Agent047
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956 - A Tit for Tat
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 23:03:11 +0000 UTCTrade Hub.
“What are you doing?” a Bogomar shouted at the imperial soldiers. Their rifles were leveled at him and his family, who trembled as they clung to him while being escorted back to their room. “We came here under a Visa from the empire! And it promised safety!”
The soldiers didn't respond. His family's terror elicited no change in their impassive stance as they continued their rhythmic march, indirectly forcing the Bogomar and his family to keep walking backwards or else be shot by the soldiers. Their faces were unseen behind the helmets of full combat armor, a sight the Bogomar and his family had never witnessed. Previously, the soldiers had only worn their basic uniforms, but in a matter of an hour since they last saw a soldier, they had become fully kitted and ready for war.
Once escorted into the room, one of the soldiers finally spoke.
“The Conclave has attacked,” the soldier said, his voice coming through the helmet's speaker in the Bogomar’s native tongue. “To ensure your safety and to prevent any incidents, we are placing you under room arrest. All your needs will be met, but you will not be allowed to leave this room until the situation is resolved.”
The family’s expressions went from bad to worse. The realization dawned on them that they were now prisoners of war, completely at the mercy of the empire, shifting the direction of their fear from the fear of being misunderstood to now being prisoners of war.
“Nothing bad will happen to you so long as you follow the rules,” the soldier added, letting the weight of his words sink in as he pointed at something in the room, but none of them turned to look at it, worried that if they did, they would be shot. “But if you try anything foolish, we will show no mercy.”
Once the soldier was done delivering the information, they turned and left as the door slid shut, sealing them inside, marking the start of their room arrest.
It took them a few minutes to compose themselves before they dragged their feet to inspect the area that would be their prison for the duration of the war. To their surprise, it was a luxurious suite, even larger than their previous one. It was practically a small house, with two bedrooms and a spacious living room. A hologram displayed their information, including a list of house arrest rules, an update on the status of their valuables, and information that VR would still be accessible, albeit in a limited and surveilled capacity.
……………….
“For such a young race, they are remarkably adept at creating entertainment,” a Valthorin dignitary mused, watching a massive hologram in his room. It displayed videos of people from various civilizations being forced to beg as their prides were systematically dismantled.
For a civilization that valued pride and honor above all else, watching others being debased was the highest form of entertainment. Their own culture lacked anything like acting, as no Valthorin would willingly portray weakness, even in fiction, as the act itself was considered a stain on one's honor and would cause them to lose their standings. This left them starved for such content in the Conclave, where sharing information between civilizations was limited, a thirst that was only now being quenched by the humans' near monopoly over video entertainment.
Just as the man on the screen was about to swallow his pride to save a loved one, the video paused. An imperial soldier in full combat armor walked straight through the hologram, his imposing frame nearly matching the man on the screen.
“Who dares?” the Valthorin bellowed, his displeasure clear as he looked at the soldier advancing on him with palpable killing intent. “Do you know who I am? How dare you enter my room without permission! Are you trying to break the treaty? Do you want to die?” he shouted, his tone shifting mid-rant, a predatory gleam in his eye as he saw an opportunity to reenact the very power dynamics he'd been enjoying.
He shot up from his reclining chair, pointing a finger to mimic the aggressor in the video. But before he could utter a word, the soldier closed the distance, seized his outstretched arm, pivoted, threw him over his shoulder, and hit the ground with him.
“Ughhh!” The Valthorin hit the floor hard enough to dent it, but the groan lasted only a second before a glow enveloped his body as he hit the ground with his hand and used the impact to launch himself back into the air, flipping to deliver a powerful kick toward the soldier.
Though the move was fast, the soldier simply raised a hand. Ten thin, shimmering shields materialized in front of his palm just as the kick connected. The first shield shattered instantly, as did the next nine in rapid succession, causing the Valthorin to grin, thinking his kick would break the soldier's hand.
CRACK!
A sickening snap echoed in the room, and it wasn't the soldier's extended arm.
“Arghhhhhhhhhhh!” the Valthorin screamed, clutching his own shattered leg. The soldier lowered his hand, looking down at him as if he hadn't been touched.
“I’m going to make you pay for this!” the Valthorin seethed, his face a mask of hatred.
“You did that to yourself, why are you blaming me?” the soldier stated flatly, and technically he was saying the truth, as the shields that the Valthorin had broken with his kick were not really shields but energy-absorbing runes, and each of them managed to absorb an average of six percent of his kick energy, meaning by the time the kick reached the soldier's extended hand, that kick was only at forty percent of its power before sixty percent of his initial kick was used as defense against it, which was no different than hitting yourself.
Before the Valthorin could respond, the soldier moved in a blur. The dignitary's head slammed into the floor, denting it again, and he lost consciousness instantly. The soldier then carried his limp body to the room assigned for his imprisonment.
While normal citizens were treated humanely, that courtesy did not extend to high-ranking officials, especially after the soldiers learned what was happening to imperial citizens on the captured stations. As long as they weren't killed, any injuries could be healed in a matter of days.
The empire was returning the favor, capturing all Conclave citizens in its territory, including dignitaries and ambassadors, to counter the enemy's hostage strategy.
Comments
Billiam
I’m not completely certain but I thonk the top tier civs have spatial locks on their systems + it’s only been like 2 hours
Sol_Invictus(Hail the Terran Empire)
I’ve been thinking. The Conclave has taken people and stations hostage… Frankly, in their place, I might have done the same. In response, I would deploy ships to every star under the Conclave’s control - each carrying a black hole bomb. Each fleet carries enough black hole bombs to induce a collapse and trigger an artificial supernova when positioned and activated near a star. Then I would issue a direct ultimatum: release the hostages immediately - or face the knowledge that each of their stars can be destroyed at will. Of course, there’s a risk: such an act could push them into a state of desperation, causing them to fight with reckless fury. The consequences might spiral out of control. P. S. I'm not suggesting this should be added to the story - the Agent is doing just fine without my “brilliant” ideas. Just some idle thoughts.
GripenSupremacy
TYFTC
