blueteamnovel Chapter 99 In the Name of the Lord! A desperate revenge! Until death do us part!
Chapter 99 In the Name of the Lord! A desperate revenge! Until death do us part!
Chapter 99 In the Name of the Lord! A desperate revenge! Until death do us part!
The wooden platform, constructed from old crates and scaffolding pipes, stood 1.5 meters high and 3 meters wide in the open space in front of the warehouse.
An emergency light was set up on the stage, casting a stark white light that illuminated Carl Jensen's silhouette.
He stood under the lamp, wearing an olive green shirt that had been washed but still had stains, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
The cross scar on the back of his right hand appeared dark red under the light.
The audience was a crowd.
The wounded emerged from the warehouse, civilians gathered from other resettlement sites, logistics and guards were on duty, and residents from the surrounding area rushed to the scene after hearing the news.
The total number is so large that it seems to stretch to the horizon.
They stood in a dark mass, silently watching the stage.
There were only sporadic coughs and the rustling of clothes.
A camera was mounted on the side of the wooden platform, connected to a portable satellite signal transmitter.
The footage is being transmitted over the internet and is being streamed live on multiple platforms.
The number of viewers exceeded 300,000 within ten minutes of the broadcast starting.
Karl raised his hand, signaling for silence.
It was actually quite quiet to begin with.
Five days ago,
He spoke, his voice coming through the microphone, steady and clear in the night breeze, "It was a miserable day for us."
pause.
"Those damned capitalists, those enemies of the Lord, have dropped nuclear bombs on our heads."
All eyes in the audience were on his face.
"Many of our brothers and sisters died in this attack."
He continued, speaking slowly and clearly, "Thirty-five thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven people."
The moment the digital exit appeared, a suppressed gasp rippled through the crowd.
Some people lowered their heads, while others clenched their fists.
"Among these numbers are your fathers and mothers."
Karl's gaze swept over the several elderly faces in the front row. "Your wives and husbands are among them."
His gaze shifted to several women holding children. "These are your children, friends, and neighbors."
He took a step forward, closer to the edge of the stage.
"This is an attack on us, the chosen ones."
His voice rose slightly, but remained restrained: "It is pure, evil violence. It is a blatant trampling of the will of God."
Whispers began to rise from the audience, like tiny bubbles rising in water before it boils.
"So, what do you say when faced with this kind of situation?"
Carl asked, leaning slightly forward, "Faced with this atrocity that has killed our brothers and sisters and utterly shattered our lives—"
He paused and waited.
The night wind swept across the plain, stirring the cables of the emergency lights, causing the light to flicker.
"—What should we do?"
He paused for a moment.
The question was thrown out and left hanging in mid-air.
The audience fell silent for a second.
Then someone shouted, a hoarse voice: "Revenge!"
Then came the second, and the third.
"Kill them!"
"A blood debt must be paid in blood!"
The sounds gradually increased in intensity, eventually coalescing into a muffled roar.
Karl raised his right hand, made a fist, and held it up to shoulder height.
All sounds ceased at that moment.
"revenge."
He repeated, his voice amplified through the microphone, drowning out the wind, "Revenge for blood. Revenge for total destruction."
The fist paused in mid-air.
"Only revenge can bring solace to our dead brothers and sisters."
His voice began to take on an almost metallic clang, "Only revenge can bring to justice this damned sin of defying the will of God!"
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and then shouted: "In the name of the Lord! Avenge to the death! Until death do us part!"
The sound exploded across the plain.
The five thousand people in the audience responded in unison: "In the name of the Lord! We will avenge you to the death! Until we die!"
The first pass was uneven.
The second time it became neat.
"In the name of the Lord! We will avenge you to the death! Until we die!"
On the third time, the sound surged up like a tide, crashing against the warehouse walls and bouncing back, creating a continuous echo.
Karl loosened his fist, his right palm facing forward, making a downward chopping gesture.
The movements were clean and efficient.
Then he turned around and stepped off the wooden platform.
The light from the emergency lights shone on his back, casting a long shadow.
He walked into the crowd, and the crowd automatically parted to make way for him.
The live stream was cut off at that moment.
Before the screen went black, the last image captured was of faces looking up from the audience, their eyes reflecting the light in the darkness like countless burning embers.
Lansing, the study at the Gilman family manor.
The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, and the firewood was crackling.
Congressman Gilman sat in a leather armchair, holding a tablet in his hand, the screen displaying the live broadcast that had just been interrupted.
He tossed the tablet onto the low table next to him, picked up his wine glass, and took a big gulp.
"You weren't blown up."
He said in a low voice, his tone a mixture of dissatisfaction and disdain, "They actually dare to seek revenge."
He recalled the celebration at the club five days earlier.
At that time, everyone thought the problem was solved.
A 50-kiloton tactical nuclear bomb is enough to wipe out any trouble.
But now it seems the trouble has only gotten worse.
Gilman put down his glass, picked up the internal phone on the table, and dialed a number.
It rang three times before being answered.
"it's me."
He said, "Did you see the live stream just now?"
A muffled response came from the other end of the phone.
"That redneck isn't dead; he's still clamoring for revenge."
Gilman scoffed. "But it doesn't matter."
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the neatly trimmed lawn outside.
"The one we used last time was an old stockpile kept by the Anna family. It had a low yield and was not well maintained."
He said into the microphone, "The ones we keep at home, and the ones we help the federal government maintain, are in much better condition."
He paused, waiting for the other party's response.
Then he continued, "If one isn't enough, then two. If two aren't enough, then we'll go for a 500,000-ton class. I don't believe it can withstand that."
What was said on the other end of the phone?
"Prepare in advance."
"Let's wait for the parliament to come to a conclusion. That old fox Powell still wants to resolve things through political means; I think he's getting more and more senile as he gets older."
Gilman laughed.
"Yes, that's the confidence that nuclear weapons give me."
He said, "No matter how powerful they are, they are still just flesh and blood. We are the ones who wield ultimate power."
He hung up the phone, walked back to the fireplace, and poured himself another glass of wine.
The firelight reflected off his face, making his expression appear somewhat unfocused.
He remembered what his grandfather had said.
That was a long time ago, when the family had just obtained its first batch of private nuclear warheads through special channels.
That is, when the eldest brother died.
Grandfather said, "Remember, when you have the power to destroy everything, you will never have to be afraid of anything again."
Now he understands.
No matter how loudly that redneck shouts on stage, or how fiercely the crowd yells from below, it's all just noise in the face of true power.
He raised his glass and offered a perfunctory toast to the flames in the fireplace.
"revenge?"
He said softly, "Okay. I'll be waiting."
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