Alex
Kingdom of Greece
- Apr 16, 2019
- 4,922
Point-of-View: Darrell Rankin, Leader of the Communist Party of Ontario
Rankin was unlike his other comrades across Canada. While the others wished to win over the crowd and win by majority, he was a man of direct-action, regardless of the consequences or the public image that his party received. Historically, communism only rooted itself by force against the elite and the government, not by having the majority. His actions were made for nothing more than results.
The elite-controlled media and government had and always would lie about the working-class, attempting to keep them down and take their attempted revolts out of context to frame them as outcasts among their own people. Internal conflict, that’s what the elite attempted to assure stayed forever in the working-class, conflict that would take the workers’ attention away from the real enemy. Darrell was sick and tired of this and with this new fascist government in control of the nation for years now, things were only bound to become worse.
Those of the Communist Party of Ontario thought the same thing as he did and following the murder of Kimball Cariou in Vancouver, they had decided to take action. They armed themselves; pistols, shotguns, hunting rifles, bolt-actions, crossbows, molotovs, knives and axes. Anything that they could use to take steps against the police and the Maroon Shirts of Bianca Wright. This time, if they attempted to murder them, they’d be prepared.
They were nearly four hundred. The majority of them were tasked to follow Rankin through Toronto to the exchange building, to take it by force and continue the movement. However, some fifty of them were tasked with a more important task, they were to storm the headquarters of the Nationalist Party of Canada.
From the headquarters of their party in the Playter Estates of Toronto, the men and women loaded their weapons and equipment into various vehicles from small cars to large vans. The alleyways behind the building provided them with the perfect camouflage and the night sky took any possible discovery away.
“There’s no going back.” Darrell stated simply. “If you want out, you get out now.” There was a silence in the large group as they looked around at each other, curious to see if anyone would actually abandon them. When no one did, their leader nodded with a smile. “Good. Today we make history, and if we’re lucky enough we’ll never have to do something like this again.”
One by one the vehicles left the area and into the night. They went their own separate ways to assure that no one would notice them, but they were all to meet at the stock exchange building near the waterfront. Five of the vans, however, were set for another destination.
A large balding man approached Rankin, his skin dark and eyes narrow. “We’re ready.” Masked and in black clothing, the armed men were loaded into their vans. “We’ll bring that building to ashes and then we’ll hit that bitch’s government with everything we’ve got.” If the people were to lose their homes because of her government, then she would follow them - by force. “You sure you don’t want us to hit the Shirts?”
Rankin shook his head. “We hit them, we’re done.” He explained. “We’ll hit them one day, Purnaq, but first we need what they have: numbers.” The Inuit nodded his head in understanding before Darrell shook his hand. “Good luck, brother.”
“You too.”
The vans left and Darrell took his vehicle the opposite way.
***
Point-of-View: Purnaq Idlout, Inuit Comminist
The five vans stopped on the deserted road.
The building was small, for the main headquarters of the party that ruled Canada with an iron-grip. The lights were off, windows and curtains shut, and it stated ‘closed’ on the main door. It would simply make for an easier target, Purnaq thought. The buildings on each side of the street were just as dark and still, no one would see them… or at least identify them.
Purnaq excited the driver’s seat of his van and the other vans would quickly empty, they were nearly fifty in total. From the back of each of the vans, they would grab various supplies and tools; bolt cutters, hammers, a light, and many cans of gasoline. Idlout, armed with both a bolt cutter and a hammer approached the building from the side.
Being over six feet tall, reaching the security camera was no problem, a swing of his hammer severed it from its instalment and it fell to the ground before his feet. Using the bolt cutters, the man would cut the lock that kept the grated security door in-place, and the smaller and weaker door behind it was revealed - easily broken through with a hammer against its glass. Now inside the building, the communists stormed inside it.
While their main goal was to burn it to the ground, they were also there in the hopes of being able to collect information that they could use against the Nationalist Party, or at the very least get information that would be considered private knowledge. They ran to the computer towers, opening them up quickly and unscrewing the various parts inside with care before pulling out their harddrives and stuffing them in their backpacks. Others would look through the various file cabinets located around the office and inside each of the desks, while there wasn’t much to be found, their search granted them a few files and papers that they believed would serve them in the future.
Then they began soaking and coating everything with as much gasoline as they could, the fumes nearly making the Inuit pass out as they made a gasoline trail back to the building’s front entrance. “Everyone stand back.” He ordered as he pulled out his lighter, making sure the flame was on before throwing it on the trail of gasoline.
The flames erupted and roared its way into the building. They consumed and demanded everything become ashes, the heat radiating outward as those representing the people’s anger, and the destruction an overwhelming joy. Purnaq could have stood there all night, embracing the heat and watching the destruction as those hypnotized, but to do so would likely destroy the buildings surrounding the NPC’s headquarters alongside it.
Instead, knowing that the building was already out of service and anything useful now being in their possession, the man pulled out his thick Nokia cell phone and dialled the emergency services. “There’s a fire on Danforth Street,” he told them simply, “you should send the fire department before it spreads.” He hung up the phone and the communists quickly entered their vans and raced out to Bianca Wright’s mansion some kilometers away.
***
Point-of-View: Darrell Rankin, Leader of the Communist Party of Ontario
While the headquarters of the Nationalist Party of Canada burned, the other communists had gathered in some three hundred in Old Toronto before the Toronto Stock Exchange building; a large black skyscraper covered in windows. It was deep within the night, but Old Toronto was always brimming with life and the citizens of the city knew to avoid the area, but if the people knew they were there then so would the police. They had to take the next step quickly.
“Montreal and Vancouver!” Darrell began. “We know what has happened there, Montreal took the building and Vancouver tried, only to be butchered by the police. But we won’t be taking this building… if they want to tear us down, then we’ll do the same to them!” Rankin lit the molotov cocktail that was in his hands. “Let’s burn this fucking place down!”
Cheers game from the armed and masked crowd and Darrell threw the molotov against one of the main windows, it didn’t do much to the building other than crack the window and start a small fire below it but for the gathered crowd it signaled the attack.
In the hundreds, they charged up the concrete stairs and against the stock exchange building. Using their bats, sledgehammers, firearms, bricks, and everything in between they forced their way inside and one at a time they lit molotovs and threw them inside. Like fireworks, the building ignited and it was glorious.
Their leader grabbed their attention once against, yelling over the roar of flames. “We’re not done here!” He stated. “We can burn down as many buildings as we want - nothing will change, they’ll simply rebuild!” He grabbed the vz. 58 rifle that hung on his back, he lifted it into the air. “We’ll take city hall! We’ll take the Legislative Building! We’ll take Cosa Loma! We’ll knock down their walls until they’re left with nothing but the streets!” The crowd cheered. “We, the people, are taking this city!”
For the rest of the night, the people of Toronto could hear constant sirens followed by gunshots and chants.