"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 Nigerian 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 on the news feed.

"No... it can't be..." she whispered.

----

"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, disengaging from the police and 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.

A few 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 behind 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.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.