Four days later
Thursday
Safehouse F
The shit had not just hit the fan; it had fucking vaporised the fan!
That Mathilda had kicked up a fucking shit storm. Whomever she had been targeting was connected and whomever they were connected to had been both pissed and Sicilian. Not a good combination!
We were all gearing up – even Wildcat! I had called Petra, but so far, we had received no response from her; we needed everybody for this. According to Marcus, the Sicilian and Italian population of Chicago had recently blossomed. They seemed to have come from abroad and from neighbouring states. Both Marcus and Voight were worried; these were hardened killers and they were not in Chicago for the sights.
There had also been a growth in Mafia style hits, which were very, old school. Mutilations with power-tools, being at the top of the list.
The reason for us gearing up that evening was intelligence gathered by Voight and his team that anticipated a major breakdown in order, within the City. The alert had gone out mid-afternoon and I had called everybody in.
Battle Guy and Hal were in the Command Centre with Lynx. Kick-Ass, along with, Mist, Medic, Splinter and Eisenhower were at Safehouse D, and would go out in Titan. Jackal, Shadow, Trojan and Wildcat, were also at Safehouse D; but would go out in Iron Hide.
I would be leaving from Safehouse F, on my Ducati.
North State Street and Wacker Drive
"Olinsky!"
"It's Roman, something is happening here. Voight wanted to know about anything out of the ordinary concerning the Mafia or the Sicilians; we have it."
"What do you have, Roman."
"We have a car here, with two dead. They've been tortured, gunshots to the legs and knees, arms and shoulders."
"Fuck; it's starting as we thought," Detective Alvin Olinsky confirmed. "Keep your eyes open, Roman."
East 29th Street and South Calumet Avenue
Sergeant Trudy Platt was a minute from the District 21 building when her car was rammed from the side by a large SUV. She was initially very pissed; she was a Sergeant in the CPD and was not used to being rammed, at least not since she had last been on patrol. Being a Desk Sergeant was rather boring in comparison.
Sergeant Platt jumped out and walked around to the driver's side of the SUV.
"What the hell do you think, you are doing?" She demanded.
The driver was young, male and seemingly not bothered about having rammed a Police Officer's car. The passenger, another white male, just sat and smirked.
"Out!" Platt yelled at the driver, who did so and she pushed him to the side of the SUV and cuffed him.
Then she looked up as the passenger opened his door and came around towards the front of the SUV.
"You stay there!" Platt called over, reaching for her Smith & Wesson Model 60 pistol.
Before she could fully draw the pistol, the passenger raised an Ingram MAC-10 sub-machine gun and several gunshots rang out.
Southeast Chicago
As I cruised down West 38th Street, I saw something familiar.
It was Worm!
I pulled a fast one-eighty, and pulled up alongside Worm who positively jumped out of his skin and started to shake.
"What are you doing out?"
"Err, long story, err, Hit Girl!"
"Make it short, or your life will be shorter," I growled.
"Everybody's been paid to be out here, tonight," Worm explained. "They said, 'Go cause trouble' and gave me two grand. Who was I to say no?"
"I see you again, tonight; in fact, I see anybody out tonight, they die – you get me?" I growled meaningfully. "Go spread the word!"
The scared, rapid nodding told me that the spineless Worm had understood. He ran off as fast as he could. Criminals were being paid to cause shit. Things were getting better and better!
I pulled out my cell.
"Marcus, I just bumped into one of my informants. Apparently the cretin was paid to 'go cause trouble'!" I explained.
"Bit worrying that," Marcus replied. "However, it does kind of explain why so many petty crimes are being committed. Everybody is out responding to 9-1-1 calls and therefore not available to watch out for bigger problems... A very cunning plan!"
"Tell me about it!" I replied.
"Stay safe, kid!"
"You, too, old man."
North State Street and Wacker Drive
The car seemed to bulge, as flame built up within the steel body and then the body burst, allowing the flame to explode upwards and outwards. The force of the explosion lifted the vehicle sixteen feet into the air before it came crashing back down again.
Officer Sean Roman had just milliseconds to respond to what his eyes saw and his brain was rapidly processing, however he had barely started to turn when the explosive shockwave hit him and he was thrown twenty-feet, landing on another vehicle, shattering its windscreen.
The concussion caused him to black out for a moment, before he was able to focus on the carnage before him. Strangely, everything was silent, as his hearing had not returned. He instinctively grasped his radio and sent an alert back to control, but he was unable to hear the response.
His body ached from head to toe, but he consoled himself with the fact that you had to be alive to feel pain.
South Racine Avenue
Chicago Fire, Truck 81 was speeding down the street, with Squad 3 and Engine 51 close behind.
They were on route to a building fire, north of Little Italy. Ambulance 61 had been dispatched elsewhere, but with the intention of joining them as soon as possible.
As they turned down West Flournoy Street, they found their route blocked by a seemingly empty, Chicago Transport Authority bus that was stopped cross the road. Lieutenant Matthew Casey sounded the air horn, but to no avail, the bus did not move. As he climbed down from the cab of Truck 81, he was shot in the shoulder with several bullets from a sub-machine gun. He fell to the street as his colleagues dived for cover within the cab.
..._...
Seconds later, a strikingly slim, blue and grey clad vigilante appeared at the open door pushing the wounded Lieutenant up into the Fire Truck with one hand while she fired a P90 at the gunmen in the CTA bus. She was helped by a white-clad woman in body armour.
"Standby to move!" The white-clad woman announced before slamming the door of the truck.
There was the resounding roar of a 6.7-litre V8 turbocharged diesel as eight tonnes of armoured truck shot past and smashed into the rear end of the CTA bus, pivoting it around and clearing the route.
Truck 81 surged forwards, following in Titan's wake. Squad 3 and Engine 51 followed suit.
East 29th Street and South Calumet Avenue
Sergeant Trudy Platt braced herself for the bullets that never came.
She saw the man drop behind the SUV, the MAC-10 landing on the hood. To her left stood Lieutenant Marcus Williams and his second in command, Sergeant Vicky Richards. Both had their pistols out and smoke curled away from both barrels.
"You okay, Trudy?" Vicky asked, holstering her weapon.
"Hell, yeah!"
Marcus laughed.
"You are under arrest for everything, asshole!" Sergeant Platt announced to the man in cuffs.
"You've nothing to charge me with!"
"Apart from dangerous driving, I'll charge you with vandalism!"
I ain't vandalised anything!" The man retorted as his head was smacked down onto the hood of the SUV.
"You vandalised this SUV!"
The man continued to rant as blood flowed from his nose and the Sergeant passed him to some Officers that had appeared from the precinct.
"Tough old bird, that!" Marcus chuckled. "Let's take my truck."
Safehouse F
The City was going mad!
As I watched Fusion members move across the electronic map, I matched this with reported events occurring around the City. It was shear mayhem.
Hal was busy hammering away at her keyboard while Lynx kept up a constant stream of coffee.
"This is going to be a night to remember!" Lynx commented.
"Tell me about it!" Battle Guy responded as he listened to the snippets of conversation between Fusion members.
Northern Chicago
Detectives Kevin Atwater and Jay Halstead drove slowly down the street.
They were in an unmarked unit and on reconnaissance. Within the space of twenty minutes and two blocks, they had witnessed countless scenes of criminal behaviour, all of it minor. All they had been able to do was call them in and hope that the camera in the car caught most of them. They had bigger fish to search for that evening.
The alert had come from Lieutenant Williams, via Sergeant Voight: Ignore the petty crimes; they were a diversion – look for the major problems. That was exactly what they were doing, looking for the major problems.
The news of an explosion and a Fire Truck being attacked had spread and neither Detective were taking any chances. While Atwater drive, Halstead had an AR-15 ready for use on his lap. Neither was sure whether they had found the trouble or the trouble had found them, either way their windshield exploded as something heavy hit it and exploded into flame.
Atwater slammed on the brakes and both Detectives dove out of the burning vehicle searching everywhere for trouble. There was little to no cover. Halstead called the situation into control and waited for assistance.
Then the bullets started to fly.
Three blocks away
"Atwater and Halstead are in trouble, let's move!" Sergeant Hank Voight called to his team.
Detective Alvin Olinsky floored the car's accelerator. They were followed by another car with Detectives Erin Lindsay and Adam Ruzek onboard. They flew up West Chicago Avenue and turned right onto North Hoyne Avenue, lights flashing and sirens wailing.
As they turned left up West Iowa Street both vehicles came under sustained fire from an alleyway to their right. A minivan blocked the street. A couple of hundred yards up the street Halstead and Atwater could be seen beside their burning vehicle.
"This is not fucking good!" Voight growled as he returned fire with his AR-15 rifle.
One block over
"Come on, fucking put your foot down!"
"Fuck off, Shadow; I go any faster and we'll crash!" Jackal retorted.
"This is so cool!" Wildcat announced from the back seat.
Trojan just rolled his eyes and said nothing, holding on for dear life.
"There!" Shadow said, pointing.
The firefight was not going well.
Voight and his team were very effectively pinned down and unable to provide support for their colleagues up the street. Suddenly, Iron Hide shot out of a side street and came to a halt, providing a bulletproof shield for the Police Officers. Four vigilantes jumped down. Voight vaguely registered that two of them were very short!
However, he valued any support and armoured vigilantes were just perfect for that moment. Obviously, the vigilantes knew who they were, as the tall one with funny ears sticking up took charge.
"Voight, Lindsay; with me! Ruzek and Olinsky, with Shadow!" Jackal announced and Voight just smiled at Olinsky who shrugged but followed orders nonetheless.
The vigilantes had paired off and with two Detectives using them as shields there were two well-armed fire teams, especially as both vigilantes in each team were equipped with a P90 PDW each.
The Sicilians soon realised that they were outmatched in firepower and skill and seemed to melt away within minutes, however they left three dead. Immediately, Voight and his team jumped into the back of Iron Hide. They were taken down towards Atwater and Halstead.
A fierce firefight erupted, but only lasted a short time before those gunmen melted away, too. Neither Halstead, nor Atwater were wounded although they did seem a little surprised to see the armoured vigilantes.
"Thanks for your support, guys!" Voight said honestly, to Jackal.
"Yeah, thanks," Olinsky added holding out his hand and shaking the hand of each of the Vigilantes.
Olinsky then laughed as the shortest Vigilante, obviously a young girl piped up.
"Come on!" Wildcat announced excitedly. "We have more cunts to kill!"
"You heard the lady; let's not stand around like village idiots!" Voight growled with a chuckle and Olinsky just shook his head.
East Pilsen
I was being pursued by several black Kawasaki motorcycles.
Each machine carried a man armed with a Spectre sub-machine gun. Each sub-machine gun had a standard magazine of fifty-rounds. My G-36C only had thirty-round magazines and was a lot harder to operate at speeds approaching sixty miles per hour.
As I careered around a corner, I heard a different pitch of gunfire, coming from behind me, and turned to see that I had a partner.
Petra nodded in greeting, as she came alongside, firing her Heckler & Koch MP7 at the Sicilians. I nodded back in response and we accelerated away east, along West 18th Street
..._...
Petra and I found our route blocked at South Michigan Avenue and we skidded to a halt in the parking lot of an apartment complex. We took cover behind parked cars, beside our motorcycles that annoyingly lay on their sides.
The incoming fire was heavy and coming from two directions, as the remaining motorcycle riders caught up and joined the fight. The majority of the Spectre weapons appeared to be of the nine-millimetre variety and were little more than bee-stings to our armour.
Unfortunately, some had the .40-calibre versions, which stung like fuck!
McKinley Park
Sergeants Fellowes and Murphy were under heavy fire.
Their unmarked Police SUV was wrecked, having been rammed by a large truck. Fellowes had a broken arm, but he was still returning fire with his pistol. Murphy was cut and bruised but alive.
"Need help?"
"Lieutenant, Sergeant!" Murphy growled as Marcus and Vicky crashed down beside them.
"Ran out of doughnuts and thought we'd see what you lazy assholes were getting up to!" Marcus chuckled. "What do I find? You're both sitting on your fucking asses!"
"Sorry, Sir!" Fellowes quipped through the pain.
A loud air horn sounded and Murphy looked past the SUV.
"The cavalry's here!" He yelled.
..._...
Moments later the large armoured form of Kick-Ass appeared around the SUV, seemingly impervious to the bullets flying around.
"You four run out of doughnuts?" Kick-Ass quipped as Medic appeared, with Mist providing covering fire.
Medic rapidly attended to Fellowes and secured his arm in a sling with a splint until a proper cast could be fitted. She also tended to the wounds on Murphy's face where glass had dug in.
Marcus and Vicky were alongside Mist, returning fire. The Sicilian gunmen seemed to be proficient shooters and their fire was very accurate.
West 18th Street and South Michigan Avenue
Petra and I were effectively pinned down by the gunmen.
There was nobody close by, not to mention that everybody else had their hands full. I listened to the chatter over the comms as other Fusion members were engaged in firefights across the City. I studied our location and suddenly, I had an idea and placed a call to a friend.
"Wondered when I would be hearing from you, dear girl!" Mathilda responded.
"You at your apartment?"
"I would ask how you know about my apartment, but why waste my breath... Yes, I am. Is that you making enough noise to wake the dead?"
"Petra and I are pinned down. You should be able to see the bad guys from your place..."
"Already on it – I just wasn't sure who the bad guys were!" Mathilda replied.
There was a pause and then I heard the crack, of a high-powered sniper rifle and briefly popped by head up in time to see a head exploding as the .338-inch Lapua Magnum bullet passed explosively through before hitting the building behind.
"What the fuck was that?" Petra demanded.
"A friend!"
There were four more 'cracks'. The bullets coming in our direction, from the Sicilians, were rapidly diminishing as Mathilda cut them down.
Damn that girl could shoot!
Eleven o'clock
Everything went silent.
"What the fuck!"
That comment seemed to reverberate around the City of Chicago.
All incoming gunfire stopped and the Sicilian gunmen seemed to vanish, leaving only the bodies and the spent casings.
I had heard about coordinated cease-fires, but that was unreal!