Shadow of the Day

    In a passing immature thought Sam wondered what it would have been like to be there on that historic night and how he would’ve behaved in such a crisis situation, he never had an opportunity in the past to discover this.  Soon after this thought passed through his mind it was quickly dismissed, he had been incredibly lucky not to get caught up in those events because if he had, there was a very real possibility that he could’ve been seriously hurt or even killed.  It was nice to have some reassurance after all this time that it was a good idea to go to Celestia, that decision may be responsible for saving his life.
    If Sam had been present during the London riots of the 11th of November 2118 this is what he would have seen:
    It was the evening of the now infamous night, the Sun had been down for quite a while and a lone figure stalked an empty side street.  This person’s build was tall and lean but little could be told from merely looking at the man, if it even was a man.  They were dressed in a long very dark green coat with the hood pulled low over their face.  The figure walked as if they had meaning, a place they needed to be and a purpose they needed to fulfil.
    This person silently made their way onto a larger road, they walked at a steady rate, never speeding up, never slowing down, measured.  The Sun had set just long ago to erase any lingering remnant of its presence and the road this person was travelling on was completely vacant.  
Today was Remembrance Day but it wasn’t just any Remembrance Day where nothing happened and no one noticed, this one was special, it was supposed to be the 200th anniversary of the end of the First World War and a huge celebration had been planned.
    Most of the festivities had peaked at eleven this morning, most people were still celebrating but nowhere near where the hooded figure was walking.  His steps made no sound as he surely strolled along this empty road, on his way he would occasionally look up briefly at the skies above.
    The sky was clear, unusual for autumn and even more unusual because of all the pollution that filled the air around London.  So many stars could be seen, much more than normal, light pollution was minimal at the moment because not many were in their homes and the street lamps hadn’t come on yet.  Even more breathtaking than the sea of distant suns overhead was the sight of Earth’s moon.  The figure continued its journey along the very dark street, revelling in the moonlight.
    The single human continued through the streets past the graffiti laden walls.  On his way to his objective, one image caught his eye.  It was a painting of a woman’s face encircled by a noose that she was about to pull down around her neck.
As the loner made their way nearer and nearer to their destination, a low rumble began to break the silence.  It was a mixed sound; the hooded character could hear the footsteps of many, marching out of sync with each other.  He could hear the many chant loudly but couldn’t quite distinguish the words and he could hear, loudest of all, a single voice declaring something over a loud hailer.
    The wind was strong tonight, it whipped round the bottom of his coat, causing it to flap about his legs.  These cold and bitter autumn winds penetrated deeply, forcing the faceless traveller to pull his coat tight around him to prevent the winds from stealing away his warmth.  He was coming to the end of this road now and the noises had escalated into a deafening uproar.
    The hooded figure turned into another alleyway, which opened out onto a much wider street than the one before, he looked to his right and saw the origin of the noises.  
    Just ahead a huge crowd of people could be seen in their hundreds.  They weren’t wearing much clothes for the cold autumn evening but the garments they did wear resembled a uniform, not because they were similar in any way, the only link was that everyone was garbed in the same shade of light green.  Many had their faces and bodies painted in the same colour, some carried placards with slogans written on, all chanted these slogans at the top of their voices.
    Rows of shops lined both sides of the street and the way the crowd was marching was being blocked off at the other end of the road.  On the other side of the protesters was a roadblock with the police standing ready behind it and beyond them was the line of armoured transport vehicles that had brought them here.
    A wall of riot police, transparent plastic shields interlocking, halted the progress of the activists.  It was no small force but they were still outnumbered by the Followers of Mantis.  Among the two groups there was a single loner that stood out from the rest on both sides.
Walking up the street to join the throng of protesters was the hooded figure making his way to the reason he was here.  With the police there was a lone man standing by himself on a plinth behind the riot police, shouting something into a loud hailer at the mass of cultists.
    “You are in violation of disturbing the peace,” he said.  “Abandon your illegal protest immediately and return to your places of residence.  If you fail to comply with these orders, then we will have no alternative but to arrest you all.”
    The man kept repeating this but it was barely audible over the chanting of the many.
    To the mass of green, the man may as well have not even been there.  They just ignored him and kept chanting the name of ‘Mantis’ over and over again.
    The combined clamour of the large crowd caused the ground to shake as their voices echoed off the border of shops that encircled them.  The trembling earth intimidated the police greatly, it gave them a sense of foreboding, as if building up to something sinister.  With the motion of the protesters halted, their growing frustration caused them to become louder and louder with each passing second.
    As the hooded man slinked through the crowd, making his way as close to the front as possible, the policeman on the podium got down and addressed his officers.
    “OK,” he started.  “They’ve refused an official order from the mayor’s office and are now criminals.  Here are the rules of engagement, we need to try our hardest not to seriously injure anyone and the Commissioner said that he wants no one to be killed in this operation.  We have riflemen in reserve to cover us but they are to be used for psychological purposes only.  We’re dealing with a lot of people here so tear gas is going to be used to disperse them as much as possible before we go in.  Our task is to break up this demonstration and haul as many of the protesters into the police vans that are parked in the next street to be taken away for processing.  Now, are there any questions about what we have to do?”
    A police officer raised his hand.
    “Yes?” the one in charge said.
    “What if we can’t overpower them?” he said.  “There are more of them than us and I really don’t think they will be arrested without putting up as much of a fight as they can.”
    “I know that none of us have ever come up against anything this big before but we are better equipped and better trained,” he said.  “This rabble doesn’t know how co-operate with each other, they will be too confused by the tear gas and all we have to do is arrest any foolish enough to remain.  I want to assure you all that there is no chance of any of you getting hurt, you are all protected by the latest impact and stab-resistant armour.  You also have riot shields, helmets and batons.  These freaks don’t even have any weapons, there’s nothing to worry about.  Now, everyone put on your gas masks in preparation for the volley.”
    The riot squads obeyed and simultaneously slid the black gas masks they were carrying under the plastic visors of their helmets to cover their faces, hiding their identities and becoming much more intimidating.  They all readied their equipment for the upcoming attack.
    The more sparsely deployed and lighter armoured second line loaded their tear gas launchers, waiting for the order to fire from their superior.  The hooded man was now at the front of the disorganised mob, close to the left-hand side of the street.
    The road was set at an incline where the police were stationed so they were all slightly higher up than the mob of angry potential rioters, looking down at what they might do.  The rest of the fanatics were oblivious to what was about to happen, the hooded man was the only one with foresight and he decided it was best to strike first.
    From deep within his coat he withdrew a device, it was about seven or eight inches long and cylindrical.  He held it in his one hand for a moment before looking down at it, where he saw some colourful lights and a button.  This man pressed down on the button for a couple of seconds until the lights began to flash red and orange.
    The faceless figure looked up at the ranks of riot police, he could see that there large shields were all up, protecting them from any projectiles.  He couldn’t throw it directly at them, the effect would’ve been minimal and he couldn’t throw it behind them as he might overshoot and it could go too far.  He glanced sideways at a shop near him where the row of police began, he confirmed his actions in his mind and hurled the device at the shop’s door.
    The metal pole struck the door of the shop with an ominous thud and bounced off it slightly.  It detonated before even touching the ground, instantly killing the few riot police unfortunate enough to have been standing at the epicentre of the catastrophic explosion.  
The front of the shop was completely blown off; leaving a flaming wreck that soon spread its fire to adjoining buildings as shattered glass rained down on both the police and the protesters.  
The police held up their shields to block it, even the fanatics ducked to avoid the debris, only the hooded man remained still, raising his hand up to stop his hood being blown down by the blast.
    The police officers slightly further from the explosion were even more unfortunate, many were knocked unconscious and had various part of their anatomies blown off.  Blood and the odd limb also rained down over the two groups.
    The leader of the riot squads was stunned for a few seconds and didn’t know what to do as he tried to process what had just happened.  Eventually he came to his senses and shouted at his men to disperse the tear gas among the crowd.  However, the Followers of Mantis had faster reactions than the police and they didn’t have to wait for orders from their leader because he wasn’t there.
    The cultists, now officially rioters, were motivated by the explosion, they weren’t sure who had done it but didn’t appear to care.  The mass of green rage ascended up the hill towards the panicking policemen, by the time the tear gas was launched the crowd had moved further forwards so the tear gas grenades overshot and missed the rioters.
    The riot squad sergeant hastily ordered the officers with the tear gas to switch to riot gear, the cultists were too close now for tear gas so they began to arm themselves with smaller circular shields and their batons.  
He did the best he could to organise his men to attack but they were attacked first.  The first line of the cultists had reached the wall of riot police and ploughed into them like a wave crashing onto the beach.
    All the cultists rushed forwards to further damage the police, all save one, the hooded man.  He just stood there, letting the cultists flow past him to get at the police, enjoying the show.
    The police did their best to drive back the rioters with their shields but there were too many enemies and they were too determined.  The cultists had already picked up bricks and chunks of metal from the ruined shop to be used as weapons.
    The devoted Followers of Mantis broke the line of the police and a pitched battle ensued while streams of the lachrymatory agent dispersed in the background.  One cultist, face and chest completely covered in green paint, drove the sharp end of the pipe he was holding down with as much force as he could muster onto the skull of a nearby officer.  It tore right through his helmet and continued down deep into his brain, the spray of blood covered everyone around the two fighters, it went unnoticed and the slaughter carried on.
    Elsewhere in the battle a female cultist, no paint or weapon, charged at a policeman.  The officer gave all his effort into positioning the shield to protect himself, he held it firmly but to no avail, he was knocked completely to the ground by the angry rioter.  He looked up at this woman who looked quite normal in comparison with her comrades, he had dropped his baton and couldn’t find it.  The officer should have been able to fend her off but his limbs were paralysed by fear and her muscles were powered with zealous fury.
    He stared up at her with true dread as she picked up a nearby brick, he tried to crawl away, leaving his shield behind so he could use both hands but she grabbed him.  The berserk woman, now in full blown blood rage, turned him onto his back, sat astride him and using both hands, brought the brick down hard onto his face.
    Both these events were witnessed by the hooded man, now standing alone behind the army of cultists.  He decided he had seen enough and turned back.
    The figure stalked away, leaving the carnage behind him by using the same way he came.  The tear gas had dissipated by now and his way was clear.  He walked in exactly the same manner as before, clearly the recent events had not affected him.
    He concluded that his work was done and continued his way back down the road but before he got to the side street he had entered from, someone blocked his path.  A new regiment of riot police suddenly appeared, closing off this part of the street.  They looked exactly the same as the other group except, instead of having tear gas launchers on their second line, they had real weapons.
    The shields of the front line interlocked and the rear line aimed their rifles over the top of the shield wall.  The hooded man did not foresee this, he was now completely unarmed, he saw no reason to bring any other form of weapon and could tell that he was captured.  He raised his hands and got on his knees, at that time an especially powerful wind blew up the street, pulling his hood back.
    Now the man had a good view of the police as they fired their guns at him.  At least a dozen bullets hit him in various places, mostly the chest, sending a red mist of his blood spurting out of him as he was shot.  The man fell backwards onto the pavement, his life force leaking out and staining the ground, he was dead.
    The rest of the cultists engaged in the battle took no notice of this, they were far too busy.  They did take notice when some more of the hidden police reserves took their positions.  Another squad of riflemen appeared behind the riot police involved in fighting the cultists and opened fire directly into the air.
    As insane as the cultists had become in the last year, most still flinched when they heard automatic rifle fire at close range.  The cultists near the back were frightened off by this noise and began to rout.  Some cultists in the middle had begun to waver and followed suit when the path behind them was clear of their retreating brethren.
    The police officers who had killed the hooded man were waiting, they had blocked off this route, imprisoning the rioters in between two units of police.  When the withdrawing cultists reached these prepared officers, trying to escape the gunfire at one end of the street, they were all mowed down by gunfire at the other end.
    The body count had really mounted up now, hundreds of corpses littered the street and large pools of blood made it difficult to walk without slipping.  There weren’t that many rioters remaining, and they were certainly no longer rioting.
    The few dozen cultists that were still alive were milling around in the middle of the street, they looked anxiously around, not sure what to do now.  There were riflemen at both ends of the street, they had seen what had already happened to the other cultists and knew that if they moved, they would be killed without hesitation.
    The psychopathic woman and the green-faced man were both there, they had been enjoying themselves too much in the battle to think about retreating.  That meant that the only cultists left alive were the most bloodthirsty ones who didn’t withdraw, even when they heard firearms being discharged right by them.
    Even more riflemen had arrived now, on the rooftops on either side of the road, now they were having guns pointed at them from four sides.  Even though they were the craziest of the Followers of Mantis, they still had a moment of hesitation when so many armed men were aiming at them, ready to commit murder as soon as they were given the order.
    The prospect of death lifted the veil of bloodlust from these zealots, they dropped whatever makeshift weapon they were holding and most placed their hands on top of their heads.  They looked pleading up at the rooftop guards, a lot had come to their senses; they couldn’t believe what they had just done.  
The green-faced man was thinking about how caught up in the moment he had gotten.  The psychopathic woman was really more of a psychopathic girl, she was only seventeen and moments ago she had caved in a policeman’s face with a brick, but right now she was terrified of what her mother would say.
    Over at the initial group of police, the leader was being talked at by his second-in-command, the man in charge of the riflemen.
    “They’ve surrendered,” he said.  “Should we start the process of arresting them?”
    There was no response, the leader of the operation was looking, stony-faced and emotionless, at the remnants of the Followers of Mantis.  His visor was covered in so much blood that he could no longer see through, he had been forced to remove his helmet a while ago.  There was a deep gash on his forehead, leading down to his left eye and a mixture of soot and dust covered his uniform.
    “Sir?” his second-in-command said.  “Should I begin ordering the men to arrest the rioters or do you want to do it?”
    “No,” the leader said quietly.
    “No to which one sir?” he said.
    “Both,” the leader said.  “We’re not arresting them, they’ve killed policemen, their monsters.”
    “But sir,” the right hand man pleaded.  “They could have useful information about other chapters of their organisation, or even on Mantis himself.”
    “I don’t care about Mantis,” he said.  “As far as I’m aware, he’s never murdered good police men and women.  Order their execution.”
    “What?” he said.  “That’s quite extreme, are you sure?
    “Those are my orders,” he said in a flat voice.
    “Do we have to lower ourselves to their level?” he said.  “If there is a Hell, this is the kind of thing people would be damned for.”
    “I only think there are two places in existence, Heaven and Hell,” the leader started.  “And this sure doesn’t look like heaven.”
    The leader of the riot squads turned away after he said that and took his remaining riot officers away with him.  The leader of the riflemen looked back at him in astonishment, then at the rioters.  They were so young, he thought.
    With a shaking hand he raised his arm slowly and swiftly lowered it.
    Both squad leaders of the rooftop riflemen saw this signal and understood.  Together they shouted in unison, “FIRE!”