OUTSIDE THE BATTLE zone area, the Head of Police Jan Macready was manning a group of Intelligence officers inside a makeshift cantonment command centre that set the logistics in officiating the warfare in New Orleans—at the staging area, there were a dozen of Abram tanks waiting for orders to be deployed out to battle the OGA radicles.

Macready looked at multiple screens of the street fighting displayed on monitors—a female soldier called out to her...

"Sir, you got a call from the Whitehouse."

Cory listened to a voice coming from the intercom in the situation room...

"MADAM PRESIDENT, I GOT THE HEAD OF POLICE ON THE LINE."

Cory picked up the receiver and yelled, "Macready, I want the Preacher dead, you hear me? Go, find him now and you take him out. I want that freak dead!"

"Yes Madam President, we will find him!"

"You are not listening, you incompetent dope! I said, he should not escape from New Orleans! What more do you want, Macready?

"I have set up a perfect ambush for you and all I want is an effective execution on your part—that fucking Preacher must die tonight or else your damn head is on the line—you just do your fucking job now, and get it done right in the way I want it!"

The opprobrious Cory slammed the phone down and she saw Agent Wolfe standing idle...

"Wolfe! Go fix me a fucking drink now!"

*

In the state of fight or flight, he looked out passim for any countering enemies as he ran in the menagerie streets of chaos with pogrom of bloody misshapen corpses from the strafing choppers. The macabre around had heightened Marlin's state of kleptomania, his eyes were searching for a vehicle to purloin and hot-wire—and then escaping from the maddening battle streets.

He heard shots coming from nearby, he ducked to hide. He saw a group of Aryan Sisterhood militia rebels on the run...

What mottled his mind and confounded him was that one of the young women in the group who has the exact simulacrum to Big Joe of Wesleyan—but this teenager was athletically built. The Aryans women were firing at a group of Elite infantry who were pursuing them on foot. One of the Aryan rebels directed...

"Run, Commander! We will cover you!"

The girl who resembled Joe's likeness ran off alone while the remaining Aryan rebels were fighting off Roberta's troops...

Marlin followed her from the rear.

**

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A straying group of homeless women were looting a store nearby by breaking a glass window. Joana took cover after seeing two e-SWAT troops who cornered and shot one of the itinerant derelicts.

The rest of the homeless women retreated into the broken in-store, more soldiers joined the incursion at the storefront. The Aryan Commander hid and she observed the five soldiers—and she overheard the Sergeant just arriving on the scene saying...

"What is going on here?"

"Sarge, there is a group of looters hiding in the store...shall we go in?" a private asked

"We got too many terrorists in town today, the looters may also be armed," the commanding officer replied.

The Aryan Commander named Joana took out her pistol and pointed to discharge, wanting to take out all the five Elite soldiers from where she hid—a voice spoke softly from behind her...

"Not yet, Joe..."

She turned back quickly and pointed her firearm at Marlin who was crouching close in the dark—he had startled her and she whispered back...

"Who are you, freak? How do you know my name?"

"Actually Missy, I don't—but I know someone who looks exactly like you," his voice came from the dark. She scoffed back, "is that one of your lame pick up lines, you freak?"

Marlin saw her pistol dotting his face. "Stop pointing that at me. My name is Marlin."

"I don't give a fuck—you must be one of the Preacher's goons then." The blaséd Marlin saw some activity ahead and he pointed...

"Yep, his goon—now look over there, Missy!"

They both noticed another soldier joining them with a flame-thrower tank on her back. The Sergeant commanded...

"Burn the place down!"

The flame thrower shot a jet stream of flame into the store's broken window, incinerating the racks of merchandise, some screams were heard inside— "Oh-no," exclaimed the Aryan Commander, and Marlin voiced out from behind her...

"Now!"

They both came out from the hiding, unfurled and shooting their weapons ahead. The surprise attack slew all the 5 e-SWAT with bullet holes on their backs and headshots. Aryan Commander rushed to the entrance of the store that was in flames, she heard Marlin from behind her...

"You just wait here, Missy—I will go in and get them out."

Joana the Aryan Commander grabbed his black sweater sleeves with a tug. "Look here, freak, I am one of the Commanders to the Aryan Sisterhood and I don't take orders from an inferior shemale-being—because I am as equally capable as you—and maybe even better, you hear me? Go and save your chivalry for some powder-puff bitches."

Marlin noticed her running boldly into the blazing store—he placed on a handkerchief over his mouth and followed the volatile teenager from behind.

*

The furious gun battle between the Elite soldiers and the rebels prolonged further to the double hour—Doran was fighting along with his AOG revolutionaries but they were running low on ammunition after almost two hours of combat. The magnanimous supply of ammunition from the arms dealer Bani Ibnu had depleted. The trigger happy Hispanics who were munificent in their attacks were the first to transient of bullet supplies, and they found their exit from the battleground.

At a block away from the fighting ground, a communications-soldier ran to Roberta who was peering out of the hatch of the Hummer roof. "Capt. Jensen, the Head of Police Jan Macready is on the line." Roberta slipped on the headset...

"Yes Sir."

Macready gave out an importune commanding tone of voice. "Jensen, the President's order that the Preacher is to be dead. You go in now and you hunt him down. Remember, he should not get out of New Orleans alive!"

Roberta climbed out of the Hummer and turned nonchalant to her second officer, "Sergeant Yale, assemble a small team of 6—we are going to find the Preacher and we take him out!"

Roberta turned next to communication-soldier. "Radio, set up the face recognition-mode of that scar-faced fucker!" The communication-soldier pulled up her tablet with the pre-programmed photo of Doran and the computer software scanned graphic lines on the photo to read.