Government-Sanctioned Mafia: Chapter 1 – Caught Unaware

Chapter 1 – Caught Unaware

My partner, Bezalel Lior, and I are out on the streets of the City of Angels in the Golden State, enjoying a short coffee break. We watch tourists take pictures where movie and TV stars show off the premiere of what they star in, and watch as amateurs perform their tricks or sing on stage to get attention for their craft.

“This almost makes the high taxes worth it. We get free entertainment while enjoying our breakfast,” I say.

“You have a weird idea of entertainment, Draco. Watching a bunch of attention-seeking idiots make fools of themselves in public is sadder than anything,” Bezalel says.

“So, why are you watching it then?”

“It’s something to look at while I’m drinking my coffee, and it is cool to see the actually talented people do their thing and amusing to watch the idiots try to impress people.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you if it’s uncomfortable for you to drink coffee like that, always having to take your gas mask on and off.”

Bezalel is a Great War veteran who needs a gas mask from the war to breathe properly. He also has a robotic right arm and wears a brown suit, a fancy black bowtie, dark brown suit pants, black dress shoes, and has his SIB pin on his suit.

“I got used to it.”

“How come you didn’t pick something more normal to wear in public? Why did it have to be a gas mask from the war?”

“It’s because I wore it so much during that time that I feel safer wearing this than the other masks they offered me.”

“What about the damage done to you?”

“It’s nothing but fancy war scars.”

“So, you don’t look ugly under that mask?”

“Not at all. I look quite handsome.”

“Prove it.”

“Nah. It’ll make you jealous if you ever saw my real face.”

I look at myself in my car’s window for a second, and imagine how Bezalel looks under his mask. In comparison to him, I look like a normal SIB agent, with my black hair, with some light tones to its side, black sunglasses, blue suit and pants, black dress shoes, yellow ties, black dress shirt, and SIB pin on the side of my suit.

On the earpiece radio I have, I hear Garnet say, “You boys done your coffee break yet? We have to make those tax dollars spent on us worth it.”

Garnet Nox is an office worker at the local SIB office who is Bezalel and my backup to look up anything we’re investigating, is able to get us police or agent backup, and just generally keeps us on our toes.

“We’re on it, boss,” I say.

I go into my SIB car and check its system for any reports of suspicious activity that we can investigate. One of the nearby reports says that an apartment complex is unusually using a lot of power for the number of people that are there.

I tell Bezalel about it, and he says, “If the tax agency had as much power as they did before President Campione took office, they’d just give them a higher bill and not look into it, unless the tenants weren’t paying their dues.”

“God bless President Campione for severely limiting the tax agency’s power and influence. I’d hate to be an annoying lawman, so let’s just check what’s going on and get them off the list. Can you tell us anything about them, Garnet?”

“Everyone in there knows one another and is associated with moderately popular online streamers. They bought out every room in the apartment, and everyone who wasn’t associated with them was paid a generous amount of money to leave,” Garnet radios over.

“That isn’t illegal to do?” Bezalel asks.

“Not technically. The people they kicked out made a settlement with them, so it’s legal. It must’ve been a good deal since the current tenants haven’t been sued, nor has their deal been argued since.”

“Okay, let’s just go there, write them off, and leave. They probably have a high bill because they just stream and party all night. I’ve heard these people survive on a diet of energy drinks and pornography,” I say.

“That’s pretty close to the truth,” Garnet says.

“God help those faggots,” Bezalel says.

I drive Bezalel and me to the apartment complex. From the outside, it’s nothing special, except for all the graffiti all over it. It’s three stories high, and many of its windows are blacked out.

Using my agent glasses to send over to Garnet what I’m seeing, I ask her, “Is all this graffiti legal?”

“It's their apartment. If someone within didn’t complain, it’s legal,” Garnet says.

“Alright.”

Bezalel and I go to the office of the apartment, say we’re SIB agents, and ask for the manager. A woman in a business suit approaches us from the back room, and for some reason, she looks all frazzled, and with the way her business suit is, you’d think she was dressing for someone with an office-woman fetish.

“Excuse me, miss. We’re SIB agents Draco Jung and Bezalel Lior. How are you doing today?” I ask.

“Fine enough. Can I help you with something?” the woman says in a somewhat tired tone.

“We saw that the amount of electricity used in this apartment complex was unusual. We’ll be investigating the reason for that, and then be on our way.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

The woman walks back into her office and closes the door behind her.

“I was going to ask her for a layout of the apartment building, but I guess she’s busy with something,” Bezalel says.

“I can get that for you. Check your phones,” Garnet says.

I look at my phone and see a map of the apartment complex with every room marked.

“Thanks, Garnet. This shouldn’t take long,” I say.

Bezalel and I decide to check the electrical room first and find that it’s locked. Asking the nearby electrical workers and janitors for a key, they say they don’t have one but should be getting a replacement soon. Not wanting to wait for it, I use the lockpick gun I have with me and open the door for us.

“What is all this?” I ask.

“Data mining servers,” Bezalel says.

“I know, but I’m asking more about why it’s all here.”

“Is there any record of them having this, Garnet?”

“Not at all. We’ll have to do an investigation as to why they have it,” Garnet says.

“Bezalel. The electricians and janitors are coming down,” I say. “We opened the door for you. Would you happen to know why-”

Before I say anything else, I see the electricians and janitors drawing their pistols on us. I draw my own and open fire on them as I take cover.

“Garnet! We’re under assault from the apartment’s staff! Get police backup down here!” I say.

“On it!” Garnet says.

Bezalel fires back at our attackers and asks me, “Should we take them in alive or dead?”

“Alive! They know what’s going on here,” I say.

I load special rounds into my pistol that inject a solution into what it hits that puts people to sleep. I can’t penetrate hard surfaces, but it can penetrate normal clothes. Bezalel and I use our knockout rounds on our attackers and head up the stairs, wary of any more threats. Sure enough, some Middle Eastern-looking men come out of the apartment’s office firing at us, and there are also others shooting us from the stairs. Bezalel and I shoot them and then chase after the others who are running up the stairs. More people come out of the apartment rooms to fire at us, forcing us into cover.

“They must really be afraid of us finding what’s on those servers if they’re all trying to kill us,” I say.

“Let’s give them another reason to be afraid of us. Put your mask on,” Bezalel says.

He reaches into his pockets and throws small, metallic capsules into the hallway that release a red gas. I reach into my back pockets and quickly put a half-face mask on. The red gas makes people choke up, fall to the ground, and drop their guns.

“The SIB want the owners of the apartment complex in cuffs for questioning,” Garnet radios over. “The primary streamer’s family, who owns everything, is on the top floor.”

“Let’s get this degenerate,” Bezalel says.

Bezalel and I go to the top floor to find more people shooting at us. We shoot back, and we throw more gas to easily take them out. I look at my map and go to the one where the owners live. The door is locked, but instead of picking it, Bezalel punches a hole through it and unlocks it. Inside the room, we find various statues of nude men and women, neon lights, and empty food boxes. It doesn’t seem like anyone is here until one of the doors bursts open and a man in a cat full-body costume charges at us with a bat. After shooting him and knocking him out, Bezalel and I see that the bat is the kind that people shove in private places.

Moving on from the pathetic degenerate, I open a bathroom door to see an older, tanned woman dressed like a schoolgirl. I tell her to put her hands up, but she says she hasn’t done anything and reaches into her pocket. Not taking any chances, we shoot her, and she drops the phone she was reaching for. A fat young adult male with cat-ear headphones then comes out of his room with a rifle decorated with naked anime women and neon lights. We tell him to put the gun down before he can raise it, and he seems afraid to even hold it.

“You hurt my wife! You gotta pay!” the young man says as he raises his rifle.

We shoot the young man, knocking him out. In his room, we find various lewd anime-girl character figures, femboy posters, and pictures of children, both boys and girls. The computer is on, and it looks like he was streaming a popular children’s game. People in his livestream see us and start saying hi, telling us to make sure everyone in the apartment is dead and not to shoot the dog. Police backup finally arrives and helps take everyone in, including the other residents who didn’t fight us. Everyone is questioned, and the apartment’s data servers are analyzed. Bezalel and I meet with Garnet back at the SIB office to go over the findings in my office.

As I lay out the files, I say, “It looks like we’ve walked into a real mess of a situation.”

“I always joked in my head about degenerate streamers being pedophiles because of their audience of kids, but I didn’t want it to be true. Garnet, did you know anything about it before we went in?” Bezalel says.

“There were reports and rumors, but nothing formally investigated for some reason,” Garnet says.

“Well, we’re going to find out that reason soon. The Bureau has all local SIB offices and police stations on this case. The entire apartment complex was not only hosting their streams, but they also streamed porn, and not just any kind of porn, but rapes and child pornography, featuring the apartment’s residents and men, women, and children who were being trafficked and abused for the sick amusement of the people on the dark web.”

“That explains the servers,” Bezalel says.

 “That thing hosted their website and dozens and dozens of their videos, pictures, and pornographic games that they made. It also showed that the operation is bigger than themselves because they’re the buyers, not the suppliers of the people who were trafficked,” I explain.

“Heads are going to roll for this, or should I say hang,” Bezalel says.

“Technically, they may get lethal injection, electric chair, or a bullet to the head,” Garnet says.

“Whatever the case is, we have to arrest them first before they face justice in a court of law, so let’s not keep the executioners waiting,” I say.

My police trilogy is in one book and out today!

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The Angel's Trumpet police squad consists of four officers, each distinct from the others. Kurtis Thomas is a veteran, by-the-book officer; Cole Belmont is a Great War veteran; and Max Marlowe is a detective with ties to mobsters. Last but not least is Xander Storge, whom the trilogy follows, and who is a relatively new officer compared to his squadmates. Together, the officers will bring justice to common criminals, go after self-righteous vigilante syndicates, and target foreign political entities that use crime to corrupt their country.
This book contains: Men of the Law and Shield, The Arms of Order, and Defense of Our Way of Life, along with a few Behind the Story trivia notes for each short story.

The last story in my police-inspired trilogy is out today!

Get it for free at select online retailers found on Books2Read - https://books2read.com/b/mgVjY6

The police and the Secret Intelligence Bureau, or SIB, are working together against Slavs who are trying to manipulate the government for their own ends. Caught in this mess is the Angel's Trumpet squad, who are distrustful of the SIB and use their own connections to get to the bottom of a criminal plot to corrupt the very way of life of the United Chimaera States.

Defense of Our Way of Life: Chapter 3 – For My People, Not Yours

Chapter 3 – For My People, Not Yours

Just as we expected, what happened last night with the SIB agents and police officers exploded in our faces. My squad is called to the police headquarters, where we are individually interrogated about what happened and then collectively berated by the heads of the city’s police force for the actions we took without their approval. While they yell at us, none of my squadmates flinch or talk back, so I follow their example by also saying nothing.

By the end of it, one of the police chiefs asks, “Well? Do you have nothing to say for yourselves?”

Kurtis speaks for us by saying, “We don’t regret our actions. We did what we knew to be right, so if you’re going to take our jobs, then save us both the trouble and time by taking them.”

“Tch. You got balls, Kurtis. All your men do, but then again, you all always have, by your history of putting your necks on the line for the people of this city. No, we won’t take your jobs. We need men like you in the field and firing; you will make us look worse, so you will continue to work as officers, but you must stay at your office until called upon while on the job. After this mess is sorted, you will be suspended for a time, only committing yourselves to the assignments we give you and not choosing them for yourselves, until we know you won’t act out of line again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” my squad says.

“Right. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Going back to the office, we turn on the news to see how the public is dealing with what happened, and it’s not good. Knowing that there’s Slavic infiltration of the city’s law enforcement has moved groups of Vorfahren to protest against them, and the Slavs are counter-protesting as well, accusing them of having people manipulate the country’s government. My squad is featured on the news and praised by the news and the city’s people for protecting the country’s sanctity. Somehow, they know we’re suspended, leading to criticism of the city’s police and protests outside the city for its choice and for allowing corruption to fester inside it.

“Do you think we’ll be blamed for everyone knowing we got suspended?” Cole asks.

“If we were, we would’ve gotten another earful on the phone. Did any of you leak it?” Kurtis asks.

Max, Cole, and I deny leaking our suspension.

“How could we? We just got out of there and are around one another, so we’d know if one of us did it. It must’ve been one of the infiltrators in police headquarters,” Max says.

“I hope they call us soon so I can give them a piece of my mind and shove the leak in their faces,” Cole says.

“Calm down. You acted perfectly there. There’s no reason to dig ourselves a deeper grave,” Kurtis says.

Breaking news comes on TV from the office of the SIB. One of its leaders, Donnie Paralrono, talks about how the SIB agents from yesterday are actually normal officers and not in the SIB’s database. Their SIB badges are fake, and the officers associated with them were already known to politically lean left, but the SIB didn’t pursue looking into them further because of the country’s freedom of speech and belief.

“Bullshit! They should’ve done something, and President Campione should make their beliefs illegal, along with the cult of the Pale Green Horse,” Cole says.

“They’d have to do more damage to the country for that to happen,” I point out.

“How much more can they do besides get people killed and cause chaos in the streets? Screw this. I have to do something about it.”

Cole stands up from his desk, and Kurtis stands in front of him.

“Cole,” Kurtis says.

“What? Are you really going to stop me?”

“We have to play this smart. We’ll be called upon to keep order and peace in the city, so we will be out in the field.”

“But that’s not enough when there’s corruption in the police force!”

“We’ll take care of that off the job during the night, unless you need to get your beauty sleep.”

“That’s fine with me. I’ve always done a lot of my work while off the job,” Max says.

“I’m sure Astorre and your friends are already doing an investigation of their own,” Kurtis says.

“You know it. I’m getting texts from him about their progress and constant thanks for saving him.”

“Cole? Is that okay with you?”

“I don’t like it, but I also don’t want to do this on my own with no leads to follow. Fine.”

Sure enough, as Kurtis said, police headquarters calls us to help keep the peace. My squad stands outside police headquarters, armed with riot gear. The crowds calm down a bit when they see us, tell us that we shouldn’t be defending the headquarters, and implore us to join them.

“They’re just using us to protect themselves,” Cole whispers.

“Shut it, Cole. We’re supposed to protect the peace, nothing else. We’ll get to doing more later,” Kurtis whispers back.

Eventually, after hours of protesting, the people disappear in the afternoon. With the city at peace, we’re told our work is done, so my squad drops off our weapons, armor, and police uniforms at our office, changes into civilian clothes, and gets into Kurtis’ car, where he gives each of us a pistol.

“Do you think something like this would happen?” I ask.

“You can never have enough guns to keep the people you care for and yourself safe,” Kurtis says.

“I have never agreed with you on something as much as this,” Cole says.

Kurtis drives us to Astorre’s restaurant. We go through the back and meet Astorre and his people there, who are arming themselves.

“Kurtis! I never thought I’d see the day that you act like a vigilante. Now you’ll really see what being an outlaw on the side of the law is like,” Astorre says with a grin on his face.

“Where are we going and what are we doing?” Kurtis asks.

“There’s a meeting of Slavs in a building that isn’t marked for their political meetings. You probably passed it by without knowing that’s where the traitors within the police and our government meet. We’ll record them conspiring against the country and then move in to make a citizen’s arrest, and if they choose to resist, well, taking them in alive becomes optional.”

“Optional for you, but not for me.”

“Heh. Sure.”

My squad takes Kurtis’ car while Astorre and his people take separate cars to the Slav meeting place. We park a little bit away from it and get to the building from separate streets to not draw suspicion to us. Max uses a lockpick gun on the doors and gets us inside. As we enter, we don’t see anyone and make sure our footsteps are as quiet as possible while walking through the building. Going into the basement, we see a couple of guards standing outside a door. Assuming that’s where the meeting is taking place, Kurtis loads knockout darts into his pistols and shoots them at the two guards. Before the guards can hit the ground, we gently lower them.

Astorre pulls out a mirror gun and uses it under the door to look in and hear what is happening inside. Inside the meeting room, we see a gathering of about twenty people, some of whom I recognize from police headquarters and city festivals.

They talk to one another, saying, “Are we going to have to resort to the backup plan?”

“Would that even work this time? Our friends in secret places already failed to try to kill Campione, and that only secured him the office. What do you think will happen when we try to go after others who have the public’s support?”

“Perhaps it is time for us to go into hiding or go to other places in the country that better support us.”

“That takes time, which we do not have. The SIB are onto us, meaning that suddenly disappearing for years is our best way to stay out of jail.”

“We can’t just take this sitting down. I refuse to! A mafia man runs the country, and he got it through blood and subterfuge! Why shouldn’t we do the same?!”

“It’s suicide.”

“But it’s morally correct! We have a lot of people behind us. We can get this done.”

“They’re only behind us because of our promises and everything we’ve given them, and those dues will have to be paid.”

“It can be paid with taxpayer dollars, as we planned. I already have my plans on how to kill our targets and the PR campaign we’ll run after it to smear the dead and prop up the assassins.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Kurtis whispers.

“I’d say we should get more, but I agree with Kurtis. Let’s bring them in,” Astorre says.

Busting into the room, my squad and our allies draw our pistols onto the Slavs and hold them at gunpoint, telling them they’re under arrest for conspiring to overtake the United States Chimaera government and to murder.

“Kurtis, working as a vigilante? This is a surprise. You’re a traitor to your badge,” the Slav infiltrator says.

“You’re a traitor to your country,” Kurtis says back.

“I’m a traitor because I want the country to follow an ideology that betters it and champions the poor and struggling?”

“You only do that for your benefit! You’re just like Judas, who wants to give to the poor for the show of it. Let’s not forget about the chaos you caused these past few days that has caused more trouble for the common man than the rich, which all of you are,” Astorre says.

“As if you’re one to judge.”

“I know how to judge with righteous judgment, unlike you self-righteous pricks who follow your feelings more than your senses.”

“Enough! Cuff them,” Kurtis says.

While we start cuffing the Slav conspirators, they keep trying to argue with us, and even some start resisting arrest. One woman tries to take a gun out of Cole’s hand, so he fires a shot into her shoulder.

“Do you want one in your head? You better act smarter if you don’t!” Cole says.

Another of the Slav conspirators tries to kill himself with a gun that he has in the back of his pants, but I shoot it out of his hand, tackle him to the ground, and cuff him. Things are starting to get out of hand as the Slav conspirators try to run away, forcing Astorre and his people to shoot them in the legs and beat everyone else who is refusing to be arrested quietly.

“Is this what you call law enforcement, Kurtis?” one of the Slav conspirators says.

Kurtis knocks the man out with one punch to the face. “As if you’d know anything about it,” he says.

We call the police to haul away the Slav conspirators and the evidence we have against them. We also accompany the police to give our testimony about what happened, and we have our lawyers, provided by Astorre, on standby to make sure the evidence isn’t tampered with and that we aren’t asked any unfair questions. The next day, what happened that night is already on the news, and my squad, Astorre, and his people are given even more fame than before, especially since the Slav conspirators rat out their fellow conspirators. Those conspirators are arrested as well, with the help of the SIB, who were already making sure the stragglers weren’t escaping the city. Another day comes around, and we’re told that we’re going to receive Exemplary Citizen medals from the president himself.

Before the public ceremony in front of police headquarters starts, I say, “Can you believe this? It feels like a dream.”

“I still can’t believe the SIB weren’t corrupt and were the good guys,” Max says.

“Yeah, I found that hard to believe too,” Cole says.

“Oh, of course they’d be here too,” Kurtis says as Astorre and his people approach us.

“Why wouldn’t we get medals too?” Astorre says with a smile.

“It’s just that I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

“What? Were you going to give me yours if I didn’t get one?”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re a good friend, Kurtis.”

“You ladies can kiss and make up later. The president is coming,” Cole says.

The president comes in his car, flanked by SIB guards. With him are his brother Cesare Campione, his wife, and Cesare’s wife. Both brothers are dressed like Astorre, as if being found out as a man of honor doesn’t make a difference, and I guess in these current days and with his good track record, it doesn’t. The president, Vincenzo Campione, waves and smiles to the surrounding crowd as he makes his way to us.

When he gets to us, he shakes our hands and then says, “Gentlemen. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is ours, sir,” my squad says in unison.

“Let’s get this show on the road then.”

My squad, along with Astorre and his people, goes on stage, where we receive our medals.

Vincenzo gives a speech where he says, “These men and women are examples of what we all should be. With great strength comes the responsibility to protect the weak and each other. These people risked their lives and livelihoods to protect our country and way of life from falling into the corrupt ways of the Slavs, and I cannot thank them enough for doing so. The Slavs think that it is men who decide what is right and wrong, but here, in the United Chimaera States, we know that men make laws, but God decides what is right and wrong. That is why the United Chimaera States is the best and most free country in the world. Even with our enemies in our midst, we treat them justly, unlike the Slavs or Vorfahren across the sea, who throw them into camps. We first try to change their hearts, and if they refuse, we give them justice and then let them live their lives.

Do not be mistaken. We do not tolerate evil or falsehood that corrupts men from within. We will fight against all who plot to corrupt our way of life, and punish them accordingly, and I know for a fact, because of the people on stage with me and others like them in our country, that no one will overtake us. Not while we still live, and generations after us follow our example. God bless the United Chimaera States, and may mercy and justice reign in our land forevermore.”

The surrounding crowd claps and cheers for Vincenzo, who steps down from the stage and walks to his family as a band plays a Mediterranean version of the national anthem. Meanwhile, we walk offstage and join the others in our party.

At our table, Kurtis says, “I feel like we were used to advance some political agenda.”

“If we were, it seems like a good one,” Cole says as he eats and drinks.

“I agree with the president. It makes sense to give a speech on the current day topic so we can spit in the face of foreign, false ideologies and prop up our victory against them,” Max says.

“Xander? What do you think?”

Cole, Max, and Kurtis look at me as I finish my drink.

“I think I just want to do what God wants me to and protect this country,” I answer, not really knowing what to say.

My squad smiles at me, and Kurtis pats me on the back.

He says, “Good answer, kid.”

What else can I say? I’m a police officer. With one group of criminals put away, all I’m thinking about now is the continuation of the role God has given me and glorifying Him through it.

 

The End

Defense of Our Way of Life: Chapter 2 – Hidden Actors and Ambushes

Chapter 2 – Hidden Actors and Ambushes

Ever since the police and SIB have been publicly arresting members of the Slavic political party more than those of the Vorfahren, certain members of the public and those in office have turned against us and the administration we serve. There are protests happening all across the city, from City Hall to the police headquarters and even the Mediterranean district of the city, since they’ve been known to work with us. There have also been clashes between the two political ideologies of Vorfahren and Slavs in the city, with vigilante groups like Astorre’s men of honor and the police doing their best to keep the peace. Currently, my squad and I are waiting for word from the SIB and our leaders in police headquarters to tell us what to do next, and we're just sitting around our office.

“Who even is our contact in the SIB anyway? He never gave us his name, and when I asked him, he said it wasn’t important,” Cole says.

“It’s not important. Not to people like them. They keep their secrets, get what they want, and vanish as if they never existed,” Max says.

“Xander, what are your thoughts on all this?” Cole asks.

“I just like to go back to simple traffic duty and guard duty at events at this point rather than see the city in chaos,” I say.

“No, I mean in terms of the Vorfahren, the Slavs, and the SIB.”

“Eh, he gave a good answer. I’d like the simpler duties of what we were doing before, too,” Max says.

“I prefer this. There’s more action and more criminals are being punished,” Cole says.

“I thought you wanted to live in a more peaceful country with fewer people ruining it,” I say.

“I do, and that’s best done by arresting or putting down all the criminal scum in it.”

“You should listen to your peers, Cole, but I understand where you’re coming from,” Kurtis says as he walks out of his office. “I heard from our friend in the SIB about what they found yesterday. The most interesting thing was that many of the suspects were official government workers and ballot counters, and the ballots themselves weren’t entirely fake because they were made from the same machines that the legit ones are made on.”

“So, the problem is more internal than we thought?” I ask.

“Yes, but that also means that the SIB itself is going to handle it while we still have to handle the outside of it.”

“How can we trust them to do it? How do we know that there isn’t an internal issue within the SIB?” Max asks.

“We’ll have to trust them to deal with that.”

“This is why we need another organization, or more power in our own, to check other law enforcement and government organizations. I don’t think they should be the only ones who can check themselves,” Max says.

“There are laws that allow it if we can find the evidence,” I point out.

“But in this situation, they’re keeping the investigation to themselves, and we can’t interfere with their work. Doing so without evidence of our own would disband our squad, and our badges would be nothing more than useless metal.”

“Alright, alright, you know what to do, Max. Get your friends on it and have them find our probable cause,” Kurtis says.

“I’m already on it.”

“Then there’s nothing else to worry about.”

Our office receives a call from police headquarters. They say the SIB knows another violent protest is about to happen and want us to go to a certain area to keep it under control. My squad gets in our truck, heads out to the location, and gets there just in time as a riot is breaking out. It’s another group of Slavic rioters who are wearing colors associated with the political group and gas masks, medical masks, and cloths to cover their faces. The rioters are starting fires, throwing over trash cans and recycling bins, breaking car windows and store windows, and being a general menace to the public.

My squad and the other squad we’re with are wearing gas masks, medium armor, and are armed with riot shields and batons, and have tear gas, guns loaded with pepper balls, and a lethal pistol and rifle, just in case things escalate further. We yell at the rioters to go home and cease; however, they start getting crazier and turn their attention toward us.

“We should be using more force. They’re attacking people and their livelihoods,” Cole says to Kurtis.

“Not yet. We’ll knock some sense into them soon enough,” Kurtis says.

The rioting crowds start pushing against us, and we give them one last warning. They don’t listen to us, so we shoot out tear gas and start using our batons and pepper ball guns on the crowd, especially the ones attacking us. This pushes the crowd back a bit, but then one of the people from another squad notices another crowd of rioters coming from behind us. Now, all our squads are surrounded by groups of angry rioters who really want to try to fight us.

“Do the gloves come off now?” Max asks.

“They’re about to,” Kurtis says.

Just as Kurtis finishes speaking, people in the surrounding crowds start firing their pistols at us before others in their crowd charge us with knives and bats.

“You have the green light to use lethal force!” the familiar voice of my squad’s SIB contact says. “Put down those rabid dogs and bring order to the streets!”

All officers start taking out their lethal pistols or rifles and start firing at everyone who attacks us. Officers like Kurtis and I try to take out the rioters non-lethally by shooting them in the leg or lower body, while officers like Cole and Max have no mercy on them and execute them with head and body shots. After dropping more than twenty rioters, the crowd finally disperses, and most of the officers cheer.

“That’s right! You better run!” Cole yells out.

“Professionally done as always, gentlemen. Secure the wounded. EMTs are on the way,” our SIB contact says.

As we check on the civilians and cuff the rioters who are still alive, one of them stabs the officer cuffing them with a hidden knife. Cole is about to shoot the rioter in the head, but Kurtis stops him.

“Why not? He wants to martyr himself for his stupid cause, so let him!” Cole says.

Kurtis shakes his head and uses the butt of his rifle to knock the rioter out before cuffing them and walking away to care for everyone else who is injured, whether they be a cop, civilian, or criminal.

Max walks over and says, “He may be a bit different now, but he’s still the same Kurtis we know and love.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand when he kills and when he spares. If you want to fight till the death, that’s what you get. Live by the sword, die by the sword, and all that,” Cole says.

I understand when Kurtis kills and spares, and I employ it myself. Kurtis has also explained himself multiple times as to his mindset and way of enforcing the law, so I don’t say anything and try to let my actions speak louder than words, just like Kurtis does. After the EMTs pick up the injured, my squad barely makes it back to our truck before Max gets a call from Astorre.

“Go ahead,” Max says with Astorre on speakerphone.

“I’m glad you guys are still alive and kicking. I heard police squads everywhere got ambushed by rioters,” Astorre says.

“Everyone was ambushed?” I ask.

“Yes, which leads me to a lead I want to inform you about. You may not like what I’ve discovered.”

“Tell us where to go and what to look for,” Kurtis says.

“I’ve just texted the address to Max. Who you’re looking for are cops and people with SIB badges.”

“What about them?”

“The Slavs have insiders in the government who want to bring down its law enforcement, and given what happened today. Well. You can put two and two together. My people and I will be there to assist you. This is something that requires our attention.”

“No. You keep your people away from this. It’s too serious for-”

“The Mediterranean people don’t back down from what we know is right, especially when the lives of people we care about are in danger. We’ll see you guys there.”

Astorre hangs up and the phone and Kurtis tells us to rush to the address he sent us. Cole drives us as fast as possible to the location, but when we get there, we see Astorre and his men of honor already confronting a group of police and people wearing SIB logos on their shirts.

“Excuse me, officers. I have an issue I’d like to report,” Astorre says.

“And that is?” one of the SIB agents asks.

“A flock of birdies told me you guys are working with the Slavs to rig and influence the country to be like the Slav Federation, and I’d like you to stop it whether you’re willing to or not.”

“Heh. It’s funny you say that, because we have proof of our own that you and your so-called men of honor are corrupt. Do you want to see the proof we have of your murders, theft, and pushing people to vote for your side? Ah, here come your most ardent defenders. Good afternoon, Angel’s Trumpet squad. Are you here to save your friends in crime?”

“We’re here to bring peace to this situation,” Kurtis says. “You both can fight it out in court instead of with violence.”

“That’s the thing, though. They have judges and people in the courts on their side. This needs to be dealt with and settled here and now.”

“I can say the same thing about you. The difference is in our positions and responsibilities. You’re supposed to know and be faithful to the laws, whereas I need to use the new ones to get my friends here to arrest you,” Astorre says.

“We’re not going anywhere. You are, though.”

The SIB agents and police pull out their guns, forcing Astorre and his people to do the same. Both sides are pointing their guns at one another with their fingers on their triggers. My squad and I also have our pistols out. Kurtis and I point our pistols at both groups, while Max and Cole point their pistols at the SIB agents and police.

“Pick your side, Sergeant,” the SIB agent says.

“You can’t shoot them without due cause. There’s not even a single warrant out for their arrest!” Kurtis says.

“Come on. Both you and I know their crimes. We can write the report later.”

“They’re just going to turn on you, Kurtis! They’re the reason why the police walked into a trap today, and need to be stopped before they can corrupt the system further!” Astorre says.

“You say that while the president, who is a man of honor, twists the system in his favor. He, along with the rest of you, needs to be stopped.”

“Kurtis!”

“Sergeant. Do your duty, and bring this criminal scum to justice.”

Looking at both sides to see who shoots first, Kurtis seems unsure where to point his pistol until he suddenly points it at an SIB agent and pulls the trigger. We don’t have long to sit with the shocking decision as both sides start shooting at each other, and we, along with Kurtis, shoot the other SIB agents and police. After the smoke settles, Kurtis immediately moves to care for Astorre’s wounded and dead, while I just stare at the people we’ve just killed.

“Xander!” Kurtis yells at me. “Help me over here with these people!”

I run over to help Kurtis patch up a wounded man, and Cole and Max do the same.

“Thank you for trusting us, Kurtis. I know it was an impossible choice to make,” Astorre says.

“Not really. I saw one of them about to pull the trigger on you, and no one who believes in due process resorts to violence as the first course of action,” Kurtis says.

“But this’ll have ramifications for you and your squad. You may have your badges taken away from you.”

“I didn’t sign up to be a police officer to enact the state’s laws. I did it because I thought it was the right thing for me to do. Because when I lost my friends to criminals and prayed to God, I felt the pull of the calling. If this is where it ends, then so be it.”

“Same goes for me. After the war, I wanted to continue to protect this country,” Cole says.

“I don’t need to be an officer to protect my friends and family. They can take my badge if they have a problem with me doing the right thing,” Max says.

Everyone looks at me, expecting an explanation for me becoming an officer, so I say, “I became an officer for the same reason Kurtis, Cole, and Max did. We’ll clean up this mess, Astorre. Just be sure to make your testimony to the public about the corruption within the police and SIB.”

“I will. This whole mess has to go deeper than these few people, and they’ll pay for it.”

My squad and I agree with Astorre: get EMTs here to take care of the wounded and dead, write our reports, and get ready for the next few long days.

Defense of Our Way of Life: Chapter 1 – The Enemy of Civilization is its Civilians

Chapter 1 – The Enemy of Civilization is its Civilians

“Officer Xander Storge. Are you ready?” our SIB contact asks over our radio.

“Yes, sir,” I say, radioing back.

I’m armed with my standard pistol and have a regular policeman’s loadout with pepper spray, taser, extra ammo, and cuffs, and I’m wearing basic body armor and boots. Right now, my squad is sitting in our black police truck, waiting for our contact in the Secret Intelligence Bureau, or SIB, to give us the go-ahead to arrest the suspects we’re after.

“Sergeant Kurtis Thomas?”

“Roger,” Kurtis says.

Our squad leader, Kurtis, wears a helmet, body armor, armor on his shoulders, arms, and legs, and uses an old-school revolver, powerful enough to take a man’s arm from his body.

“Corporal Cole Belmont?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Cole says.

Cole, a veteran of the Great War, is dressed head to toe in blue-and-black armor like a modern knight. He’s wielding a submachine gun and a bulletproof riot shield.

“Detective Max Marlowe?”

“Do we really need this checkup before deploying?” Max asks.

Unlike the rest of us, Max is dressed up in his usual detective outfit with a long coat, dress shirt, pants, shoes, and tie. He’s armed with a throwing knife in one hand and a standard pistol like mine, but slightly smaller so he can conceal it.

“Yes, Detective Max. I need to know that you’re all here and ready. We cannot mess this up.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Max says dismissively.

“Stay focused, Max. We’ll get through this, and things will go back to business as usual after,” Kurtis says.

“Will it? We’re attacking a group of Slavic criminals for trying to influence the country in their favor?”

“Trying to rig the election of our mayor and governor is a serious offense that can land them in jail for the rest of their lives.”

“What about the rumors that the Vorfahren are doing the same? Why aren’t we going after them?”

“Because the SIB has actual intelligence that the Slavs are doing it, whereas there’s no evidence that the Vorfahren are doing the same.”

“I have actual intelligence that they are.”

“Are you talking about the people from the ‘Family’? We can’t always rely on your friends, especially when we have to work together with the SIB.”

“What? You don’t trust me, Kurtis? I thought you grew past your biases toward the men of honor.”

“I have, and I trust that the information your friends got is good. I don’t even like doing this favor that feels like preferring one political party over another, but the SIB wants to work with the police to get rid of a pressing threat to the country, so we have to address this first. We can bring up the next one later to them after this is finished.”

“Besides, the Slavs are worse than the Vorfahren,” Cole says. “At least the Vorfahren value order and tradition. All the Slavs want to do is use the government as a weapon against their enemies and enrich themselves and their backers with the excuse that they’re helping the poor and middle class. It’s all a load of crap.”

“No politics on the job, Cole. This is a job of black-and-white justice, not arguing over political ideologies that are two sides of the same coin. We’re going to go in there once we get the go-ahead, kick some ass, and bring some criminal scum to justice. Am I right, boys?” Kurtis says.

“Yes, sir,” Cole, Max, and I say.

“Damn right I am.”

“You’re clear to go, Angel’s Trumpet. The suspects are all in the same building, and our agents are covering the exits,” our SIB contact says.

“Roger,” Kurtis says.

Our squad heads to the suspects' location: an indoor marketplace filled with vendors selling food, drinks, toys, clothes, and collectables. The people in the marketplace move aside and greet us as we move through the area until we get to the back area. Entering it, we see workers who tell us we shouldn’t be back here.

Kurtis shows his badge and says, “We have a reason to be here. Please, do not get in our way.”

“Put the gun down!” Max yells at someone behind us.

Cole raises his submachine gun and riot shield up, and yells the same thing, while Kurtis and I raise our guns toward the other workers, who have now raised their guns at us. We try to get everyone to lower their guns, but they don’t, forcing us to shoot first.

“Engaging suspects! Keep an eye on the exits!” Kurtis radios over to the SIB.

“My guys are engaging them as well! Get that evidence before anything happens to it and take those suspects in alive,” the SIB contact says.

“You hear that, Cole?”

“It’s not wrong or illegal to kill them in self-defense, especially in this scenario,” Cole says.

“Alive, Cole! Take them in alive!”

I try to do as we’re told and shoot at the suspects’ arms, legs, and lower bodies. My squad and I break into each room, finding mostly products for the marketplace; however, there is one door that contains guns, knives, bats, and crowbars, and another hides a basement door. Going into the basement, we find more suspects, who try and fail to shoot at us. There, we find the fake voting ballots, lists of names, and voting machines that look tampered with.

“We found and secured the evidence,” Kurtis says.

“Good work, boys. Mine are heading in to retrieve it and look it over,” our SIB contact says.

“Are we seriously not going to handle any of this?” Cole asks.

“No. Let the SIB and whoever they chose handle this. We have our own part of the job to deal with.”

Before we leave the basement, we make sure all the suspects are secure.

One of the Slavic suspects says, “We’re only doing this because the Vorfahren are rigging the election in their favor! You better make sure they don’t get away with it either!”

I tell him, “We won’t. I promise you.”

The suspect seems to trust me and doesn’t resist arrest or say anything else. My squad and I leave, go back to our office to drop off our armor and weapons, change into casual clothing, and go out to dinner after a job well done. We eat at the usual Mediterranean restaurant that Max’s friends own. Astorre, well-dressed restaurant owner and leader of this city’s men of honor, stands by our table and helps serve our dinner. He wears a fedora, a striped suit, a dress shirt, a tie, pants, and shoes typical of a man of honor.

“It’s always good to see our city’s protectors here. How was work today? I heard you snagged some scum that was interfering with our honored elections,” Astorre says.

“You heard right, but we didn’t get everyone who is trying to rig the election,” Kurtis says.

“Oh? I heard every criminal at the marketplace was snagged.”

“You know what I mean. The other political party of criminals is still up to something with our election.”

“I know. I already have my contacts working on that. I know you don’t-”

“Thank you.”

“Huh? I thought you wanted the police to handle matters like that.”

“Not in this situation when our hands are tied by the SIB.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Kurtis?” Max asks.

“I’m going to need your friends more than ever, Max. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. It still feels like a dream to me.”

“Then wake up and get your friends and you to work. We need to find out what the two foreign political parties are doing to influence the election and the country to change it in their favor.”

Astore says, “The Vorfahren have been slowing down ever since they saw that their Slavic opponent’s choice for office has been taken out of the race. They seem to only want to play dirty when they think the Slavs are a threat. Beyond that, they’re playing the long game, trying to get people on their side by talking to them, making videos, influencing our culture through art, and trying to be charitable to the poor and middle class.”

“So, they’re a non-issue?” I ask.

“As long as the Slavs are a non-issue. They want to make it seem like they’re on our side and we’re the ones who are two sides of the same coin rather than them and the Slavs.”

“Focus on the Slavs then. I trust them less than the Vorfahren anyway,” Cole says.

“I agree, and let us know what you find,” Kurtis says.

“Yes, sir. Oh, and I’ll do my best to keep an eye on the SIB as well. They have a history of being infiltrated by foreign influences,” Astorre says before leaving the table.

Some officers enter the restaurant and approach our table.

“Is there something we can help you with?” I ask.

“Nah, I just wanted to see if the rumors were true. You really are in with those vigilante criminals, aren’t you? Those so-called men of honor?” one of the cops asks.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re not talking to you, kid. We’re talking to Kurtis,” the other cop says.

“Please, give your fellow officer some respect,” Kurtis says as he stands up. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re talking about you working with criminals. We get using insiders to help you catch bigger fish, but the people you’re working with are still committing crimes. Care to explain yourself?”

Several servers with Mediterranean desserts and coffee approach the officers, with Astorre leading them.

Astore bows his head, raises it, then says, “Welcome, officers. As a token of appreciation for your service to our city, can we interest you in-”

The officers push aside the food and coffee that the waiters are carrying, causing a mess and bringing the attention of everyone in the restaurant to us.

“We don’t need your bribes, criminal scum. We-”

Kurtis steps in front of the officers and says, “You better have evidence to back up your claims. An officer of the law doesn’t judge anyone without solid evidence.”

“You know what these people do, Kurtis. You should know better than anyone how they kill and manipulate the country for their benefit.”

“Do you remember the vigilante threat to our city called For the People? Those people attacked the people you’re accusing of being criminals, and these people threw themselves into danger for their family and friends. No one who is out for themselves puts their lives on the line for others.”

“It’s still vigilantism.”

“It’s not illegal or immoral. Do you think they were just doing it for show? Do you think selfish people with bad intentions put themselves in front of a gun for their neighbors? Do officers cause trouble for people they suspect to be criminals without a warrant?”

“No…”

“Damn right. So, get out of here and don’t come back unless you have a good reason to.”

The officers leave the restaurant, and Kurtis starts helping clean up the mess they left behind. Max, Cole, and I are astonished by Kurtis’ defense of Astorre and his people. Even Astorre is shocked, but he quickly joins Kurtis in cleaning up. They go back and forth about who should be cleaning up, not the other person. I start helping, followed by Max and Cole. Once the mess is cleaned, we leave a generous tip and then leave the restaurant.