Shadow of great britain

I hate purity, I hate kindness, I don't want any virtue anywhere, I want everyone to be completely corrupt.

——George Orwell "1984"

What makes up a riot?

Having nothing and having everything.

The electricity released bit by bit, the sudden burning flame, the floating force, the flowing wind. The wind touches the thoughtful mind, the vain thoughts, the anguished soul, the burning emotions and the crying suffering, and carries them away.

Take it to where?

Aimless.

Through the government, through the law, through the luxury and tyranny of others.

The greatest and the humblest, above all else, loiter and spy on those who want to take advantage of the opportunity, the vagabonds, the vagabonds, the gangsters at the crossroads, those who sleep at night in deserted places with cold clouds as their roofs. , People who have never worked and rely on begging to survive, poor and homeless bachelors with empty hands, and bare-chested men with mud legs are all attached to the riots.

Anyone who harbors secret hostility in his soul over any matter of status, life, or destiny is already on the verge of insurrection, and when it occurs he begins to tremble and feel himself drawn into the whirlpool.

Every riot will cause shops to close, securities prices to fall, finance to shrink, the market to be depressed, businesses to stop, bankruptcies to come, cash shortages, private property to lose protection, public credit to be shaken, government and company management to be disordered, funds to be withdrawn from the market, and ultimately This has led to the devaluation of labor, a surge in unemployment, and rising public sentiment everywhere.

This is like a tornado active in the social atmosphere. It suddenly forms under certain conditions with suitable temperature, and surges in its rotating motion, bringing together tall and thin people, strong and weak people, The tree body and the straw were rolled up, flattened, crushed, destroyed, uprooted, and finally wrapped away.

I don't know why, these old passages suddenly came to Arthur's mind.

Why he thought of this, he didn't know. Perhaps when I read these words in the past, I just thought that these ancient words were just a bland historical record.

However, when all of this happened before his eyes, he felt that these words were so real, so depressing and painful.

What made him even more unexpected was that he was currently in the place where the tornado struck.

Plunkett noticed that the young officer seemed to have fallen silent. This veteran who had been active on the battlefield since the Peninsular War couldn't help but remind him.

"Sir, this is not the time for you to be distracted. No one likes to use knives or guns, even on the battlefield, let alone suppressing the riot today. However, just because no one likes to do such things, on the battlefield , commanders usually need to show more determination than soldiers. Your performance today is very good, at least better than the Prince of Orange who commanded our right wing during the Battle of Waterloo. Therefore, I believe that today will pass soon."

Arthur took a deep breath, and the smell coming from the tip of his nose was not only gun smoke but also blood that smelled like rust.

"You're right, Plunkett. When a fire starts, a scoop of water will put it out. After a while, a bucket of water will be needed. After that, a faucet will be needed. After that, the house will be put out. Get burned. At this moment, it’s time for me to give the order.”

Arthur said: "As Lafayette said, under certain circumstances, if uprising can be the most sacred obligation, then riot can also be an irreparable sin."

Plunkett nodded slightly and smiled mockingly: "Sir, if you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known that Lafayette, who calls himself a 'world republican,' had actually done this kind of thing. "

"Last warning! Put down your weapons!"

Nearly a hundred police officers wielded brown bass muskets and shouted through the roadblocks at the rioting crowd armed with a variety of crude weapons.

"I say it again, put down the weapons in your hands! Go home now, we can pretend we didn't see anything!"

Officer Tom looked a little nervous, although he looked very majestic as he roared with all his strength, as if he might shoot and kill these thugs at any time.

But only he knew that, if possible, he would rather kneel down to these people who could be seen on the streets in exchange for these guys putting down their weapons and returning to their simple and dilapidated huts in peace.

Because, as Arthur's friend and subordinate for many years, he knew very well that this operation was the first time in so many years that he had loaded live ammunition into the musket before taking action, and this also meant that Arthur planned to use Really.

However, it was naturally impossible for the rioting crowd to retreat here just because of his few words.

They were outnumbered and had just given a head-on blow to the Tower of London guards. Even though they were not equipped with guns like the Scotland Yard police, everyone had no doubt that they would win the final victory.

Tom's shout was answered by the roar of muskets from the rioting crowd.

Dozens of bullets spurted out along with the fire. Perhaps because of the heavy rain, or because Arthur deliberately kept the police force a hundred yards away from the rioting crowd, this round of salvo did not cause too much damage to the police force. There was huge damage, and many projectiles hit the puddle in front of the police queue, causing ripples one after another.

"Damn blue devil, we are here for the people, and you, what are you here for! For the mouthful of bad food you get from begging for mercy, or for your master's half-hearted praise?"

boom!

Plunkett put down the Baker rifle held horizontally and moved the sight away from his eyes. The black muzzle was still emitting green smoke.

Arthur, who was riding on the black horse, looked at the screamer who had slipped from the box while holding his bleeding shoulder. He raised his white-gloved palm lightly and said, "As you can see, sir. We are here for Britain. "

The white gloves were swung down. Officer Tony, standing in the front row, pulled out the police officer's knife. Veins were all over his neck. He shouted at the top of his lungs, and his bulging eyes seemed to fall to the ground.

"Fire!!!"

The tongues of flame spewed out from the flintlock rifles, the arrows fell from the top of the Tower of London like a rainstorm, and when blood flowers bloomed one after another in the center of the rioting crowd, time seemed to freeze at this moment.

The blank expression, the fearful face, the painful cry, the warm blood flow, everything was buried by the dark rainstorm in the night.

As ordinary patrolmen of Scotland Yard, the shooting effect of most police officers at a distance of 100 yards may not be stronger than that of the musketeers among the rioters.

But for the Ghosts, who retired from the 95th Rifles Regiment, shooting 100 yards in adverse weather conditions was just the basis of their training.

In just one volley, one-third of the musketeers among the rioters were reduced.

Under the double firepower of the police and the Tower of London Guards, the rioting crowd that had just been moving forward showed signs of collapse. The Musketeers were severely damaged and they lost their backbone, just like a group of lambs that were driven away. There is no way to resist.

Under such circumstances, the police officers did not choose to fire a second salvo, not because they were compassionate, but because they were fighting at such a close range and there was no time for a secondary charge.

They took out the civilized sticks hanging on their waists, climbed over the roadblocks set up by the demonstrators, and rushed towards the group of demonstrators who were still insisting on besieging the Guards' shield wall without hesitation.

Accompanied by the crackling raindrops, the sound of riding boots trampling on the bluestone bricks was infinitely amplified, like a group of wild beasts running towards the sheep.

The two groups of people struggled with each other, and one rioter was pushed down. In an instant, three or four police officers swarmed over.

The policeman who was left alone was treated equally by the rioting crowd, but unlike the surrounded demonstrators, what was waiting for him was not a stick of civilization, but sticks and stones.

In this invisible blood-red night, observing the battlefield was not only Arthur who was riding a horse and directing the police force to advance, but also several conspirators hiding in nearby towers.

Several black muzzles protruded from the dark windows of the small building hotel. Occasionally, a few wisps of bluish-white smoke could be seen floating out. The cigars in the mouths under the big-brimmed hats fluttered slightly. Amidst the crackling raindrops, their The voice didn't sound very real.

"Why is this guy here? Where is Wellington? When will he arrive?"

…

London, Mayfair, French Embassy.

Under the gorgeous and bright chandelier, Talleyrand and several ladies were sitting around the card table playing poker.

Outside the window, in the violent wind and rain, the roar of horse hooves and the wail of pain and fear can be heard from time to time.

When the ladies heard such a tearing roar, they felt that the brightly lit room had become a bit eerie. Their faces were slightly pale, some were absent-minded, and others were forcing a smile.

Talleyrand threw a 5 from his hand, then raised his hand and knocked on the table: "Mrs. Jersey, it's your turn. Being distracted while playing cards will make you lose a lot of money."

Lady Jersey looked at Talleyrand's indifferent expression and couldn't help but take off her sweat-soaked lace gloves and asked: "Mr. Talleyrand, aren't you afraid? London is in such chaos now. , but you look like you’re fine.”

Talleyrand raised his empty wine glass and motioned to the servant to give him some more: "Madam, if you can't stay calm in front of blood, in front of painful scenes, in front of obvious evidence, you can't be a surgeon. You can't stay calm in the face of passion. If you remain calm in front of others, you cannot become a strong person. If you cannot remain indifferent to any incident, you cannot become a politician or state activist. You obviously don't understand what kind of person I am."

Hearing this, Mrs. Jersey couldn't help but cover her chest and sighed: "I forgot that you were able to escape unscathed during the Great Revolution. I don't want to hide it from you. I feel very uneasy, even though I didn't see it with my own eyes. The scene, but just hearing the sound is enough to scare me. I really don’t know if this is the right thing to do. It seems to have no other purpose except to make everyone hurt each other.”

Hearing this, Talleyrand held his glass and smiled and said: "Madam, everyone in the Allmark Club says you are smart. Now it seems that everyone's evaluation of you is indeed fair. You are right, with a soldier in military uniform Poor people looking after poor people in short work clothes is the secret of tyrants and the problem of governments. But unfortunately, I have been thinking about it for thirty years and haven't found any solution. So, although you are very kind, we still put it Just keep your mind on the card table.”

"I..." Mrs. Jersey took out a handkerchief and covered her mouth, her face pale: "Mr. Talleyrand, I don't want to spoil your interest, but I think I may really need a rest."

"All right……"

Seeing Mrs. Jersey's symptoms, Talleyrand could not force himself. He had just stood up and was going to stretch. The military attaché of the embassy opened the door of the recreation room and walked in to report: "Mr. Talleyrand, it's already happening outside." Calm is restored.”

Talleyrand seemed to have known the answer for a long time, so that there were not many waves on his face: "The efficiency is quite high. Who is leading the team outside? Officer Arthur Hastings? If it is him , by the way, ask him for me if he wants to come in and play cards."

The military attache bowed his head and said: "It seems that you may be disappointed. The riot control activities outside are not handled by Scotland Yard, but by the Cavalry Guards. As for Officer Hastings, I heard that he seems to be leading someone Went to the Tower of London, and judging from the rising smoke and the monstrous fire, a fierce battle should be breaking out there."

"The Battle at the Tower of London?"

Talleyrand walked to the window and glanced east. Just as the military attache said, there was a fire there.

The old cripple took a sip of the golden wine in the glass, breathed in the cold and depressive air, and said lightly: "To be honest, tonight reminds me of the foggy moon in 1799."

Mrs. Jersey stood up and asked softly: "What happened to that Fog Moon?"

Talleyrand leaned against the window, seeming to recall that year: "I remember that many outstanding people died on that day."

…

Rain fell along the edge of Arthur's top hat, and his face was covered with various liquids. Even he couldn't tell whether it was rain or blood on his face.

Perhaps because of his tall head, or because of his distinctive epaulettes and noble police rank, when he led the police team into the rioting crowd, he quickly became the target of siege by the remaining die-hard elements.

As a police commander, an assistant chief constable of the Metropolitan Police, he had the privilege of not hitting people with the stick of civility. Arthur was wielding the priceless imperial sword. The hilt of the sword hit the rioters' heads. Even if it couldn't stun them, it was enough to knock them out of the battle with a bloody head.

Among the crowd surrounding him, there were some in their twenties and some in their forties. At the age of twenty, I hope to die for my ideals; at the age of forty, I hope to die for my family. There are bold and passionate college students, unwavering veterans, homeless street children, and shop assistants who have just been fired.

What's worse is that he also found a familiar face in it that he didn't want to see at this moment, and a memory that he didn't want to mention.

"Black...Mr. Hastings?"

The other party didn't seem to believe his eyes, because he remembered that the police officer was a very warm-hearted person who once gave him a sufficient funeral fund and found a very decent cemetery for her daughter. A true lady was buried like that in St. Mary's Church, Oxford.

He is Robin's father.

"Damn it!"

Seeing this familiar face, Arthur punched away the strong man beside him who was trying to drag him off his horse. He couldn't help but roared at him loudly: "What the hell are you doing here! Why don't you just stay at home! 伱Don’t you know that the streets are dangerous? Riots, cholera! Anything you encounter can kill you!”

Robin's father was yelled at by Arthur, and his extremely angry mood immediately cooled down. He stammered back: "Black...Mr. Hastings, I...I don't know, I am I saw them all coming here, and I had nothing to do at night, so..."

When Arthur heard this, his whole face seemed to twitch and deform under the moonlight. He wanted to lift this middle-aged man in his forties onto the horse, but he struggled and twisted away.

"Are you out of your fucking mind!"

Arthur glanced at the more and more demonstrators gathered around him, and when he heard the roar of horse hooves in his ears, the anger in his heart was beyond words: "I will take you out of this hellish place before the cavalry comes! If I keep you If you mess around here alone, you will die here sooner or later tonight!"

Robin's father looked a little flinched in the face of Arthur's accusation. He was hunched over and staggered by the rioting crowd. However, even so, he still tried his best to take off the old felt hat on his head and apologize to Arthur.

"Yes...I'm sorry, Officer Hastings, I...I didn't expect to cause you any trouble. I didn't mean to get involved in these things, but...but you don't know, the child's mother also went there a while ago Well, with such an income missing, I failed to pay the rent for the house on time, so... I was kicked out by the landlord.

Moreover, due to the recent economic downturn, my leg also fell and became lame while working. Because of this, the factory found a random reason to fire me. I had no income and could only wander around the streets. When there were crowds gathering on the streets, I would follow them.

I...I'm not afraid that you will look down on me. I can occasionally get some money by following them, and I can also pick up things from smashed-up shops. But...but I assure you, I did not do any of these things on my own initiative. "

When Arthur heard this, his eyes seemed to be bloodshot. His eyes were about to burst, and he cursed loudly: "If something happens, why the hell don't you come to me! I have done so much just to listen to you treat me." Say: Excuse me, Mr. Hastings!"

"Sorry, Mr. Hastings."

Robin's father tried his best to hold back his tears. He lowered his head and bowed: "But, I really don't want to trouble you any more!"

After saying this, he seemed to have remembered something and hurriedly dissuaded his companions: "Don't pester him. Mr. Hastings is different from other police officers. He is a good man."

"Good guy? I think you are probably crazy! Are you a fucking police informant?"

When the rioters heard someone speaking for the police, they immediately turned their guns and punched him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

"Get out of my way!"

Arthur kicked over one of the protesters who was attacking Robin's father.

However, his roar still echoed over the Tower of London, but in an instant, his roar was replaced by the frightened screams of the rioting crowd.

"Run! The Guards Cavalry is coming!"

The rioters' fear of the Guards Cavalry seems to be innate. After all, in this country, they have won more glorious achievements in this regard than on the battlefield.

They came like a flood and retreated like a waterfall. Robin's father was carried forward by the crowd. When Arthur saw this, he quickly took his hand and tried to drag him to his saddle and take him away.

But fate always likes to make jokes like this. Seeing this, the demonstrators who were exiting the scene thought that Arthur was planning to attack their companions. A stick with a thick arm directly hit Arthur on the shoulder, and in Behind him, the horns of cavalry charges and the sound of continuous firing sounded.

"Protect Inspector Hastings!"

Arthur turned his head suddenly, and time stopped at this moment. He saw a bullet, a dark projectile, running towards his armpit. The cavalry's marksmanship has always been good, at least this shot was very good. They knew how to save their key figures from the rioters, but what they didn't know was that what Arthur was pulling was his friend.

Not far ahead, the extremely distorted faces of Tom and Tony were clearly visible. They were waving their hats, and they opened their mouths and shouted, saying something that Arthur could no longer hear clearly.

All he could feel was blood, which spurted out of his chest after he jumped.

The bullet was lodged in his heart, feeling cold, like raindrops falling on his face.

The rain on a summer night in June is warm with a hint of coldness and sweetness.

Arthur had thought that one day he might fall somewhere, but to write the end for himself in this way still made him somewhat unexpected. It's like a nonsensical comedy, and no one can guess the ending.

Robin's father looked at the blood on his hands, and stared blankly at Arthur lying in a pool of blood in front of him, as if he had not yet woken up from the scene that happened in front of him.

He watched the blood twitching and overflowing from the corners of Arthur's mouth, and the same gentle joking voice as before rose again: "I...I'm really funny."

He closed his eyes and suddenly remembered the devil whispering in his ear.

It is also a rainy day, and it is also a farewell to life and death.

He still remembered that the devil once said to him: "Arthur, do you know? God does not always live in heaven. He even has his own hell, which is his love for mankind."

And just now, he heard the devil say: "But recently, just recently, God died, died of his compassion for mankind."

Agares' figure was like a flame, slowly emerging beside Arthur. He still held the parchment roll in his hand and still wore the monocle.

The red devil leaned down, looked at the lenses, and looked at the blood on Arthur's body and face. There was neither mercy nor sympathy on his face, and there was only a trace of vague anger in his eyes.

"Tell me, Arthur, does it feel good to be a fool?"

The red devil paced, opened his arms and said: "Do you think you won, won this bet with the devil? And the price for winning against me is to die like a dirty insect?"

Arthur opened his eyes, stared at the red devil's face without any emotion, and just smiled and responded: "Agares."

"What's wrong?" The Red Devil looked very patient: "Do you have any last words to say?"

Streams of blood overflowed from the corners of Arthur's mouth, but the throbbing pain in his chest couldn't stop him from saying mockingly: "I'm sorry."

A thunderbolt flashed across the sky, illuminating the red devil's back. His wings were stretched out, and he looked as if he was covered in blood.

The sharp black nails grabbed Arthur's throat, looking like they wanted to tear him apart like rags.

"Arthur, you are my hell!"