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"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

- W. B. Yeats



US Occupation Zone, Tsingtao, New Chinese Republic
March, 1993
01:00AM (UTC+08:00)

The sector was, for this time of night rather active with bars and shops still open at this early hour of the morning. From the various bars that littered the area, music rang out, though it was barely audible over the sounds of the many people inside. These bars along with the other buildings which were still busy at this time of the night functioned as the effective lighting for the dirty streets which had not had any street lights for many years. The buildings looked as worn down as the people; though at night the area seemed to transform into something more lively with people forgetting the hardship and ills of their lives; it's the sort of thing that the alcohol in this area does, it probably has some additives as it was definitely stronger here than back home.

This sector within the greater American zone was known for it's crime and disorder; two of the many ills that had plagued the once united nation of China over the past few decades. It's hard to imagine that all those years ago China was touted perhaps as a future superpower which could rival the US and Soviets; now, well it is hard to call these lands the nation of China - a unified state that has the authority and mandate to call itself 'China' hasn't existed. If you could describe the mainland as a 'state' as opposed to the cluster of protectorates, warlord states, city states, an Islamic state and vast swathes of Terra nullius; then it would probably be best described as the epitome of a failed state. Tsingtao, part of the US Occupation Zone within the New Chinese Republic (formerly the Republic of China or Taiwan) occupies most of the former province of Shandong; situated to the south of the former capital Peking.

The province of Shandong once boasted a population in the tens of millions, as opposed to it's now far higher population - most of which are undocumented due to a lack of a census being held in many years. Most of the population and 'business' is focused on the port City of Tsingtao (indeed only a few people live in the rural areas of the province. Tsingtao many years ago could boast a population of over a million - now due to war and migration it can boast a population much, much higher. Many of these new arrivals came from the west in search of better lives in an attempt to escape the horrors elsewhere in the nation. The United States has held a (military) presence here for over a decade - after a unified effort by foreign powers to prevent China sliding further into anarchy.

Even back then it was accepted by many inside and out of the Westmoreland Administration that there was little that could be done to alleviate the situation. Back in those days there was little appetite, especially from Congress and the public to spend taxpayer's money and resources in Asia; especially after costly venture in Vietnam.

Along the dusty street came a US Military patrol of around six or so men. They walked in a line slowly progressing up the street. The sounds of their voices made the usually loud bars filled to the brim with the natives quiet; their patrol was met as it usually was with the cold distrustful stares of the locals who all stopped what they were doing and watched the Americans walk past. The servicemen were used to this sort of reception by now and barely noticed it, too engrossed by the conversation at hand.

"...So she told him that it was actually his sister!" They all laughed at the joke as they continued to trod through this rough part of town. One of the soldiers then began to speak after the obviously forced laughter ended, "How much further do you think we'll have to go; there's nothing here."

"Just like every patrol," added another soldier as they walked past another silent bar full of unwelcome faces staring in their direction.

"Why the hell are we even here?," asked a private, clearly the youngest and newest there, still getting used to the new equipment and rather heavy rifle, "We've got enough problems back home why do we need to be out here?"

"It's to help civilise these yellow bastards out here and prevent them from becoming communist like they did before"

"But still, why can't we leave it to the Brits and Ruskies; they created this mess didn't they?"

"They need us here. The Brits are pussies and can't even control their area near Hong Kong and the Ruskies will only spread communism; as they always try to do. They need American ingenuity and leadership. After all Rumsfeld said, 'Who do we want to provide leadership in the world? Somebody else?' I say hell no - it's us all the way!."

One of the soldiers spat on the ground and cursed at the mention of Rumsfeld's name - the commanding officer glared and gave him a dirty look. They patrol continued to walk down the street - the buildings in this area appeared more worn down and shabby in comparison to the structures down the road. Even the people in this area seemed to mirror the buildings in their appearance and attitude towards the Americans.

Across the other side of the street the commanding officer spotted a group of men, dressed in traditional black outfits leaning on the side of a building with the ember of a cigarette one was smoking clearly burning. The American looked at the men as he walked past the house; they in turn looked at him. All of a sudden they walked after the smoker inside the house. This was rather strange and made the officer feel rather suspicious; they looked rather suspicious and hadn't been standing there when the patrol had been further back down the road - plus they looked rather seedy and suspicious; as most of the locals did to him. He raised his hand to halt his men and pointed over to the building in question was. The men walked as silently (as six or so men could be with heavy packs, rifles and equipment) over to the door as they could and waited there. He instructed the with hand actions to wait at the side as he knocked on the door.

Inside the building the sounds of voices immediately became silent and the light inside turned off. A short period ensued as muffled voices could be heard inside; the officer was preparing to knock the door a second time when it opened. On the other side of the frame stood one of the men he had seen moments before, dressed all in black with the cigarette still burning.

"Yes?," asked the man as he puffed some smoke into the American's face.

"Uhh... I am..." the man puffed more smoke into his face causing the American to splutter a bit.

"I am Captain MacGregor of the US Military, could me and my men have a look inside your residence here?" The man turned his head to look into the building, then after a period of time turned back to look at the American and nodded his head.

The officer beckoned his men inside and found himself in a rather small dirty looking room, lit by a solitary candle and with adorned with various posters with slogans he could not understand. The several men he had seen a few minutes beforehand were all assembled inside. The smoker began to speak to him as he began to gaze around the room and become accustomed to his surroundings, so much so that he paid little attention to the man who speaking, giving only short muttered remarks to him when he finished speaking.

One of the soldiers said something which he didn't quite here and he turned his head to look at him and ask him what he said. He was distracted by the suggestions the private gave to ask the man that he did not notice the dagger that the 'Chinaman' had lifted from under his outfit. Only at the last minute when he realise that the dagger was being swung for him did he look around to face his attacker, this change in position serving only to provide an excellent opportunity for his throat to unite with the blade.

The next blow hit him in the chest causing him to grimace with the pain as the blade struck. The next blow missed him as he began to fall to the ground and his head hit the ground with a painful thud. His sight began to fade due to the cascade of blood flowing from his neck. As things became darker and darker, fuzzier and fuzzier as he saw his men begin to engage the Chinese.

Then everything turned to black.

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