Video footage, recovered from one of the Venezuelan Front encampments, shows the merciless, unwarranted brutality utilized by those that seek to oppose the cause of freedom. Utilizing hardened camcorders, it appears that one of the "Rebel villages" was prepared with the possibility - eventuality - of enemy attack. Perhaps the recordings had been intended to provide tactical review of where the rebel defenders might have needed improvement later.
What they yielded, though, was so much more terrifying.
It was a simple transition. One moment the rebel village was there. Camo netting cast over supply crates, men and women in casual clothing clutching rifles. It was clear that they received training, though, given the postures present. The rifles they carried were kept at low ready, scanning the horizon as a few of the children played.
A small child skipped along the interior courtyard of the old village. What had once been a small farming community made, an encampment for the native resistance fighters. Even in the face of the USRA oppressors finally taking them seriously, they had to have moments of levity. Moments where loved ones, who they could not leave in the city for fear of being branded like cattle as the others had been, could let their hair down and relax.
Such moments included times like this, where little Niña danced along the slightly broken cobblestones. A tent fluttered softly nearby, the radio mast affixed buzzing away on the rebel network. A localized hammer meant to thwart any attempts at enemy observation.
“One potato, two tomato, three for gato--”
The chalked outline was unmoving as she hopped from foot to foot, her mother darning her socks nearby. Her husband was a rebel, and while she was uncertain of what to think of the charismatic, mysterious man to which they had pledged loyalty, they --
There was a shrill shriek, and the chalk remained unmoving.
A roar of God’s furious fist, hammering into the face of the rebel enclosure. The anvil of the Earth ringing from the blow, churning sod and soil flattening the ground; leveling the surrounding area with a blast wave.
Niña was caught in the outskirts of the blast, the camera catching every horrific second. Scything metal fragments severing her left leg at the thigh, her right arm shredding and flattening from the concussive force as she was flung into the crumbling brick surface of a nearby building. Her bloody figure, eyes wide in shock and surprise, slowly slipping down the facade. A crimson snail trail accompanying her morbidly comic descent, falling like a deli steak lobbed at the wall.
Her body shaking, shuddering on camera, lifting the jagged mess of her arm in front of her face. Helpless to realize her mother was already cooking in the inferno of a fuel dump explosion, her broken, rasping wails for help falling on deaf ears as she cried out for aid.
What aid could one receive, when all there was to be had was the brutality of the soldiers approaching in the wake of that airstrike?
Lord Doom had only this to say in address to his international allies and the world at large.
“The USRA has proven themselves barbarians. While Venezuelans fight to resist them, and we shall prevail, it is clear that they will bathe this country in blood. We seek an active intervention from those who stand near our shores; while we shall put the arms of our allies to use in the coming months, we ask unilateral intervention in curbing the atrocities of the USRA regime in Venezuela.”
Submitted December 31, 2016 at 10:51AM by GeraldVanHeer http://ift.tt/2hDpPpS
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