Chapter 11: Strategy
Shadow screamed in anger as Sonic blacked out, the precious knowledge of the location of the rebel base still contained within him. Amsel was silent as the king brooded, his anger bubbling over dangerously.
The entire room was still now that Sonic was done convulsing, and the electrical flow had shut off automatically when he had lost consciousness. But none of this was what had infuriated the mighty king.
What enraged him the most was his failure. He had not beaten Sonic, had not extracted the information from him. A vein began to pound in the side of his head as his fury reached its peak.
But gradually, his breathing slowed, and Amsel gathered enough courage to speak.
"My lord, forgive my impertinence but, what is our next course of action?" he said timidly, hoping that the king would not lash out at him.
Granting his wish, Shadow turned slowly to face him, his expression neutral. "Have a guard return him to the camp. I'll question him again when he's regained his strength," he replied quietly, surprising Amsel more than he would have with a harsh reprimand.
"As you command sire." Amsel nodded, turning to complete the king's instruction. Shadow remained behind in the room, alone with Sonic's unconscious form.
Despite the passing of his anger, the pulse in his brain continued to beat, resounding in his head like an iron bell.
After Amsel had been gone for quite awhile, Shadow turned, and began to walk towards Sonic's motionless body, his eyes intent but his face stoic. Then, as if Sonic could hear him, he spoke.
"You... you represent everything they stand for. You embody everything I hate. It's almost poetic, the eternal struggle between the individual and the will of the masses," he muttered, not seeming to notice that Sonic was out cold. "But in a way it's sad, your struggle is by all accounts, hopeless. You may have strength to defy me for now, but with each passing day, I whittle away your rebellion until nothing but dust remains."
The cerulean hero said nothing against these accusations.
"Silent. Such is to be expected. But you will come to see in time. I will have the final victory Sonic. In the end, you cannot avoid my wrath." Interrupting his diatribe, a pair of soldiers entered the room, summoned by the doctor to take Sonic back to the Valley of Death
Shadow glared at both of them, but said nothing, allowing them to carry Sonic away, leaving him all alone.
"You have chosen your fate." With this as his parting remark, the obsidian hedgehog turned and left the torture chamber, the lights flicking off as he left.
* * * * *
A Regime patrol guard did a double take when he thought he saw something. Shining his flashlight in the direction of the disturbance, he peered closer, hoping to see nothing, and be able to move on.
He received what he had hoped for. Shrugging nonchalantly, he continued on his duty, marching around the outside of the storehouse like a wind up soldier.
Out of the bush he had inspected and deemed safe came the barrel of a sniper rifle, disguised to look like a branch. Within the bush, the rebel agent bided his time, and waited for the guard to turn his back.
Thanks to a silencer, a quick pop and the man was lying face down in a puddle of his own blood, breathing one second and dead the next.
The commando vacated the bush, coming up to the building to check for more guards. When he found none, he gave a hand signal.
Once it had been announced that it was all clear, about a dozen agents dressed in black stole forward out of various greenery, all meeting up with the original rebel sniper.
"Alright Nathan, you got the codes?" the masked rebel asked in his mild australian accent, revealing him to be Stevie.
"What do you mean do I have the codes? Of course I've got 'em!" he said indignantly.
"Well just hurry up and open the door then," Stevie responded, gesturing to the giant locked door that blocked their entrance into the storehouse.
Obeying, Nathan stooped down to the number pad next to the door, removing his glove so that he could press a single key at a time, which was hard enough with his gigantic fingers.
"You should all be grateful. It took me three days to hunt down the officer that had these codes!" Nathan snorted while he began punching in the numbers to unlock the door. "Took two shots to down 'im too, one more than usual."
"Oh be quiet you baby," Stevie mock scolded, earning a scoff. The next moment, the door slid open, allowing them access to the storage facility.
Two guards were downed with nothing more than a couple muffled pops and a quiet grunt of pain to commemorate their deaths. Nathan snatched two more dog tags for his collection.
"Ah, here it is. The mother-load," the ferret commented in anticipation of the upcoming battle.
"Yeah, more like doom for the mother-"
"Nathan, we have some younger agents with us. You know how much I dislike that word," Stevie grinned. "But anything else you want to say about him is fine."
"No point now. Anyways, I get the one with the black skull on it." Nathan said as he stepped towards their prize.
"Alright, fine. Do we all know the plan?" Stevie asked one final time before they embarked.
He received several nods of understanding. Giving them all a thumbs up, he turned towards his chosen vehicle.
The dozen or so rebels that had infiltrated the Regime storage facility boarded the tanks that were stored there. Pushing the ignition in, they were rewarded with mighty roars from the bellies of the iron beasts.
The rebels drove out of the storage facility in Regime tanks.
* * * * *
Deep within the Imperial Palace, the King was busy conferencing with his new Minister of Defense.
From his confrontational manner, anyone could guess that the dictatorial hedgehog was not happy.
But one could also raise the point that he rarely was.
Concerned for the preservation of his life, the minister was trying his best to diffuse the King's temper.
"How many raids were there yesterday?" Shadow growled as he cradled his head in his hand.
"Em, well... in the immediate Station Square area, three instillations were sabotaged, four convoys captured, and over one hundred and fifty soldiers reported killed or missing in action."
Shadow snarled at this news, and slammed a clenched fist onto the table.
"Sire, you needn't worry about such petty losses. It's not good for your health," the minister warned.
"Paltry losses today add up to total defeat in years to come. Clearly, the capital is undermanned," the king of darkness hissed.
"Your majesty, this could be a rebel ploy to draw troops away from their intended target. We've been tracking their attacks and estimate that we will discover their base of operations within a week," the minister urged, while hoping very dearly that his estimate would be accurate.
The King pondered this for a moment, causing an expectant silence to fall over the dark room.
Breaking the silence, a beep emanated from the minister, causing him to hurriedly pull a handheld out of his pocket and glance at it in worry.
"What is it?" the ebony king echoed, remaining completely motionless.
"Er, nothing sire. Don't trouble yourself." Shadow heaved a long sigh, and stood up to stare at the minister with his chilling vermillion eyes.
"What has happened now?" he growled, baring his teeth.
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you, sire. Apparently the Rebellion just sabotaged a radar station in the northern part of the city," he sighed.
"But why would they..." Shadow paused. "It can't be!"
"Sire, I assure you that-"
"Shut up. Give orders for all nearby troops to return immediately to Station Square, no exceptions," Shadow breathed, his eyes wide.
No sooner had he finished speaking than the minister's handheld beeped numerous times in direct succession. Looking down in disbelief, the minister stared in shock at the screen, which reported attacks to him as they happened.
"Y-your grace!" the minister gasped, "They've destroyed every rail depot in the city... simultaneously!" The King screamed curses in fury, before bearing down on the minister.
"Perform well, or this battle will be your last. Belay that first order. Contact Colonel Myers, and tell him to airlift in two legions of my best troops posthaste," he grimly instructed.
The minister left to perform his duties.
Shadow was alone in the war room, gazing down at the screen of the minister's handheld, left behind in his urgency.
Suddenly, the screen flashed, and a message appeared.
"Report this to your bastard King," it read. Scrolling down the page, he revealed photographic documentation of the attacks on the train stations, each one with the same cryptic word scrawled into it.
"Check."
Finally, he came to the bottom, the final image. It was a photograph of a chess piece.
A black king in flames.
Under it was written the phrase which has ended many a contest of wit over the years.
"Checkmate."
* * * * *
As Shadow busied himself with the message, the rebels infiltrated the city. They came into the city with stolen Regime trucks and tanks. Each second, their numbers swelled as they threw weapons to the endless tides of oppressed civilians.
Of course, no sooner had they set foot in the city than they were assaulted on all sides by the Regime's Army.
But for every rebel that fell, a citizen of Station Square would pick up his weapon, and fight in his place. A cheer rose up amidst the rebels as their stolen tanks arrived, laying waste to the defending Regime soldiers. Nathan's tank emblazoned with a black skull, was in the front, the point of the spear.
Pushing past the Regime's blockade with their heavy firepower, the tanks thundered deeper into the city, followed by a mob of enraged rebels. Bullets flew; bombs and grenades threw corpses into the air as anarchy ensued. A titanic struggle began in Regime Square, as the rebels continued to force their way deeper into the city.
The body count began to rise, but civilians continued to flood the battlefield, taking up arms to avenge all wrongs. This caused the soldiers to begin treating all civilians as enemies, and they began mass slaughter of all bystanders; an improvised genocide.
The fact that the rebels had discreetly sabotaged most of the Regime's means of transporting, supplying, and informing their troops certainly gave the side of liberty an advantage, one that was all too precious and necessary for victory.
From the tops of the buildings, Regime troops began to fire bazookas at the stolen tanks, sending blazing rockets screaming down. Unfortunately for the Regime, they had more or less designed their tanks to be indestructible, with reinforced shock absorbing armor.
Oops.
The tank mortars shredded their opponents as easily as Nathan could snap a twig, causing utter mayhem within the Regime ranks. After a long and bloody fire-fight, the soldiers pulled back, leaving their dead like nothing more than animals.
Hundreds of rebels had been slaughtered, and hundreds more "innocents" who had joined their cause had fallen alongside them in their desperate struggle for freedom. But as time has shown again and again, the will of the people cannot be ignored forever.
The Regime had learnt a thing or two since the battle at Roujin, and had positioned snipers in the windows of the buildings surrounding the palace. Thirty rebels dropped dead upon stepping into the square, their blood splattering onto their companions. The rebels' stolen armor opened fire on the snipers, sending explosive balls of shrapnel flying towards them, and lighting up the sky.
Half of them died the moment the projectiles made contact. The rest were slain as their buildings came crashing to the ground, leaving nothing but rubble remaining to mark their graves of concrete and steel. Shattered glass lay everywhere, intermixed with blood and bodies, some severed in pieces.
Troops flooded out of the Royal Palace, peppering the valiant rebels in a devastating rain of lead. The rebellion troops replied with their own barrage, which included several tank mortars, mowing down a huge number of their enemies.
A looming shadow appeared to the right of them, as several loyal Regime tanks arrived to even the odds. Immediately the two armor groups traded fire, sending fiery red bolts flying over the battlefield, which now lay littered in bodies amidst the tense conflict. It had just begun.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, far below the city in the Valley of Death, the Regime's prisoners heard the commotion above. They had all come out to listen, and stood huddled underneath the source of the sound, silently hoping for a rebel victory.
Most of the soldiers guarding the camp had already gone up to the surface to participate in the battle, and were not present to watch over them. Only Barrett and his personal guard remained.
Sonic and Julie stood and stared at the rumbling ceiling, holding hands, and praying for a miracle.
The cerulean hedgehog was not entirely recovered from his previous ordeal, but repeated exposure to such large amounts of pain had rendered him able to bounce back more quickly. It was as if his youth was slowly returning to him. Even in the Valley of Death, he felt better now than he ever had under the Regime. Now he was with Julie. And when he was actually with the Rebellion, he had felt as if he could run six hundred miles per hour again.
Carter was there with them, his ever-present smile still beaming. Almost as if he'd known the rebel attack was coming.
When asked about this, he simply stated,
"Stevie's come back for me. But this time, all heaven's wrath has come with him."
Sonic pondered this a moment, and then frowned as a solemn look came to the reverend's face. Sonic was about to ask him what was wrong, when Carter answered the unspoken question.
"I guess you were right after all. No reason to get married down here. Still, I had hoped to be the one to perform the ceremony," he mused.
"You still can be!" Sonic replied indignantly, which Carter responded to with a snort.
"If only you knew how impossible that is," the reverend smirked.
"What do you mean?" Julie asked worriedly. Carter looked at her a moment, as if seeing her for the first time, and then slowly made his reply.
"Years ago I swore an oath that I would not leave this place until every other prisoner was gone. My ministry is here," he said carefully, as if afraid to offend Sonic.
"We're not leaving without you!" Julie insisted.
"Don't be silly my girl. I'm a reverend. It is my duty to seek and save the lost. You are soldiers. It is your duty to fight those responsible." There was a silence, even a lull in the battle above, as if the whole world were frozen in solemnity.
"He's right," Sonic stated with a strange finality.
"Of course I am. Now you two go and get that boy, and take him with you," Carter ordered. Sonic stared at him in surprise, immediately knowing that he was referring to Dawn.
"We can't raise that kid! Neither of us know anything about being parents!" Sonic objected, earning a scolding glare from Julie.
"No-one does before they try. It's a learning process. Besides, anything would be better than what he has now," she stated in indignation
"The assassin lady is right. You kinda have to just wing it. Now, there isn't much time left. Go!"
As Sonic and Julie hurried away, the ceiling continued to tremble.
"God help them," were Reverend Carter's final words before he went back to his barracks to be alone.
* * * * *
Above the Valley of Death, a ferocious battle was waging. The Regime's reinforcements had arrived to counteract the near endless supply of sympathetic people ready to join the rebel's ranks, and their progress had been gradually slowed to a halt.
They were maddeningly close, no more than a hundred feet from the palace, with hundreds of guards flooding in to stop their advance. By now, a couple of the rebel's tanks had been destroyed, and many more that had been the enemy's lay smoldering and useless.
Stevie and Nathan had left their tanks, handing over the controls, and taking up leadership positions. The wizened ferret was gunning down enemy troops like a soldier half his age and directing their efforts, while Nathan had taken his post on a roof top, brandishing sniper rifle and RPG to maximum effect. Like a huge, black, one man army. His condition was that he'd fight like a whole army as long as he got to eat like one.
A frustrating predicament had arisen. The palace could not be captured without great loss, and over time, the Regime could surely grind them to dust; it's army a juggernaut. But if they could not push to the palace, everything they had done would be for nothing.
The stakes were high. Tensions mounted.
Suddenly, all firing stopped as a collective gasp spread over the rebels, and the Regime soldiers stood motionless and erect, faces forward and guns at their sides.
A dark figure had appeared in the doorway of the palace.
Who he was became immediately obvious by the spiked iron crown resting on his head, and the curved black scepter in his hand, it's head an ebony cobra. His body was covered in a long, velvety obsidian cloak, and his eyes scanned over the rebels, sending a chill up each and every spine.
Except one.
Seeing his opportunity, Nathan took a shot, but was surprised to see the infamous dictator sidestep his bullet without even flinching. Ignoring the attempt on his life with an almost bored expression, he surveyed the rebels, and spoke.
"Let the treasonous ferret known as Stephen step forward," he commanded. To everyone's surprise, the rebel leader complied.
"The King. I'm sorry to say that I'm not glad to meet you," Stevie remarked as he walked up the steps.
"I can't possibly imagine why," Shadow said in sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.
"I read your book you know. The Black Book. It was a nice long read. I took notes too. I must've filed a hundred things under the tendencies of a psychopath."
Shadow stared at him levelly, and smirked. "Be careful, or you might hurt my feelings. Dictators are not known for weakness."
"What? You're the totalitarian dictator? Well I didn't vote for you!" Stevie snapped, causing Shadow to growl.
"Let's cut to the chase. Surrender yourself to me now, and your men will all go free." Stevie blinked and stared at him as if he were the stupidest person in the world.
"Are you kidding? This job is better than cable!" Stevie exclaimed, earning quizzical looks from those present who hadn't experienced the phenomenon. "I may not be able to kill you... but that sure as hell won't stop me from trying." Stevie whispered, before tearing a twelve gauge shotgun from the grip of a nearby soldier.
Shadow didn't have time to breathe before three shells collided with his head, knocking him to the ground, and completely unconscious.
A victorious cry erupted from the rebels, who believed the King to be dead. Surging forward, they demolished the remaining guards within moments, and rushed up to the palace.
Stevie stood over Shadow's defeated form, a smirk on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your royal grumpiness, I have business to attend to," he laughed, racing into the palace right behind Nathan.
The rebels flooded inside, throwing open doors and grabbing anything that looked valuable, which was almost everything. After the place had been ransacked, they discovered the military entrance to the Valley of Death, which would grant them all entry.
A giant metal door, wide enough for an entire army to come through.
Nathan stepped forward, rocket launcher slung over his shoulder and his shirt soaked through with sweat.
"Let's blow this place wide open!" Stevie shouted, grabbing his own RPG. "On your command, Nathan."
The black rebel breathed deeply and peered down the scope, the fulfillment of his ambition nearly complete.
"Knock knock, bitches!" he thundered as he pulled the trigger. A moment later, Stevie and several others fired as well, completely destroying the mighty door.
Nothing but a few jagged scraps of metal remained.
The rebels rushed into the Valley of Death, weapons drawn and ready for anything.
* * * * *
Aware that there was a sizable guard which had fled to the camp, the rebels burst in, and immediately threw a stockpile of extra weapons into the hands of the prisoners.
One such weapon landed in the hands of the young boy Jonathan. And he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. Ignoring the battle going on around him, he walked slowly and ceremoniously towards the "Hospital." Hiding the gun as he walked through the front door, he turned to the secretary, his face a ghostly mask.
"I need to see the doctor. Where is he?" he asked. She couldnt help but shudder at the sight of the deformities bestowed on him by Amsel, and he noticed.
"Um, do- do you have an- an appointment?" she asked. He drew his weapon and pointed it at her head, the barrel of the pistol falling directly between her eyes.
Point blank.
"The doctor has an appointment with the gatekeeper of Hell, and I'm going to make sure he's not late. Now, where is he?" Jonathan said quietly, all the while, the tip of the gun pressing into her head.
"He's in the operating room, on the third floor!" she whimpered, her voice sounding incredibly small and weak.
"Good. Now turn around, run away, and never look back," he commanded. She shakily did as she was told.
Stepping up to the elevator door, he pushed the up button, and disengaged the safety on his pistol. Before he even picked up the weapon, when he first set his heart on revenge, he vowed never to hurt an innocent person.
Riding the elevator up two floors, he stepped off, his murder tool in hand.
He could hear the screams of Amsel's victim.
As he walked closer, pictures of mutilated corpses flooded his memory, as David's haunting laugh danced in his eardrums. His scream became one with the ones echoing down the hallways as he was transported back into the operating bed. Again, scalpels sliced up and down his flesh. Again, salt flooded into his wounds, causing them to burn with an unbearable fire.
He slammed the door of the OR open, a primal, furious scream escaping his lips. Amsel turned around in surprise to see a pistol pointed to his forehead.
"It's time to pay for your crimes, doctor." A moment of fear flashed across Amsel's features, before he gulped, and decided to play Jonathan's game.
"Are you sure you have the guts to shoot me boy?" Amsel laughed weakly, his lab coat soaked in blood.
"It's much too good a death for you, but it'll have to do. I'll leave the rest of your punishment to the god you serve," Jonathan snapped.
"And what god is that?" Amsel smiled, knowing that his time had come.
"The god of suffering. Lucifer," Jonathan growled through clenched teeth.
"Alright. Finish it. But be wary that your quest for revenge doesn't transform you into the very thing you hate."
Jonathan pulled the trigger.
A resounding bang.
Amsel's blood and brains spilled forth onto the wall, staining it a vibrant crimson. Jonathan was splashed in this scarlet tide, as Amsel's lifeless corpse fell to the ground.
To the boy's intermixed horror and satisfaction, he felt nothing. No sadistic joy, no satisfaction, no remorse.
He was numb.
"It is almost finished." he said, "Only one thing remains. To relieve Barrett of his post."
* * * * *
Stevie and the other rebels tore through the Valley of Death, slaughtering the oppressive guards and destroying their instruments of terror.
Gallows were torn down. Gas chambers were blown to pieces. Crematoriums torn to shreds. Chains were broken.
Thousands joined the rebels' ranks as Stevie rushed for the General's Quarters. Arriving to find the door already open, he burst in, gun at the ready.
He stopped cold at the sight that lay before him.
There in the room was a boy who looked to be in his mid teens, gruesome scars tearing down his body. Whimpering on the floor under his pistol was Barrett, the cruel master of the Valley of Death.
"Who are you?" Jonathan asked, surprised by the appearance of the ferret.
"I'm the owner of that pistol. Kid, the torments that will be imposed on that bastard when the King finds out about the prison break are far worse than anything you could devise. Leave him."
"You'll never get away with this!" Barrett screamed, his eyes wide in terror.
"You know, everybody always says that. But the interesting thing is that it's something a loser says, so I've never seen an instance where it turned out to be true..." Stevie pondered. "Hey kid, didn't you hear me? Put the pistol down."
Jonathan, tears in his eyes, explained his personal hatred of the general to Stevie. The rebel leader remained quiet for a moment, as if deep in thought, before laying a hand on Jonathan's shoulder.
"Give him a bullet to the kneecap so that he can't escape the King." Nodding, Jonathan squeezed the trigger a second time. A scream erupted from the building as Stevie walked out with Jonathan at his side.
"It doesn't make much sense for me to keep calling you 'kid,' so why don't you tell me your name," Stevie said, while handing his companion a second pistol.
"Jonathan... the Avenger."
"Avenger eh? Well, I hope you don't mind if I call you Jonny," the greying ferret commented. Jonathan shook his head as another rebel draped a black trench-coat over his bare chest.
"Go get 'em Mr. Avenger."
* * * * *
Dawn was frightened by the rebel attack. Hugging his legs to his body, he had hid in a corner when the tremors began, and remained there ever since. When gunshots sounded in the Valley of Death, he began crying in terror.
He had simply been on his way to come visit Sonic and Julie when the attack commenced, and was surprised by the violence and bloodshed. The couple found him there, huddled pitifully in a corner, the ground wet from his tears.
"Dawn, it's going to be okay. We're going to get you out of here," Sonic assured the young hedgehog, whose beautiful violet eyes were wide in fear.
"What do you mean?" he sobbed, knowing practically nothing outside the palace, and not anticipating their intentions in the slightest.
"Our friends have come to save us. We can take you with us. You can join the Rebellion," Julie coaxed, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"But what about my father?" Dawn sniffled, his tears beginning to clear up a bit.
"Do you believe that your father loves you Dawn?" Sonic genuinely asked. The boy was silent. It seemed time had frozen.
Even the gunshots quieted. Dawn gazed into Sonic's eyes with the most hauntingly sorrowful expression that the hero had seen in his lifetime. Those eyes held a pain so deep that Sonic could hardly understand it. Compared to the hurt in Dawn's face, all the hardships in his life seemed like such trifles, mere annoyances.
Any yet within those purple orbs, there was a familiar glimmer. A sparkle of inner strength and determination that eerily reminded Sonic of the Shadow he once knew.
"I've made my decision. I'll come with you," Dawn said to Julie, Sonic's question unanswered. She nodded, a solemn look on her face. Taking Dawn's hand, she led him towards the stairway that led up and out of Hell on Earth.
Their way was blocked by Regime soldiers, scowling and shooting.
"I'm second in command. Maybe I can get them to stop shooting," Dawn suggested. Before Sonic or Julie could object, he dashed forward to stand in front of the soldiers that barred their path.
"Spread the word that the Prince orders all troops to cease fire," he ordered in his most grown-up voice.
"Negative. Emergency Code 332 in place. Your command is revoked. Place return to your room immediately," the soldier barked.
"Get out of my way!" Dawn shouted, growing red in the face.
"Negative." Dawn yelled, attacking the guard as his anger unleashed. The soldier easily caught the fist Dawn sent his way, holding it harmlessly in his iron grip.
"You know, you're not nearly as powerful as your father..." the soldier sneered. Dawn's anger manifested itself as a searing yellow light in his fist. "What the-" Before he could even finish his thought, Dawn unleashed the madly crackling projectile on him, unknowingly using his very first Chaos Spear.
The soldier sported a hole through his chest as wide as a baseball. Dawn stood in shock and horror over the soldier's corpse, as the rest of the guards fled in terror. Sonic and Julie snatched him up the next moment, rushing to flee the concentration camp before more troops arrived.
* * * * *
The rebel army vacated the prison, thousands of prisoners in tow, just as the Regime's second wave of troops began arriving. They traded fire with the soldiers as they edged their way out, eventually falling into a full fledged retreat, their objectives fulfilled.
The Regime troops began rounding up anyone they found, escaped prisoner or otherwise, and threw them into the Valley of Death. But even after catching all possible stragglers, they counted their losses at least six thousand prisoners, and hundreds of civilians defected to the Rebellion.
They hadn't lost all their prisoners by a long shot though, and so Reverend Carter remained by his own will. To give hope to the hopeless. If the Regime opened the door and offered him his freedom he would turn it down.
The Regime had been dealt a blow from which they would not quickly recover. And it had been at great cost.
Jonathan had taken up his new mantle as the blood-thirsty avenger of all wrongs, merciless enemy of the Regime. Sonic and Julie had been saved, and now Dawn had joined the side of freedom.
But having known nothing but the cruelties of his father, how well would he function in a real society? Could he ever truly learn to live like a normal person? Would the rebels judge him for who he was, or who they thought him to be? Only time would tell.
For now, the rebels' strategy was working.