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Quartidi, 24 Pluviôse 217


Mergerberger II
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Two Republican weeks ago, Quartidi, 4 Pluviôse 217

There was an uneasy feeling all throughout the Senate. All members had arrived today, that is, all members of the Imperial, Liberal, and Labour parties. And although they had no idea of what had occurred just outside of the Senate Building, they could feel it in the air, hanging like a foul smell, clinging onto every particle of oxygen and leading a crusade into the souls of the Senators, where they wreaked havoc. The Senate Building was completely silent, except for the onimous ticking of the Great Clock hanging over the room, in the front, above the stage. The men and women looked around nervously, wondering what was going to happen. They were to vote on a relatively minor bill today, something to do with housing for the poor, and it was expected to pass without trouble.

Why the deed was done on this hour remains unclear to this day. There was little in the future that could have been gained by doing it now, and going about it earlier would have made far more sense, perhaps the time of the voting on Magnus Pabulum. It is my opinion that the most beneficial time to have done it would have been just after the sale of Schwiiz to Gebiv, when all of that money was floating around, waiting for somewhere to go. However, there remains little doubt that it was done, and what ramifications it had on the Old Republic and on the World.

After a relatively quick vote on the bill, passing it onto the Prins' office, a recess was called. Numerous Senators left the building, to have a smoke or to grab some lunch, not all of their motivations were clear or recorded, for that matter. It is, however, abundantly clear what did occur while the majority of them were away.

Beneath the Senate building, several hundred feet underground, there existed a large tunnel. Its purpose was, and remains, unclear. Within it, there walked a man, wearing a black suit. He wore a red, white, and blue tie, matching the colors of the flag, although the true nationalist intentions of his actions are unclear now, as he is at this point deceased of natural causes. Whatever the intention, he walked through this tunnel, alone. He was confident that he was the only man that knew anything about this tunnel, outside of his small group of accomplices, that is. He had already been walking for a good fifteen minutes at a relatively fast pace; it was a long tunnel, leading from a remote cave outside Amsterdam to the Senate Building.

At some point he came to the ladder up into the floor in the bathroom of the Building, although the exact time of his arrival is debated to this day. He climbed the rusted rungs, each one bolted to the cement wall in front of him. He stared at the round opening straight above him, and although he could only barely see it with the lack of light in the tunnel, he could just barely make out the round wheel that he would need to turn to get in. Upon arriving at the pinnacle of the ladder, he leaned back until his back came in contact with the other side of the shaft, then put pressure on his back and on his legs, allowing him to stay in the same place with his hands free to turn the wheel. He turned it twice to the right, leaned back to the rungs of the ladder, and pushed open the door with his head. He felt the rust grind on his head, some pieces entering his hair, which he would not get out until later that night. He used his neck to push the door out of the way until he could get a hand out of the shaft, with which he pushed the door all the way until its hinge did not allow it to go any further. He climbed out, left hand on the ground first, then pulling out his left leg, his right hand moving from the door to the dusty wooden floor, pushing the rest of him through the opening. He shut the door and closed it. He moved over to the wall with just a bit of light coming out from underneath it. He pushed, hard as he could, and moved the large block out of the way, first pushing it forward, then to his right, so as to allow him to come out. There was nobody in the bathroom; he had made sure that it was locked and a large 'OUT OF ORDER' was put on the door.He moved the slab back into its position, opened the door, and headed to the bathroom on the other side of the hall.

In his jacket pocket was a pistol, equipped with a silencer, and in his pants pockets were many, many cartridges. He arrived at the bathroom door opposite the room he had entered the building in, calmly opened the door, and moved into the room itself.

It was a fairly large bathroom, seven stalls and seven urinals, obviously a men's room. The women's room was just next door. There was a man in a blue suit standing at the urinal, who turned his head to have a look at the man who had just entered. The man in the black suit ignored the blue-suited man's gaze, and went over to the stalls. Five were occupied. There were three at the urinals. He walked back to the urinals, and without any sort of hesitation, he removed the pistol from his jacket pocket, and shot the three men at the urinals in the head. Blood ran as they fell to the floor, each one dead before he could know what had happened. The stalls began to stir, the men had heard what just happened. They tried to get out as fast as possible, however the man in the dark suit simply went to each stall, one by one, and shot every man in the face. Four fell back into the toilet, and the other to the side of the toilet, cracking his head on the tile. Blood poured out of their bodies, however it was less than one might expect from eight men, due largely to four of them falling into the toilet, their blood spilling into the putrid water. He moved to the ladies' room.

There were not but stalls in here, and no one bothered to have a look at him when he came in, except for the one woman at the sink, who uttered only half of her phrase before she suffered a bullet to the forehead and fell back onto the ground. He systematically kicked down the doors of the stalls, shooting each woman in the face. After checking again to make sure each one of them was completely dead, he took his leave from the bathrooms, and, after cleaning his shoes off in the sink and reloading his pistol, moved on to the Dining Room.

This would be a significantly larger challenge. The Dining Room, while not a terribly large room, was significantly bigger than the bathrooms, and on top of that, once he fired one shot in the middle of everything, the people would immediately see, through the glass, the dead people of that unlucky room, and begin to run like madmen. Fortunately for the dark-suited man, the glass was not bulletproof. He had, he remembered, stored another pistol in his other pocket, as well as a small explosive in his shoe, which was only to be used in emergencies, as it would undoubtedly lead to him being captured. He walked down the hallway, his foot leaving large impressions on the dark red carpet, and upon reaching the Dining Room, he opened the door.

The Dining Room was divided into four rooms, each consisting of twenty seats. In the room he had entered, there were ten men sitting, with another twelve in the room to his left, fifteen in the room across from him, and seven in the room to his right. He figured he would start with the fifteen. He walked into that room, pulled out his two pistols, and shot every man in that room. Fifteen Senators lay dead over their lunch. Meanwhile, the other Senators were attempting to escape the room, however they were unfortunate that the dark-suited man had locked all of the doors. He shot all of them, and by the end, 44 Senators and 7 lunch servers lay dead in that room.

Despite his greatest efforts to kill them quickly, one of the Senators had managed to pull the fire alarm, and he would be forced to return to his tunnel and to leave Amsterdam. He walked out of the Dining Room, careful not to step in any blood or on any bodies, and walked calmly down the hallway to the bathroom from where he had emerged. He said hello to someone on the way, presumably a Janitor at the Senate Building. He headed to the room marked 'OUT OF ORDER', moved the large block once more, and headed back into the tunnel from where he had come from.

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One Hour Later

A man, presumably a firefighter by the looks of his uniform, walked the halls of the Building, looking for any trace of fire. Most of the building had been searched already, however this wing had not been. It was presumed that there was no fire, and that the alarm was pulled by mistake, or it went off due to a computing error. In an attempt to be diligent, he opened every door, felt every wall, and checked every nook and cranny for any trace of fire or smoke. He had to be absolutely sure. He had voted for these men, after all.

He came to a bathroom, discovered that he had a great urge to urinate, and went inside. To his horror, there lay on the ground eight bodies, each in a pool of dried blood. His eyes were wide, and he was paralyzed with fear. However, he overcame his urges and went to examine the men closer. Being careful not to touch them, it became abundantly clear to him that each man had been shot in the forehead, just above the bridge of the nose. He left the bathroom, and was going to run back to the Fire Engine, however he felt it necessary to continue his search. Perhaps he would find something more...

And did he. He came to the women's bathroom, where inside he found six dead women, each of whom were shot in the forehead above the bridge of the nose. "Holy God," he thought to himself as he left the women's bathroom and headed to the Dining Room. He did not even need to go in; he could see perfectly well through the glass window. 44 dead Senators lay across tables, however he could tell that not all of them had been shot in the forehead, and presumed that whoever did this did not have complete control of the situation, and for that reason he assumed that it was either one man or a small group of people.

The Dining Room was the last room he had to search for fire. He sprinted back to the Fire Truck, and babbled something barely discernible to the chief. He managed to get out the words "murder" and "Senators", before needing to catch his breath. He explained to the fire chief what had happened, and the fire chief went with him into the building. The fireman led him to the Dining room, and the chief asked to enter. The fireman led him in, beginning to explain the rest of what had happened, and had barely gotten out 'forehead' before the chief pulled out a gun and shot him in the head. He then rushed back to the trucks, proclaiming that there was, indeed, a fire, and it had burnt itself out. He explained that the majority of the fire was in the Dining Room, and there was some smoke damage. He sent the Senators home for the day, while he headed back in, to try and somehow cover up the bodies.

It is still not clear how the fire chief did this. However, it remains true that he did manage to cover up or get rid of all the bodies before anyone asked any questions. The next day, he resigned as Fire Chief. It was not for another three days that anyone knew what had happened to the 58 Senators who were missing.

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Three Days Later

A construction worker working in Amsterdam was on break, and was heading towards the Subway down the street when he found himself, while walking down an alleyway, tripping upon something. It seemed rather soft, and there seemed to be a foul smell accompanying it. After regaining his balance, he turned, looking for what he had tripped on. He stared at the pale, fleshy-looking object for a few seconds until he finally realized what it was: a human arm.

Beginning to panic, he moved to the door where it was sneaking out of. There was a lock on it. He tried to break it, but had not but his bare hands. He scrambled to get his cell phone out his pocket, fumbling, trying to dial for the police, but '988' was not working. He suddenly realized why: the number was, in fact, '889'. He dialed, and a man picked up, "Police Station of Amsterdam. What is your emergency?" He explained the situation, to which the man assured him that a squad car would be over temporarily. He waited.

Three minutes passed, the longest three minutes of the worker's life. He could not stop staring at the arm sneaking out of the doorway, its source behind a large, locked steel door. Finally, the squad car arrived. He simply pointed to the hand, and the officer remarked, "Oh dear God." The officer took an axe from his car, and broke the small padlock, and the door flew open.

Bodies poured out. Dozens of them. All pale, each one with a hole in the center of its forehead. The officer and the construction worker stared at the scene with horror, as the bodies tumbled out of the small closet, some flopping onto the police car. The officer radioed for help.

Office of the Prins

Prins Stefan Colbért was sitting at his desk, sorting through some papers, when a man came running into his office.

"Prins, beg your pardon, but there is a police officer on the phone. He says he's found something big."

"Oh? Ok." The Prins picked up the phone, and his eyes widened with horror as the officer related to him the story of what they had found behind the large steel doors in Amsterdam. However, he quickly regained composure. After the conversation, he hung up the phone and turned to his aide and said, "Beginnen." The aide nodded, and ran off to his office.

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When the Oberjarl heard the news, he calmly remarked," Another citizen of the Nederlands, satisfying his genocidal tendancies, not worth the time it takes to report." He then returned to sipping his tea and reading The Revolutionary, the ONLY reliable news source in the world.

OOC: No way in hell you know about this, mate.

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It is in The Revolutionary. It must be true. I got it at the supermarket. In the tabloid section.

OOC: There is no way that anyone would assume that 54 senators were killed in a foreign nation by a dark-suited man with two pistols creeping through tunnels.

Would make a good comic book, though.

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Quartidi, 24 Pluviôse 217

Outside the capital of Amsterdam, the storm was gathering. As a grand storm brewed overhead, a massive army of 500,000 soldiers gathered outside Amsterdam. The stage had been set; the instability in the Senate and in the government in general, specifically Colbért's attempt at declaring martial law, proved that it was over, truly over. Colbért had failed already, and such a short time into his reign. It was a shame, he had such great goals, but Tromp believed quite firmly that the power had corrupted him, something he did not believe possible of himself.

He checked his watch, 1800. It was time. The army was ready to move, and so it did. Five hundred thousand soldiers marched out of the forest, and straight into Amsterdam, where they met no resistance whatsoever. It was merely for show. The grand columns moved forward into the city, unquestioning of their great leader, who sat atop his horse at the front of the Center Column. Maarten Tromp led the Grand March of Amsterdam, straight down First Street, to the Capitol Building which sat on the riverfront. He held his sword high in the air, leading the soldiers behind him, all dressed in traditional Dutch and French uniforms, in the massive charge into the capitol. Twenty went with him into the building itself. They charged in, but met no resistance at all. They found Colbért in his office, sobbing softly in a corner, his hands around his knees. The great Maarten Tromp picked the tyrant up by the neck, and led him out. He threw the man down on the Capitol Steps, proclaiming, "Let No Free Man Be Without His Rights! I Shall Stand Fast!" His army roared, and the city boomed with the cheer of six million people.

He had done it. In a bloodless coup, Maarten Tromp had successfully claimed the leadership of the Republic of the Seven United Netherlands. However, it would not be so for long.

On the 12th of February, the 24th of Pluviose, Maarten Tromp was proclaimed Emperor of the First Empire of the Netherlands, to rule forever until death.

So it was.

Edited by Mergerberger II
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