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Ostenfeld Nuclear Powerplant, Mannerheim, Yytuskia

03:40 Hours

June 27th, 2027

Security Guard Jürgen Schoenert

It was a thankfully boring job, 43-year-old Jürgen Schoenert lamented. All he did all day was sit in his chair, watch screens, and just browse the IxNet. Next to nothing happened at nuclear power plants in Yytuskia these days, barely any drills, just regular days sitting around on his part. Not that he was particularly lazy, mind you, he just didn’t expect something major to happen at this sort of job other than meltdown scares.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t armed though. Attached basically at the hip to him were an Schiffer Werkes Model 1990 pump action shotgun and a Helvanian Red Works .44 Magnum revolver. He’s never used them at work before, naturally, but he still practised firing them at the shooting range on his days off.

Munching down on a doughnut as he turned his attention away from his phone, he glanced at the camera feeds and nearly choked. Apparently, when he’d been surfing, a group of armed men had apparently begun an assault on the outer gates of the main building, one of them carrying a large wooden box.

Cursing his luck – of course, he had to deal with this with a hangover – he slammed his fist down on the lockdown alarm. Only, nothing happened. No alarms, no massive shutdown of all the reactors, nothing.

Screaming in anger, he slammed his hands upon the control panel, before taking the safety off his shotgun and entering the hallway, running into several other guards.

“The fuck’s going on!?” One asked, holding the MP96k closely to his chest.

“Under attack,” Schoenert growled out, “Extremists.”

“You sure about that old man?” Another recruit called out.

Schoenert just hummed, pumping to check if a round was chambered in the shotgun. Seeing that one was, he nodded to himself and quickly split the security forces up, making sure the two who had stayed behind were contacting the proper authorities.

From what he had seen on the video feed, the terrorists were carrying something big and were headed to Reactor 4, so that was his main priority.

Gathering his wits, he ran, ran as fast as he could towards the reactor. Klaxons were soon blaring, the automated voice yelling out that there had been an unauthorised entry into Reactor 4’s control room, prompting Schoenert to run faster.

Turning into the corridor that ran to all four reactors, Schoenert paused to blast a random terrorist schmuck standing outside the control room to the reactor doors with his shotgun, before more thugs poured out of the room.

Cursing and ducking into cover along the wall as bullet fire ripped into where he had been standing, Schoenert blind fired his shotgun around the corner, grinning when he heard screams. Continuing until his shotgun ran dry, he withdrew his revolver and turned the corner, taking a slug to the chest from the last bastard who was still standing in the hall.

Growling in anger, Jürgen fired his revolver into the man’s face, blowing his head clean off, before stumbling into the reactor control room. Falling to his knees, he crawled over to whatever the attackers had brought with them that was hidden in the box. Grunting and pushing the lid off, he gasped at what inside, as the counter slowly counted down from fifteen seconds.

It was, simply put, a bomb. A very big one, with several dozen bundles of TNT, several bricks of C4, and one or two 40mm grenades, all hooked up to what looked like an egg timer.

As the timer struck one, all Jürgen could say was “Oh for fucks sa-“
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