“Chapter 38”

"Chapter 38"

"As MacSwain was escorted out, the resounding clang of the doors closing startled many."

"'The handover of the Fishtail District Police Station is now complete,' announced the Chief. His voice compelled everyone, including Orr, to stiffen up even more. 'I'm Garcia Darian, your new Chief. We all know the situation in Fishtail District, and I don’t have time for niceties. Now, go outside and line up in groups of ten!'"

"Instantly, everyone surged towards the exit. Orr, turning to leave, was squeezed against the wall... His height and weight were no match for the throng of burly men, and he found himself lifted off his feet. Though Big Mac tried to come to his aid, he too was ultimately swept outside."

"'Bang!' As the crowd thinned, Orr finally landed back on his feet."

"The new detective, one of the two who had paid Orr extra attention earlier, laughed loudly when Orr looked over. With dark hair and big eyes, he grinned even wider, sticking his tongue out at Orr."

"Unmoved, Orr straightened his disheveled uniform, saluted the crowd, and followed the last few officers out. To Orr, these new faces seemed like either hardened criminals or victims sent into the lion’s den."

"Now feeling heavy-hearted, Orr suddenly craved deep-fried sesame balls made of glutinous rice, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. They could be filled with red bean paste, brown sugar peanuts, rock sugar sesame, or even stuffed with ice cream or whipped cream, topped with chocolate sauce."

"A bite into these, and all worries would disappear."

"But in this world, there was no glutinous rice, nor any kind of rice, and even the flour was terribly substandard."

"Sighing, Orr stepped outside the police station."

"Big Mac's team had saved a spot for him. As Orr took his place, a new detective called out both Big Mac and Derrick."

"The two rivals were now in the same team, following the detective back into the station, straight to the armory."

"There, Orr saw the missing Bonny. He had invited Bonny to try new potstickers, but the man had vanished. Now Bonny looked scruffier, wearing only a dirty vest, his hair a tangled mess, with thick eye gunk in the corners of his eyes. He gestured for them to help from behind the opened iron bars."

"It was colder in the basement than above ground, yet Bonny was in such attire."

"They were then summoned into the armory to start moving ammunition."

"While heading to the spot indicated by Bonny, Orr noticed another familiar face in a cage: 'Buttry?'"

"Bill Buttry, the boss of the Hook Gang, was locked in that iron cage. Clutching his clothes, he sat in the corner. Hearing Orr's voice, he lifted his head, offering a weary smile."

"Don't dawdle! The others outside are waiting!"

"As long as he's alive... it's good that MacSwain didn't finish him off."

"The ammunition was moved out and then loaded up. Each of us, including Orr, received a TA1045 and five magazines – the same semi-automatic rifle Orr had tested before."

"Equipped and stepping out from the armory's underground passage, the sight that greeted Orr made him shrink back in surprise."

"Chief Darian, along with two other new detectives, stood outside, all donned in full steam rifle gear."

"The steam rifle, technically a steam shotgun or heavy rifle, requires a gas tank to operate. This tank is akin to the LPG cylinders widely used in Kindred Home during the 90s but is even larger, weighing around eighty kilograms. Besides, there's a mounting stand, and the rifle itself is massive, weighing over forty kilograms with the stand."

"All combined, it's almost as heavy as a Big Mac or a Danny Cardo."

"Orr had seen this contraption in newspapers, where many labeled it as a 'portable miniature cannon' – not exactly a personal weapon."

"Orr could manage wearing such gear, but he had never tried it. Seeing others in it now, especially with the bulky gas tank, was visually striking."

"He could hear other officers gasping and swallowing around him, clearly as awestruck as he was."

"'Are you ready? We're about to move out!' Chief Darian asked."

"A slightly shaky voice responded, 'Ready...'"

"'Are you ready?!'"

"'Ready!'"

"They boarded police vehicles in the backyard, heading towards Orr's well-known Long Ditch Street. Orr took a seat by the door, but the opaque windows of the vehicle denied him any view outside."

"He felt eyes scanning him – not with the malice or wariness he encountered in the alley and Beck Street, but mere curiosity. Orr, however, couldn't be bothered to meet their gaze, even closing his eyes instead."

"We can't get through!" shouted the officer driving the vehicle.

"Get out," ordered Chief Darian.

Orr opened the door and jumped out.

This was the last turn before the Long Ditch Street station when coming by public train. But now, the way was blocked with a haphazard pile of crates, pushcarts, doors, sofas, and beds. Burn marks were visible on some items and nearby buildings.

"The gas station is near here. They're really not afraid of an explosion."

"This isn't to stop anyone, just to prevent those outside from seeing inside," MacBig whispered to Orr.

"What's the point?"

"The point is to tell those inside they can do as they please."

“……”

"Back off!" yelled Chief Darian. The officers had barely stepped back when there was a loud "boom."

The steam rifle, rightly called a "miniature cannon," was not just loud but powerful.

The makeshift wooden barricade was blasted away in the middle, collapsing quickly. Chief Darian glanced at them: "Go in!"

While MacBig and the others hesitated, Orr, already working the bolt of his rifle, charged in. He felt both exhausted and restless, wanting to act yet feeling utterly drained.

Orr walked on the broken wood into Long Ditch Street. The street was transformed beyond recognition.

The gas station was intact, with wooden bars haphazardly nailed across its once-beautiful glass windows. It seemed both gangs, though fiercely battling, hadn't lost all reason – a gas station explosion would mean doom for the entire street. But this was the only shop still standing. Buttry's General Store, George's Flour Shop, George's Bakery, Taut's Pizza, Hook Gang Tavern, the shoe store, the second-hand shop…

The best among these stores had their doors smashed, signs broken, and goods ruined. The worst were burned to ashes, like Taut's Pizza, still smoldering in places.

"Derrick, take your men out, gather anything resembling a person, dead or alive, up to the range of George's Bakery. Biddle, your team follows Derrick's for protection."

"Yes!" Derrick and MacBig exchanged glances, shaking hands. Their subordinates also shared awkward smiles with each other.

Though they might be adversaries away from this situation, spitting at each other, for their own lives, they now must trust each other as comrades in battle.

"Don't worry, stay close behind me," MacBig whispered to Orr.

"You once said..."

"Hmm?"

"You said that storming in and taking over industries was a thing of the last century. So, in this century, they just destroy them, waiting to rebuild."

Is this a gang fight or a war? And this is just one team. Other police units are heading to the Fish Tail District docks, Iron Cross Street, and other areas. If it's the same everywhere, it's a total disaster. Even if other areas are better off, it's not exactly good news.

MacBig was silent for a while: "Last time, it wasn't this bad."

Because last time, the police didn't completely let go and ignore everything.

The street, seemingly a pile of ruins, actually had many people. As the officers approached, those people scurried around like mice hiding in the cracks of a barn.

"Bang!" A gunshot suddenly rang out behind them. Orr turned, gun in hand.

A man kneeling on the ground was shot and fell, executed.

Then it was their turn to find someone. Orr, feeling emotionally unstable, chose to be the one escorting them. He wouldn't pull the trigger, but he needed to understand why Chief Darian ordered the shooting.

"Did you search him?" Chief Darian asked.

Orr shook his head.

"Search!"

Orr, inexperienced in this, hung his gun in front, clumsily mimicking what he'd seen on TV, starting from the armpit...

Just touching the armpit, he felt something. Orr tore open the man's coat and lining, finding several Ekos. After finding the coins, he felt something was still off. Unable to undress the man because of handcuffs, Orr roughly tore his sleeve, revealing a bandage with two thin gold necklaces inside, one stained with dried blood.

Not done yet, he found more Ekos at his waist.

Continuing downward, Orr asked him to remove his shoes. Holding his breath, he discovered a few scattered pearls and a gold tooth inside the shoes.

Holding these items in his hands, Orr stood up.

"Robbery, murder, and… rape," Darian pointed with his gun at the man's pants.

"No, I just took some things off dead bodies. They don't need them anymore! I didn't kill anyone! Nor did I rape!" the man protested.

"The bloodstain on your jacket, it's from close-range splatter, face to face," Darian grabbed the man's jacket, "And this stain on your pants, it's from folding them down. What does a man do that requires pushing down and folding his pants?"

"I-I saw someone getting killed. The blood is from my wife's..."

"Death penalty," Darian turned to Orr, "Officer Orr, would you carry it out?"

"I'll follow your order," Orr's heart raced. The man tried to lunge at Orr, mistaking his strength, but his struggle was futile. Orr kicked behind his knee, causing the man to fall and howl in pain. Realizing his fate, he began cursing loudly, then shifted to begging, mentioning a wife and children to care for...

"Bang—"

The semi-automatic rifle, much more powerful than a pistol, blew off the man's skull at close range. His body thumped to the ground.

"Harsh times call for harsh measures," Orr told himself. He lowered his rifle and saluted Darian.

Darian nodded back, signaling him to continue working.

The responsibility of escorting was no longer solely Orr's; it was now rotated among the officers.

After searching up to the bakery, they moved forward. In this area, all living persons found were adult men. The dead included men, women, the elderly, and children. The earliest died six days ago, already decomposing and smelling. The latest bodies were still warm. Regardless of their state, if something looked remotely intact, it wouldn’t be found on the dead, even those burnt to death.

Some bodies were found with teeth missing; their mouths agape, the corners torn – human teeth, ideal for making dentures, can sell for up to 2 gold Huos, especially if they are white, shiny, and well-shaped.

Orr discovered the body of the flour shop owner, plump George. His hands were crushed, but the fatal wound seemed to be a gunshot to his back. Orr wondered what George tried to protect. The most painful sight for Orr was the children, those he knew by name or merely recognized.

The owner of the second-hand store's wife and daughter were found hanged at the back door of their shop. They weren't just violated; their bodies bore numerous scars.

One by one, the bodies were moved and laid out on the street.

The discovery of a dismembered corpse initially shocked the officers, but what followed was worse – a bonfire with charred bones and a soup pot that had long since cooled.

Big Mac was vomiting; he was surprised Orr wasn't.

In reality, Orr was feeling numb.

As more culprits were caught, the frequency of execution gunfire increased. Not everyone was shot; the survivors were handcuffed in pairs – the left hand of one to the right hand of another, ten people back-to-back in a circle, making escape impossible even without guards.

Gunfire erupted again, but this time from an unexpected direction! A mob of about twenty hooligans suddenly burst from an alley. The patrolling officers, caught off guard, lost three of their own.

The officers quickly found cover and took down the leading thugs.

"Get down!" Darian's command cut through the chaos.

"Boom—!" A massive explosion roared, and Orr felt its destructive force whisk past above him as he lay on the ground.

"Charge!"

Grabbing his rifle, Orr sprang up, reloaded, and charged into the fray.

Half an hour after the firefight, Orr regained his composure, sitting amid the rubble, panting heavily.

"Are you okay?" Chief Darian stood in front of Orr, no longer in the full steam rifle gear, holding a TA1045 like Orr.

"..." Initially, Orr wasn't physically tired, just mentally exhausted. Feeling rejuvenated near Darian, Orr replied, "I'm fine, thank you."

"Come with me, we need to gather everyone."

"Yes." Orr stood up. "May I ask a question, Chief?"

"Just call me Darian. What is it?"

"Will old Chief Maxwell be executed?"

"...Probably not."

"Is that so? That's unfortunate." Orr once had a good impression of the old chief, but now he only wished for Maxwell's miserable end - was he aware of what he had condoned? If not, he still deserved to die. If he did, he deserved even worse.

Tom Matries, who killed Mrs. Buttry and little Cole, brought the wood; the Greedy Hammer gang started the fire, but old Maxwell... he could have stomped it out, yet chose to pour a full bucket of oil on it.

Darian blinked, looking at Orr.

Orr also looked at him. Given their height difference and proximity, Orr had to tilt and crane his neck up, "Is there a problem, Chief?"

"Yes." Darian suddenly reached out and covered Orr's neck with his hand, stroking it as if petting a cat, from Orr's neck to his back, "Go back to the cars, join the reinforcements and take care of the injured."

"Huh?" Orr was baffled by the petting.

"Follow the order, Officer Orr."

"Yes..."

Under the command, Orr was driven out of the frontline.

Returning to the carriages, he realized more people had arrived, not just policemen, but also hospital staff and priests. The injured policemen had already been evacuated from the battlefield, receiving basic medical attention before being sent to the hospital.

—Injured rioters? There were none. Only the dead or those who surrendered unharmed.

That night, Bill Buttry was released, taking away some prisoners with him, then Orr lost track of him.

This battle, spanning the entire Fish Tail District, lasted seven days. The newspapers reported seventeen deaths, but in reality, the casualties among the Fish Tail District police far exceeded that number, at least one hundred and seventy. However, those who could afford newspapers didn't bother to come seeking death; they just stood atop the Signet Department Store, gazing at the refugees on Horseshoe Street, sighing with pity. Meanwhile, those actually suffering couldn't afford newspapers, let alone question the published content.

"Sorry, I'm late again today." It was night, but fortunately, the moon was bright. Orr carried a small milk pot in one hand and a lantern in the other, bringing bread porridge to the Burned Lady and Pale-faced Man.

"Seeing you alive is a joy. Hahaha!" Pale-faced Man pulled out the wooden bowl and spoon Orr had given him on the first day, eagerly eating the porridge. After finishing, Orr collected the empty pot and left. Both Pale-faced Man and Burned Lady, licking their bowls, mumbled their goodbyes, without much conversation.

"Coming out like this without your uniform is a bit dangerous."

"!!!" Orr was startled by the sudden appearance of a tall figure.

His widened eyes made Darian smile: "Though the riots have calmed and the refugees have returned, it's still unsafe outside. However, Officer Orr, I'm glad we finally have time to talk privately."

"Yes, you're right. Uh... First, I must say, my knowledge of the Blood Clan is less than a sesame seed's worth, and as for 'someone' more behind the scenes, so far, I don't even know his name. The moment you appeared, I was completely petrified. So, uh, I don't think you can get much from a small patrolman like me."

"Currently, I'm the Chief, and you're a patrolman, but in reality, we're both your subordinates. The Fish Tail District should have been stable, allowing you to go through an initial development phase before progressing further. But old Maxwell made a foolish move; his indulgence led to a riot, complicating your future work."

"Uh... You're the Chief."

"No, as I said, we're all your subordinates. Now that everything has calmed down, from today, please start giving orders."

What he said seemed "a tiny bit" different from what Orr had expected to discuss.

"No, no, I'm just a patrolman."

"I understand. For now, I'll handle the police station's affairs and await your instructions for any changes. Next... do you know what we are?"

"Are you werewolves?" Orr asked casually. Being a vampire himself, the existence of werewolves wouldn't be too surprising. He had seen in movies on Blue Star that werewolves and vampires had various relationships, sometimes enemies, sometimes allies, all depending on the scriptwriter's imagination.

"So, you already knew."

"!!!" Orr stopped in his tracks, eyes wide not in fear, but in shock.

Having just experienced a small-scale firearms battle, if it weren't for the presence of these... werewolves, and the occasional feeling of satiation reminding him, Orr would have completely forgotten about the magical elements of this world, even his own vampire nature.