I don't want to live in a place where the cops are the only assholes with guns.
--Snow Monkey
The stadium floodlights were light at the their brightest setting, shining down on the thousands of people sitting on the field, all facing raise podium at the center. In front of the podium, 13 holes and been dug, 13 men chained in those holes, and 13 piles of sand had been back filled into those holes so that only the men's heads were above ground.
Two men stood at the podium. One spoke. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman. I would like to formally welcome you to another co-ceremony by Comcast," the speaker smiled at the man at his right, "and Time Warner. The people before you here today were all part of a terrorist plot to undermine the safety of this nation by creating an unsanctioned, unauthorized computer network that bypassed our data caps and traffic filtering. Make no mistake, this was not the only dark web pocket in this country, and it is not the last. But we are getting better and better at finding them and," the speaker looked to stage right, where the police chief was sitting on an industrial sized riding mower, "punishing those responsible."
The crowd sat still, very still, with the exception of some children who were crying. Most of them couldn't actually see the men mostly buried in sand, and didn't really want to either.
"Please remember," said the speaker, "that attendance of this ceremony is mandatory, as per your internet end user license agreement. If any of you should try to leave, these officers," the speaker motioned to the 60 cops surrounding the crowd, "will shoot you and five people next to you." It is likely that the speaker mentioned that fact out of cruelty, since every member of the audience was handcuffed--both wrists and ankles--to their chairs.
"Also please be advised that we have borrowed 3 kill teams from Monsanto who are camped out in the upper stands, so there is no need to worry about any vigilante--I mean terrorist, attack interrupting the proceedings."
Somewhere under the stands, under a tarp covered in dirt, a tiny radio squawked: "Night Witch, you're up." Eve opened her eyes. After 36 hours of lying absolutely still, consuming a disgusting food paste out of a straw and peeing into a bottle, she slowly slid out from under the tarp and stretched.
Less than a minute later the Monsanto goon in section 37 looked down to find a sword sticking out through his chest. He tried to grunt but there was a gloved hand over his mouth. Eve lowered him to the ground slowly and moved on to her next victim.
Back in the stadium, the speaker had finished his short speech, and the Chief of police started the lawn mower. Just as he turned the key there was a large cracking sound, as if the mower had backfired. However one of the cops doing crowd control suddenly fell down without his head. The Chief urged the mower forward, over the terrified head of its first victim. There was a loud crunch, and suddenly the dismembered head flew out of leaf trap and into the crowd, knocking an old woman unconscious. Somewhere in the back another cop fell.
The impact of the head had no effect on the speed of the mower, which continued towards the second sand victim. At the other end of the field, a black muscle car appeared. The speaker and most of the cops started shouting, but the mower was too loud for the chief to hear. The chief mowed over the second "terrorist" as the black muscle car shot across the field. Gun flashes lit up the outer stadium seating like fireflies as hundreds of well-aimed bullets pummeled through the bullet resistant glass, ripping everything in the driver position to shreds. But the car didn't stop.
The car t-boned the mower at 90 miles power hour just as the third head was flying out of the leaf trap. Both vehicles tumbled into a corner of the crowd, killing tens and injuring hundreds of people still handcuffed to their chairs. When the car came to rest the cops surrounded it, all firing their sidearms into the car. When their clips were empty, one of them walked up to the car and looked inside.
"There's no one in here!" As the cop spoke those words, a 50 caliber bullet tore apart his entire upper body. A smaller rifle killed another cop. The remain cops then turned and saw the growing body count thanks to the unknown snipers. Atop the announcers box, Lawrence and Jason lay prone, reloaded. A bullet stuck near them, showering them in splinters. Lawrence clicked his radio and screamed: "God dammit Night Witch move your fucking ass!"
Eve raced along the upper seating, running as fast as she could, barely slowing to decapitate each sniper with her sword. She had watched carefuly for the muzzle flashes when they had fired on the car, memorizing every position, but it was still the hardest sprint she had ever done. Her lungs were on fire, her legs felt like rubber, and the bones of her arms ached from every sword thrust. When she reached the home stretch, with only the end zone to go, the sword got stuck in one of their necks, and she had to resort to her sidearm. As soon as she killed the next one the muzzle flashes were pointed at her. She dodged up and down the seats, jumping and ducking, until she ran out of bullets and was pinned down on the floor of the last section. There were three men left. She threw a grenade. Actually she threw all of her grenades. The shrapnel was still falling when her watch beeped, signaling that her time window had expired.
She stood up, looked towards the crowd of people, and screamed.
In the middle of the field, the Comcast rep lay clutching a stomach wound, but the Time Warner rep stood, unscathed. He pulled his sidearm off his belt, and, as the carnage rained around him, calmly sent one bullet into each of the 10 remaining "terrorists." Just after he killed the last one, Eve tackled him, snapping his neck before he hit the ground.
Eve fell to her knees when she reached Aaron, one of the last few sand victims. Her body shook violently with sobs, her tears streaming down like a river as she stroked his hair. The life was already gone from his body; his entire left eye and a good chunk of his face was missing. Yet still she cradled him, careful not to cause any more pain.
Soft footsteps approached but Eve didn't look up. Snow stood there, ten feet away. He didn't say anything. Words at a time like this were for crybaby extroverts. Instead, he observed, and shared, her grief.
Behind him, Jason and Lawrence and the others were busy un-handcuffing the hostage audience, loading them wounded-first into whatever vehicles had been procured at such short notice.
Much, much later, when the work was done they came to the sand line to interrupt Snow's Zen.
"Foul deeds," said Lawrence. "And all 13...with everything we had we didn't save a single one."
"We failed," said Jason. He looked behind him, at the shocking number of dead. "We were supposed to stand between the cops and the people. If we had done nothing.." he saw Eve's shoulders tense, and stopped talking.
Snow looked at Lawrence. "What's the plan, boss man?"
"We did very well," Lawrence said. "It just wasn't enough. We keep going like this; its like betting against the house. No one ever won a war with ninjas--not in the 5th century; not now. Muscle cars and true grit aren't enough to stop a State that can control what you see, what you hear, listen to every phone call, text, and tweet you make. If Biff really is still alive..." Lawrence trailed off when Eve looked up.
Her eyes were red. Bright red. Like a demon. And her voice was horse and guttural. "I am going to tear this city apart," she said, "until I find him." She stood up.
Snow looked at Lawrence, then at Jason, and then back at Eve. He hoisted the 50 cal onto his shoulder and said: "Where do you want us?"
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