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