A confirmation of cleared hostiles, officers remaining in cover as exhausted bodies attempt to regather lost breath.
Three fallen total among sixteen, two casualties and one fatality in the proceedings of justice. A torso bleeding profusely into the world cauterized by chemical sealant, a shattered leg tended by panicked hands; the sole death among them dragged back into alleyways away from open positions.
All hiding in cover, cowards cemented in current positions. A firefight barely ended, Judge Hoppe taking the first risk as she sprints over to her senior’s position.
Clothing covered in dust and grime, a receding firefight still held upon wild looking eyes as she opens her mouth.
Interrupted by Judge Murphy, words placing his authority in the world. “Status report Judge Hoppe.”
A deep breath taken in the seconds of reorganization, the woman nodding as she quickly finds her mind through the wave of adrenaline. “Hostage situation, unknown number of suspects. Unknown status of the hostages or objectives. Only known suspects are heavily armored and armed sir.”
Fog of war descending upon them all, the young Judge asking the obvious question within her mind. “I-I thought you were still inside sir.”
“I took a walk.” Judge Murphy coldly answers her, adjusting the arcane rune upon his radio as he transmits to the elevated bringers of justice. A judge frequency spoken to, words aimed to one soul only. “Judge Greyson this is Judge Murphy, what’s your status?”
A broadcast confirmed as Hoppe’s own radio receives the message, a long silence of static following as the expected reply is left to rot.
Hoppe exhales. “Gods…”
Over close quarters gunfire and static through walls Judge Greyson answers the transmission. Filtered voice through arcane means oddly calm against the carnage and chaos of a running firefight. “Murphy, this is Greyson. By the Five where are you?!”
The Judge makes eye contact with his counterpart standing next to him, a response held within a lie of omission. “What’s your status Greyson?”
“Got unknown hostiles inside the palace. Multiple hostages, status unknown. Advise, will run interference until further transmission. Murphy, what’s your position?!”
The senior Judge stops there, a soul refocusing onto the misshapen group of surviving officers. Harsh tone in the giving of orders towards subordinates, holding points of cover as he gives the directions. “HEY! I need you five to secure a perimeter and you two tending the wounded! The rest of you watch the central complex now!”
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Orders dispatched, the Judge pulls his radio as he switches to a generalized channel for the entire city of March. “Dispatch override code red, this is primary Judiciary Point. requesting assistance from ALL non-critical combat units to central palace complex. Repeat, requesting all non-critical combat units to current position on central palace complex. Acknowledge dispatch.”
The dispatcher takes strung seconds to respond, a once calm voice evolves to panic as he responds. “C-copy Judiciary Point.”
The wailing of incoming sirens, Judge Murphy taking a moment to catch his breath. Pangs of hunger unfulfilled, ignored as muscles suddenly detect a moment of respite. Fibers of flesh and sinew burn from overuse, a body screaming at its owner in the objection of rapid and sustained movement.
Judge Hoppe notices the old man’s condition, a calm voice attempting to reconstitute herself through the caring of other souls. “Are you alright sir?”
“I’m fine.” The old man reports calmly, a heart rate elevated against his level answer. He repeats the words, to once again convince himself. “I’m fine.”
She nods quickly, an assurance unfound as she turns back towards the distant street.
The golden yellow and blue of police vehicles follows with it the reinforcement of officers, a mixture of weaponry upon their forms a sampling of personal firearms and service weapons; lever action handguns alongside breech loaded short barreled rifles. Cobbled together from disparate parts and gunsmiths across the city; incongruence the standard of operation for the people of the world.
The sound of the Lawbringer behind her forces her attention away from the situation, the divine weapon spewing from it an unspent pair of massive anti-armor rounds. An impossibility of matter compression, the very fundamental laws of reality broken by a dead god.
She simply watches as Judge Murphy returns the pair of rounds back into his utility vest; a replacement of ordinance found within a much smaller caliber of 9 millimeter full metal jacket bullets.
“They’re wearing ceramic kevlar.” The senior Judge informs coldly. “Have all responding units switch to armor piercing rounds.”
“Not everyone has armor piercing rounds…” Judge Hoppe begins to comment at the state of March. “They’re all…”
The Judge nods at the information, a reordering of priorities placed upon his plate as he finally catches his breath. “I want the entire central quarter of the city shut down. Have a staging point at the crossroads there.”
He points outwards towards the entry road; the shape currently blocked by a multitude of police vehicles.
“We need a special weapons team as well, have Dispatch assemble them on our primary staging location. We’re calling Alko 7-1 protocol on the entire City.”
It takes a few moments for Judge Hoppe to process the orders, a curt nod sending her towards her radio. Bright orange circle igniting blue as she transmits, a reception prepared. “Dispatch, Primary Judiciary point; requesting military class support on central palace. Move assemblage on Savior Blvd - Palace Way crossroads how copy?”
“Confirmed Primary on military requisition on Savior Blvd - Palace Way.” The Dispatcher confirms.
Watching the young woman finish her request, the senior Judge asks the question. “What is the status of March’s special weapons teams Judge Hoppe?”
The Judge takes a moment to reply as she replays the analysis of combat to come, a final honest report put down in one sentence. “They’re all dead, sir.”