Author Notes:
Welp, this chapter is very much inspired, to say the least. Hopefully, you all can enjoy the back and forth in this one, and the one to come after this.
Things are quite a bit of a downer for me currently. If possible, do come over to my Discord and give me a pep talk! I will appreciate it a lot if even one of you head over there and banter with us about the story thus far!
And if you're even more of a Chad, then consider supporting me over on my Patreon (Pa-treon)~! There's discount running for first time supporter (40% off!!!).
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Oh, and don't forget to take a look at the pictures below!
Wartime Celebration 1: https://postimg.cc/LnT9MHw3
Wartime Celebration 2: https://postimg.cc/ZCcbhT2c
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It is but another dreary day over Erusea. But, in the once darkened corners of the foggy land, previously left destituted and rotting, a few rays of light slowly bring new energy to a fallen kingdom that just days prior, still trapped in ancestral glory.
In the process of integrating Erusea into the Reich as a proper province, much like what's happening with the Darscen Province over the Erusean Channel, albeit more drastic, the Belkans have airlifted over the bulk of their administrative, logistics, and security forces. Subsequently, with cooperation from Governor George VI, internal reviews, aid distributions, security crackdowns, and other measures were implemented. They are performed on a province-wide scale, leading to numerous changes across the recently subsumed territories.
Reactions from the Erusean populace are, understandably, mixed, at least for now. One can't expect people to immediately move on from either past grudges or the shocking news that the homeland that has given them their identities has just very recently surrendered at breakneck speed. Wounds and traumas require time and often financial investment to heal. Both of which the Belkan Reich has in abundance. Like the Darscens, the Eruseans will see the light, eventually.
Where the light shines, however, shadows surely exist.
The tide of changes doesn't discriminate if one's a law-abiding citizen or a convicted criminal. In fact, those who belong to the latter category suddenly find themselves in an even worse situation than ever before. With Belkan aid distribution centers popping up in every district, every ward, every neighborhood, like fungus in the rainy season, comes the immediate loss of authority and influence of the underworld mob bosses. When supplies and medical attention are given to those in need, for free, the high-priced products in the black market very swiftly lose their value. Underworld gangs, near instantly, hemorrhage manpower and resources, trying to keep their empire from collapsing when the civilians now have access to more reasonable means of existence.
Of course, many foolish mob bosses, through varying methods, try to disrupt the Belkan alms givers or to forcefully prevent the increasingly numerous flow of people going toward the Belkans for help. Most of the time, the gang members assigned to these tasks are arrested before they can do any meaningful damage. Casualties only come in the form of Erusean civilians being beaten to an inch of their lives by the desperate outlaws that seek to maintain their illusion of power. Those gangs that committed to usurp the Belkans' attempt at bringing back actual Law and Order, instead of just outwardly displaying an illusion of them, are subjected to immediate Judgement by a special Joint Task Force.
This particular Joint Task Force is more about the judicial side of things than the more familiar military one. Tentatively named TF Judgement, it features an impressive amount of punitive power and firepower, and it recruits from the hard-boiled law enforcer populace of both Belka and Erusea. As long as they stay true to the tenets of protecting the innocent and punishing the truly wicked, then TF Judgement doesn't discriminate on who you are or your modus operandi. As a result, on the first couple of days since the TF Judgement is formed, reports of twelve massive gunfights across the Erusean province appear on the desk of the Reich Marshal.
Although TF Judgement are detectives and police on paper, many of them have military experience and hate boners for the more distasteful side of the underworld. It's not a surprise to see that, when given the leeway to act as Judge, Jury, and Executioner, with the appropriate arsenal to back these authorities, branches of TF Judgement immediately bring war to the mafia families that preyed on Erusea when it's at its weakest. With evidence carefully provided by ONI, which has long since infiltrated and manipulated the Erusean underworld, TF Judgement can stay confident in having their tank treads rolling over those who are not innocent of their crimes. And with TF Judgement being given an entire arsenal of old but usable Panzer I and II light tanks, alongside an American-made inventory of M3 armored scout cars and M2 half-tracks, not a single Erusean gang can muster any meaningful response.
Eventually, word of mouth spread like wildfire that TF Judgement isn't to be messed with, facilitated by agents of ONI, of course. Gangs that are smart and haven't touched the golden pots that are the Belkan assets shrink themselves even further to avoid notice. Those who have touched the Reich's reverse scales try their best to cut their losses, or to run away to no avail as the ruling government keeps siccing TF Judgement on their rear. There won't be a trial for these convicted souls, no waiting period whatsoever. Things will either devolve into successive cases of suicide by cops, meaning gangsters are killed while resisting the words of the Law, or are captured, scanned, and immediately have their sentences delivered on the spot. Only rarely would a few gang members be thrown into jail to serve time measures in years, with most ending up in nameless ash pots.
TF Judgement's heavy-handed method even startles the normal police garrisons that don't know any better, much less the gangs that piss off the collective Belkan-Erusean top brass. In the days to follow, many gangs will disband themselves and surrender to the actual, normal Erusean police station. At least with this, these gangsters and mob bosses will have a modicum of a chance to experience a normal sentencing process and a way to spend their remaining lives behind bars. To face those Street Judges of the TF Judgement though... It's a nightmare that's even worse than facing actual Demons and Zombies, where the Judges will read your every waking moment aloud before executing you on the spot for the blood you spilled.
It's expected that, by the time the processes of rebuilding and assimilating the Erusean Province are completed, TF Judgement will have rooted out the majority of disorderly and truly heinous gangs and mob families from the face of the planet. Afterward, TF Judgement will either be disbanded or scaled back, having done its fair share of bloody justice. But that's a story for the future.
Now, with most of the Erusean underworld reeling from the appearance of Street Judges, the smarter, more cautious crime families have chosen the wiser way out, and that is to sit back and see where the dice fall. Some of them have even started to brainstorm about the best way to profit from the subsequent power gap, or at the very least, to adapt under the new ruling. The underworld now has to define a strict boundary instead of operating wildly like before. Black industries must be scaled back, whereas the gray zone of societies should be given serious investments. Those who don't adapt to the time... Well, they've already seen TF Judgement making great examples of them.
ONI understands what the foxes of the underworld are thinking about, of course. After all, it's they who have been fostering that sentiment in the shadows, all along. ONI, and by extension, the Reich Marshal, needs a controllable, orderly underworld, as ironic as it sounds. One can never eliminate the dark side of mankind, but one can channel it to be a tad more acceptable than the other outcomes. Not even the Reich itself has lost its dark underbelly, yet. So, eliminating that of Erusea is pretty much a stretch, and ain't worth the trouble.
If a partial grasp of the world's underbelly has given ONI a near omnipresent eye in spotting threats to the Reich, then imagine what full control of the underworld will grant them. By controlling the underworld, ONI effectively seizes the singular venue by which other superpowers can use to subvert Belka's rule in seized territories.
You can't smuggle prohibited explosives without first calling up on that one transporter, which now answers to an ONI agent. From then on, ONI can perfectly concoct a ruse to achieve whatever outcome the Reich desires. That is what ONI is aiming to achieve. To do that, ONI and the Reich as a whole have to do a lot of background, shady dealings, and they have been doing that for the last few years. One of the more notable ones to come, however, is a meeting arranged in a quaint pub in the streets of Birmingham.
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The doorbell to the vintage pub lets out a jingle as a group of people step into the fine establishment, where it's fully booked for the rest of the day. Some of them, dressed in fine suits and with black glasses, spread out to take half of the positions of dominance, which occupy one side of the pub. Once done, they radio for the ones outside, signalling that the coast is clear, for now.
A beat later, the doorbell chimes again as a young girl, dressed immaculately in a custom 3-piece suit, waltzes in. She gives the pub an appraising look.
"A nice venue you have chosen, Mr. Shelby." The young girl, none other than Reich Marshal herself, comments while swiping a finger on the polished bar table. "I quite like a place like this with its share of history. One can only imagine how many stories, bloodless or not, this pub witnessed since its conception... It would be an interesting read if someone were to write a book about it."
Hearing the Marshal's intrigued, the one called Mr. Shelby, calmly finishes chewing one crunchy piece of chip and swallows before cleaning his lips with a table towel in a deliberate manner. Only after doing such an act that trespasses on a faux pas does this gang leader speak slowly.
"I have seen enough things here to cover an entire autobiography, Marshal. But such a book will only come to pass if there's peace to be had, these days." Mr. Shelby then makes an expression of realization.
"Oh, but where are my manners! The name is Thomas Shelby, but you can call me Tommy, given that you must have known about me from your subordinates, by now."
Mr. Shelby, or Tommy, then gestures for the seat opposite him at the two-person table.
"Please, have a seat, Miss Marshal, and enjoy the meal here. The place makes some killer fries. You must excuse me for partaking in some first as it's been one heck of a ride from London to Birmingham."
"Then I will intrude on your hospitality, Tommy." The Reich Marshal, acting nonplush despite the constant subtle, yet impolite gestures from the gang leader, sits on the offered wooden chair.
At least the chair is of good, if simple construction, and is the same type that Tommy sits on.
Having taken her place, though, the Marshal scans the other half of the pub, one that is not occupied by her escorts. She comments.
"Huh, I thought you would bring more of your lads, Tommy."
Tommy shrugs while using a fork to pick up a piece of fish chip.
"Had to leave some behind to monitor the London situation. Your people sure cause a big ruckus there, and all over, Miss."
"You can call me Yuki, given that I've been calling you Tommy." The Marshal, Yuki, politely offers before adding. "And what do you want me to say? You and I both know there's more than just ruckus; there's effectiveness. Also, nice of you to provide me with clean utensils."
"We sure didn't skim on table manners, at least." Tommy replies before waving a member of his gang to serve a plate of fries for the Marshal. "And I can't deny there's a certain effect to the ongoing storm that the Peaky Blinders have been fortunate to sit out with little to no losses..."
"Should I say thank you to you, Yuki?" Tommy asks, having taken another bite.
Yuki shrugs before piercing a potato chip with a silver fork and bringing it toward her mouth. "Who knows, really. It could be that your foresight as the leader has really saved your hide, Tommy. You're one of the few gangs that took our advice seriously and didn't mess up big time."
Tommy lets out a non-committal smirk before focusing on eating the fries, and so does Yuki. Behind the two figures, their escorts, each dressed to their impeccable state, oversee the dining in a tense manner. Both sides are armed to an extent, and any wrong move may very well trigger the fight or protect instinct that is ingrained in their very bones and blood. However, unlike the Peaky Blinders, the Reichsguards that accompany the Marshal maintain a strict, stoic facade, with both arms resting near their belt buckles, waiting for the moment to snap toward their guns.
Perhaps understanding the brimming tension among their subordinates, whatever has been exchanged thus far has only been pleasantries between Tommy and Yuki. The topic of the day is yet to arrive.