Packed streets slowly turn to attention as a megaphone blares, “Stand down.” A public park the most active in years with protestors screaming to the skyscrapers surrounding them. Shattered glass covers the footpaths from men and women hurling stones and bottles through windows. “Stand down!” the amplifier peaks, screeching with feedback that causes the converging crowds to flinch.
“Fuck it,” Sebastian remarks and passes the megaphone to the man behind him. Eight men with each standing over six-foot tall don their helmets, ears pricking out through manufactured slits. He draws the Glock from its holster, chambers the round, and fires into the ground with an explosion. Two men stand to his left and another pair to his right, forming a row of five. Three more form a second row spaced one apart from one flank to the other. “Maintain Echo, if things become dicey switch to Maverick,” he instructs. “Issue another warning.”
“Stand down or prepare to be suppressed,” the man behind Sebastian’s voice is much calmer, but laden with a sinister emotion. His warning is ignored with a firework spiralling upwards and crashing through a much higher window before exploding. “Get down!” The eight men rush to where the glass has begun to shower, throwing their heavy coats over as many bystanders as possible to protect from the shards.
Having actively thrown his coat closer to the explosion’s impact, Sebastian’s face is covered in blood from an unlucky chunk piercing through the front of his helmet and slicing his forehead. “Divide and find whoever launched that,” the wolf demands. “Treat them all as hostile.” His squad breaks up, abandoning their coats to the crowd and pushing towards the park where the most active protestors have gathered. “Fucking disgraces,” he mumbles. The area which had been showered in glass is still petrified and cowering. “Is anybody seriously injured?” he tries to shout over the increasing noise, pushing his way nearer to building. Sebastian looks over as many people as he can on the way to the front steps. From his slight vantage point he notices a small perimeter to his left, and begins to shove his way there. “Step aside.” He doesn’t wait for the barrier to break, inserting himself forcefully.
A red fox twitches on the cement, a large chunk of glass protruding from the figure’s shoulder. “Help me…” the victim whines. Blood seeps out of the wound, staining everything it touches red.
“Jamie come back to the explosion, we have someone critical,” Sebastian speaks to the radio adorning his chest. The wolf crouches down and touches the bloody fox lightly on the other arm. “Help is coming, nobody touch him,” he announces. The crowd immediately surrounding them that knows starts to disperse.
The hare is the smallest of the group but his much gentler presence suits their needs when sensitive situations arise. Jamie kneels and carefully mimes touching the glass. “I can handle this. But sir, they’re going to need you at the park,” he reports confidently.
“You fucking idiots, kill yourselves!” half of the gathering beckons against the group which had launched the firework. A collective huff emanates as they collide with the other side. “Push!” they growl and start to buckle the opposing line of masked protestors.
“Report,” Sebastian speaks into the radio, scanning the crowd as a second firework whistles into the air only to sputter down after launch.
“Black is being pushed back, blue is gaining ground, greens are dispersing,” one of his squad answers.
“Might need you here,” another sound’s over the radio.
Sebastian charges opposite the sea leaving the scene, taking the orange flare-gun from his left hip and firing it skyward. “Converge on me.” The squad of eight men Sebastian leads hold absolute power over the situation. A bittersweet taste to regular officers who are relegated to handling greens; innocent people caught in the contagious hysteria and without desire for conflict. His men regroup minus Jamie and are issued a simple order, “Disperse with impunity.” There’s a scowl across his bloody face. “And arrest the troublemakers,” he adds and waves his hand.
None of them break from his side, and the staunch line of heavily armoured men approach the new line between each side. “Do we issue a warning?” The man standing at Sebastian’s side doesn’t hold the megaphone much longer as the wolf snatches it.
Walking alone into dead man’s land between the protestors, Sebastian holds the megaphone to his mouth and announces, “You’re all breaking the law.” The two sides begin to shuffle around uneasily, some of their ranks breaking off in fear. “Black to green, catch them first,” Sebastian issues his order via radio. The regular police sweep the rear flanks, ensnaring members of the mob trying to blend back in with the innocent to flee. His strength and bravado are unmatched by either side, nobody daring to even approach the daunting figure from the front or behind.
“No more police!” the crowd behind roars. With renewed spirit, they start to march forward chanting, “One, two, three, four, canine law can’t beat us all! Five, six, seven, eight, screw your feline crushing state.”
“This is our country, respect it or leave!” In response to their opponents moving, the blue army proceeds forward. The distance rapidly shrinks between the two converging masses and the wolf standing in the middle.
From the corners of his eyes he can tell the masked men and women behind are closer. “Get ready.” Sebastian doesn’t waver despite the overwhelming numbers encroaching on his position. “Now,” he speaks calmly and draws his Taser first, firing blindly to his rear.
Another collection of shots ring out, blanks purposefully loaded into the first round of his squad’s guns. The crowds flinch and stumble from the cacophony, many trying to cover their ears. Standing on the sidelines, his men fire their own Tasers and of the seven launched in total, four connect and bring a target down. “Live ammunition sir?”
“No.” The Tased victims writhe as their allies back down and start to flee en masse. In the commotion, each member of the squad indiscriminately tackles an escaping protestor. A vigilant few from the two mobs meet at the middle in a flurry of wild punches and grapples, taking themselves to the ground. Sebastian stands proudly at the middle of it all, and once the crowd has largely dispersed aside from the bloody brawlers nearby, the Tased, and the tackled; he breathes a sigh of relief. The twenty-six resulting captives are handcuffed and brought into a line. Eighteen sport a mask or bandanna of some kind, the remaining eleven unafraid to hide their faces.
The cowards have their protection stripped, menacing snarls wiped away as their identities are revealed. “Nine canines, seven felines, four rodents, three rabbits, two birds, and a kangaroo,” Sebastian comments, having them all split up by species for the identification process.
A rabbit dressed in the cities standard police uniform approaches and taps him on the shoulder. “Sebastian, your presence is required by the mayor,” the woman speaks firmly. “We will handle the rest.”
The blood covering his face has dried and stuck the fur together in two bunches practically resembling horns after he pulls the cracked helmet off. “Make sure they’re all punished,” he responds, walking away at a brisk pace followed closely by the rest of his men.
Reporters are gathered around the office where the police chief has been dragged out of hiding for a statement. “All protestors are being prosecuted equally. This has been a disturbance of the peace and will be treated as such,” the feline chief reports. His fur is speckled black with a coat of light brown and tight, rounded ears atop his head aimed forward.
“Were weapons fired? How many people got injured?” the media call for answers, but receive no response.
“Omega protect.” The men rush into position; a circle being formed around Sebastian as they push upstairs and inside.
Pacing back and forth just inside the door the mayor is intensely focused on the tiled floor. His shaggy fur has left a trail of orange and black, already stressing about the fallout from the clash. “Bastard,” he curses. “Eight days and it’s already this bad.”
“Ahem,” Sebastian coughs to notify the man of his arrival.
The man stops and glares at the special team, spread in a line across the front door. “Here I was hoping no begging that today would go without incident,” he complains, bundling a fist and belting himself in the forehead.
“I told you that I would do what needed to be done,” Sebastian replies, standing tall and looking down at the dingo.
“I’m not talking about you.” The mayor shakes his head and casually waves off the defence. “Dammit how am I going to counsel this…” he returns to acting like nobody is around, stroking the fur along his chin in thought.
Sebastian stomps his black boot on the ground, 200lbs of concentrated force cracking the tile. “You called me in now get to the point,” he snaps.
The mayor flinches and freezes in his anxious steps. “You will need to issue a statement. Your actions will be placed under review. Yes, yes, they should buy that, right?” His rapid and shallow breathing starts to ease following the moment of clarity. “Oh boy, oh boy.” The men stand aside to let him exit as he makes his way out to an uproar, jittery as he stands in front of the media. “On behalf of the city, I apologise to all those who were injured as a result of today’s protests. A full investigation into the decisions made by the special force overseeing operations of demonstrations will be conducted. The man responsible for those decisions will be speaking to you all next.”
Thrown as bait to the ravenous bottom-feeders Sebastian growls, “That little-dicked weasel.” He storms out of the office and pushes the mayor out of his way, claws digging into the man’s shoulder for a fraction of a second.
“Why did you shoot? How many people did you injure? Who gave you authority? How much force is too much? Do you have anything against felines?” the questions are shouted and there is no end in sight. “Who are you? Why are you above the law? Were any arrests made? Why disrupt a peaceful protest?”
The army of cameras is focused on him from all angles adds to the frustration building under his bulky frame. As he prepares to answer the first volley of questions, another is thrown catching him off guard. “Do you like blood on you?”
Switching off his brain and allowing instinct to drive, Sebastian’s heavy footsteps thud down the stairs. Snatching the closest reporter and clamping his claws around their frail neck. He throws the man to the ground, an entity of complete enmity for the world to see, finally breaking his silence, “I love seeing innocent men and women get showered in glass. That was no peaceful fucking protest you disingenuous scum.” Half the cameras are aimed at the wounded Shih Tzu, the others remaining glued to the disgusted wolf.
“What the hell?” Tyler’s eyes are glued to the television screen, the news just replaying the brief choking and toss to the ground.
“I love seeing innocent men and women get showered in glass.”
“That’s not like him,” Tyler remarks in disbelief.
Sam hangs from his side with eyebrows quirked as it cuts from what Sebastian had said over to the injured canine. “Ty?” He touches the trembling paws of his boyfriend. “You know he wouldn’t say something like that,” Sam speaks to console him.
Growing nervous about their relationship and the violent display of the boy’s guardian, Archibald narrows his eyes. “Buddy, come here,” he says with a few motions of his fingers.
“No,” Sam argues and cuddles closer. “There’s no way that’s what he said. Check the other channels.”
“Samuel, he still just threw a man by the throat. Come here,” Archibald demands.
“Ty didn’t do it, you can’t just blame him for what Sebastian does.” The family stare each other down, disrupted by the wolf shoving his partner off and heading to the back door. “Ty don’t go.” Sam catches him before he has even left the house.
“I love seeing innocent men and women get showered in glass. That was no peaceful *beep*ing protest you disingenuous scum,” a different channel plays the full statement, followed up by amateur filming that shows the firework and the ensuing glass rain.
“Hear that honey, you’re right.” Sam pulls him back toward the living room.
Archibald looks at the ground in disgust at his own vile assumption. “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologises and throws the controller away, leaving the channel to play out the rest of the interview beyond where the other had cut from.
“I was given charge of the police forces assigned to today’s protests. The only injured parties and arrests were those of active aggressors, and people injured following an explosion of glass above a civilian area after a firework was launched. And the man behind me, who is more than welcome to sue,” Sebastian’s interview plays out in full. “In total, there were seventy arrests; twenty-eight of which were performed by myself and my men in the midst of the clash, the remainders caught fleeing or attempting to disguise themselves as innocent by regular officers. My name is Sebastian Reider, and I serve the minister of civil defence.”