[b]Beria Street, Batumi[/b]
As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, weary Georgians dragged themselves home to avoid Polats patrols after curfew. The common power cuts plunged entire neighbourhoods into darkness, making a birds eye view of the troubled city state a patchwork of light and darkness. This also made the city twice as dangerous at night.

Beria Street was a hub of activity compared to the timid suburbs. At the end of the street, a makeshift blockade had been hastily erected, consisting of parked jeeps packed together with sheets of metal thrown on the sides. Groups of Polats men crouched behind their street-wide barricade, each clutching a rifle and staring at the oncoming crowd of Georgians in steely silence.

At the opposite side of the street, the marchers moved at a steady, well aware of the dangers Polats men possessed but showing no fear. At the front of the crowd, forming a thin human shield for the unarmed protesters, a vanguard of armed Georgian Guards had formed. In typical Guard fashion, they clutched every kind of weapon in their hands, from handguns to assault rifles.

"That's close enough" growled a Turk over a megaphone, clearly leading the force who sat behind . Some marchers slowed and fell silent, unsure whether to continue but their comrades marched onwards, screaming profanities at their oppressors. A group of communists began a chant of "UNITE! UNITE!" which was eagerly copied by the rest of the march.

"Go home, citizens! This protest is illegal and all of you will be prosecuted under the Illegal Gatherings Act! It is passed curfew. Return to your homes" called the Turkish major from behind his barricade. Despite talking into a megaphone, the Turks words were drowned out by the roar of "Unite! Unite!" from the protestors.

A large Georgian broke out from the crowd and ran towards the barricade, a flaming bottle in his hands. With an audible grunt, he swung his arm back and then threw it as hard as he could towards the barricade. The bottle sailed through the air in a wide arc before falling short of a metal barricade, exploding into a mess of petrol, alcohol and glass across the road. A small fire formed where the bottle had smashed before sputtering out in moments. "Shit" said the Georgian, jogging back towards the safety of the marchers.

Where his projectile failed, others did not. Encouraged by the mans balls, soon pieces of rock, bottles and even a piece of furniture were being thrown at the barricade. Some hit their targets, most did not but they kept throwing at the encouragement of Davit, who had flung a rock through the window of jeep from halfway down the street.

"We are warning you for the final time, citizens" crackled the Turkish major over his megaphone. "Return to your homes or face immediate arrest".

The marchers kept walking, chanting "Unite! Unite!" and profanities at the Turk. A rock flew dangerously close to the Turkish majors head, to which he gave a yelp of surprise.

"Right, fuck this" shouted the Turk, throwing his megaphone onto the ground. It shattered into pieces of plastic across the ground. "Sir?" asked an officer. "Fire at will. Polat will have my bollocks if we let this scum into Freedom Square" growled the Turkish major, angrily dismissing the officer with a wave of his hand.

The officer bit his lip. It was against his better judgement to follow such a rash order. Provoking these protesters could potentially turn them into rioters. But, he was still only an officer. It wasn't his job to question orders.

"Yes, sir" he nodded bitterly before turning to his men. "FIRE AT WILL."

[b]Outskirts of Batumi[/b]

The seargent gulped on the cannister greedily. "Jesus Christ, I needed that" he panted, wiping a stray drop of water from chin with his sleeve. He handed the water back to Adamia, who took it with a bemused grin on his face.

There were 20 rifles, 10 men, a large dog and a crate of ammunition all crowded in the jeep, which moved slowly down the road. "Seargent Mamuka, correct?" asked the driver, who was also presumably the leader. "Yes...sir? And who are you?" replied Seargent Mamuka. "General Sabuari of the Georgian Guard. These are my men. Perhaps you've heard of our adventures in the countryside?"

Everyone in the Guard had heard tales of Sabuari and his cell of guerilla fighters in the countryside surrounding Batumi. They attacked isolated Adjarian barracks, stole from convoys and were rumoured to have more weapons than they knew what to do with, all stolen from dead Turks. Sabuari himself had earned a reputation for being a shaggy tactical genius, as well as being a staunch Georgian nationalist, a devout Orthodox Christian and a radical republican.

Seargent Mamuka gulped slightly. "Yes, sir" he said, slightly shocked that Sabuari had even thought about coming to Batumi. "What are you doing in Batumi, sir?" asked Seargent Mamuka, composing himself. "We're helping you lot with your assault on the barracks" shrugged Sabuari, slowly turning a corner in the jeep and peering into the darkness.

"B-but that's a secret mission! We weren't told you'd be here, sir" replied Mamuka, confused. "Change of plans" replied the General shortly. The guerillas all chuckled at the confused look on his face.

"So how'd you five get caught by Turks?" asked Seargent Janjigava, one of the guerillas, from the front seat. "They jumped us on our way to the barracks, sir" grunted a soldier from the back. "Brown bastards" spat Janjigava.

Seargent Mamuka sat back and glanced out the window behind. Five men and the large dog, who only seemed to listen to Sabuari, were sat in open air back. One private gave him a grimace as the large dog licked him across the face and Mamuka could only grin.

"So, sir, what's the plan?" asked Mamuka. "Full assault on the front gates of the barracks. When we're in, you and your lads make a beeline for the weapons cache and my lads will cover you" answered Sabuari.

"You what, mate?" snorted Mamuka, wondering if he was joking. Perhaps Sabuari wasn't the tactical genius everyone made him out to be.

"First of all, Seargent, you will refer to me as 'sir', as I am highest ranking officer on this [i]fucking mission"[/i] snarled Sabuari, pushing down on the brakes of the jeep sharply and glaring back at him. "Secondly, according to the information given to me by your fucking higher ups, the barracks will be half empty as every other soldier is out in the streets suppressing Georgians protesting. If you don't want my help, Seargent, I can kick you all out and drive back into the countryside. Is that clear, Seargent Mamuka?".

"Yes, sir" replied Mamuka, pouting slightly.

"Good" grinned Sabuari, speeding the jeep up slightly. "Now prepare yourselves. It's going to be a long night".