A battalion of mechanised infantry and gravatroopers entered the silent streets of a wealthy Lupusian suburb. The stench of burning was thick in the air and the sound of war was still present, but this area seemed to have been untouched by the fighting. One thing was also clear: the Imperial forces had completely evacuated the sector two hours before the arrival of the Federal troops. Despite the apparent desertion of this rich neighbourhood, getting there had not been easy for the Feds. The legionaires protecting the area had put up a stubborn resistance, making the Federal troopers pay for every metre gained. In the end, many buildings that had escaped the aerial bombardments had been utterly razed by particle fire and fusion bombs, and the legionaires had all been killed.

The troops that entered this shining example of Aresian wealth and greed were both exhausted and bitter. Exhausted by the hard fighting and bitter at having lost so many of their comrades. The sight of the luxurious villas, the hovercars and other displays of Capitalist profiteering turned their bitterness into anger.

"Holy fuck...would you look at that house", said a Ming'hala gravatrooper, eyeing a particularly opulent villa with a colonade, coloured tile roof and large marble statues of severe men in togas. "No wonder they didn't want to leave...rich fucks."

Several soldiers stopped by a chrome-coloured hovercar, peeking through its tinted windows. Three T-180 siege tanks hovered down the street, their crews looking through the cupolas with wide eyes. None of them had ever seen anything so extravagant before.

"And all this is just for one person", said the Ming'hala, "greedy pigs."

"Fucking blast it all to rubble!", shouted a female soldier with savage glee. Almost on cue, a T-180 swivelled its turret around and fired at the rich, ornate facade of a nearby villa. The fusion shell exploded and reduced the lavish building to smoking ruins. Another tank vomited tongues of oily flame at another villa, setting fire to its gardens. In the end, every soldier was partaking in the violent tabula rasa, smashing abandoned cars, vandalising homes, chucking expensive furniture out of the windows. Some of the soldiers and officers took some bronze statues and other objects as souvenirs, or rather, trophies, but the rest was annihilated.

Many similar scenes occurred all over the invaded planets as Federal troops took their revenge on the worldly possessions of wealthy Aresians.

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"Cease fire!"

The Federal troopers assaulting the Governor's Palace lowered their weapons as the Imperial police officers came out from hiding. One of them held a white flag in his hand. Among the Federal troopers were a few of the Federation's infamous cyborg commandos, clad in heavy power armour and wielding heavy assault weaponry. Nobody fired as the men came forward, their steps uncertain. Eventually, an officer grabbed the lead man by the shoulder and said, in a gruff voice:

"You are now a prisoner of war, comrade, you will all be lead to the rear. The war is over for you."

As the prisoners advanced, all they saw were tired eyes, human and alien, faces smeared with dirt, the occasional cigarette held between tight lips. Men, women, all soldiers, but soldiers fighting for another cause, a cause they believed in as strongly as the Imperials believed in their Empire and their Emperor. Some soldiers lead the POWs away. There was silence for a while before one of the T-180 siege tanks opened fire with its heavy coil cannon, sending a fusion shell crashing into the weakening shield around the Governor's Palace. In the wake of the retreating legionaires, the Federal troops came, relentless, numerous and overwhelming. The shield around the palace eventually died due to the repeated bombing and shelling. The building shook with fresh explosions, its white facades crumbling and cracking. The legionaires holed up inside fought valiantly, and the fight was soon taken into the building. For every room cleared and every legionaire killed, the Feds lost five or six of their own. By the time the battered and dirty red flag was hoisted over the palace, many of its rooms had been set ablaze, and many dead bodies littered its rooms and corridors.

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Resistance continued on Claustrum as the remnants of the Imperial legions fought on against the red tide, but the battle for Claustrum had clearly been lost. Federal reinforcements were arriving by the thousand, millions of troops were already present on the planet. The Federal military leadership considered that the struggle for the border worlds had ended, and decided it was time to move on to Plan Thunder's next target: Aresia. A spearhead had already been organised, and warships were setting off, bearing more troops to fuel the enormous push towards the heart of the Imperium Galactica. Amidst the exhaustion of battle, a feeling of elation was spreading. After so many years spent cowering in the shadow of an Imperial invasion, the Federation had finally grown strong enough to meet its enemy head on. The revolutionaries were taking the fight to the beast's lair.

The Eagle was falling.