Kelly the Mad
Congolese Empire
- Oct 28, 2020
- 1,083
Recently a protest of Moldovans was organizing at Jewish Neighborhood, a neighborhood in Bucharest. An estimated 2,000 Moldovans had gathered when the FPASG heard about the event. All 90 members of the Agency, fully armed, drove to the site in blacked-out vans. Their whole body and face covered in black, armed with Gewehr 36s and bayonets. They would begin advancing slowly towards the mass of Moldovans. The people there would immediately scatter.
The Moldovans would find new places to gather every hour or so, every time driven away by the special government police force. Then, on the yard of the palace of parliament, a shot was fired. An agent goes down, shot in the chest but saved by his bulletproof vest. The other agents begin firing into the crowd wildly, and shots are returned inaccurately. Dozens of Moldovans collapse under the withering fire. The agents combined had nearly 9,000 bullets loaded into their weapons and had several spare drums per. Another agent falls, this time hit in the head. He collapses backward, stiff.
By now the crowd had dispersed and over a hundred bodies lay on the yard. Yet still, from behind the pillars of the massive building, shots were being popped off in the direction of the agents. Rallying behind their vans, they pull out a weapon they had stored for emergencies. The DShK was set out on its tripod and the belt of heavy ammunition loaded in. When their guns went silent they waited for the shooters to peak out. Slowly the fighters began to emerge. And then the agents opened fire.
Windows across the front of the majestic building were shattered and the strong pillars pitted. The fighters were chewed up. The gun went silent for a second and fifty agents stormed the front of the building, executing wounded fighters and stopping any who were still fit to fight. In total 25 insurgents were either killed or captured, with 138 civilians dead and 389 wounded. The dead agent was given a military funeral attended by the Commander (dictator) himself.
The Moldovans would find new places to gather every hour or so, every time driven away by the special government police force. Then, on the yard of the palace of parliament, a shot was fired. An agent goes down, shot in the chest but saved by his bulletproof vest. The other agents begin firing into the crowd wildly, and shots are returned inaccurately. Dozens of Moldovans collapse under the withering fire. The agents combined had nearly 9,000 bullets loaded into their weapons and had several spare drums per. Another agent falls, this time hit in the head. He collapses backward, stiff.
By now the crowd had dispersed and over a hundred bodies lay on the yard. Yet still, from behind the pillars of the massive building, shots were being popped off in the direction of the agents. Rallying behind their vans, they pull out a weapon they had stored for emergencies. The DShK was set out on its tripod and the belt of heavy ammunition loaded in. When their guns went silent they waited for the shooters to peak out. Slowly the fighters began to emerge. And then the agents opened fire.
Windows across the front of the majestic building were shattered and the strong pillars pitted. The fighters were chewed up. The gun went silent for a second and fifty agents stormed the front of the building, executing wounded fighters and stopping any who were still fit to fight. In total 25 insurgents were either killed or captured, with 138 civilians dead and 389 wounded. The dead agent was given a military funeral attended by the Commander (dictator) himself.
