November 10th, 2038

PM 01:05:05


"The jackal may follow the tiger, but, cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the wolf is a hunter—go forth and get food of thy own."


Chrome turned orange as the deployment light pulsed – fading in and out from behind a cage mounted on the border between the cement ceiling and walls.

You stood in front of a shiny new human-sized tube, its doors sealed tight with the CyberLife logo laser-engraved on tempered-glass.

You and the other women were told to wait, and with havoc being wrought outside; it was difficult.

You let your mind wander, and your eyes drift. Locked on three red tubes with a very different logo branded on the crimson cases.

Dire wolves – each bearing their teeth with dripping fangs and an eyepatch covering their left eye.

The Marauder insignia.

All the necks in the room swiveled towards two blast doors that withdrew into the walls. Three women, the trio who those special equipment units belonged to, entered the armory.

"Awe, look at them…my poor, sweet dears."

Sage Talon.

"'Sweet' gets you killed. Best to be sour at the bite."

Akane Mayumi.

"Cut the bullshit."

Liera Lastimosa.

"Alright ladies, play time's over." She addressed you and the other trembling officers as she marched down the aisle, scowling under her breath and lifting her badge to an electronic scanner.

The curved doors broke apart, the hydraulics keeping them steady as they unlatched with a muffled whine and a plume of fog.

It was one of those contraptions that sounded like efficient ingenuity. Like it was a healthy machine, designed by the best engineers and manufactured by artisan hands.

Sage and Akane followed suit.

"Pst," Tina whispered, and you looked to your right, "Scan your badge. Do what they do."

You raised a brow, tilting your head to look behind you at the Marauders waiting for their compartments to open. Switched back to Tina, and shrugged.

"Seems like a good idea."

You removed your badge, holding it to the black screen.

"ID#5649 Confirmed – Please Standby."

Your pair of doors gave way to a chamber reminiscent of full-body scanners at an airport. Just like one of those, you stepped inside, turned around, and hitched your breath as a black ring lowered; a mesh of green lights sweeping over your body.

When the ring hit the floor, and the thatched scanners hit either side of your boots, a notification flashed up above.

"Please raise your hands."

A sudden movement caught your attention.

Straight ahead, dead center in the opposite row, was Liera.

She had her palms open, elbows out and bent at a slight angle; hands raised over her head as she let out a tired yawn.

You assumed the position, and the circular scanner started to rise.

Liera squinted at you, huffing through her nose.

"Not surprised to see you here." She snickered, "Always getting into shit above your pay grade, eh?"

You'd gotten used to hardened veterans like her teasing you.

Hank. Gavin. Ben. Fowler. Chris. Allen.

It was the norm.

But unlike them, you hadn't fired back at a Marauder just yet.

"One of these days it'll land me a promotion…or a raise." You gave her a sarcastic, thoughtful look, "Yeah, a raise would be nice."

"Sweetheart, if you're in this for the money, you're in the wrong profession."

"Don't I know it."

The ring locked in place at the top of the chamber, and the heavy click scared you.

Liera let out a trickling laugh, "Here comes the fun part."

You swallowed hard, unsure if you should trust what a woman whose arm was blown off in the field would consider "fun."

You got a pretty good idea when built-in panels opened, and racks of gear presented themselves. Mechanical arms hand-selected pieces fit to your size, and sent those same racks back to where they came from.

You released a grunt when a heavy vest dropped over your shoulders, and the wire-and-brace fingers secured the straps and latches behind your back in place.

Stumbled a bit when the light armor hit your shins, elbows, forearms…

You were rebuilt as a soldier, being forced into service by the DPD.

"Never gets old…" Liera mumbled, the light-hearted tone in her voice gone.

Her suit was different, with SWAT brandings, wolves, and hissing vipers stitched on the fabric. Other markings lined the patch over her heart; awards, maybe.

Her brows held a subtle arch. Her mouth was a flat line, and her stare was far gone.

She was gearing up for battle in another way.

"Does it ever get hard?" You asked, having regretted asking when her maroon eyes targeted you, "All this?"

The arms in her chamber pulled her chest plate snug against her frame, but she didn't budge.

"Heh, shit…"

The ribbed lines of a sweater showed through the gaps in her black Kevlar. A metal arm offered her a pair of gloves, and she wiggled her fingers through. Another dropped from above, holding an earpiece that she clipped to the side of her head. A shelf slid out with her helmet resting on top.

She took it, clipped the ring to her belt, and stepped back out onto the floor.

You'd been so mesmerized that you hadn't noticed the extended contraptions holding similar equipment for you.

You'd barely got your gloves on before you picked up your helmet, stumbling off the vinyl footprints that marked the bottom of the chamber.

"'Does it ever get hard,' she asks."

Liera put her hands on her hips, and gave you another one of her cocky grins.

"Easiest job I've ever had."

The rustle of shuffling feet muted sparse chatter as you and the rest of the reformed officers were funneled out in a single-file line.

You rounded the corner, the men pouring from an opening on the opposite side of the hall.

It wasn't too often you were down in the dungeon of Central Station; down where SWAT usually hung out…but as each ant scurried around like members of a colony, you realized how functional it was.

How each corridor was perfectly planned for a swift response to an unexpected turn of events; to control the flow that was an influx of personnel.

"HEY, PARTNER!" Chris dove over someone, landing a hand on your shoulder, "Nice get-up, where'd you get it?"

He was full of life and smiling, something he had a tendency to do even when the going got rough.

"Probably from the same place you got yours."

You tried to return that sense of normalcy, but unlike him or the Marauders, you didn't have a military record to make this all seem normal.

"Mhm, mhm-" He slapped your back, "Look at us, ready to kick some ass."

"All the ass, Chris."

Each stream of men and women marched towards the double-doored entrance of the weapons cellar where you and Gavin had shared a moment in the firing range. The gun racks were emptier than they were, then – eager hands grabbing assault rifles and clips, the emptied cages automatically rotating to offer a full set.

And when those officers were finished, they'd move towards the next section to fill all the slots along their belts.

It was like a doomsday buffet.

"You won't be getting one of these bad boys…" Chris swiped a lock with his TeleBand, plucking an assault rifle of his own before eyeing up the barrel, "Kind of jealous you get to use one of those Smart Pistols though."

He giggled before repeating himself in a mocking tone, "Smort Pistol."

You pursed your lips, unlocking a holster with your credentials before taking the high-tech pistol for your own, trying to make sense of it.

"Your rifle runs off the same system, doesn't it?"

"Sadly."

"You don't like the auto-target-whatever?"

"Nah…" He slung the rifle's strap over his shoulder, letting the gun dangle across his chest, "Nothing beats good old marksmanship."

"Hell no." A gruff agreement interrupted you.

You both turned your heads, finding an over-encumbered Liam Miller waltzing through the door.

He hacked and spit in a trashcan before shifting a shemagh around his neck, pounding a fist against a maglock that opened a specialty weapons crate. He took to a knee, twisting a barrel on a sniper rifle.

"You sniper boys taking the bird?" Chris asked.

"Already cleared the airspace." Liam scoffed, "Dang news people flyin' around like there ain't no damn worry in the world."

"'Ain't no damn worry in the world.'" Grenier put his best Liam voice on, pumping his fists back and forth, "Always so serious."

You ducked as his drone zoomed by, its ocular hub rotating in front of Liam in what seemed like a greeting.

"Someone's gotta be..." He swiped at it, "Outta my face, Widget."

It let out a sad chirp as it flew away, taking to its owner's side while it looked around curiously.

"Don't talk to him like that, you big bully." Grenier looked up, "Hey, Miller-"

"Whaddya want?" Liam whined, looking over his shoulder.

"Not you, I mean 'other Chris.'"

"This shit's gonna get confusing over comms…" Liam mumbled, folding the legs of his tripod before slinging his heavy sniper rifle.

"No shit. We got two Chris's, two Millers…" Grenier laughed, "Hey Liam, if you and I got married, I'd also be Chris Miller. Now that would get confusing."

"Shut…Up." Liam shrugged past him, pulling up his fatigues before strapping himself down with grenades.

Your Chris couldn't stop laughing, even when speaking, "What was your question, Greenie?"

"First off, you don't get to call me that anymore." Grenier held up a hand, "Second, who's your shield?"

"Tch, who do you think?" Chris nodded at you, "My partner, duh."

You gave an awkward wave, perplexed by how Chris knew all these people. He was a social butterfly, and you weren't. So there was that.

But all his acquaintances seemed to be dangerous.

He meshed with them in a fashion similar to your friendship, and you wondered what exactly that said about you.

"Grenier-" A woman's voice came from behind, "Catch!"

His hand shot up without a second thought, knees buckling as a heavy duffle landed in his arms.

"Shit, Mayumi-" He grunted through clenched teeth, straightening himself out, "Why?"

"Because I'm tired of your rambling."

She cocked the hammer on her gun, thumb underneath the strap digging in her neck, "Deployment in 5."

"Ugh…" He looked back to you and Chris, "You guys are riding with us, right?"

"Huh?" You sputtered, "We are?"

"That's what Cooper said."

"Came from the top," Jack butted in, "Unit 32 is officially babysitting."

"Better us than that 31 rubbish." Sage was next to him, strapping unique canisters to herself.

"Still, Talon?"

"That Rebecca woman said she was 'more qualified' than I to be a Marauder. The gall."

Chris nudged you away, moving you down the equipment line before handing over a pack of electric smoke grenades.

"Gotta disengage while we can or else we'll never leave…" He threw a glance behind him at the bickering SWAT team members, "Remember what she said about these."

He held a grenade between the two of you.

"Last resort." You clipped them to the labeled socket along your waist, "Got it."

You geared yourself up with all the tools you needed to put a stop to the madness outside. A pistol, enough ammunition to weigh your waist down, a hardened baton, and ESGs with enough stopping power to blow the entire electric grid.

The straps on your knee guards dug at the pinched flesh they clung to. Your elbows were stiff from the cover on the other side of their bend. Your breathing was stifled from the heavy vest snug on your chest. It was hot underneath the plates along your forearms, shoulders, and thick pads along your legs.

Your cheeks began to flush. Your forehead was slick in an anxious cold sweat.

You were starting to feel claustrophobic.

"Hey, I'll be right behind you." Chris turned you to face a rack of shields with the smooth, reinforced edges facing out, "Just do what you're good at and take all the bullets."

You jabbed his stomach, your armor landing on his with a soft "thud."

"Didn't feel a thing." He smirked, "This MILITIA gear is pretty dope, huh?"

"So 'dope…'" You mumbled, standing before a riveted, metal riot shield with a bulletproof glass window inlaid at eye-level.

When you pulled it free, it clanked against your baton. Hit the floor with a metallic "bang," landing next to your boots.

You skipped over the label painted "RIOT UNIT" and traced your thumb along the curves cut out for quick pistol pops while still providing cover.

Something you'd learned during your CERT training.

Training you never thought you'd put to use. Training you'd fallen asleep during because you, Gavin, and Hank had been out drinking too late the night prior.

You took it all in.

The steel coat of fur that'd grown in after Anubis; the Jackal, weighed your heart and ordered you to be sent back to the afterlife you'd escaped.

You were no longer a rogue wolf like your ex-husband remained – the man that would slaughter a herd of sheep and only consume a portion of the meat before setting the mass grave ablaze.

No longer following the path of Fenrir, the wolf who bit the hand of a god and tested powers beyond his understanding.

You were Loki, playing both sides like the trickster you were, only to put on a new face for each faction to see. A shapeshifter that took to something less selective, or defined – serving whatever higher power fit your needs.

Today, you assumed the role of a shield-maiden. A Valkyrie that flew on her own wings; armed with a protective slab of metal that would decide who died, and who lived.

You would hold the line, and give whoever endangered law and order a swift ride to Valhalla as the onset of Ragnarök threatened to drown the world in a flood of discord.

Because today, you fought for the people; for those who lived on the sidelines of the war as the battle for Detroit reached a new height.

You slid your arm through the shield's interior straps. Let it ground you, wrapping your hand around the inner handle; thumb pressing a button to send the bottom retracting into itself.

Neither you nor your partner would die, today.

"Listen up, people!"

Liera may have been in the room, but her order echoed from the speaker in your helmet still hanging off your belt.

"Captain Allen's already on the front lines, so for right now, you're stuck with me."

She was empowered.

"In this room, there are no more police officers."

Empowering.

"No mothers, or fathers. No brothers, or sisters; husbands, wives, or even friends."

She was inspecting them – the men and women in blue geared up in a watered-down version of her Marauder-grade suit.

"There is no more SWAT team."

She put her hands on someone's shoulders, chin tilting before she tightened a strap. She gave that woman an affirmative nod before continuing.

"No more Marauders."

She finished her rounds, taking her place alongside the rest of Unit 32; the faceless soldiers in black helmets.

"There is only us, against them."

She started at the end of the line with a sweeping gaze – studying the collected squad that'd left behind who they were back in the armory chambers; hung on a rack awaiting their return.

You weren't exempt from that.

"Against this city that refuses to stop tearing itself apart."

Liera clasped her hands behind her back, distant and preoccupied with the responsibility of delivering harsh truths.

"Whatever you were before…"

And then she took on that perfect military stance – unnerved, and unwavering.

"You are now Riot Control."


Behind the Scenes

(Links on AO3)


Anubis

Rogue Wolf (Vargulf)

Fenrir

Loki

Shield-Maidens

Valkyrie

Valhalla

Ragnarök

Opening written to "Missile" by Dorothy

Second half written to "Down to the Bottom" by Dorothy