Moore shrugged, scratching his thick mustache. "Gotta know how to deal with Miller. He doesn't care if you listen to him or not. It's more important to look like you're listening to him. The appearance of respect when respect is in lieu of, Agent Banks."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." She planted her fists on her hips and stared at the chaos on the screen. "Look at those idiots. A little blood and the crowd goes wild. They won't be satisfied until HC unleashes their street sweepers and makes wetwork of the entire crowd."
"Don't think we'll be seeing any street sweepers tonight. HC knows what they're doing. You embarrassed them with that arrest. Inciting a riot is their little payback. Nothing to worry about. Peacekeepers are automated, so no one worth a damn gets hurt. The crowds blow off some steam, we drive 'em back to their holes, everyone gets back up tomorrow like nothing happened."
Ronnie kept her eyes on the screen, where a rioter threw a petrol bomb at a Peacekeeper, bathing it with fire. "I wish that was all the payback they wanted."
"You think they'll come gunning for you?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
Moore shook his head. "You still insisting that Isaac's accident was intentional? C'mon, Banks. The HSSC isn't out to get you. Thought you were over that."
"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I'm wrong, Chief. But I wasn't referring to me. I did a little research from the last Culling. What was that, four years ago?"
"Yeah, that Yellow King business. Serial killer turned out to be a Denizen, right?"
"Right. He liked to eat parts of his victims."
"Well, he got his in the end. What about it?"
"Same type of execution as Electra. Zeuxis let the crowds tear him apart."
"Yeah, I remember. Not exactly shedding any tears here, Banks."
"Well, you don't know about the aftermath."
"Oh, boy."
Ronnie pulled up a collage of crime scene photos. "We had a spike in murders immediately following that execution. Mini spree that pretty much flew under the radar."
"Murders following an execution? Not hard to figure that bloodlust is like a fever, Banks. Bound to spread if you get too close. Probably gonna be a spike after this one, too."
"Oh, I'm certain of it. Specifically, every person who had a hand in the execution."
Moore paused in the act of yawning. "Say what?"
"See, the thing about the murders after the Yellow King execution was how clean they were. Pro hits, not random murders. I thought that was odd, so I tried to find a connection. It took some time and several forms of identification, but out of the fifteen murders immediately following the execution, thirteen of them played a role in killing the Yellow King. The other two were just regular murders. Messy. Unprofessional."
Chief Moore stared at the screens for a long time. "So you're saying HC let the public execute one their own, then put hits out on everyone who participated?"
"That's what it looks like. All within a twenty-four-hour window."
"Damn."
"They're just toying with us, Chief. They're not interested in justice. Just spectacle. And no matter what, they get the last laugh."
"So we can expect another string of executions tonight?"
"I'd bet my badge on it."
Moore drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Well, nothing we can do about it."
"You're kidding, right?"
He turned, face grim. "Do the math, Ronnie. Last time they lost one of theirs, they took thirteen of ours. If you wanna call street punks ours."
"Not all that participated were murderers, Chief. Five were family members of the Yellow King's victims."
"They became murderers when they participated."
"They were looking for retribution."
"Haven Core would say they got it."
"You're really taking their side, Chief? Seriously?"
He frowned. "What are you suggesting, Banks? You want to put uniforms in the line of fire? You think that will make HC back down? You know better."
"What — I'm supposed to just sit back knowing people are going to be murdered and do nothing about it?"
"Do you hear yourself? Those masked goons tore a woman to pieces. Right on our front steps. In our faces! And we were powerless to stop it. Just like we're powerless to protect the ones who did it. So yes, Agent Banks — you're going to do nothing about it."
"Chief, I—"
He raised a hand. "Pick a fight you can win, Ronnie. This isn't the one."
She paused, recognizing his expression. It took a lot to get Chief Moore upset, but when he did it was game over.
"You're right, Chief. No point getting worked up over a few extra bodies. Listen, I gotta go. That Youth Haven project is kicking my ass. Mayor wants it wrapped up quick. I'm going to try to wrap up a few last-minute details."
Moore leaned back in his chair, staring at the rioters tearing the surrounding district apart. "Understood. I'll be here if you need me. Looks like this is going to go on for a while. Guess I have to get more creative with the peacekeepers. Don't want to send out any warm bodies unless it's absolutely necessary."
Ronnie headed for the door. "Have fun. Make sure to call me if you're sending out the cavalry."
"Don't tell me you're going out there with this mess uncontained."
"I'm taking the spinner. Not like there's a riot in the sky. Plus, I'm headed the opposite direction of this mess."
"At least take Isaac with you if you're going out there. Looks like this stupidity might be spreading."
"Isaac's out there now doing what he can to help out. Not like he's worried about getting hurt."
"Fine. Just check in when you land. Oh, and Ronnie?"
"Yes, Chief?"
"Don't think you're fooling me. Not for a second. So make sure to call in if you get in trouble."
She smiled. "Will do."
The streets burned.
Tina Zhang ran.
Her lungs burned, her vision blurred. She wanted to stop and catch her breath, but she didn't dare.
The wolves were right behind.
The four of them wore wolf masks, and they hunted as a pack. But there was nothing majestic about their exaggerated gait or their manic giggles and cackling laughter. Nothing graceful about the way they corralled her into a narrow alleyway and ran her down.
Tina's leg was hampered by a bionic brace from a recent injury. There was no way she could outrun her pursuers, so she turned to fight. Her hands balled into fists, her teeth clenched. She was surprised to see the men stop in their tracks, stances shifting as though they were struck with fear.
As if the hunters became the hunted.
A shape leaped over her head, metallic and dark. The figure hummed as if charged with galvanic energy; the hairs lifted on her arms as he passed. He landed in a catlike crouch, bathing the alley crimson with the light beaming from his silvery helmet. She didn't know how large he was until he stood, towering over her.
His fists glowed electric blue.
The wolves didn't run. Maybe they were high; maybe they were just desperate. Or maybe they were too scared to think straight. But they charged, howling and swinging makeshift weapons.
The armored figure took them down quickly. Tina saw blurs of movement, methodic and brutal. The wolves staggered like drunks, grunting and yelling. The armored man danced from one to the next, fluid yet strong; his savage punches and kicks backed up by flashes of energy that left the men stunned and broken. The fight was over in seconds. Four bodies hit the ground simultaneously.
One of them remained conscious, dragging himself away on all fours as if retreat was the only thing that existed. The armored man bent down and seized him by the scruff of his neck, speaking in a mechanical growl.
"Tell your friends, if you have any. Tell anyone who will listen. The streets aren't safe for you anymore. Not for anyone that wants to rob, rape, or murder. Your time is up. The streets belong to Vigil now."