How? How was it possible to have so much? No… that was a stupid question. Terence Manson, that dirty person, had clearly been in his business for a long time. More than just the average criminal, he had wandered the edges for decades now. Cassandra had no reason to be surprised when seeing so many people.
Finally looking at the head-count, there were seventy full-blooded humans, excluding the unconscious child on the altar. It was horrifying how many followed that man. The woman almost refused to believe it, if not for the pictures of him hung by the tents. Was he their god? He had to be something special. Perhaps the preacher? She couldn't be sure.
She just knew that he had influence. And with the time used to get it, he had given every person there a weapon to use for themselves. Pistols, rifles, whatever you could think of were there, in the arms of one of the many cultists. The sheer firepower was something that Cassandra had never dealt with.
This wasn't the power that criminals held. This was something that an army would have to invade a smaller city. In any altercation, there was no way the three officers would win, even with the use of the automation. They didn't have enough weapons to equip all of the constructs, but the criminals clearly had that easily.
One of the cultists slowly rose from their kneeling position, nobody else following in their wake. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the person, still unable to see their face. They had stood closest to the altar, closest to the child. The officer had an idea of just why that was when they brought out a knife.
With widened eyes, the woman once again considered trying to run in and get the underaged human. The implications of a sharp implement slowly getting closer and closer to the child was not something that she wanted to accept, feeling an extreme urge to make sure it would ever happen. But… she couldn't do that. Cassandra would be shot down before she even got close, her speed was too limited to avoid the aiming of rifles at close range.
… Yet she wasn't the only officer at the scene.
‘Any chance of you being able to run more than seventy kilometres an hour?’ Cassandra sent the automation, estimating that to be the needed speed. If mixed in with a slower approach that minimised sound, the woman guessed that the child could be acquired before any of the cultists were any wiser.
‘On a paved road, I might be able to get up to that speed. In a snow-filled mud-fest? Not likely, with the distance I have to build up speed. Not like I’d be able to grab the child without slowing to an extreme degree, else they would just die from the impact,’ Jules answered with no hesitation, clearly able to see what the woman was thinking. Not that this made the answer any better, Cassandra hearing exactly what she didn't want to hear.
What else was there to do? The knife was coming ever closer, and the woman couldn't just sit there. Yet she also couldn't send in the automation, and it wasn't like Cassandra would be any more effective? Create a diversion perhaps? Something that would make them lose their attention, and put it on for later in the day?
… No, she couldn't risk it. While it was clear that most of the weapons present were from a forgotten era of weaponry, there was still a very large chance of them having more tech than they let on. If anything was able to attack from a range, there was not a chance that Cassandra would be able to escape with her life untouched. Whatever was done about the situation couldn't come from her in any way. It needed to be somebody else. Somebody with-
Grunwald!
‘Sir, we have found the cultist camp and request immediate assistance,’ Cassandra sent, her eyes still glued to the altar. They were taking their sweet time going through procedures, and she couldn't have been happier. There was still time.
Seconds passed, and the woman grew anxious. Having grown used to the automations instant responses, it was hard to wait the few moments it took other officers to recognize a message sent their way. While it never took more than a minute, there were times where they had other tasks that needed to properly be put on hold beforehand. It could take time, and that needed to be accepted. But, when the time was short, and the stress was at an all-time high, Cassandra could not help but feel like hours were passing before her eyes. The head of the child was being examined by another risen cultist. It was an older man, seeming to be positioning the small body perfectly.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
‘What kind of assistance do you require?’ Officer Grunwald was sent back after what had felt like an eternity. If she hadn't composed herself, the woman would have been breathing deeply by now. Her pulse was perhaps low, but it was fighting high to get into the hundreds.
‘I am currently witnessing a human sacrifice being prepared in their camp. I need reinforcements to take on approximately seventy armed criminals. Is there any chance we can get deployment from another site?’
A moment of silence was had before the other officer came back with an answer. It was not as long as the one before.
‘They’re refusing the thought of it. Is the headcount you sent all of the cultists?’ Grunwald answered, sending a question at the same time.
‘They seem to be performing a ceremony, so it would make sense for them to all be present,’ Cassandra answered. And with how early it was, she couldn't imagine that anybody had other tasks to do. The early hour might just have been why it was possible, to begin with.
‘Have your automation perform a long-distance heat-check on the human sacrifice. We need any proof that they are still alive,’ Grunwald sent. Cassandra… didn't fully understand why this was needed, but obliged nonetheless. If this meant they would get assistance with it all, then she would do close to anything.
Sending the directions over to Jules, the construct was quick to obey. One of the perks of being with an artificial entity was that its body was designed with function in mind. It had everything an officer could need, including more lite versions of many sensors. One of them was heat-sensors, making it possible for it to detect bodies over a distance. It was not too accurate when the automation or the target was moving, but it could still provide results.
‘Results are inconclusive. The skin is warmer than the tree it sits on, but not by that much,’ Jules sent back, making it hard for Cassandra to really make a decision.
It was cold outside, and the child was without anything other than shorts and a t-shirt. Obviously, it would be cold if it had been outside for more than an hour. Of course, the skin would be cold, the body reacting to the lack of heat by deciding to protect the organs. With how strong that reaction was in children, Cassandra could excuse the cold body for that. But… could it really be so cold so as to not know from a look alone?
‘We don't have conclusive proof of the sacrifice being alive,’ Cassandra finally sent back, not wanting to waste more time.
This time, there was no immediate answer. Two seconds passed, more than it should, and the officer had still not reached back to her. They were preparing the knife, cleaning it with a flame. It was nearing extreme temperatures, steam rising from it due to the cold air around it. The sight was something to behold, Cassandra not sure what to think of it.
‘Cass, your exact location is being obscured from us. We need for you to give us the coordinates manually,’ Grunwald sent. Hope blossomed within the instant. Help was coming, in some form or another.
Using Jules as a spring, they were quickly able to triangulate their exact coordinates. Sending that over to the officer, Cassandra once again got an answer.
‘Good. You mentioned an altar. Are the cultists surrounding it, and what is the radius of this circle?’ Grunwald questioned. The woman couldn't understand the logic, asking questions that would have only worked with the prior one being affirmative. It was as if… he was asking them for documentation. As if they would need all they could for later proof.
‘Yes, they are in a circle, approximately fifteen meters in radius,’ Cassandra answered quickly. She wanted to hurry them, but knew that it would do little else but only delay it further.
‘Okay, Cass, I need you to hear this. We have the coordinates now, and we need you to retreat more than a hundred meters away. Preferably more, if you can,’ Grunwald sent without further explanation. It didn't make sense.
‘Why?’ Cassandra questioned. Why was this being asked of her?
‘Cass, I need you to move out immediately,’ Grunwald sent.
‘Why do I need to move out? What is happening?’ Cassandra sent right back. Actions were being made without her being notified. This wasn't protocol. Something was being done without her knowledge while she was the only one at the scene.
‘Command decided that the threat was too high. If they learned their leader was imprisoned, they would attack us without hesitation. For the sake of our security, the higher-ups have decided to send in a strike. Now get away from there. The missile will hit within forty seconds,’ Grunwald sent.
It took Cassandra a moment to realise what had been sent to her. The next was spent considering trying to get the child. The third was spent being dragged along by Jules since the construct had been listening along.
She was positively thrown on the automations shoulder at that point, the woman refusing to run herself. Cassandra didn't mean to have been an annoyance. She just couldn't bear to look away.
They had taken ninety-five long steps away when the missile hit. The impact shocked her, even from the distance they were at, and the sound made a small pop come from her ears. But… it faded quickly enough.
Grunwald sent her another message, but she just ignored it. Cassandra just looked in the direction of the former camp, knowing it was barely anything but ash now. Ash, bone, and torn fabrics.