The Arms of Order: Chapter 1 – Just Another Arrest

Chapter 1 – Just Another Arrest

“Remember. We need them taken in alive,” Kurtis says.

“Remember. I’m allowed to kill them if they threaten our lives,” Cole comments.

“Within reason. Within reason.”

My squad and I get out of our new black police truck, with two front seats, two back seats, and a rear compartment to hold arrested suspects. It’s a government gift for all our hard work and has been our mode of transportation, so we don’t need separate cars or SUVs to get where we need to go. We’ve parked it in a parking lot a few blocks away from the suspects’ location, so they don’t see us coming. Still, the attention we get on the street from passing civilians, who thank us for our service and say hello to us, does bring us some attention. It also doesn’t help that we’re dressed in our usual cop uniforms; I wear a standard police cap, a blue dress shirt and pants, gloves, body armor, and combat boots. Kurtis wears a combat helmet with a king poker card in it, body armor, armor on his arms and shoulders, a blue shirt and pants, and armor on his shins. Cole wears full-body armor from head to toe and looks like a modern knight, while Max has little body armor and instead wears a long detective coat, a dress shirt and tie, and dress pants and shoes.

We make our way inside a shop that also doubles as a home. Cole and Max stand at the exit, while Kurtis and I question the owners, who already look scared to talk to us.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Sergeant Kurtis Thomas, this is Officer Xander Storge, and we’re here to talk to your kids,” Kurtis says.

The woman looks even more distressed now, but tries to smile and hide her emotions. She says, “Officers…please. They’re just young adults who want to take care of us. No one seriously got hurt.”

“So, you do know they were hurting people,” Cole says as he approaches the woman.

“Cole,” I say as I put a hand up to stop him. Turning around, I say, “Ma’am. What your children have done is wrong, no matter how much it helped you in your time of need. What happened is that people were hurt and robbed, and that needs to be rectified. If they turn themselves in peacefully, we can arrange a lighter punishment and forget that you’re shielding them from us.”

“Please, no! I promise they won’t do it again! They’re just starting college, and having a record will cripple their chances at getting good-paying work!”

“Three of them are running out the back! Check to see if the other three are in the shop!” Max says as he ducks his head out of the shop. “Come on, Cole!”

Max and Cole run out of the shop while Kurtis restrains the woman, who tries to prevent us from going into the back rooms of the store.

“Check the rest of the building for the other three, Xander!” Kurtis says to me.

Going into the back rooms, I draw out my taser and yell out for the suspects to come out. Most of the rooms on the ground floor are just storage rooms and don’t have anyone in them, so I take the stairs and am immediately met by the three suspects running at me. In a split-second decision, I fire my taser, bringing down one of the suspects, drop my taser, then deck another in the face, knocking her out, and then start chasing the other suspect, who runs past me. The remaining suspect runs out the door, into the alleyway, and into the city streets. I yell out to people to get out of the way and for the suspect to stop running, only for no one to listen to me.

Civilians get in front of the suspect, grab him, start beating him, and tell me to beat and arrest him. I can only thank the crowd, who cheer with everyone else around me at the sight of the arrest.

“You’re going to jail!” one of the people in the crowd says to the suspect.

“You don’t run away from a cop, idiot!”

“You’re going to get what you deserve now!”

I push the suspect through the crowd of civilians who continue to mock him and even spit in his face. Meeting up with my squad at our police truck, I see Kurtis, who has the woman from the store and the two other suspects, and Max and Cole, who have two more suspects with them.

As we get everyone into the truck, Kurtis asks, “What happened to the third suspect you two were chasing?”

“He ran faster than the others and got away, but don’t worry. I think I know what direction he ran in, so I have some friends looking for him,” Max says.

“You’re not talking about who I think you’re talking about.”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

“Damn it. Let’s get after them.”

We lock up the suspects in our police truck, call in to police headquarters to secure their shop and home, and drive it to the location where Max thinks the remaining suspect is. Going into the restaurant that his friends own, he asks his friends about the suspect, and we are told to come to the back of the restaurant. There, Max’s friends take out the bloodied and beaten suspect, who struggles to even stand up.

“This piece of trash tried stealing a car on the street and was threatening a family for the car keys and their wallets. Give him the worst possible punishment,” one of Max’s friends says.

These friends of Max are all well-dressed Mediterranean men, some of whom wear fancy hats and smoke cigarettes or cigars.

“It looks like you already gave him a punishment of your own,” Kurtis says.

“We did so to protect the family.”

“And then you kept him here in your restaurant?”

“For you officers. We knew you’d eventually come around to us for help.”

“Come on, Kurtis. They’re friends, and vigilantism isn’t punished by law as it used to be,” Max says.

“We’re just concerned citizens, is all, doing our best for our country and valiant police officers.”

“Alright, alright, stop brown-nosing us. We’ll take the boy from your hands. Thanks again,” Kurtis says.

“Always happy to help.”

My squad drags the suspect into the back of our police truck, where his family is in a fit over his condition. We don’t answer any of their questions about how he ended up like this, nor do we respond to any of their insults as we drive them to the processing center to be held before their trial. We hear from police headquarters that the suspects’ store is secure and that the father of the family is being held in the basement. He has a warrant for his arrest and was thought to be in a different state. Additionally, most of the stolen items are in the store’s storage areas and in the house, and they even have makeshift food and drink machines in the basement where they make facsimiles of approved brands that most stores sell, meaning they’ll also be charged with possibly poisoning the public with food and drinks that haven’t been approved by health and food boards. With work done for today, my squad and I head out to dinner at one of our favorite spots in the city, a restaurant in the Loong Dynasty part of the city. Like Friday, they’re having dim sum all day, a type of buffet where all the food comes to you on carts and you pick out what you want.

Since Kurtis speaks the language and knows the people, we get the freshest batch of food. We never get tired of seeing the Loong people get surprised when they see Kurtis speaking their language, as if a black man speaking it is unheard of to them, and for some of the natives of the Asiatic kingdom, it is, from what I’ve heard.

As we eat, Kurtis raises his cup of tea and says, “To another job well done.”

We all clink glasses, down our tea, and get another refill from the teapot that’s been given to us.

“To many more bastards getting punished,” Cole says with his glass raised high.

“Yeah. These new thugs have been giving vigilantes a bad name,” Max says.

“Vigilantes already have a bad name as is,” Kurtis says.

“Not like the ones that we work with. I mean, they’re like the ones we just arrested, people who are out for themselves and pretend that doing it for the people they love is a valid excuse. Those people weren’t even poor. They just wanted more and more things to no end.”

“Your vigilantes, those so-called men of honor, also cause trouble for their own reasons,” Kurtis says.

“Maybe, but they help us and mostly keep to themselves.”

“Max, I know that you grew up with them, and may or may not be an official member of their family, but I need you to realize where your true loyalties are, detective.”

“They’re to God, my family, and country, in that order, sergeant. Just like you.”

“I hope so. I don’t need you viewing vigilantes as heroes like everyone else is, because a man who is rumored to be a man of honor is president and has loosened the laws on vigilantism and even rewards it. People are stupid to get themselves in danger unnecessarily because they want to be heroes without restraint.”

“They do help us-”

“They unnecessarily get involved in gunfights and throw themselves at dangerous criminals. Do you know that there are a bunch of amateurs out there playing superhero, going after the bounties that the SIB have on the most wanted people in the country? There’s a reason why not many of those bounties have been claimed. People think it’s easy to shoot a criminal and bring them in dead or alive, not realizing how dangerous these people are.”

“Are you still being bothered by your past, Kurtis?” Cole asks.

“Yes. I remember my childhood friends dying trying to be heroes because they were too impatient about waiting for the cops. It’s why we need more order in this country, not more chaos.”

“What about orderly chaos? Counter-revolution?”

“Corporal, you should know from your experience in the Great War that only systems of order can bring true peace to the world.”

“It hasn’t done much to change it from my point of view. President Campione may be a man of honor, but he’s brought more wealth and peace to this country than the other crooked politicians, who put us into that useless world war that changed nothing. Hell, even the Vorfahren, who took over their government and neighboring countries, brought more peace to the world than their so-called systems of order.”

“Don’t get political on me, Cole. There’s no room for that in this business. The Vorfahren are mass murdering psychos anyway, and use the appearance of tradition, honor, and order as an excuse for their many atrocities on those that oppose them.”

“Can we all at least agree that the Slavs are the worst out of all of them?” Max asks.

Kurtis and Cole nod and agree.

“How about we agree to enjoy our dinner and not argue about our opinions?” I ask.

“That’s exactly what we should do. Thank you, Xander,” Kurtis says.

“We can talk about this later, but we’ll need the help of vigilantes to better combat this new syndicate we’re up against,” Max says.

“This so-called syndicate is just a collection of vigilantes. Once we start taking out more associated families, they’ll turn against one another. They’re no big deal,” Kurtis says.

“I hope they don’t turn out to be a big deal,” I say.

“If you can’t say anything good about the men of honor, then you can at least acknowledge how they focus on other criminals rather than prey on civilians. This syndicate has no honor and just goes after who they feel like,” Cole says.

“Such is the nature of vigilantism.”

“I thought we were done talking about this,” I point out.

“Damn right we are. Let’s talk about more important matters, such as our next stop: the barcade or basketball court,” Kurtis says.

“Basketball court,” Cole says.

“Nah, we gotta go to the barcade,” Max says.

“Why? You still upset that you horribly lost to me in most of the games we played?”

“I just want to get even is all. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Okay, but don’t cry when I beat your ass again.”

My squad and I laugh and talk about more casual matters for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, I can’t help but think about the vigilantes we’re up against and hope that they’re not too serious a threat.