[ WP ] An uprising against the government begins .

[ Wrote this awhile back for a collaborative writing forum I work with. Enjoy. ] 
 
 The defendant stood stoically in the courtroom, seemingly unconcerned with what hung in the balance. Absently, he checked his watch. 12:30 PM. It was time. He nudged his lawyer, whispered something; the man nodded solemnly. This seemed to please him, as he returned to facing the bench. After an interminable pause, a door opened, and the twenty men of the jury entered, seating themselves in the benches provided for them. The judge, an elderly man with a severe look about him, adjusted his wig and cast one last hard glare at the defendant before rapping his gavel, seating the assembled audience. 
 
 `` Anton Malinowski, you will rise to hear verdict,'' he said, his voice solemn, clear, imperious. Malinowski, the defendant, stood in defiance, his entire being tensed as he glared unflinchingly at the man who had been his tormenter, his adversary, for the past two months. It had all come down to this moment. 
 
 `` Has the jury reached a verdict?,'' the judge said, turning his attentions away from the Communist before him. `` We have, Your Honor,'' came a voice from the bench, a woman's this time. `` Very well,'' the judge replied. `` You may proceed.'' 
 
 `` In the first count, of Treason against the Government of His Majesty the King, we do find the defendant Anton Malinowski guilty,'' the woman read. `` The vote upon this matter was unanimous.'' Malinowski's glance snapped to the bench, staring daggers at those who shrank beneath the man's gaze. His lawyer placed a hand upon his shoulder, a vain attempt to calm the man. The woman proceeded, her voice cracking now. 
 
 `` In the second matter, of ten counts Murder in the First Degree, we do find the defendant Anton Malinowski guilty. Upon these counts, the votes were unanimous.'' 
 
 `` In the third matter, of eighty-three counts Defamation of the Personage of the King, we do find the defendant Anton Malinowski guilty. Upon these counts, the votes were unanimous.'' 
 
 Having finished her labor, the woman sat, heaving a sigh. Malinowski was rendered numb as the judge thanked the jury for its service. He was numb as the judge read out that he was to be executed by hanging. He was deaf and blind to the fury of the crowd assembled outside the courthouse and throughout the country. As he was led away in handcuffs and irons, he was ignorant of the one fact that would make Anton Malinowski, steelworker, a name remembered throughout history. 
 
 He had started the Revolution. 
 
 `` Fuck, we ca n't hold'em! Where the fuck is our cavalry?'' 
 
 Officer Fabian Wyrick screamed in desperation into his radio as hordes of enraged protestors converged upon him. The shield wall of the Greater Glodno Police, Special Services Division, had seemed so imposing when the two sides had merely been casting harsh looks and harsh words at one another. Then, the verdict had come, and the words turned to action. Hundreds, perhaps a thousand, rushed toward the courthouse and toward the police barrier, trying to break their man free or at least break a few heads in the process. The police quickly found themselves overwhelmed. Wyrick swung wildly in all directions, making contact at least a few times before his stamina and adrenaline high wore off. Exhausted, and having made no serious dent in the mob before him, he relented. In an instant, the mob set upon him, furiously beating themselves against the riot shield behind which he had crouched, and beating him ferociously with any instrument they could set their hands upon. This was how it would end. Wyrick closed his eyes and began praying for grace, for mercy, for forgiveness of any sins, waiting for the moment to come when it would end. 
 
 And end it did, though in a most horrible way. Suddenly, a loud revving sound cut through the din, causing police and protestor alike to stop and turn their heads. Advancing down the block, unmistakable in its behemoth size and terrible glory, was a BTR-80. The Royal Army had apparently decided to take matters into its own hands, and proceeded to unleash a torrent of 7.62mm fire and 14.5mm heavy autocannon rounds into the now-fleeing crowd. Most did not have time to scream before they were cut down. Wyrick could only watch, horrified, as the crew of the BTR chased after those who fled, running several down in a splatter of gore. `` You fucking monsters!,'' he shouted, knowing as he did that it was all in vain. `` Stop this fucking slaughter! For the love of God stop it!'' Not thinking, half-mad with rage, he charged the BTR. It was by sheer luck that he managed to climb atop it, and sheer forgetfulness of the crew that he managed to pop the compartment open. Now, he found himself staring face-first at uniformed crew of one of the Household Guard's armored carriers. It was not a situation most would envy. 
 
 `` What the fuck do you think you're doing? Those are our countrymen out there you goddamn psychopaths! Turn this fucking thing around and go home!'' It was futile, he knew, but Wyrick was a man on autopilot, and futility did not register at this point. After a pause, Wyrick received his reply in the form of a solid slug to the jaw. With a sickening crack, he was out cold. 
 
 Three hours later, the streets were empty, save for the Household Guard patrolling a city that was now under martial law. Untold thousands had been killed or dragged off the streets. And Officer Fabian Wyrick was bound in the back of an armored carrier, on the way to meet an unlikely ally.
