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RCPD.

Chief Andrew Howser, Antonio Ramirez, Eric Benjamin, Hernando Hawthorne, Bobby Lucas, Officer Dan Horton, Chris Whitman, Wayne Bullock.

Ramirez

H is ass hit the car seat as Howser’s alert repeated over the radio.

Sirens were screaming across the city, and the public address system was in full use. Howser ordered all citizens to head for basements, lock their doors, and barricade themselves in. He was citing a home-grown terrorist attack .

Ramirez knew his target zone; he had the east side of the I-90, the main route into RC. They were congregating near the junction of the 1-90 and Elk Vale Road. He drove crazily towards Ben. He’d pick him up and then join the RCPD in their area. Every RCPD officer knew their destination and assigned location. The zone was going to be defended by all of the available working officers possible. Howser had guessed that Fury would heavily attack the I-90 exits of Rapid City.

Ramirez skidded to a stop, and Ben raced down the path of his house towards him. Ramirez jumped out and climbed into the passenger side. Ben carried two duffle bags, which he dumped in Ramirez’s trunk, which already held three bags.

“Let’s go,” Ben snapped, sliding into the driver’s seat. Ben hit the gas pedal and shot off. As Ben drove, Ramirez strapped a bullet-proof vest into place. Ben was wearing his. Ramirez picked up his radio and called in.

“Ramirez and Ben on route. ETA seven minutes. Will update with roll call in half an hour,” Ramirez said and released the button.

“Ten-four Ramirez,” Dan Horton responded. “Confirming I’m your liaison, take no orders from anyone other than me.”

“Ten-four Horton,” Ramirez replied. Ben skidded around the corner, and Ramirez shook his head as he saw some of the public racing down streets and cars fleeing. Nearly everybody was listening to the public address system. Shops were closing, and people headed home.

“ETA, five minutes,” Ben said.

“Just get us there,” Ramirez demanded as multiple sirens came from all directions.

Officers were flooding into their designated zone. They’d be heading for an office building which was empty and had been set up as a command centre for the RCPD. All cops would check in with Ramirez before heading to their allocated area.

Chief Andrew Howser

“Ramirez checked in and on route,” Horton called out. Howser nodded his acknowledgement. His gut was twisted. They didn’t have enough defenders and knew it. This promised a difficult battle. They were at least outnumbered five to one, and even then, that was a rough figure.

Axel announced that Rage had assembled in their zone and was hurrying people off the roads. Howser added an arrest threat to anyone remaining on the streets in the next ten minutes other than the deputised allies. One by one, the leaders of the zones were calling in.

Willow and the FBI agents had called in. Delta Force was next, then Hawthorne’s PI, followed by The Juno Group. Hellfire, and Unwanted Bastards had just confirmed when he got a surprise.

Howser glanced up as there was a commotion, and his eyes widened as the National Guard marched in.

“I’m Major General Winslow. I’ve got five hundred men here, Chief. We’ve been waiting on orders and have received diddly shit. I’m making the call. Where do you need us?”

“You’re a welcome sight, Major General. We need a ring of guys surrounding the hospital and around the burn clinic. Both are remaining open for the wounded. They need to be protected.”

“This is Captain Fisher. He is in charge of communications. Tell him where you want the men, and he’ll command them,” the Major General said.

“Thank you. Horton, speak to Captain Fisher,” Chief Howser ordered.

“Ellesworth is also sending three hundred men. Both Ellsworth and the National Guard have sent medical personnel to the hospital. We couldn’t act before because we’d no legal right. Now we know Venomous Fangs are moving and are classed as a home-grown terrorist cell, we can act. Court martials be damned!” Winslow hissed.

“Could Ellsworth head here on the east of I-90, Captain Fisher? We need a heavy show of force there. And we’ll put two hundred and fifty on this west side of the I-90 and the rest of them here? That will allow me to free up three teams and I can reinforce elsewhere. There weren’t enough men to hold certain routes, and they were weakly defended. Especially if there was a major attack on those areas,” Howser said, pointing at the map.

Captain Fisher nodded and began barking orders into a radio.

Howser felt his gut unclench. Another eight hundred men and women would ease up the pressure his teams were under. He quickly got to delegating where the extra manpower be sent.

There’d been some weak areas where defences were minimal. Not anymore.

Ramirez

His people had all checked in. Some in uniform having been on duty, and others in plain clothes. It didn’t matter. They all wore bullet-proof vests and were just outside a residential area. They had blocked the main road with their police vehicles, forcing any attacker to come in on foot. In the distance, he could hear the roar of bikes. The officers were all hidden behind cars, inside buildings and on roofs.

“Got eyes on them,” Nando informed him on the second radio he carried. Ramirez had one designated for headquarters and one for commanding his team. That meant the headquarters one would be kept clear.

“How many?” Ramirez asked from where he crouched behind a car.

“Too many to count, Ramirez. We’re looking at one fifty, maybe,” Nando replied.

Ramirez nodded. Out of one hundred and twenty-five officers, he had ninety-eight with him. The others were sick, on maternity leave, or taking vacation. Ramirez didn’t mind those odds; his guys were trained.

But his gut was twisting. This was a major route into the city centre. Fury wouldn’t be so stupid to only throw one hundred and fifty men at it. No, this was the first wave.

“Everyone, ready. I’ll warn them, and if they keep coming, we’ll open fire,” Ramirez said.

Radio silence greeted him. His people were too well-trained to fill the air up with needless chatter.

Ramirez rose when the bikes stopped. He picked up a megaphone and spoke into it.

“This is Detective Ramirez of the RCPD. We are aware of your mission. Drop your weapons, turn around, and leave peacefully. Should you attack, we are ordered to use lethal force in defence of our city,” Ramirez said.

His words fell on the Fangs in front of him. There was easily nearly three hundred there. Nando had fallen quite a bit short. Fuckin’ idiot.

“I repeat, we will open fire and defend. Drop your weapons and depart peacefully,” Ramirez called.

“Bastard pig,” a biker yelled, and laughter rose.

Ramirez’s eyes grew wide as he saw a Fang walk forward.

“Grenade launcher!” Ramirez yelled and dived to one side as it fired. A second and third blast quickly followed. “Open fire,” Ramirez bellowed as he shook debris off himself. The car in front was a twisted wreck, and flames leapt out at him. He scrambled back as his officers began shooting .

“Zone One engaged,” Ramirez reported to Horton as he ducked behind a wall.

“Ten-four,” Horton replied.

The Venomous Fangs rode up, tried to get around the blockade, and failed. At first, it started to resemble a massacre until several other grenades were launched.

Incoming reports stated he had men down, as much as Ramirez wanted to check, he couldn’t. He kept firing, with Ben alongside him, trying to hold the line. He didn’t want the Fangs breaking through.

“They’re using armour-piercing rounds,” an officer screamed over the radio.

“Keep your heads down and keep shooting,” Ramirez replied.

“Moving the injured to the pick-up point,” another cop called in.

Ramirez acknowledged the call and squinted through the smoke. His snipers on the building’s roofs were taking people out, but his men on the ground were pinned.

“Flashbang’s launched,” Bobby Lucas yelled.

Flashes appeared, and the RCPD rose and shot blindly. Screaming, some men fell; others didn’t. But the Fangs kept pushing.

Ramirez heard a noise and lifted his head. An eighteen-wheeler headed for their roadblock.

“Take the driver out!” Ramirez screamed down the radio. Seconds later, the window screen shattered, and the truck rolled towards them. It had failed to smash through their barricade, but it now provided cover for the Fangs. The tide began turning against the RCPD, and they struggled to hold their ground.

“Team leaders, call in,” Ramirez demanded as he inserted a new magazine into his assault rifle.

He listened as they called in. He had sixty-seven officers standing and fighting. The rest were dead or injured. Ramirez made the call.

“Fall back to the buildings. Snipers, lay down covering fire,” Ramirez ordered. He had to hold this line. There was no other option.

The Venomous Fangs roared as the RCPD took up the secondary line. They poured through the barricade, firing as they did. RCPD, now not as exposed, opened fire. The Fangs would have to take their city one bloody inch at a time. There were bodies littered everywhere.

Overhead, a helicopter flew, and a cameraman leaned out. Ramirez could only imagine the breaking news.

He ducked as brick chips flew, as a bullet just missed his head. The burning barricade was producing so much smoke, visibility was poor. He knew his men were behind him, so he shot anything that moved.

A scream nearby informed him another officer was down. Ramirez gritted his teeth. The air was filled with the noises of weapons being fired, screams and yells, and the roar of the fire. Accompanying all that was the sound of sirens wailing throughout the city, rushing wounded to the hospital. Distant battles being fought clogged the air, and Ramirez knew the entire city was fighting.

A man appeared, and Ramirez shot him straight in the head.

No mercy. Not today. He glimpsed a bandolier filled with grenades and snatched it up. Yanking the pins, Ramirez stood and launched several grenades in the direction the Fangs were coming from.

The explosion made his ears ring, and he winced as body parts splattered around him. The Fangs were cursing as he ducked low and wiped some mangled flesh from his arm. He pulled the pins on a few more and threw them overhead. He hoped he had thrown them far enough not to get hurt himself and curled up.

More explosions happened, and then he heard the sound of a submachine gun open up.

“Come on, you fuckers!” Ben yelled, and Ramirez glanced across and shook his head. In front of him was a sight he’d never forget. Ben stood in slacks, a filthy white button-down, bullet-proof vest and dirty, streaked cheeks. In his hands was a machine gun, which he was firing at the Fangs. The first row approaching him died hard, and those behind ducked for cover.

“Get down, you asshole!” Ramirez yelled.

Ben grinned, launched the now empty machine gun, and pulled two grenades and threw them. He dived behind the wall where Ramirez was hiding and smirked.

“Fuck me,” Ramirez complained.

“Being badass can be fun,” Ben said before running in a crouch to a different spot. Ramirez kept shooting and covering him.

“Just lost my team!” Detective Wayne Bullock yelled.

“Someone shore up Bullock’s gap!” Ramirez ordered into the radio.

“On our way,” Detective Chris Whitman replied.

Ramirez kept firing, but he was tired. How many more were there? Two loud explosions made Ramirez jump, and he flinched and covered his head as rubble crashed around him. What the hell had just happened?

“What the hell was that?” Ramirez yelled.

“Rocket launcher. That was a surface-to-air missile,” Nando screamed.

“Shit. Everyone, call in,” Ramirez cried even as he and Ben laid down more fire.

As the reports flooded in, his heart sank. He had forty fit officers. Fifty-eight of his men were either dead or injured.

“This is Ramirez, Horton. I need backup. I’m down to forty men. We can’t hold this,” Ramirez called in.

“Unwanted Bastards coming your way,” Horton replied a few moments later.

“Fall back to the bottle neck. We’ll hold them there,” Ramirez ordered. He threw some smoke bombs and laid down firing cover as his people ran for the bottle neck they’d planned. This was their last stand. If they lost this, the Fangs could and would enter the city .

Dan Horton

He glanced around as everyone spoke on radios. Running a hand over his face, he wished he were with his colleagues.

Ramirez’s last call for help had chilled his bones. Fifty-eight of his colleagues were headed for the hospital. That frightened him. In front of him was a list of men. He looked up as his hospital radio crackled.

“Detective Whitman, alive, Officer Dean Parks, dead, Officer Sally Kenner alive, Sergeant Tim Sharp, alive, Lieutenant Gary Hendrick dead,” a nurse from the hospital reported.

Horton marked them on his list and then updated the white board behind him. So far, nineteen police officers had been killed. Thirty-nine were injured or in critical condition.

He hoped the President of the United States was watching and fuckin’ choking on his breakfast Cherrios. Asshole.

Horton was on edge, his old partner, Bobby Lucas, was out there on the front line. And he wasn’t there to back him up. Being a cripple sucked.

Ramirez

They’d not left a single person behind, and he was grateful for that, but the Fangs kept coming. RCPD were at their final barricade now, their dead and injured were gone. This was it. The last stand. Ramirez didn’t even have time to wonder how the rest of the city was faring. Smoke was thick across his zone, and he reckoned that was the same throughout the city. If he failed here, his allies would be attacked from the rear, as these fuckers would flood the city.

“We stand or fall here,” he said to Ben.

“Nice knowing you,” Ben commented and got ready.

The Fangs began their push, and once again, they opened fire. They had made this especially difficult to breach as he’d had a feeling they’d need it. His remaining officers were in two buildings either side of the road, and Ramirez, Ben, Nando, and Lucas all stood behind a barricade of police cars. They were parked three deep and had blocked the street completely.

“Wish I was with you,” Ramirez’s radio crackled, and Horton’s voice came over the line.

“We know, bud,” Lucas replied, but Horton didn’t hear. Bullets began flying back and forth as RCPD stood, determined to stop this wave of assholes.

Minutes ticked past, and Ramirez’s radio remained silent. Nobody bothered to call in injuries or deaths to him. There wasn’t time. Their people had been cut in half, and if you could hold a gun and fire, then you were expected to.

They couldn’t allow Venomous Fangs to take the city because, if they succeeded, what next? Pennington County? The state? No. Today, Fury and his villainy would be stopped. These assholes had taken Justin Goldberg from them; a good guy, an honest man. They’d left his son an orphan.

Ramirez and the RCPD intended to get justice. Not just for Goldberg but for their fallen brothers and sisters. They’d given their lives to stop an evil tyrant, and their sacrifices wouldn’t be in vain.

Ramirez squared his shoulders; it didn’t matter how tired he was. He had sworn to protect the innocent, and he would. Come hell or high water.

A roar of pipes grew in the distance. Back-up was coming. RCPD just needed to hold on.