Flames Rising: The Continuing Chronicle of Vivian James

GG_VJ

I am going to do this in narrative format as everyone pretty much knows everything I am going to say.  This is no longer news: it’s now just turning into an epic journey.  One that had a start in suppression and is now a roaring blaze that is scorching the internet.  This is how I am imagining the unfolding conflict between the SJW standard and the #GamerGate army.  Because, let’s face it, we are an army.  If this doesn’t appeal to you: Step One. Read my About Page. Step Two. Fuck off. Step Three. Eat a comfort twinkie. For all the rest, shit is about to get crazy.  More real gaming and reviews coming this week.  Promise ; )

“I told you fuckers, the frontline needs reinforcements!” Just hours after falling back from their home turf, the denizens of the Clover Nation were hot on seeking a new stronghold.  As Vivian determined ahead of time, planning for the fall of the Clover was necessary.  Rumors abounded long ago of SJW soldiers slowly infiltrating the nation, but now its halls, always far from sacred, had fallen and bent its knee to oppression.  Vivian watched out of the back of the MRAP as explosions rocked the places she had known in her infancy: V Plaza, Pol Street…  But now those talking on the wrong topics were silenced, exiled and worse.  The Clover Nation had long been an independent sovereignty, but the streets, where one could discuss any topic without fear of reproach, now flooded with crowds of refugees; all of them making haste for the borders before the last mines are laid.  No one knew if they’d return home, and few even cared.  Fine Young Capitalists everywhere walked away from the Clover nation as it began to silence its own people.

Vivian looked over the statistics of the initial battles.  The Axis of Social Strengthening, headed by The Peoples’ Republic of Kotaku, The Gamasutra Federation and the Ars Technica Empire, had pulled together with countless others of their kind, even pulling in international support from the America press: their words of victimization echoed in The Boston Globe and The New Yorker’s stygian type.  But not all was lost.  In fact, more and more champions broke away from their own engagements to support the cause of the rebels.  Among them one would find such fine warriors as The Hero of Canton, who earned the support of many an undecided soldier.  His words with various reporters inspired many and amplified the voice of the  Internet Aristocracy.  Even a man known as Biscuit has come out to talk about the situation and facilitate discussion in an open format. The Regal Patriarchy of Shotgun took massive losses, The Gamasutra Federation lost 224 legionnaires in its latest conflicts.  The Peoples’ Republic of Kotaku was taking strong blows, but as the leader of the Axis, it was maintaining its stranglehold.  The Polygon Primacy was also maintaining its footing, but was still sustaining border raids that tried its army’s mettle.

Amidst her strategic ruminations, the direct line buzzed.  It was Breitbart.  “The operation is a roaring success,” Bart’s voice shouted into his receiver.  Their strongholds were now under fire. “a broader audience now has factsheets on the greater issues within the movement!  I will seek…” the line cut dead before Viv could respond.

“Dammit!” Vivian roared and slammed the handset back onto its cradle.  Outside, the booming of mortar fire against the keep rocked her extemporaneous CIC within The Escapist Confederacy.  When the exodus was ordered, Vivian made sure many escaped.  Some were trapped in various harrying assaults, but the spirit of the people prevailed in so many ways, and many lives were spared.  But many more fell.  Above Viv knew that the SJW’s were pounding the fortress with withering fire.  The Confederacy wasn’t the best place to hunker down, but the convoys were reconnoitered and harried by the SJW’s.  While the main force pushed on toward the Eighth Kingdom, what was a supply bivouac became ground zero.  But why?

Throughout the embattled Confederacy fortress, lights died and electricity flipped off.  Vivian’s feeds and monitors went silent and the walls held their breath.  She listened carefully as the explosive hail winnowed her forces, but she knew they reciprocated with an untold fury.  God how she loved the gamers: her fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.  As the dark seemed to grow confident, the lights flicked back on and hurried boots were heard on the stairs.  Vivian grabbed her Colt .45 and machete.  She loved the old blade, and it never had to reload.  A sequential order of knocks brought her guard down.  It was Archon.

“Enter.” was her relieving reply.  Archon slipped in and shut the door tightly behind him.  He rounded and cleared his throat tersely.

“I don’t mind sheltering you here, Ms James, but once the SJW barricades are torched, we have to address your exit strategy.  You have to get to the Eighth Kingdom.  They are crude, I know, but theirs is an anonymous anarchy.  Only there can you be safe.  Only there can you dig in amongst the chaos and keep the SJW’s at bay.”

“Save it, Archon.  This was only supposed to be a small operation.” Vivian’s velvet tones were clad in a terse verbal armor. “The second we can, I want to take all the readouts and final compiled information with us to the Eigth Kingdom.”  Archon stood tacitly assessing the disarray of the CIC. “Why did you come down here, anyway?  Just to be a good landlord and make sure I emptied the fridge?”  her eyes had a way of going cold and soft.

“No, I came to give you this.  It’s…”

“The list.  The same list we shared with Breitbart.  The Pros list.”

“The very one.  Make them fear our name.” Vivian looked down at the flash drive then clicked her gaze back into Archon’s.

“Get my entourage. we’re moving.”

The SJW’s were using their best doxxing and DDoS attacks and propagating their language of hatred amongst their people.  Morale is important, but more important is human decency, or so they will learn from the movement.  No one cares if more nations stand up to show their colors and alignment, not even if the Cracked States decide to put in their own thoughts of defamation or even align themselves with the very worst of the opposing forces.  No matter.  As the flames rise, more people stand up to take the places of the fallen.  More names add to the list of those disenfranchised by the din of blatant disregard.  As the mighty fall the last thing they will see is the shining light of the sun piercing downward through crumbling walls of ivory.  They call it the end.  We just call it the day the internet burned.

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