'd relied on the local people's pre-existing hatred and disgust for Fortunov family rule. Tapped into emotions already present.
Then applied continuous public opinion offensives combined with crushing technological superiority. The results followed naturally from superior thodology.
As for why Nolan didn't directly strike at the Fortunov family huddled in the capital city, ending the threat permanently, the answer was strategic patience.
He'd carefully followed David's advice on this matter.
The Fortunov family had never been the real threat. They were puppets. The Leviathan organization hiding behind them, pulling strings, was the true culprit.
Now, Nolan, who had maintained great patience despite having the power to simply crush all opposition, deliberately gave Leviathan ti to react. Space to mobilize their resources. Opportunity to commit their forces.
In common terms, the previous series of actions were actually just fishing. Setting bait. Waiting for the catch.
"My lord, I have forcibly closed all the accounts of the Fortunov family and Leviathan for transferring interests."
Inside the mountain stronghold, David's chanical voice carried satisfaction. His blue optics flashed rhythmically as he reported.
"The money and wealth in them have been taken over one by one by the shell companies of Imperial Heavy Industries. The resulting loss of all financial revenue from a small country is an unbearable event for the secret service organization Leviathan, even for an organization of their resources."
David's tal head tilted analytically. "In other words, their remaining Zodiac mbers and corresponding manpower will definitely gather in the only remaining city of Hassenstadt. This is one of the reasons why I deliberately kept the city's internal network signal active."
His tone carried sothing approaching amusent. "After all, closing the door and beating the dog is the only solution that resolves everything once and for all. A good way to ensure total victory."
At this mont, Nolan stood with his back to David. His power armor glead dully in the stronghold's lighting. He leaned forward slightly, attention focused elsewhere.
Before him sat a supply box that had just been delivered from the Twin Islands base. He'd opened it, revealing contents packed in protective foam.
Nolan reached in carefully, fingers closing around a weapon he hadn't held in so ti. He lifted it free.
The Blood Scythe erged into light. Its sharp blade lingered with green luminescence, the glow pulsing softly like a heartbeat. The weapon felt right in his hands. Familiar. Hungry.
He turned it slowly, examining the edge from multiple angles. Checking for damage. Confirming readiness.
"Very good," he said, voice carrying anticipation. "I'm looking forward to Leviathan bringing so 'surprises'..."
He set the scythe down carefully, then turned partially toward David. "David, where is Doom? Why can't I see him around recently?"
The question was casual, but genuine curiosity underlay it. Doom had been conspicuously absent from recent strategy sessions.
Hearing Nolan's inquiry, David seed to hesitate. The pause was brief but noticeable. Unusual for the normally decisive artificial intelligence.
But he still replied to Nolan, honesty winning out. "After Mr. Doom finished dealing with the complicated administrative matters at hand, consolidating control over the liberated cities, he has been using his free ti to lead everyone in the Stormtrooper team to conduct technical research."
David's tone carried sothing that might have been respect. "They're mainly studying the overall structure of their power armor. Detailed analysis. Reverse engineering. Understanding every component and system."
A pause. Then the revelation. "He seems to want to independently build a power armor of his own."
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