Chapter 82 - The Union

<---Chapter 81 - Military Demonstrations|Table of Contents|Chapter 83 - A Worker's Life--->

"Count Leon has agreed to make a purchase order of a preliminary 30,000 sets of the full armour set, along with 60,000 of the reduced cheaper version in total. This order is far larger than those in the past." Baron Cain summarized the conclusion of the demonstration, handing over an order sheet over to Kyle. "150 million rakels, paid on delivery of the armour sets after inspection."

The amount of money was more than enough to cover operations of the Seven Snakes for the next three years even with the exorbitant salary he was paying the designers, reliving a burden off Kyle's shoulders. It was good, but the money was still not in their hands just yet. Producing the armour would take time. "What's the deadline?"

"Two months. They are already delaying the military exercise, but it can't be shifted any later than that. Kregol and Perlis are involved in the joint exercise drill as well, so any later would cause issues."

Kyle's expression immediately darkened, Baron Cain catching on to the obvious signs. "You can't produce that fast enough."

"Not at the current rate, no. I'll figure it out, and I'll have it done by the two months." Kyle wasn't about to let go of such a juicy contract, but he had this inkling that the order should not have been this large in the first place. "How did Count Leon behave during the negotiations? Any signs or erratic issues?"

"Surprisingly enthuasitic overall. Seemed to have no qualms issuing us the contract, even convincing the generals to order more than three times the original discussed amount."

"Hmm..." Kyle took that information with him, returning back to the Aspis Weapons Factory where the managers and Gordon were gathering and already celebrating the results of the duel. The revelation of the order from Kyle had mixed reactions from them at best, many worrying about it.

"Sure, it took us a month to design and produce twenty sets of the Aspis MK1. The bulk of the time was in the design and research, so now we should be able to go faster." Buron was optimistic, but he was just the designer, which means he had minimal interactions with the plights of the average production team technician.

Gordon was more wary of the tall order. "But how fast can we go? Say we did not even include the reduced version, and only produced the 30,000 Aspis MK1, we would have to produce at least around 4000 each week."

"Whats the current expected maximum production rate for each assembly line?" Kyle asked.

"Takes about an hour to complete one set, with the rifle, not including the testing and quality check." Gordon calculated. "And I have yet to factor in the amount of material needed. We might not have enough mined."

"Don't worry about the materials, I will source for it if necessary. But judging based on the rate, we must have the assembly lines working 24 hours a day. Do we have enough workers to man all twenty of them?"

"Not yet, sir. The part-time trade school students and the associates are not experienced enough to work full time on the assembly line just yet, so in terms of just experienced workers, we're at 50% capacity."

"Then we'll have to work them 50% harder. Double everyone's shifts and get more workers in."

A moment of silence languished among the managers, even Buron, as Kyle eyed them warily. "Speak your minds."

Gordon took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Sir, with the new martial law and policing by the Seven Snakes... there's been a bit of a bad look for us. If we double the workers' hours, there very well might be backlash and growing dissent in the district that could come to bite us back in the ass."

"If we don't double the workers' hours, we won't be able to match the ..." Kyle's voice trailed off, as something in his mind suddenly clicked together. Everything was beginning to fall into place like clockwork, the machinations of those who were plotting against him becoming clear as day, a small grin appearing on his face. "I see what's happening now."

"See what?"

"My order still stands." Kyle held his ground, his body language far more confident now. "Double the workers' shift until we find enough workers to man the factory at 100% capacity, but do not double the wages. We have to control the cost until we receive the payment. Explain this to all the workers, have it reinforced during the morning speeches. Don't forget our roots, Gordon. We are a gang, not a charity. Sacrifices have to be made."

Gordon nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly. Kyle did not waste any more time with them, calling Damian and Sasha to meet over at one of the Seven Snakes' various smaller bases, masking his movement as best as he could.

"The enemy has finally reared his head. It is even more critical that the vipers follow my orders to the letter. Any deviations from this plan will result in unwanted consequences that threatens to further erode us as a gang." Kyle explained quickly.

"But are we allowed to know what they are trying to aim for?" Damian tried to dig in, but Kyle stood firm.

"Not until we find the mole. While I trust the two of you, it remains to be seen if information is leaking through either of you. I will have to keep the nature of our orders to myself."

"Sir, you can trust us, we would never leak the information."

"Thank you, Damian." Kyle replied with emotion, not taking the show of loyalty to heart. Betrayals always come from the most trusted of followers. "Now, I need you to disseminate the orders accordingly."

"Damian, I need the associates well trained. No quarter nor mercy is to be given to anyone who flout our rules or try to disrupt us. Every burgeoning protest is to be cracked down on immediately. I will not tolerate any unrest or disruptions to the factory's production over the next two months. This order applies to both you and Niko. All prisoners are to be withheld indefinitely for any infractions, even the smallest."

Kyle continued speaking, rattling off orders as Damian jotted down the information. "Have Keith inform Merissa and Feldon to speed up material production. Have the prisoners enslaved and working on preparing the materials for the armour set. All of our efforts should be directed towards the completion of the contract. And I still want any resistant landowners properties taken away. Yes, even Stanley's prior possessions."

"Sasha, I need you to trail the Society of Friendly Weaponsmiths. Find out which pub they gather at, who is the landlord who host their weekly meetings. Their council, treasurer and every man of note should be profiled and jotted down onto a record here for my perusual."

"Lastly, get Adrian to watch out for any movement. I want eyes and ears all over the district, anything that even sounds remotely suspicious comes to me immediately. This includes the other vipers."

Both Damian and Sasha wore a grim face at the idea of stalking their own members, yet Kyle hardly cared. "Remember, we are not the people's friends, nor are we their saviors. We only do things that benefit us. And no matter what order I give you, it is all for the future of the Seven Snakes. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get to work. Because once we're done with this, we'll be on track to be the next major gang in the South Sector."

***

"The mutilation of Stanley must be punished! How are the enforcers simply letting the Seven Snakes go off scott-free?! Who is enforcing the law?" A landlord yelled at the top of the lungs as he slammed the shiny wooden laminate of his conference table, the copious amounts of newspaper cutouts slightly trembling from the force.

"Yea, and now the Seven Snakes are the enforcers? How did they get Baron Cain on their side? Even the Ardent Cretins are not this blatant! This cannot stand!" Another enraged landlord added, a wave of vigorous agreement spreading through the meeting. "How dare they try to intimidate us into selling our property. Stanley's properties are now in the hands of Kyle himself! We should have rioted when he was still building the shopping arcade."

"We should have rioted when he just ousted the Ilysian Punks! A dog of Yual will never understand Versians." Yet another landlord chimed in. Many of them there were originally from Versia, having migrated to the district because of the presence of the Ilysian Punks, creating its own closed feedback loop of Versian solidarity in the sea of various ethnicities and nationalities in Raktor.

As the meeting continued, many grievances were exchanged before the meeting was interrupted by the doors slamming open, revealing a far shabbier group of factory workers mixed with a few craftsman, clearly from the Society of Friendly Weaponsmiths. Master Dull led the entourage, but some of the landlords looked at the outfit of the incoming group with clear disgust: "What? Who let your kind in? What nonsense is this?"

The two groups stared at each other, having came to blows before over raises in wages and work hours in the past. They immediately saw each other as enemies, especially Master Dull who had long resented the landowners for their lazy and greedy attitude.

"Who the hell are you? This was our group's arranged meeting point." Master Dull began with his usual rash demeanour before gargling a glob of saliva and spitting it onto the luxurious carpet without a care in the world. "Have you not learnt your lesson from our previous picketlines?"

"We should be teaching you your place, you dirty rats! Always looking for the easy way out!"

"I could say the same for you scummy landlords, idling and collecting profit at the expense of others' labours. What benefit do you bring the workshops and factories?!"

Before the two groups could come to blow, their confusion only further amplified as a third group showed up, the Versians among the groups immediately recognizing them.

The third group was comprised of hooded individuals, ten of whom wore non-descript robes, their faces also equally flabbergasted as Master Dull tried to make sense of the situation. "What in the world is going on? Who invited any of you here?"

"I suspect we might have been all invited here by the same individual." The landlords association leader's better judgement reigned supreme, trying to diffuse the situation. "It seems that we may have common ground, the Seven Snakes." Tensions began to relax a little, as they began to realize there was a purpose that they were all gathered here today.

"The fucking invaders who ousted our brothers!" Master Dull cursed, taking a seat at the other side of the conference table, revealing his true allegiance apart from the Society. "And transformed our district into something unrecognizable. Now, we're filled to the brim with migrants and tourists all clamouring from a job who won't even hire our accredited craftsmen! I got a good mind to give Kyle a thorough whacking if I can get close enough to him!"

"What good would such a whacking do? Someone new would simply take over and continue running the factory for profit! If even the dumbest resident can make a rifle, your Society is practically useless." Another landlord scoffed, clearly incensed from his past dealings with similar organizations.. "I don't blame the Seven Snakes for getting rid of your kind - I know you fixed the market prices far too high!"

Instead of Master Dull answering, a hot-headed craftsmen shouted back: "Them fighting words, coming from a fat pudgy landlord who regularly raises rents without even improving anything! Maybe I should whack you first and handle this myself! At least I won't have to compromise with your greedy fuckface!"

"The Goddess herself has already claimed dominion over us. We are all equal - it is only through true equality that we will understand each other." The third leader tried to intervene, only to earn a flung glass at him.

"I migrated from Versia exactly to avoid your kind. I had enough paying out of my fucking nose for unemployed losers like you despite me having worked my ass off!" A landlord roared, with some of the Society's members surprisingly agreeing with them.

"We are working towards a better united future while you are worrying about your own disproportionate wealth? What human needs seven servants and three buildings, hmm? You should be purged from society, a tumor on the health of humanity!"

"How about I purge both of you instead?!"The tensions rose again as chairs were tossed aside, the various members going toe to toe and scuffling with each other, grabbing collars and tossing anything they could get their hands on.

In the midst of the fight, none of the scuffling members noticed a new attendee flanked by two others, the well-suited man walking in with purpose and taking a seat at the head of the table despite the chaos erupting around him. His fingers rasped against the table loudly, drawing the attention of the others over the loud crashes and fights.

"Fucking hell, another one? Is Gunther fucking with me?!" Master Dull groaned as he shoved a half pummeled landlord to the ground.

"I am Gunther. Pleasure to meet all of you." The man at the head of the table smiled, his fingers rasping like clockwork, repetitive every second until those in the room began to calm down, staring at him.

"Then I guess you better start explaining what fucking stunt you're trying to pull by putting us here in the first place."

"Mr Sutton has already enlightened you. We have common ground. A common enemy that is worth putting aside all of our differences to fight against. If you follow my rules, we can have the Seven Snakes reeling in a month, or even less."

A wave of mirthless laughter erupted across the room, even the infuriated landlords. "In a month? I only accepted the invitations because I had hope this 'Gunther' would be someone reasonable. How are you going to take down the Seven Snakes in just a month?" Master Dull scoffed. "Industrial action would be on the order of months or even years of picketlines, strikes and protests!"

Master Dull soon found Gunther expressionless, the mysterious man's face completely serious. "My word, you really believe in your plan."

"I would only explain it to those who swear to silence. You have thirty seconds to leave, otherwise you will be consider complicit." Gunther leaned back into the leather chair, relaxing.

The members exchanged nervous glances, but none of the three groups backed off, especially not the landlords who were hungry for revenge for the death of their own.

"The plan is simple. The entire economy of the Seven Snakes now hinges on the weapons factory. We simply need to make sure that the factory is immobilized, and then we can bring Seven Snakes to the bargaining table, rip them to shreds."

"And how would we do that?"

"Rudimentary actions. The Seven Snakes have already fallen into the trap. The martial law and new restrictions will be our source of motivation, our source of anger to find more people who will align to our course. Just like how I found your three groups."

The leaders sat quietly for a moment as they contemplated the plan, only for the silence to be broken by the boisterious Master Dull. "But why are you in charge? All of this sounds great and all, but they are just fluff - you can't actually pull them off without our help. Seems like you're gunning to be the new big guy amongst us. Why should the Society help you? I might as well go it alone."

"You can try." Gunther gave a knowing look, though he barely moved, only leaning forward to clasp his hands together, resting his chin on them.

"Then you can forget about having my support. And here I thought the plan would be something special. The Society has their own ways of dealing with reluctant factory owners, and I'm sure as hell ain't going to work with fat pigs and crazy cultists." Master Dull rose from his chair. "While I'll like to see Kyle gets what he deserves, this is far too much of a compromise. We're leaving, boys."

Gunther snapped his fingers, Master Dull suddenly feeling a sharp jab in his neck, a syringe lodged deep in his neck with purplish fluid pressed into his veins by his own members, his eyes widening in realization. He tried to open his mouth, but his jaw was locked as the tendrils snaked across his cheeks, rooting his muscles in place, not even being able to blink.

He could only watch Gunther smirking at him from the head of the conference table. "You don't even have control of your men. What makes you think I really need you? Now, would anyone else like to leave?"

The remaining leaders shuddered in their seats, no one moving an inch as Gunther began to pace the room, inspecting the various members. "Good. Let's keep in this way. My rules are simple. You're either with me, or against me. I don't compromise. I don't give second chances. For a revolutionary movement's entire being should be devoured by one purpose, one thought, and one passion. To win. Do you understand? If you don't, I'll make sure you do. Now, onto our next step."

Gunther returned to the head of the conference table. "We need to rile the people up. The factory's hours are going to be doubled, but wages aren't going up. The Soceity, you will begin to organize the dissatisfied workers. Build up the numbers, prepare for a mass strike. But that alone is not enough. We need more impetus, more momentum, more outrage."

"Mr Stanley's death is outrage enough." Mr Sutton, the leader of the landlord union spoke up. "We can try to paint him as a martyr to the people, get people angry."

Sutton's words only caused Gunther to break out into uncontrollable laughter. "What's so funny?"

"A single greedy landlord being a martyr? I did not take you to be a comedian, Mr Sutton. An entirely ridiculous proposition." Gunther's retort clearly incensed Sutton, but he did not fight back, having seen what was still happening to the craft union leader.

"We need another strike, another event. And our dear Master Dull had just volunteered himself. Have him prepared." Gunther motioned his hand towards the immobilized craft union leader, two of Gunther's followers walking forward to hoist the leader up onto the table, before setting up a light-capturer and placing Seven Snakes armbands on, dressing up as a recruit.

The sheer methodical operation alarmed Sutton. "You.... you're the one who killed Mr Stanley! Not the Seven Snakes!"

"Ah, does it really matter? Mr Stanley was a dead man walking either way. In fact, I would go so far to say that I've rescued him from suffering in the clutches of the Seven Snakes."

"You're insane!" Another landlord roared in defiance, standing up and protesting. "You think we would follow your orders now that we're seeing this? You will be exposed for your deeds."

"And the Seven Snakes rule the district once more. Which would you prefer? What am I even saying? I'm sorry for making it sound like you have a choice." Gunther smiled, the landlords immediately being surrounded by Gunther's men, all of whom who had been posing as Society members, cornering and restraining the landlords. "But rejoice! For Mr Sutton was right after all. All of you can become martyrs for the cause."

Sutton panicked as the syringe was forced towards his neck, struggling against his captors from behind as he shouted frantically. "Please, no! I'll give you anything, I'll give you my wealth for funding, for support! You need money to strike, to feed the workers! I can give you jewels, paintings, everything! Just let me go!"

"You seem to not understand. I don't live for greed or for wealth. This... sick world, this digusting social order, the so-called civilized world that is cursed with avarice and inequality: I have severed every link with it. The laws, the morality, the mannerism hardly matter to me. I am the merciless enemy of all that is 'right' and for me to continue to live in such a world - I only have one purpose" Gunther murmured as he retrieved an ornate knife, walking up to the craft union leader. As Gunther slid the blade underneath the chin of the craft union leader, the leader barely reacted, his body stiffened by the poison but clearly still aware, the fright visible in his eyes.

"To destroy it."

<---Chapter 81 - Military Demonstrations|Table of Contents|Chapter 83 - A Worker's Life--->