Reese the Revolutionary Chapter 1
Reese sat in the back of the classroom, his jaw clenched as he tried to focus on the worksheet in front of him. The other boys in the room were a cacophony of chaos, their laughter and jeers echoing off the walls while the teacher remained oblivious, engrossed in his phone. Reese was used to the noise, the constant barrage of insults and crude jokes, but today it grated on him more than usual. He was trying, for once, to actually do the work, to prove that he wasn't just another lost cause.
The program for troubled boys had been Miss Thompson's latest attempt to straighten him out, to Mold him into something resembling a productive member of society. Reese knew she had given up on him long ago, but she was relentless in her efforts to shove him into every program available. The construction work, the classes with the criminal boys, it was all the same to her. Reese was just another problem to be managed, another failure to be swept under the rug.
As the bell rang, signalling the end of the day, Reese gathered his things with a weary sigh. He trudged out of the classroom, ignoring the shoves and taunts from the other boys. Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the schoolyard. Reese paused, taking a moment to Savor the cool evening air before heading home.
Home was a relative term, of course. The Wilkerson household was a battleground, a place where chaos reigned supreme. His mother, Lois, was a force of nature, her temper as fiery as her hair. She had long since given up on Reese, deeming him a hopeless cause. His father, Hal, was more of a background presence, a man who had resigned himself to the fact that his son was a delinquent.
Reese pushed open the front door, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation. Lois was in the kitchen, her back to him as she chopped vegetables with the precision of a surgeon. She didn't look up as he entered, her focus entirely on the task at hand.
"You're late," she said, her voice clipped and devoid of warmth.
Reese shrugged, dropping his backpack onto the floor with a thud. "Had to stay after to finish some work."
Lois snorted, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, and Reese felt the familiar weight of her disappointment settle over him. "Work, huh? Since when you care about that?"
He met her gaze, refusing to back down. "I'm trying, Mom."
"Try harder," she snapped, turning back to her chopping. "You're not going to get anywhere with half-assed attempts."
Reese bit back a retort, knowing it would only lead to another argument. Instead, he turned and headed for the stairs, eager to escape the tension that seemed to permeate every corner of the house. As he reached his room, he paused, his hand on the doorknob. The sound of laughter drifted up from the living room, a reminder that he was never truly alone in this madhouse.
He pushed the door open, stepping into the relative sanctuary of his room. It was a mess, clothes strewn across the floor and posters peeling from the walls, but it was his. He flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to quiet the storm of thoughts in his head. Tomorrow would be another day, another chance to prove himself. But for now, he would allow himself a moment of peace, a brief respite from the chaos that was his life.
Reese paused at the door, his hand hovering over the knob as he prepared to slip out into the evening. The sound of Lois's chopping from the kitchen was a steady rhythm, a background noise that he had learned to tune out over the years. But as he turned the knob, ready to make his escape, her voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded, her tone sharp and unyielding.
Reese froze, his heart skipping a beat. He turned slowly, forcing a casual smile onto his face. "Just meeting some friends, Mom. We're working on some posters for the propaganda ministry. It's for another country."
Lois's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What do you mean, another country? And since when do you do anything for a ministry?"
Reese shifted his weight, trying to maintain his nonchalant demeanour. "They like my designs. Dr. Manic says my work helps the party, so I've got to go. I'll be back before dinner."
Lois's grip on the knife tightened, her knuckles turning white. "Reese, this isn't a joke. I don't want you getting involved in anything dangerous or illegal."
He shook his head, stepping back towards the door. "It's not like that, Mom. It's just art. I'll be fine."
Before she could protest further, Reese slipped out the door, letting it close with a soft click behind him. He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs as he hurried down the street. The truth was, he wasn't entirely sure what he was getting into, but the opportunity to escape the suffocating atmosphere of his home, even for a few hours, was too tempting to resist.
As he walked, Reese's mind raced with possibilities. The idea of his designs being recognized, of being part of something bigger than himself, was exhilarating. But there was also a flicker of doubt, a nagging voice in the back of his mind that warned him of the potential consequences.
Still, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the prospect of freedom, however fleeting it might be. For once, he was doing something that felt important, something that might prove he was more than just the screw-up everyone believed him to be.
Lois's instincts kicked in as she watched Reese disappear down the street. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and determination. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, that her son was getting involved in something far beyond his understanding. Grabbing her coat, she slipped out of the house, keeping a safe distance as she followed him.
Reese moved quickly; his pace brisk as he navigated the familiar streets. Lois kept him in sight, careful to remain out of view. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more troubling than the last. What had her son gotten himself into?
Eventually, Reese arrived at a small, dimly lit café. Lois paused outside; her breath visible in the cool evening air. She watched as he entered, joining a group of men seated in a secluded booth. Her curiosity piqued, she crept closer, finding a spot nearby where she could eavesdrop without being seen.
Inside, Reese was greeted by three men. Gideon, a wiry fellow with sharp features, and Simon, a burly man with a stern expression, flanked an older gentleman named Hector. Their conversation was hushed, their tones serious and deliberate.
"The new government in Australia is moving swiftly," Hector said, his voice carrying an air of authority. "The party believes in a return to Imperial Governance, a centralized power structure modelled after the Roman emperors."
Reese listened intently, nodding as Hector continued. "We're forming a senate-like body, loyalists who will advise and enact policies. Military leaders will be integrated into the governing body, ensuring control through force and discipline."
Lois's heart sank as she listened, her worst fears confirmed. This was no innocent art project. Reese was entangled in something dangerous, something that could have serious repercussions.
"Provincial governors will manage regions, and we'll implement a judicial system based on Roman law," Simon added, his voice low. "Religious leaders will be incorporated into governance, aligning spiritual and political power."
Lois's mind raced, her instincts screaming at her to intervene. But she remained rooted to the spot, torn between the urge to protect her son and the fear of revealing her presence. She had to know more, to understand the full extent of what Reese was involved in.
As the conversation continued, Lois felt a chill run down her spine. The implications of what she was hearing were staggering, and the thought of Reese being caught up in such a scheme was terrifying. She needed to act, to find a way to pull him back from the brink before it was too late.
Lois strained to hear as the conversation continued, each word heightening her anxiety. The men spoke in measured tones, their discussion painting a chilling picture of the new government's plans.
"Religious Integration," Hector continued, "is key. By incorporating religious leaders into governance, we align spiritual and political power, creating a unified front."
Gideon nodded, adding, "We're also pushing for a Cultural Revival. Roman culture and traditions will become the national identity, with mandatory education in Roman history and values."
Lois's heart pounded in her chest. The implications of such a cultural overhaul were vast, reshaping the very fabric of society. She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
"Economic Control is crucial," Simon interjected. "The state will control key industries and resources, centralizing economic power to ensure stability and growth."
Hector leaned forward, his voice carrying a note of pride. "We'll initiate large-scale Public Works projects to demonstrate the regime's strength and benevolence. The Propaganda Ministry will handle media control, ensuring the regime's narrative is the only one the public hears."
Reese listened, his expression a mix of intrigue and uncertainty. Lois could see him nodding along, seemingly captivated by the grand vision being laid out before him.
"A Citizenship Hierarchy will be established," Gideon explained. "Privileges will be based on loyalty and service to the regime. Education Reform will focus on Roman ideals and our ideology."
Simon glanced around the table, his gaze settling on Reese. "We need a robust Security Apparatus to monitor and suppress dissent. Evelyn will play a ceremonial role as emperor, a figurehead to inspire and unite the people."
Lois felt a cold dread settle over her. This was more than just a political movement; it was a complete restructuring of society, with Reese caught in the middle. She had to do something, but the risk of revealing herself was too great. She needed a plan, a way to extricate Reese from this dangerous path without putting him in further danger.
As the conversation continued, Reese felt emboldened by the ideas swirling around the table. He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued by the implications of their plans. "What do you gentlemen think about a strong military and fortified borders? What about dealing with corrupt politicians—shouldn't we just eliminate them?"
Hector's eyes gleamed with approval. "Absolutely. A strong military is essential for maintaining order and ensuring the regime's stability. And yes, killing any corrupt politicians serves as a powerful statement of our authority."
Reese's heart raced at the thought, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him. "What about conscription? Shouldn't we institute it to bolster our forces?"
Gideon nodded, his expression serious. "Conscription would ensure that every citizen contributes to the defence of the state. It's a necessary step to build a loyal and disciplined military."
"And the death penalty," Simon added, his voice low but firm. "We should bring these corrupt politicians to the public square and execute them. It would demonstrate the regime's strength and resolve to the people."
Lois, hidden just outside the café, felt bile rise in her throat. The gravity of their words weighed heavily on her, and she struggled to remain composed. This was no longer just a discussion about governance; it was a chilling manifesto for violence and control.
Reese continued, "What do you think about making statues of Julius Caesar and Augustus mandatory? It would remind everyone of our heritage and the strength of our leadership."
Hector smiled, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "That's an excellent idea, Reese. Statues will serve as constant reminders of our glorious past and the ideals we aspire to."
"And we should make it compulsory for every household to have a picture of Evelyn, the Empress," Simon suggested, his tone fervent. "It would remind citizens of who they serve, reinforcing loyalty to the regime."
Lois's heart raced as she listened to Reese's growing enthusiasm. She couldn't let him get swept up in this madness. The stakes were too high, and the consequences too dire. She needed to act before it was too late.
Reese leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. He could feel the tension in the air as he posed the question that had been swirling in his mind. "What do you men think about women's rights? I know the Roman views on women, but considering our new Empress is transgender and the former grandson of Queen Elizabeth II, I'm curious how you feel about that."
The three men exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and contemplation. Gideon was the first to respond, his brow furrowed. "It's certainly a complicated situation. Traditionally, we hold conservative views, but the circumstances surrounding Evelyn's ascension are unprecedented."
Simon chimed in, his tone thoughtful. "I suppose the revolution has forced us to reconsider our views on leadership and identity. If she is capable of ruling and embodies the strength we need, perhaps we can set aside our biases."
Hector leaned forward, his voice steady. "The fact that Evelyn is a transgender woman complicates things, yes. But we must remember that she was thrust into this role against her will. The people need a strong leader, and if she can provide that, we must support her."
Reese watched as the men grappled with the implications of their new reality. "So, you would still support her, despite her being transgender? I mean, it must be shocking for you guys, right?"
Gideon nodded slowly. "It requires us to challenge our preconceived notions. If she can unite the people and lead effectively, then we have to put our personal feelings aside for the greater good."
Simon added, "But it's not just about her identity. It's about how she can fulfill the role of Empress. If she can embody the ideals we are trying to promote, then we have no choice but to support her."
Lois, still hidden outside the café, felt a mix of relief and anxiety wash over her. The men were grappling with the complexities of their situation, but she knew that Reese was becoming increasingly entangled in a web of dangerous ideologies. She had to intervene before he lost himself completely in this world.
Reese's voice carried a note of urgency as he pressed the men further. "So, you support Evelyn, but what about women's rights in general? Will women be allowed to serve in the armed forces? With conscription on the table, what size are you envisioning for the army, navy, and air force? And considering Australia's population of 26 million, should the new government consider acquiring nuclear weapons to deter the United States or NATO from overthrowing the regime?"
The men exchanged glances, each weighing the gravity of the questions posed. Gideon spoke first, his tone contemplative. "Women's rights are a complex issue. If they can serve effectively in the military, then perhaps it's time to reconsider their roles. As for conscription, a robust military force is essential, but we must be strategic in our approach."
Simon nodded, adding, "The size of the military must be proportional to our needs and capabilities. As for nuclear weapons, it's a delicate matter. While they could serve as a deterrent, the implications of acquiring them are significant."
Hector leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "We must ensure that Evelyn Windsor is not added to the list of leaders overthrown by the West. Supporting her means bolstering our defences, but we must tread carefully."
Reese's eyes shone with determination. "I support our Empress. Despite being transgender, she stands with this new government. We must do everything in our power to protect her and ensure she remains in power."
Lois listened, her heart heavy with worry. The conversation had taken a dangerous turn, and Reese seemed increasingly drawn to the men's radical ideas. She knew she had to act, but the path forward was fraught with uncertainty.
Reese's fervour was palpable as he leaned forward, addressing the men with a newfound intensity. "Gentlemen, consider the Gulf Wars, Gaddafi, Saddam, Hitler, Kaiser Wilhelm II, Ho Chi Minh, Pol Pot, and Kim Jong Un. What do these leaders have in common? They are all leaders the United States and NATO, the hypocritical West, have tried to overthrow or have succeeded in overthrowing. We must ensure Evelyn Windsor is not added to that list."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Gideon was the first to break the silence, his voice measured. "You make a compelling point, Reese. The West has a history of interference, and we must be vigilant in protecting our sovereignty."
Simon nodded, his expression grave. "Supporting Empress Evelyn means fortifying our defences and ensuring that we are not vulnerable to external threats. We must be prepared to stand our ground."
Hector leaned forward; his eyes fixed on Reese. "We have a responsibility to support our Empress, regardless of her identity. Her leadership is crucial to our vision, and we must do everything in our power to protect her and our new government."
Lois, still hidden outside, felt a knot of fear tighten in her stomach. Reese was in deep, his passion for the cause evident. She knew she had to act before he was swept away entirely by the dangerous ideologies being discussed.
Reese leaned in, eager to hear the men's detailed response to his question about the military size under the new government. The room was tense, each man weighing his words carefully.
Gideon began, his voice steady and authoritative. "With a population of 26 million and conscription in place, we estimate the total military force could reach approximately 2.6 million personnel. This includes both men and women, as gender will not be a barrier to service."
Simon picked up the thread, outlining the specifics. "The army would comprise the largest portion, with about 1.5 million soldiers. This would ensure a strong ground presence, capable of defending our borders and maintaining internal security."
Hector continued; his eyes focused on Reese. "The navy would consist of around 700,000 personnel. This would allow us to maintain control of our maritime borders and protect our interests at sea. The air force would be smaller, with approximately 400,000 personnel, focusing on air defence and strategic operations."
Reese nodded, absorbing the information. The scale of the military force they envisioned was staggering, a testament to their commitment to securing the new regime.
Lois, listening from her hidden vantage point, felt a chill run down her spine. The detailed plans for militarization were a stark reminder of the lengths these men were willing to go to maintain power. She knew she had to act, to find a way to pull Reese back from the brink before it was too late.
Reese pressed on, his voice steady as he posed more questions. "What about the number of tanks, fighter jets, and ships? I'm talking submarines, cruisers, destroyers, and possibly aircraft carriers. And what do you think about establishing a National Guard similar to what we have in the U.S.? You know, a state National Guard that could help with natural disasters and quell dissent? It could free up the army to handle more critical matters, and the National Guard could take care of mundane tasks like disaster relief and stopping riots."
The three men exchanged glances, nodding thoughtfully at Reese's suggestions. Gideon spoke first, his tone serious. "For a military of this scale, we would need a comprehensive inventory of equipment. We could aim for approximately 2,000 main battle tanks, 1,500 fighter jets, and a fleet of around 100 naval vessels, which would include submarines, cruisers, and destroyers. As for aircraft carriers, we could consider commissioning one or two to establish a formidable naval presence."
Simon added, "The National Guard is an excellent idea. It would allow us to mobilize a reserve force that can respond to emergencies and support the regular military. We could potentially establish a National Guard of about 250,000 personnel, drawn from the population."
Hector leaned forward, his expression contemplative. "If we account for those serving in the army, navy, and air force, we could still have a significant number of people eligible for the National Guard. With a population of 26 million, and assuming about 2.6 million in the regular military, we could estimate around 5 million people aged 16 to 60 who could join the National Guard. This could include older men and women who aren't fit for active duty, as well as troubled youth like you, Reese. It gives them a purpose and a chance to contribute to society."
Reese felt a surge of excitement at the thought of being part of something larger than himself, a chance to prove his worth. But he also sensed the gravity of the situation, knowing that such power could easily be abused.
Lois, still eavesdropping, felt a wave of dread wash over her. The vision these men had for the future was alarming, and she knew she had to intervene before Reese was swept further into their dangerous ideology.
Reese's voice took on an almost fervent tone as he continued to lay out his ideas. "Gentlemen, you've heard of the SS, the NKVD, the Okhrana, and the Stasi. What do they have in common? They protected the state and stamped out any would-be revolutionaries. And the Waffen SS—they were a political army loyal to one man, Hitler, personally swearing allegiance to him, not the state or the generals who tried to kill him in the July bomb plot."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. "You love ancient Rome. Who protected the Roman emperors? The Praetorian Guard. I think our Empress should have a division of troops recruited from the most loyal and fanatical soldiers in the army to be her Praetorian Guard. And perhaps a separate organization called the Empress's Fist or the Empress's Immortals—a political army that swears an oath of allegiance to her and only her, not the state. Her private army. What do you think, gentlemen?"
The men exchanged looks, each contemplating the implications of Reese's suggestions. Gideon spoke first, his voice measured. "A personal guard for the Empress could serve as a powerful symbol of her authority and ensure her protection against any internal threats."
Simon nodded, considering the proposal. "The idea of a political army loyal only to the Empress is intriguing. It would certainly solidify her power and create a formidable force that could act independently of the regular military."
Hector leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. "Such a force would need to be carefully managed to prevent abuses of power. But if executed correctly, it could be a vital component of maintaining the regime's stability."
Reese felt a thrill at their reactions, the potential for his ideas to become reality. Yet beneath the excitement lay a flicker of doubt, a whisper of caution that warned him of the dangers of unchecked power.
Lois, still hidden, felt her heart sink further. The conversation had taken a dark turn, and she knew she had to act before Reese was drawn even deeper into this perilous world.
Reese's eyes gleamed with intensity as he laid out his vision. "So, let's consider setting up this Praetorian Guard and the Empress's Fist. What would be the size and composition of these groups? The Empress's Fist should include tanks, IFVs, and BFVs, and they should have the first pick of conscripts as they come of age. For both groups, the recruitment age should be from 16 to 28, as that's when people are in their physical prime. The Praetorian Guard should be even more selective, with an age range of 16 to 25 and a height requirement above 5'8". Women should be allowed to serve in both."
He paused, his gaze steady on the men. "If we include the people already serving in the other four branches but allow the Empress's Fist and the Praetorian Guard to recruit from them, what would the size of both groups be? Remember, only the best of the best should be allowed to serve in these two groups, and I want the Empress's Fist to be better equipped than the other branches."
The men exchanged thoughtful glances, considering the logistics of Reese's proposal. Gideon was the first to speak, his voice confident. "The Praetorian Guard could be a highly elite force, numbering around 10,000. This would ensure they are the cream of the crop, selected not just for their physical prowess but also for their loyalty and dedication."
Simon nodded, adding, "The Empress's Fist could be larger, perhaps around 50,000 strong. This would allow them to have a significant presence and the capability to operate independently with superior equipment and training."
Hector leaned forward; his tone serious. "Both groups would require rigorous selection processes, drawing from the best soldiers in the army and new conscripts. The emphasis would be on loyalty to the Empress, ensuring that these forces are unwavering in their commitment."
Reese felt a thrill at their agreement, the pieces of his vision falling into place. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the awareness of the power these groups could wield.
Lois, still hidden, felt the weight of the conversation pressing down on her. She knew she had to act, to find a way to intervene before Reese was swept further into this dangerous world.
