Chapter 1
"What does it take to be a good Manufacturer in times of war? It means going above and beyond what the other competitors are willing to do in desperate times. It also means that you have eliminated the competition by any means necessary, where you're willing to bloody your own hands in order to gain victory. I am willing to do just that."
(Dr. Erin Marshal Lancer, Founder of Lancer-Kedar Heavy Industries.)
Classified Lancer-Kedar Production Facility, East Tyrus (32 B.E.)
The monotonous sound of heavy industry roared to life through halls of the factory, sounds of clanking metal and an orchestra of weapon-producing machinery could be heard.
The entire building was alive and bustling with all kinds of automated mechanisms used to develop much needed weapons for the ongoing war. The main items of production on the line were various forms of newly developed assault rifles, the presence of which made the former weapons in the Coalition's arsenal look obsolete.
The entrepreneur of the establishment had invested a great deal of both time and money upon developing the much needed weapon that would later become the workhorse weapon for the Coalition of Ordered Governments.
Dozens of foundries heated various types of earth-born metals to thousands of degrees in order to bring the metal to a proper melting point. Once such an important goal had been completed, the metal was then poured into molds which would later become assault rifles, tools with the intent to be supplied to able-bodied soldiers who would be driven to the front lines in this new era of industrial revolution.
This process of weapon making had not occurred on such a high level of productivity in the past, where rifles of the prior age were mostly assembled by hand. The Seran Golden Age had pushed the nation of Tyrus into a new age and transformed the art of creating war materials into a highly practical and efficient process. When compared to lesser nations within the Coalition of Order Governments and even nations within that of the Union of Independent Republics.
Lancer-Kedar Heavy industries was founded upon one of the biggest corporate groups within all of Tyrus that had bought its way into power through controlling a monopoly of mining and smelting companies. Who later waved the banner of the company after corporate buy-outs and black-listing by the company owner, Erin Marshal Lancer.
The man was a highly resourceful individual who had ties to a wealthy and prosperous family that had many political ties to a higher level in the government, thus affirming his seat of power in the industry.
His main challenges of winning weapon contracts with the government were the many other competing weapons' developers in the nation who would also be paid handsomely for their efforts in creating small arms to be supplied to all the nations that consisted within the COG. Where ever there was conflict on the world of Sera, there was an equal amount of profit to be made for companies to supply soldiers with the tools of war.
Office of Erin Marshal Lancer, overlooking the Lancer-Kedar Production Facility
Erin Lancer's jaw was long and bony; his chin jutted outwards, the more flexible notch formed his mouth and extended outwards, towards his cheeks. Erin's nostrils arched and curved back into a series of wrinkles that showed the age of the man. His eyes were a deep hue of green, silent and calculating-the eyes of a man with ambition for the future and whatever it might hold. His brunette hair grew upwards-from high flat temple-to form a neat point on his forehead, the sides of his head were covered in straight graying hair, which added to his eagle-like profile.
A warm cup of coffee waited on his lavish oak desk, patiently waiting for the man to return to the steaming brew. The piece of furniture was cluttered with assorted papers ranging from government contracts to latest statistics of workers going on strike against supporting a war fought over Imulsion.
Erin's thoughts were quickly disrupted by one of his secretaries who came to bring the latest news from the production lines.
"Uhnd, Dr. Lancer, Sir" announced the secretary.
"What is it, Solovyov?" asked Erin.
"Zah production lines 'ave reported a fifty percent loss 'ue to the recent strikes" he replied.
"Is that so?" Erin retorted, giving a sinister sneer.
"Vat vould you advise doing in order to quell the wor-"
"Fire five hundred workers in each factory" interrupted Erin, silencing the man before him.
Solovyov quickly gave a simple nod of his head and slipped through the pain-glass door he originated from moments before.
"Those damned Sarfuthians, can't trust the bastards." The prosperous man announced to himself when recalling the visitor in his office. He quickly returned to his thoughts on how to manage the facility with fewer workers. He concluded to himself that reducing the pay of the remaining workers and evicting their families from their homes would be best suited to quell the worker insurrection.
Oakwood Alienage District, Tyrus
The Oakwood Alienage district was a segregated part of a typical ghetto in Eastern Tyrus, many of its inhabitants hailed from Sarfuth and applied for citizenship only to be reduced to living in shacked huts which littered the cobblestone street sides.
The current lay off of many workers who commuted to the Lancer-Kedar Heavy Industries Facility resulted in derelicts who wandered the streets looking for anything that could be scavenged or used for a common household. Muggings and murders rose to an all time high for the people in this impoverished neighborhood.
Police raids from local precincts were quite frequent when combating the amount of prostitution, drug-trafficking, and frequent youth-gangs who owned most of the streets in the Oakwood Alienage.
The life expectancy for individuals living in this quarter was not usually more than a month or so, leaving empty homes for more Sarfuthian refugees to take refuge when running across the border into Tyrus.
It was a difficult choice to choose between a war-torn country where every-day life was a constant battle against the UIR forces who committed themselves robbing villages of their wealth and raping every woman in sight.
"Vhy don't Sarfuthian refugees 'ave the same right as other Tyran folks?" shouted a protestor.
"Ve 'ant to be treated as equals too!" announced another in the massive crowd.
"We only have so much space for refugees fleeing the border, supplies are limited! In case you have noticed, we're in the middle of a war!" shouted one of the police officers.
"A var you say? Your army still has not marched to'vards contested Sarfuthian soil! Vhere is your support?" chimed in an elderly woman, taking notice of a treaty signed five years ago.
"We have other important Tyran assets to protect, we can't commit our forces to combating occupation forces at the moment!" defended the Tyran officer.
"How are ve suppost to feed our kindlah?" screamed another outraged protestor.
"Vhat of our jobs, ja? Ve need zah money!"
Before the Tyran officers could scream out another word at the rampaging crowd, a brick was thrown at the nearest officer, striking him directly in the face. The blow was such a violent one, that it knocked him off of a table he stood on and towards the cobble-stone street below.
More of the refugees joined in the fray and assaulted the group of police officers minding the growing crowd. An exchange of fists and night-sticks quickly created an all-out brawl between the officers and protesters.
Tyran police officers that weren't directly in the middle of the mob quickly drew side arms and fired into the air, attempting to keep the crowd from continuing their stampede. When this only managed to break up a few protesters, the officers took to firing blindly into the crowd, hoping to kill some of the more violent Sarfuthian rioters.
This resulted in women and children in the crowd being slaughtered in the hail of gunfire, cutting down silhouettes in the crowd indiscriminately. The sound of weapons discharge and screaming took to the streets, echoing between the ramshackle buildings the Sarfuthian refugees called home. The cobblestone streets were drenched in the spill of innocent and guilty blood, the likes of which were impossible to distinguish.
