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Emergence

Amanda sprinted up the spiraling metal steps, taking them two or three at a time. Down below, the screams and gunfire became less frequent, the convicts escaping, finding places to hide, or being cut down by bullets. So she ran. She had to see if it had all been worth it, if the city had heeded her warning. She hoped it had. She sincerely hoped. The staircase was walled in from the surrounding stone by cold concrete, dripping with ground water that leaked through its various cracks. It took quite a while of clanking up the metal steps, but Amanda was eventually confronted by the blue visage of an exit. She twisted the blue-painted handle without hesitation, anxiety, fear, and hope plain upon her face as she pushed it open. The door moved reluctantly, anciently, revealing the city beyond. The stairs had taken her up into a small metal shed, crammed full of industrial worker's clothing and equipment. Behind the dusty windows the sun rose red over the factories, the bloody light glinting off of the chaos below. As she stumbled out of the shed and into the street, Amanda became just another speck in another sea of revolution. People ran through the early dawn streets of the industrial district, mainly night workers still wearing their uniforms and still brandishing the tools of their trades. 

Members of the DMP tried to hold the angry mobs at bay, peppering them with rubber bullets and tossing hissing canisters of tear gas into their midst, but it was all for naught. The mob rushed on heedless of these annoyances, driving the line of armored officers steadily backwards. Up above, the clouds had parted, letting the red light of the dawn glare down on the city. Amanda was swept along with the crowd, occasionally stoping to peer at the skyline surrounding her to get her bearings. It became quickly apparent where this riot was headed, as, over quite a few minutes of enraged marching, the buildings became more elegant and graceful in their construction. They had marble carvings, soaring spires, and beautifully rendered stone statues. This riot was headed for the center of the city, the Marble Estate from which the Prime Minister and his administration tried to run the city. Soon, the dawn light highlighted the gray silhouettes of helicopters in the sky. They quickly drew closer to the city center, the insignia on their side making it plain whom they owed their allegiance to. The Kyirnath Contingent had finally made the decision to assault Denton. The shining machines touched down across the northern city, landing in streets, on roofs, and wherever else was free. Amanda held her breath, watching the small squads of heavily armored soldier nearby climbing free from the helicopters, stumbling out like some breed of odd beetle. 

The Denton Military Police lines took one collective glance over the riot, a quick look to the advancing soldiers, and filed slowly backwards onto the concert lawn before the Marble Estate. Amanda watched, taking in the view of the seat of Denton's government. A large fence, spiked at the top and forged from black-painted steel ringed the entirety of the concrete walk-up to the stone palace. Inside of the fence, concrete tiles -- covered in a glossy finish -- formed a hard slab of grey surrounding the building itself for sixty feet on all sides, leading right up to the steel fence. From what Amanda had learned in history class, she knew that a garden had originally surrounded the Marble Estate -- full of vibrant and exotic plant life -- but had been replaced by the current setup once the smog from the factories had strangled the life out of it. Now, the only things vaguely reminiscent of the previous trees and plants were the fifty-seven pointed obelisks, carved from shining white marble, that stood directly before the entrance to the building proper and almost exactly thirty feet from the fence line. Each was inscribed with the name of one of the city's founders, and a quote on their views on how to govern inscribed beneath that. The Marble Estate itself soared above the surrounding sheet of grey concert, the central marble building rising higher than any of the three smaller wings jutting off to the left, right, and behind. Each had small windows, a collection of surrounding guard towers, and a slanted roof of dark blue tile. The only entrance was a set of double doors on the main building, leading inwards to a highly defensible atrium before dividing into hallways that lead to each of the three outer wings, and a large staircase rising upwards to the main spire.

As Amanda took in the sight, the world moved on regardless. She was buffeted through the large gate of the estate as the mob rushed onwards, now feeling insults and jeering  at the fleeing police. From the street to their left, the Contingent soldier began to advance in jagged formation, rifles bristling and shinning was red light, as if they were already soaked in blood. All around, Denton hummed with the sounds of angry mobs, spitting firearms, shuddering helicopters, the incessant march of booted feet, the whistle of bombs, the wails of the frightened and injured, and the halting -- yet paradoxically constant -- advance of armored tank treads.

As the mob stormed the Marble Estate, two contrasting yet strangely similar repots echoed over military-grade speakers to the left its left and right. Each proclaimed that their side would not stand for Denton's wartime double-dealing and thus had the right to storm and seize the city to prevent the spread of their enemies army, customs, and evil. Each advised the irate and panicking cities to stay calm until control was established. Each was screamed with a ferocity rivaling the roar of the worst monster imaginable. And each was backed by an army. The situation became suddenly all the more clear as the hungry bellows of war fell upon Amanda's ears. She had exposed the injustice below Denton and rallied the people to defend their rights, but her message had also fallen upon the ears of two armies, each itching for a fight and boiling at the mere thought of some fool assisting their enemy behind their backs. She could see it now in her mind's eye, some soldier scanning the various airwaves caught the words of her broadcast. The obedient person would have sat there for a moment, shocked, hanging on her every word and probably scribbling it down for later reference. Then, as her voice cut away, the pride and anger would take hold. The listener would stand up, kicking over the chair upon with he or she sat in their haste, and sprint off to their commander. The commander would then relay the enraging proclamation up the chain of command. And then the orders would come streaming back down: Seize the city. Do not allow this outrage to continue. The rest of the mindless horde of sapients around her finally noticed the converging armies, a line of Manyvale tanks speeding down the street to meet the unfaltering lines of armored Contingent soldiers, backed by helicopters, circling above like deadly birds of prey. She was shoved to the ground and nearly trampled as the riot panicked -- fueled less now by anger and more by the desperate drive to avoid death and pain as it tore savagely into the outnumbered, outgunned, and overpowered line of military police officers to get closer to the promise of safety behind the closed doors of the Marble Estate. As the rioting and writhing mass moved on, Amanda lay upon the wet concert, staring up and ahead as tanks met soldier before the backdrop of a city skyline framed in the bloody, crimson light of the dawn. She lay there and wondered at it all. How, in saving one group of innocents from injustice she had condemned another mass of unknowns to be written up in the obituaries. And to form the black ink numbers and letters of news from the front. She stood up, and began ambling blindly towards the now open doors of the Marble Estate. It looked to be the only thing she could do, to seek shelter in the seat of a crumbling government.