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Chapter 16

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Part 3

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Operation "Ensuring Freedom" was many things. Unfortunately, a secret it was not. Even with the PRT in Brockton Bay warned about many of the back-doors in their systems and informants within the organization, there were enough compromised assets left after the initial sweeps to warn Empire 88 and the ABB what was about to befall them. The gangs received just enough warning to go to the ground and fortify their positions. As it turned out, the local Nazis, in particular, had been stockpiling weapons either for precisely this kind of eventuality or in case that their fabled race war might finally start.

And the ABB? They had access to a new Tinker, who fortunately had only limited time and resources to work with, which was a good thing. They also had a serial suicide bomber and a ground melting, rage dragon ready to go on rampage too…

As dangerous as the Empire 88 was, no one doubted that their significantly less numerous Asian rivals posed a potentially much greater threat to the city as a whole. That's why, while regular police, Federal Agents, and multiple SWAT teams headed out to round up as many Empire un-powered members as they could, the PRT, Protectorate and Special Forces deployed to Brockton Bay initially concentrated their efforts on the ABB…

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15 January 2011
Brockton Bay

As far as the ABB was concerned, it always came back to Lung, Brockton Bay's resident S-Class threat. He has been stabbed, shot, with everything from small arms to missiles, people had tried to assassinate him before he could ramp up and do his unique Endbringer impersonation. The last such attempt was a few years ago, when a sniper, allegedly hired by the Empire 88, shot him in the head, only for Lung to get up and rampage through the docks, before cooling down.

Velocity knew that Armsmaster had been working on a special tranquilizer brew in order to effectively neutralize their dragon problem. Unfortunately, said concoction was far from ready. Even more, unfortunately, it fell to Velocity to administer it, after Armsmaster added to it a cocktail of mundane tranquilizers, which would hopefully be enough to buy them time. When Director Piggot gave the go order, Velocity sprinted out of the PRT HQ loaded with foam grenades and two large, tinkertech injectors containing enough witches' brew to put down a herd of elephants. Behind him, armored vans and helicopters slowly left the building, giving him all the time in the world to scout ABB's territory. He easily confirmed that Lung was barricaded within one of his casinos, which ominously had it's basement sealed well enough that Velocity couldn't even begin a break-in attempt without alarming everyone. He noted that at least thirty members of the gangs were on-site and every single one of them was armed with an SMG or shotgun, they had pistols too but fortunately nothing heavier. There was no trace of explosives, which was good, neither a sign of Oni-Lee, which wasn't. Ideally, Velocity would deliver a tranquilizer injection to both of them as an opening move, thus hopefully avoiding a bombing spree. Unless Oni-Lee appeared in the next few minutes, he would be going to plan B, injecting both doses into Lung and hoping for the best.

Plan C called for drone strikes and if that failed, Triumvirate intervention, which would hopefully be avoided, because in that case, this section of the city would be a complete write-off and that was the best-case scenario. It wasn't like the PRT-ENE had the firepower to take out Lung by themselves, they already tried that when he first arrived and it was a miracle no Hero died in that battle when the overgrown lizard handed them their heads without breaking sweat…

Velocity had subjective hours to painstakingly examine the area and report his findings in excruciating detail for all the good it would do. Yet, he was no closer to finding a way into the basement, which was locked up tight and likely containing Oni-Lee. That's why, when the troopers approached and he could hear the irritatingly slow drone of the helicopters, Velocity pulled the pin of a foam grenade and threw it at the basement's door. He pulled out the injectors and left his breaker state so he could properly slam them in Lung's neck before the masked man knew he was there. To the bastard's credit, he sensed something as soon as the grenade left Velocity's field and looked its way, which fortunately served as a distraction. Still, it was a close-run thing. In the few moments it took the injectors to do their job, Lung surged forth and practically had Velocity dangling from his back while doing his best to push the devices deeper into the man's muscle. A wave of intense heat struck him even as he heard a pair of reassuring beeps and he jumped back, entering his breaker state just in time to barely avoid a backhand which would have been nasty – Lung's already had a metallic sheen on it.

Velocity paused for a moment in the middle of the large room, just for long enough to properly aim two grenades so they wouldn't miss the ramping up Lung, then made himself scarce while emptying the rest of his small arsenal, turning a significant part of the gaming parlor into rapidly hardening globs of containment foam.

A moment later, Velocity was outside, standing behind a column of vans that came to a sudden halt with a screech of brakes and burning rubber.

"Tranquilizers and con-foam deployed. Last I saw him, Lung was still ramping up. Half of the targets are foamed along with the entrance to the basement." Velocity reported, before making himself scarce just in case Oni-Lee decided to came out of his hidey-hole.

PRT troopers outfitted with the new alien armors left the vans in a run, followed by Assault and Battery, while Armsmaster and Miss Militia arrived on their motorbikes. Batons and armored fists shattered windows before the troopers threw in flash-bangs and a few precious concussion grenades – the Mandalorian equivalent apparently. Loud cracks echoed throughout the building and Assault powered by Battery breached the doors shooting inside like a human-sized wrecking ball. Two squads of troopers went in behind him, followed by Armsmaster and Miss Militia, armed with a Halberd and a blaster rifle respectively.

The blasters themselves were a massive game-changer as far as the PRT was concerned – every single one of them had a stun setting and hasty tests proved that multiple shots were more or less harmless, merely increasing the length someone hit more than once would be knocked out and making them feel even worse when recovering. In this particular case, this meant that the troopers could afford to go in guns blazing without a care in the world, which ensured that only one of the gangsters managed to get a shot out, which was harmlessly deflected by the armor.

Unfortunately, that was the point when the plan went straight to hell. The first clue was that the largest lump of containing foam was smoking and melting. The second was a part of the floor vanishing into a swirl of darkness, followed by a loud crack of displaced air as it was sucked into the brief vacuum left behind by an exotic tinkertech explosion...

"Rage dragon it is…" Velocity muttered to himself while widely looking around for any trace of Oni-Lee.

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Part 4

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15 January 2011
Brockton Bay

Brockton Bay as a special slice of hell, that was something every cop in the city knew for a fact… at least those who made it past their first six months without running afoul of one of the gangs which in practice ran most of the place like their own fiefdoms. If you were white, you were relatively lucky and safe-ish, if you had the good fortune to live away from ABB or Merchant territory, though the latter were thankfully no longer a consideration. If you were Asian or could pass for one anyway, then you had to contribute to Lung's goons. Being a cop, like Mike Shu was, well that incidental fact was no protection whatsoever for him or his family. Oni-Lee appearing in Shu's bedroom, while his pregnant wife thankfully slept, was proof enough of that, combined with the knowledge that the PRT and Protectorate offered only platitudes when the next unfortunate cop or their family ran afoul of a villain in this accursed city – a depressingly regular occurrence.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Brockton Bay was the Nazi capital of America, which meant that the goose-stepping bastards had high approval and backing on average, in no small part because they did a better job protecting parts of the city than either the police or PRT, which was a sad state of affairs indeed. As a direct consequence, those bastards had many supporters in both the police and City Hall, some more eager and open than others.

If Mike could have afforded to move along with his family, he would have gleefully done it a long time ago. With job prospects being what they were, and the fact that anyone in the BPD was unofficially tarnished as far as most LEOs outside of the city were concerned, he was stuck, hoping to avoid being blown up or turned into chunky salsa. This left him with precious little choice. Besides, it wasn't like the last time the PRT went after Lung they did anything but get a part of the city melted. When the word came from above about the impending operation, Mike ensured that he could get out of sight as soon as possible and make a call to his contact in the ABB. He was sure that at least five other cops in his station alone did the same, warning both the Nazi's and Lung. With the dubious safety of his family ensured, Mike went back to be briefed, at which point he began to regret not taking his chances a few years later and trying to leave Brockton Bay, consequences are damned.

Mike sat on a hard-backed, and particularly uncomfortable plastic chair, listening to Sergeant Green's briefing. While the bastard's face was impassive and properly serious, Shu was sure that the racist prick was gleeful. It was him and his Nazi worshiping buddies who came up with the plan, it had to be.

Ironically, Green was using what everyone who paid attention knew as justification, the audacious bastard. That by itself was worthy of respect, almost but not quite.

"Due to suspected wide-spread sympathies to certain gangs and their creed within the Brockton Bay police force, we were forced to think long and hard about the deployment of our units." Green was saying.

Long story short, Mike thought fuming and barely paying attention, threw the bulk of the not snow-white cops at the Nazis so Hookwolf and company could smear them all over the streets, while the racist pricks would stay back in relative safety watching the PRT and Protectorate get fried by Lung, then run before the dragon could cook them as well. It was an evil and cunning plan, and Shu was sure it wasn't merely Green's doing. Then again, he was far from the only racist bastard on the staff.

Even worse, at least on paper, the plan made sense – every few months there was an outcry when cops left Empire gangers to go with only a warning or got caught on camera socializing with the lowlifes. Those cops were always white, obviously so using primary minority cops and this was important, Shu was sure everyone who wasn't for sure bought and paid for to get rid of them against the Nazi made sense. It could be sold to the Feds and City Hall as the police doing it's best in fucked up situations, at least as no one looked close and hard enough. The bastards were likely going to get away with it too because, in Mike's experience, no one wanted to look hard at Brockton Bay and its trouble.

A few minutes later, they were all at the parking lot, getting into their patrol cars. The precinct's small SWAT unit was with them, boarding their up-armored van for all the good it would do – what use was small arms against many of the Empire's capes? The giant twins wouldn't notice it, Hookwolf was known to tank sustained machine-gun fire and worse when tangling with Squealer's vehicles, then there was Alabaster… it was a long fucking list.

"We're fucked buddy." Mike finally trusted himself to speak when he and his partner were in the dubious safety of their car.

White Horse, the only Native-American man working at the station, snorted. Notably, he wasn't white and loathed the very mention of horses for some reason he wasn't willing to divulge. This meant that various bastards kept slapping pictures of horses, in one case a bunch of horsehair who knew how they got their hands on too, all over his locker.

"Like Custer's last stand on the reverse." White Horse joked.

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"You had to fucking say it!" Mike shouted at his partner, while both of them knelt beside the engine block of their very much shot up patrol car.

The raid of a known Empire safe-house went straight to hell as soon as the first police car approached. A lookout ran inside, five cars and the SWAT van came to a halt near the entrance with the screech of brakes while three more units did the same on the other side of the building. However, before anyone could exit their vehicle, the Nazis opened fire from inside with automatic weapons. The Empire goons shot up Brooker's car and as far as Mike could see, neither the young black cop nor his partner managed to get out before the Nazis riddled the front of the vehicle with bullets.

For once, the SWAT try-hards proved their dubious worth, throwing smoke and flash-bangs. One of them grabbed a metal shield and made his way to the shot cops, while the rest opened up on the safe house as if bullets were going out of fashion. All Mike and White House could really do was take a pot-shot, when no one was shooting at their car, and hope they didn't get shredded too.

"There are no Empire capes here, so it could be worse?" White House just had to open his mouth again.

"Really, man? Really?!" Mike exclaimed, then ducked when multiple bullets pinged off the engine.

"We aren't the only ones raiding them!" White House pointed out.

"You don't taunt Murphy! You never taunt Murphy in this fucked-up excuse for a city!" Mike snapped.

Predictably, at that point, the door of the safe-house exploded outwards in a shower of wood, powdered bricks, and metal silvers, revealing the murder-blender that was Hookwolf.

"Cape!"

"Shoot him! Shoot him now!" The SWAT Captain shouted, while everyone either redirected their fire or in a few cases, tried to run, only to be shot in the back by the Nazis in the safe-house.

The whole SWAT unit opened up at Hookwolf for all they were worth, which did little to slow him down.

Mike didn't think. He aimed at the whirlwind of metal and emptied the magazine in its general direction. He didn't know if he hit it even once, but even if every bullet went home, it had no visible effect. His trembling hands went for another magazine, his last, while Hookwolf went through the back of Brooker's car, slicing through it as if it wasn't even there and headed straight at the shield-toting SWAT member, who kept shooting at him with his pistol to no effect. A moment later, all Mike could see were flashes of light and flying red things, which his mind didn't want to process as pieces of a man being shredded in front of his eyes. He didn't saw a shadow passing overhead, neither did his eyes properly register the angry red bolts raining at the whirlwind of steel still heading for the rest of the SWAT troopers, who broke in the face of the advancing villain.

It was sometime later, that White Horse's shaking and a couple of heavy-handed slaps got him out of his funk and Mike's mind began working more or less properly again. He could see multiple armored forms, just like the aliens, running around and shooting at Hookwolf, while he chased them down, leaving behind more and more half-melted and broken blades...