Police sirens blared as police cars chased after a speeding armored truck that was weaving through Downtown Boston traffic.
"Central this is unit 7, suspects just rammed through a roadblock on 5th and main, requesting a bus," said Sylvia into her radio as Brandon drove around the wrecked roadblock, trying to keep up with the armored truck.
"Unit 7, be advised, we have a bus en route to your location," came the reply.
"That's right piggies! Call the doctors!" came a taunt over the police radio.
"Ugh! Who are these guys?" asked Brandon.
"They're calling themselves the 'pig roasters', they're anarchists who are anti-police, at least according to this report," said Sylvia, looking at a file on the dashboard computer.
"And they have a police scanner. How convenient!" growled Brandon."Worse, they have a YouTube channel. This damn chase is being livestreamed right now," said Sylvia, looking at her phone.
The phone showed a split-screen live video feed. One side showing drone footage of the chase, the other side, showing a bunch of kids inside the armored truck, laughing and cheering as they evaded the police.
"Great! Where the hell did they get an armored truck?" asked Brandon."No idea, but that thing just totaled a couple of cruisers, we need to be careful," said Sylvia.
"We should have stayed with the SZPD instead of rejoining the BPD," grumbled Brandon.
"Yeah, well, you said they were becoming too militarized," pointed out Sylvia.
"That was before the other side decided to joyride armored trucks! Anyway, the Pig Roasters will soon be facing them off," said Brandon, as the armored truck tore through the Boston Police Department checkpoint that marked the entrance of Pine Springs.
"Unit 7 to Central, be advised that suspects are headed towards Pine Springs and the Sirius Zone, they're now in SZPD jurisdiction," said Sylvia into the radio.
"Try and stop them Unit 7!" came the panicked reply from the dispatcher.
---
Mikaela rushed to her bedroom window as she heard a dull roar and whooshing sound outside.
She gazed in awe as she saw a sleek black helicopter with the SZPD logo emblazoned on its side, soar over the roof of the house, and hover just above the street.
At the far end of the street, she saw a big green armored truck speeding down the street.
"So cool!" she exclaimed, as she watched the helicopter fire on the armored truck with its chin-mounted turret, pulverizing its windshield and front end.
The armored truck was stopped dead in its tracks, smoke billowing from its front end.
She waved enthusiastically at the helicopter as it lifted off.The helicopter's lights flashed at her in acknowledgment, before it flew away.
---
"This is SZPD Central, we are taking over the pursuit," came another voice over the radio.
"More the merrier piggies!" taunted the kids inside the armored truck.Their smiles vanished as they approached an SZPD HellVortex helicopter, hovering just a few meters above the ground.
The last thing they saw was the helicopter's chin-mounted turret flashing to life.
---
Annette was in her living room, watching the live feed of the chase on her flat screen TV, when the roar and whooshing sound of a helicopter outside made her look up.
Her eyes bulged in horror as she saw the SZPD HellVortex helicopter hovering outside just above the street, her Hyundai Ioniq 5 getting buffeted by the rotor wash.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
The HellVortex's chin-mounted turret opened fire, sending a hail of tungsten rounds into the armored truck.
The armored truck's windshield and front was pulverized by the tungsten rounds, the force stopping it dead in its tracks.
She trembled in shock as the helicopter just lifted off and flew away, leaving the smoking wreckage of the armored truck on the street.
"Oh shit!" she gasped, and fled up the stairs to check in on Mikaela."Mikaela! Are you okay?" she called out, frantically banging on Mikaela's locked bedroom door.
Mikaela opened the door, and looked up at Annette.
"I'm fine Mom. The chopper shot that truck, not me," she said, her voice tinged with irritation.
Annette engulfed her in a hug.
"Come on, let it out, don't worry," she said, trying her best not to shudder and show her own fear.
"Mom, I'm OK. I know the SZPD only shoots bad guys," said Mikaela, attempting to soothe her mother.
Annette let go of her and stood up.
"What?" she asked flatly, unable to comprehend what her eight-year-old daughter had just said.
"I said I know that the SZPD only shoots bad guys," repeated Mikaela, now confused by Annette's reaction.
"No, Mikaela, you cannot be sure of that. Nobody has the right to shoot people! Nobody! Not even cops! You understand me?" asked Annette, a manic gleam in her eye as she shook Mikaela.
"Y-yes Mom, I understand," said Mikaela, now thoroughly confused and a little scared by her mother's reaction.
"OK, now come on. I'm taking us out of here for a while," said Annette, more to herself than to Mikaela.
"Where are we going?" asked Mikaela, now genuinely scared.
"Don't worry, just to Principal Randall's house," said Annette, pulling Mikaela along as she hurried down the stairs.
---
Sylvia gasped in horror as the live feed showed 20 mm tungsten rounds pulverizing the windshield and truck interior, turning the kids into a bloody mess, before the gore covered the camera lens.
The drone footage cut out as another tungsten bullet ripped the drone to shreds.
"SZPD Air Unit 1 to central, threats have been neutralized," came a chillingly calm voice over the radio.
"Boston Police Unit 7, requesting clearance to enter with a bus," said Brandon into his radio, as Sylvia shook herself out of her shock.
"Unit 7, you are clear to enter SZPD jurisdiction, proceed with caution," came the reply.
"Copy that, we're entering SZPD jurisdiction now," said Brandon.
Brandon drove his cruiser slowly down the streets of Pine Springs, and approached the wreckage of the armored truck.
The truck was a mangled mess, with its front end completely destroyed, and the windshield shattered.
The kids inside were all dead, their bodies shredded.
Brandon and Sylvia got out of their cruiser, and approached the wreckage cautiously.
"Oh, my God," said Sylvia, covering her mouth in horror.
"Central to unit 7, be advised that we have officers down at the roadblock on 5th and main," came the subdued voice of the dispatcher.
"Copy that Central, be advised that suspects are dead, over," said Brandon into his radio.
"What a damn shit-show!" he shouted in frustration, as he looked at the wreckage.
Sylvia buried her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, from the stress and confusion.
A hybrid ambulance came up the street, its lights flashing and sirens wailing.
Brandon stepped back, allowing the medics to take over as they rushed to the wreckage.
"What the hell did those SZPD guys use?" gasped the medic as he surveyed the carnage in the truck.
"An attack helicopter," said Brandon grimly.
"Damn! I mean, Central would have authorized lethal force once the officer down call came in, but this is..." said the Medic uncertainly.
"Yeah, a damn shit-show," said Brandon, shaking his head in disbelief.
---
"I thought that keeping you in charge of the Sirius Zone administration would be a good idea, but now I'm seriously pissed off! What the hell were you thinking when you authorized the SZPD to field a damn helicopter gunship!?" thundered Mayor Victor Callahan, as he agitatedly paced Elena Park's office.
"I was thinking of protecting the Sirius Zone from the anarchy that's clearly brewing outside its borders," said Elena calmly.
"They were just kids Elena!" shouted Victor.
"Tell that to the families of those officers they killed when they smashed through that road block!" snapped back Elena.
She swivelled her large computer screen to show Victor its display.
"The SZPD managed to grab the contents of their YouTube channel before Google deleted it.
These kids as you call them, have been running the same MO across the entire Eastern Seaboard!
Every time they strike, they leave a trail of destruction in their wake, and every time they cross county or state lines, the pursuit mysteriously gets called off!
Just look at this! For a bunch of anarchist punks, they have a great deal of organization and resources!" said Elena, pointing at the screen.
Victor stared in disbelief as Elena scrolled through clip after clip of the "Pig Roasters" harassing various police departments and evading capture.
The videos all ended after they crossed county lines, with the police being ordered to break off pursuit, and let the next department handle it.
The only problem was, the next department never seemed to pursue them, nor did the chases ever escalate to state or federal levels, despite the massive destruction they caused.
"You're saying they were protected?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, which is why the Boston Police Department dispatcher panicked when she realized that the chase was entering SZPD jurisdiction. She knew that the SZPD was not compromised, and would stop them cold," said Elena.
"Well, they certainly did stop them cold," said Victor grimly.
"Now, any further questions about this?" asked Elena pointedly.
"No, but this is going to be a damn media circus," said Victor, running a hand through his hair.
"Well, we'll be able to find out whose protecting them based on who screams the loudest," said Elena.
"Great! Just what I need, another damn headache," sighed Victor, as he shuffled out of the office.
---
"That SZPD chopper swooped down, and just sat their in the air. Then that truck came speeding up the street, and then bam-bam-bam-bam-bam! They shot at that truck and stopped it! Then they flew up, and left!" said Mikaela, gesturing with her hands excitedly as she recounted the incident to her friend Anna.
"But Mikaela, weren't you scared? That sounds like, super-scary!" said Anna, her eyes wide with concern.
"No, why should I be scared? The SZPD only shoots bad guys," said Mikaela matter-of-factly.
Anna stared at her in disbelief.
"Mikaela, didn't you see the news? They said that it was a bunch of kids in that truck!" said Anna.
"Yeah, so? They got two cops killed as well. They were bad guys," said Mikaela, shrugging.
Anna recoiled slightly away from Mikaela.
"Mikaela, are you OK? You sound like, a little... different," said Anna cautiously.
"I'm fine. Don't worry," said Mikaela, picking up on Anna's unease.
The teacher entered the classroom, halting the conversation.
"Class, today we'll be joining the rest of the school in a candlelight vigil for those poor kids who were killed by the SZPD. But for now, please open your workbooks," said the teacher solemnly.
Mikaela frowned slightly, but said nothing.
---
Students milled around the Boston Public School's playground, holding candles in their hands, as a small stage was set up at one end of the playground.
A banner above the stage read "In Memory of the Victims of SZPD Brutality".
Mikaela stood next to Annette, holding a candle in her hands, but looking rather uncomfortable.
"Mom, why aren't the police officer's photos up there?" she asked quietly, gesturing to the stage, where big blown up pictures of the kids who were killed in the armored truck were displayed.
"Because this is a vigil for the victims of SZPD brutality, Mikaela. The police officers were not victims of brutality, they were just doing their jobs," said Annette, trying to keep her voice calm.
"But shouldn't it be for everyone who died?" asked Mikaela.
"No, Mikaela. The police officers were not victims of brutality, they agree to the risk of dying when they become police officers," repeated Annette firmly.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Mikaela looked down at her candle, and said nothing.
Something about the whole situation didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
The principal took the stage, and began to speak.
"Good evening everyone. Thank you for coming to this vigil to honor the memory of those poor kids who were so brutally killed by the SZPD. Let us all take a moment of silence to remember them," said Principal Randall solemnly.
The crowd fell silent, but Mikaela fidgeted uncomfortably.
After a few moments, the principal continued.
"Let us all remember the names of these poor souls. First, we have Khalid Johnson, age 17," said Principal Randall, gesturing to the first photo of a black teenage boy.
"Next, we have Yusuf Walker, age 16," said Principal Randall, gesturing to the second photo of a brown-skinned teenage boy, and holding back tears.
"Finally, we have Sayyed Clark, age 15," finished Principal Randall, gesturing to the third photo of another youth.
"These poor kids, were brutally gunned down by the SZPD! They needed love. Support! Rehabilitation! Not bullets! Let the vigil begin!" said Principal Randall, as the crowd erupted into applause.
Mikaela clapped mechanically, her mind on the two police officers who were killed, but not mentioned in Principal Randall's speech.
Annette lit her candle from the one on the stage, and handed it to Mikaela.
"Here Mikaela, light yours from mine," she said.
Mikaela took the candle, and lit it from her mother's.
"I'll hold this vigil for the cops," she thought, staring at the flickering flame of her candle.
---
Explosions rocked the ground as squadrons of Libyan HellVortex helicopters obliterated militia forces that were swarming in from Niger.
Bodies stained the desert sand red with blood, as tungsten kinetic penetrators tore through them with ease.
"Saladin to all squadrons. Destroy all enemy weapons caches. Make sure those rats know the cost of crossing into Libya," ordered Saladin over the radio.
The choppers swooped across the border into Niger, their cannon fire ripping through tents and vehicles.
Explosions erupted as caches of weapons and napalm were ignited, engulfing the camps in fire.
People poured out of the camps like ants, scrambling to escape the hellish inferno.
"Take no prisoners. Leave no survivors," ordered Saladin.
Tungsten bullets tore through the fleeing crowds, mowing them down into heaps of bodies.
"Squadrons, return to base. Aristotle, prepare to launch earth scorcher missiles," ordered Saladin.
The HellVortex helicopters broke off their attack runs, and returned to their bases.
Four of the Aristotle's ICBM silos opened, and maglev catapults shot the missiles into the sky, clearing them away from the deck.
The missiles ignited their rocket motors and blasted towards their targets with supersonic speed.
The warheads detonated over small fortified camps, releasing an inferno of napalm that burned them to the ground.
"Let's see if those filthy rats try to bring their poisonous agenda into Libya again," said Saladin, as he watched the destruction unfold on the monitors in his throne room.
"Premier Saladin, we've received a message from the Niger government, they wish to negotiate a ceasefire," said one of his aides.
"Inform them that hostilities will cease once they keep their filthy rabble in line," said Saladin.
"Premier Saladin, Israeli F-35s inbound towards the Aristotle," warned his second in command.
"Obliterate any bombs they drop, but don't engage them," said Saladin.
The Aristotle's flack cannons came to life, and laser guided bombs exploded in the sky, barely missing the deck.
The F-35s swung around for another pass.
"Disable them only. I'd rather not have NATO clamp down on what's supposed to be a local skirmish," growled Saladin.
Tungsten-tipped rockets fired from the Aristotle's VLS launchers, and tore through the wings of the F-35s, sending them spinning into the Mediterranean.
"Issue a communiqué that Libya is not in a state of war with Israel, and does not wish to escalate further," said Saladin.
"Communiqué has been received and acknowledged," reported his second in command.
"Prepare a secure video link to the UN. I'm pretty sure why Israel panicked so hard," chuckled Saladin.
---
"That thing is a first-strike weapons platform! It's not just Israel, but the entire world is at risk! I propose we declare it illegal and send it to the bottom of the Mediterranean!" exclaimed Elijah, his eyes wild and bulging.
"Libya has never had, nor will ever have a first-use nuclear policy. The Aristotle is a deterrent, just like your nuclear submarines prowling the Mediterranean. It is not a threat to any nation," replied Saladin calmly.
"Tell that to the people of Niger who were incinerated by your little toy!" shouted Elijah.
"You mean those militia forces that were trying to cross into Libya by posing as refugees? They were hardly innocent civilians," scoffed Saladin.
"That's not the point! The point is your missiles could hit a target from a 4000-kilometer range! Your Aristotle can strike deep into Europe and even Russia! How can we trust you not to use it?" demanded Elijah.
"Because I have no interest. I'm focused on building and protecting what Libya has become. But if you cross our borders with ill intent. If you attack unprovoked, then I have every right to defend my nation," replied Saladin.
"This cannot be allowed to stand! My country's very existence is at risk!" thundered Elijah.
"Oh yeah? Remind me again whose country was bombed into political instability by NATO? Whose country was left as a shambles of petty warlords and open slave markets? I don't begrudge you your shield, so don't begrudge me my sword," countered Saladin.
"You're a madman! You've already demonstrated your willingness to use those ICBM capable missiles on Niger! What's to stop you from using them on us?" asked Elijah.
"Contrary to your claims, I am not a madman. I'm not about to risk everything I've fought for in Libya, just to bait you and your lapdogs in NATO. Let me make it perfectly clear. Libya has no territorial ambitions, I have no territorial ambitions. I only wish to be left alone diplomatically, and to not be dictated to over whom I can and cannot trade with," said Saladin.
Elijah opened his mouth to respond, but Erik cut him off.
"Enough! Premier Saladin has demonstrated restraint and a willingness to de-escalate. I move that we accept the terms Premier Saladin had proposed in the last General Assembly. Libya will allow NATO to track the Aristotle's movements through its transponder beacons, and in exchange, NATO will not interfere with Libya's internal affairs, nor will they impose sanctions or trade restrictions," said Erik.
"I second that motion," said Ursula von der Leyen, a representative from Germany.
"All in favor?" asked Erik.
"Nay," said Elijah.
"Abstained," said Daniel, which earned him a glare from Elijah.
"Aye," chorused the remaining members of the Security Council.
"The motion passes. Premier Saladin, I trust that you will honor your commitments," said Erik.
"You have my word," replied Saladin.
"Then I believe we can consider this matter closed," said Erik.
Elijah waited until the video link was terminated before he exploded.
"How dare you Daniel! You could have vetoed that motion! You betrayed me!" shouted Elijah.
"If I'd done that, then all bets are off you numbskull! Just thank your lucky stars that Saladin's more pissed off with Niger than he is with us!" snapped Daniel.
"We could have sunk it!" yelled Elijah.
Daniel flung a CIA dossier onto Elijah's face.
"Read that!" thundered Daniel.
Elijah picked up the dossier and opened it.
His eyes widened as he read the contents.
"The Aristotle is packing more armor than a damn World War II dreadnought! It would take over 10 torpedo hits to even cripple it! And even if you do manage to breach the hull, it can fire off its ICBMs in retaliation as it sinks! Sure, we could sink it, but not before Saladin nukes Israel out of existence!" snarled Daniel.
Elijah sank into his chair, defeated.
"So what now? Do we just let Saladin have his way?" he asked bitterly.
"For now, yes. Until we can find a way to neutralize the Aristotle without inviting nuclear Armageddon," replied Daniel.
---
"I can't believe I'm stuck cleaning up this mess," muttered General Malkovich, watching from a command center tent as WHO forensic teams carefully bagged up the piles of human remains that Saladin's forces had left behind.
The stench of death filled the air, while NATO soldiers patrolled the area, warily eyeing the sleek black HellVortex helicopters parked just inside the Libyan border.
"Are we even able to ID these people?" he asked one of the forensic team leaders.
"We've got a bunch of bodies that were wearing UN aid badges, those should be easy to ID," the team leader replied.
"Well, I suppose we can't do much more than that. There isn't any DNA database for these other people," sighed Malkovich.
A WHO worker approached General Malkovich, his hands twitching nervously.
"Sir, we've got back some preliminary results from the bodies we were able to ID," he said.
"Go on," Malkovich urged.
"The badges don't match the bodies we found. The UN workers that were supposed to be here are not among the dead," the WHO worker explained.Malkovich's face paled.
"Then who are these people?" he asked.
"We've got hits on the DNA fingerprints from the Libyan government database. They were all either members of Saladin's rival factions, or regular mercenaries. They've all got ties to Niger and Chad," the WHO worker replied.
Malkovich's mind raced.
"Are you telling me that Saladin was right about these people not being UN workers and refugees?" he asked.
"We've still got at least five thousand more bodies to process, sir. But so far, we haven't found any evidence that these people were unarmed civilians, or UN personnel," the WHO worker said.
Malkovich shook his head in disbelief.
"All right, let's get everything fully documented. We're not jumping to conclusions on this one," he ordered.
---
"Why the hell are we lumped in with the SZPD?" grumbled Brandon, as he and Sylvia huddled with the other officers inside their precinct building.
Outside, angry mobs had laid siege to the police station, hurling stones, insults, and whatever else they could find at the windows and doors.
"Like it or not, we're also police officers," Sylvia reminded him.
"Yeah, but we're not the ones who turned those dumb kids into mush," growled Brandon.
"What surprises me is the sheer number of Somali-origin people out there. And barely any of them speak English," Sylvia observed.
"It's like they've crawled out of the woodwork or something. Where the hell were these people while we were out on patrol?" asked Brandon.
"No idea. Something seriously doesn't add up here," Sylvia replied.
"I think we should get our riot gear on, and go all out. Optics be damned," Brandon suggested.
"I already thought of that, but word from the top brass is that we're not to escalate things," growled the precinct commander.
"I thought transferring back from the SZPD was the smarter move, given how militarized they are. But now I'm having second thoughts," Brandon muttered.
"Careful with voicing that opinion Officer. There are a lot of ears around here," whispered the precinct commander.
Brandon gulped and nodded.
A brick smashed through one of the windows, showering glass everywhere.
"All right, that's it! No more Mr. Nice Cop! Get your riot gear on! We're going out there!" barked the precinct commander.
Brandon and Sylvia exchanged glances, then hurried to get their gear on.
"Sir, are you sure about this?" one of the officers asked.
"I've been in this precinct for twenty years! I don't recognize any of those people out there. Do any of you?" the precinct commander asked.
An uneasy silence fell over the room.
"Exactly. Now let's move out!" ordered the precinct commander.
---
Senator Monica Goldberg sat in Mayor Victor Callahan's office chair, with her legs propped up on his desk.
The mayor himself was tied naked to a chair, his mouth gagged.
"Ah, this idea worked far better than I expected," she sighed contentedly.
Victor made muffled sounds, but Monica gave him a sharp kick to the back of his head.
"Shut up, Victor! It's no thanks to you, that the monstrosity called the SZPD was allowed to form in the first place," she snapped.
She chuckled softly as she observed the news feeds of the riots in progress.
"Oh, this is just too perfect!" she crowed as police in riot gear burst out of a precinct building and charged into the angry mob.
She pulled out her phone and made a call.
"Yes, make sure you get the names and faces of all the officers in the 14th precinct. I want them all to be charged with police brutality, and excessive use of force," she ordered.
She hung up, and smiled to herself.
"The perfect no-win situation," she mused.
Color drained from her face as she saw something else appear on the news feed.
"No... it can't be..." she whispered, as she saw a fleet SZPD HellVortex helicopters approach the mobs.
---
"SZPD central to all air units. Remember, this is a surgical strike. Avoid citizen and friendly fire casualties at all costs," ordered Commissioner Hastings, as 16 HellVortex helicopters flew in a wedge formation over Downtown Boston.
"Air units copy that, proceeding to target areas," replied Camille Vasquez, pilot of the lead helicopter.
The other helicopters acknowledged the order, and began to fan out over the city.
Camille expertly guided the HellVortex through the maze of skyscrapers, approaching the 14th precinct building.
The protesters saw the HellVortex approaching, and went into a panic, scattering in all directions.
"All units commence corralling maneuvers, herd those mobs towards City Hall Park," ordered Commissioner Hastings.
"Copy that, commencing corralling maneuvers," replied Camille.
With a few deft maneuvers, Camille guided her HellVortex to circle around the protesters, while her co-pilot and partner Michelle Martinez fired a few bursts of 20 mm cannon rounds into the ground to nudge the crowd in the right direction.
SZPD Stormkreuzer patrol cars appeared, aiding the HellVortex choppers in rounding up the protesters, and driving them towards City Hall Park.
"Yeah, that's a good workout for you," chuckled Michelle as the crowd ran screaming towards the park that was a good seven kilometers away.
"Ground units, pick up the stragglers. Nobody gets away," ordered Commissioner Hastings.
"Copy that, Commissioner," replied a ground unit, as the SZPD Stormkreuzer cars opened their rear doors, and started restraining and packing the protesters who were staggering from fatigue into the vehicles.
The SZPD forces reached City Hall Park, and unceremoniously dumped the protesters onto the lawns, before setting up a perimeter to prevent any escapes.
Commissioner Hastings arrived on the scene in an SZPD Stormkreuzer, and activated its PA system.
"You have ten seconds to place your ID on the ground, and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be fired upon," he announced.
The crowd milled about in nervous confusion.
Commissioner Hastings rolled his eyes, and then repeated the order in Somali, with the help of a translator app on his phone.
This time, the protesters complied, placing their IDs on the ground, and kneeling with their hands behind their heads.
---
"All right, start running those IDs through the system," ordered Commissioner Hastings, as SZPD officers piled twenty thousand IDs onto the hood of his Stormkreuzer.
A black SUV screeched to a halt, and Senator Monica Goldberg stepped out, flanked by two bodyguards.
"Stop stop stop! Those are foreign nationals! They had come to Washington to visit President Mamba, and were agitated by the police brutality they saw on the news!" she exclaimed.
"Foreign nationals with social security cards instead of passports and visas? That's a new one," replied Commissioner Hastings, waving a confiscated ID in her face, which was an American social security card.
"Some of them have been granted asylum here, Commissioner! You know how strongly our President feels about protecting asylum seekers! Especially from Somalia her ancestral homeland! Now turn them loose at once!" demanded Monica.
"After we check them for priors, Senator. Until then, they're staying put in this park," replied Commissioner Hastings.
"I can have the President personally vouch for them, Commissioner. You don't want to do this," warned Monica.
"Jones, Zimmerman, bag those IDs as evidence," ordered Commissioner Hastings, ignoring Monica.
"Yes sir," replied the two officers, as they began bagging up the IDs.
Monica shook with fury, but one of her bodyguards laid a warning hand on her arm."Senator, we're outnumbered and outgunned here. Cut the losses and retreat," he whispered.
Monica took a deep breath, and nodded reluctantly.
"Very well, Commissioner. But I will be following up on this matter personally," she warned, and turned to leave.
"Hastings to air units, light 'em up," ordered Commissioner Hastings, making Monica whirl around in panic.
Monica's scream was drowned out by the thunder of 20 mm cannon fire as the circling HellVortex helicopters ripped the crowd into shreds.
The green lawns of City Hall Park were soaked red with blood.
Within seconds, the entire park was silent, and covered in clumps of unrecognizable bone, flesh and tattered fabric.
Monica collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Threats neutralized. All units return to base," ordered Commissioner Hastings.
The SZPD packed up and left the scene, leaving Monica and her bodyguards alone with the carnage.
---
Monica awoke to the sound of beeping hospital machines.
"Ugh! What happened?" she groaned, trying to sit up.
"Easy there, you're in a safehouse after we sedated you," said Daniel who was sitting beside her bed.
"Safehouse? Why?" she asked groggily.
"The SZPD's massacre at City Hall Park made national headlines, and exposed the NGO network that you were using. President Mamba is being impeached as we speak, and you, my dear, are now implicated in her charges of treason, election interference and human trafficking," explained Daniel.
"Please tell me we managed to get the SZPD in at least some trouble," she pleaded.
"Yes and no. The SZPD's actions have outraged and polarized the public, but they haven't been disbanded. The scandal of the large scale human trafficking and election interference you and Mamba were involved in has gummed up the works," Daniel replied.
"What about the rest of our network?" she asked.
"Fortunately still intact. Your idea to compartmentalize the cells worked well. Most of our operatives are still free and active," Daniel assured her.
Monica sighed in relief.
"Tell them to lay-low for a while. I'm pretty sure we'll be losing this election once Mamba is impeached," she said.
"Already done. We've got other problems besides Sirius Software and Boston to deal with. Saladin's atrocities in Libya exposed the rival factions and Niger militia forces we were funding, but our own operatives managed to cover their tracks. The only assets that we've lost are the servitor grunts, and even then, we've already got new ones being bred," Daniel replied.
Monica nodded.
"Where exactly are we now?" she asked.
"Tel Aviv. Israel is safer for now. Aaron Zakhrov's influence in Boston has become too much. We'll relocate to Washington after about a year of laying-low. I've already got a few operatives working to get the investigations against you dropped or squashed," said Daniel.
Monica slowly got out of the bed.
"All right then, I'll enjoy my little vacation here. And once we regroup, we're taking down Sirius Software and the SZPD for good. No more caution Daniel. We first topple Saladin, then go after Sirius Software and the SZPD with the full network's resources," she declared.
Daniel nodded in agreement.
"Agreed. We'll spend some time mustering our resources, then hit them hard," he said.
Monica smiled, and gave Daniel a hug.
"Thank you, Daniel," she said softly.
---
"Well Aaron, we sure kicked the hornet's nest this time," said Michael as he and Aaron watched the presidential debate broadcast.
The conservative candidate was General Gordon Harris of the US Army, who was running on a platform of strong national security and hardline anti-immigration policies, given the recent scandal of massive voter bloc manufacturing through immigration and asylum seekers.
The progressive candidate was Anne Frank-Silverman, a former feminist model turned women's rights activist, sustainable fashion entrepreneur, and Congresswoman from Los Angeles.
Her campaign platform was centered around social justice, environmentalism, empathy and peaceful assimilation.
"It would seem so. However, I'd rather not take chances, and use this breather to get our lunar mining operations up and running," replied Aaron.
"You could have just bought the election by throwing resources at Gordon's campaign," suggested Michael.
"I don't care who's in the White House, Michael. They're just there to give the populace the illusion of democratic choice. I'm not going to waste my resources on that," replied Aaron.
"You've gone full Bond villain now haven't you?" chuckled Michael.
"I'd say its civilizational progress rather than villainy," replied Aaron.
Michael shook his head with a smile.
"The less I know about that the better," he said, rising to leave.
Aaron waved him off, turned off the debate broadcast, and pulled up the schematics for the Lunar titanium processing plant on his computer.
"I'll hold off on the production of this until we have the survey robot results back from the moon," he mused.
---
"Well Aaron, I would say that your little Lunar mining concept has fully revived the old Energia program," chuckled Erik Gorbachev over the secure video link.
"What's the status Erik? We've got a slight breather, I'd like to use it," replied Aaron.
"The Energia Classic rocket just dropped the Lunar survey robot on the moon yesterday, so we're on track. We'll do the main launch as soon as the survey robot confirms the presence of titanium," said Erik.
"I'm going to join you for the main launch. I'll see you then," said Aaron.
"Looking forward to it. See you then," replied Erik, and ended the video call.
