New Jide State.
At 9 PM, the state police station.
Ronnie hung his bulletproof vest on the tal rack in the changing room, cleared the chamber of his handgun, removed the magazine, and walked to the door of the armory.
At that mont, Margaret appeared around the corner of the hallway with a report in her hands.
"Ronnie!" Margaret called out.
"I’m off duty, tell tomorrow," Ronnie waved his hand dismissively.
"No way! Ronnie, we just received an ergency call. Soone reported that hundreds of people are gathering in the community on 117th Street for cult activities," Margaret said.
"Is soone being sacrificed?" Ronnie asked.
"What sort of joke is that?" Margaret replied, hands on her hips.
"If it’s just a bunch of mumbo jumbo, then it’s not really a big deal, Margaret. Our country has freedom of assembly and demonstration," Ronnie said.
"No, it’s serious this ti!" Margaret insisted.
"How so?" Ronnie shrugged.
"Soone reported that they’re causing a disturbance. You know what that ans, right?" Margaret said.
Ronnie sighed deeply, "Damn."
A disturbance was a specific charge that had to be dealt with after an alert, or else they would face a salary deduction.
"Besides, you still have ten minutes before your shift ends. You always do this, leaving your post half an hour early to wait for the ti clock!" Margaret said.
"Keep your voice down, Margaret, keep it down... Shall I co with you then?" Ronnie relented.
He had no choice but to push the magazine back into his handgun and return to the changing room to put on his bulletproof vest once more.
In the blink of an eye, the two of them were sitting in a police car, cruising through the lifeless streets of New Jide State.
The deep night of this small city gave off a suffocating feeling, as if one had accidentally stumbled into a graveyard.
The city’s communities were quite scattered, with groups of twelve-story apartnt buildings spread out in every corner of the city to the northeast, south, and west, while the central pri land was occupied by supermarkets and parks.
As a small city with a population of just over 400,000, it was often overlooked, with the beer brewing industry serving as the mainstay of the local economy.
Ronnie drove to the southeast corner of the city. The caller was from the Dehewang community, a cluster of just four buildings and a tiny square. The blackened apartnt buildings stood like tombstones on the desolate concrete road to the left, with walls and railings covered in graffiti, hung with condoms and trash.
They parked the car by the roadside. Ronnie picked up the vehicle radio and contacted headquarters: "0042, 0042, we have arrived at the Dehewang community, two officers are ready to enter the building, over."
"Headquarters received, are you planning to carry weapons? Over," headquarters replied.
"I will bring a 9mm handgun. There’s an anti-riot shotgun and 26 buckshot rounds in the trunk. I will consider using them if an ergency situation arises, over," Ronnie said.
"I have a Taser with , and a 9mm handgun. We’re both wearing bulletproof vests. We probably won’t need this gear, over," Margaret added.
"Let’s hope so. The citizen who reported is in Building C, 8th floor, Apartnt 804. Her na is Jenny, a single mother, and she’s quite distressed. Over," headquarters replied.
"Building C, Apartnt 804, Jenny. Received, over," Ronnie responded.
He put down the radio, hands inserted in the sides of his bulletproof vest, and headed towards the apartnt building together with Margaret.
Margaret ran ahead. She was the mother of two children, but she had managed to keep herself in good shape, her orange ponytail swinging behind her head.
Ronnie had just entered the community gate when a strange howl ca from between those four dark buildings.
The howl was emitted by a male and sounded like a pointless instinctive moan uttered after a satisfying mont of release.
He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the rooftops. Everyone had turned off their lights; there was not a single beam of light inside the buildings.
"It couldn’t be so punk kid howling at the moon," Margaret said.
Ronnie muttered in agreent.
After Governor Steijie’s death, drugs began to circulate again in the Federation’s underground, and the old n in Congress started to stigmatize and crack down on video gas and novels. anwhile, several etings were held to review the gun prohibition law that had been implented just over a month ago. Many gun shop owners got wind that the civilian firearms market might reopen in a few months.
"C building is here; we’re in luck, the first one we started looking for," Margaret said with a smile as she walked toward the dim lobby.
Ronnie climbed up the three-step staircase into the hall, where three of the six sensor lights on the ceiling were out, and another was only halfway lit, casting the foyer on this floor in an exceedingly dim light. The green mailboxes were placed at the stair entrance—nobody writes letters anymore, he thought, betting the building had to be 100 years old.
They arrived at the elevator and waited for it to co.
The empty elevator shaft echoed with the wind, and the cables made a disconcerting moaning sound as the sowhat yellowed doors clanged open.
Ronnie was the first to enter the elevator, feeling it clearly sink a bit under his weight. He felt he really should lose so.
"8th floor, rember that," Margaret said as she entered.
She stepped into the elevator, and Ronnie pressed the button, saying, "I’m not that forgetful yet."
The elevator doors clanged shut, lifting them into the air, flying 120 ters above the ground.
"It’s pretty quiet., I didn’t hear any noisy sounds," Ronnie said.
"Maybe the person who reported it warned them we were coming. Or maybe... they’ve quieted down themselves. But we still need to make a report," Margaret replied.
"Did you bring the computer?" Ronnie asked.
Margaret pulled out an 8-inch tablet and a smart pen from a small pouch at her waist.
"Good," Ronnie said.
The elevator quickly reached the eighth floor. He was the first to exit. As expected, the sensor lights in the corridor were also broken. The fire escape windows were left open, letting in the whooshing of the wind that knocked over the trash bins, causing two blue plastic bags to fly around the hallway.
Ronnie took out a flashlight for illumination and scanned it over the doors, finding 804. He knocked, waiting for a response.
"Don’t swear this ti, Ronnie," Margaret whispered.
"I’ll try," he said.
When there was no answer, Ronnie knocked again.
"Ms. Jennifer?" he called toward the door, his voice sounding especially stark in the pitch-black hallway.
"Is this apartnt this sinister at night?" Margaret was a bit unnerved.
She glanced toward the elevator, where a strip of white light slowly descended in the gap of the doors.
"Ms. Jennifer?!" Ronnie knocked again.
He looked at Margaret, appearing sowhat helpless.
"Try again," Margaret suggested.
Ronnie raised his hand to knock once more, only this ti the door unexpectedly opened.
A small, wet-haired woman stood in the doorway, peering out at them.
"State police?" the woman asked.
"Are you Ms. Jennifer? Did you call the police?" Ronnie inquired.
"Yes, you should’ve been here sooner," Ms. Jennifer said.
"You ntioned that hundreds of people were gathering for cult activities and causing a disturbance? But it seems quite quiet here," Ronnie remarked.
"Co in, and I’ll show you, but be careful not to make too much noise. You’ll understand once you see," Ms. Jennifer replied.
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