Alone in the Chaos.

Minutes after Lucian finally arrived at the police station, the scene before him was chaotic.

Rows of patrol cars, armored vans, and riot vehicles lined the lot, engines idling, waiting for the signal to move.

Officers stood in formation, their eyes steely and focused, preparing for the confrontation that was moments away.

Lucian could hear the murmurs of other officers talking, their words laced with a mix of anxiety and determination, all preparing themselves for what was to come. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and fear.

As he reached the entrance, his path was suddenly blocked by a strong hand gripping his arm, pulling him back. He spun, startled, but then relaxed as he recognized the familiar face. It was Bernadt—one of his oldest friends, someone he had trained with, fought alongside, and trusted with his life.

"Brother!" Bernadt's voice cut through the tension, and Lucian could see the brief flash of relief in his friend's eyes. "I thought you were already out there! What the hell happened?"

Lucian couldn't help but grin at the sight of his old friend. "I'm here now. But fuck, it's chaos outside. They said some crazy maniac group's in the crowd, and they're armed. This could go south real quick."

Bernadt's face darkened as the gravity of Lucian's words sank in.

"Shit. We're about to face something real ugly. But hey, we've been through worse, right?" He clapped Lucian on the shoulder, his smile a little too forced to be comforting. "Just don't get yourself killed out there. You still owe me a drink."

Lucian returned the slap on the back. "I'll make sure to get that drink later, Bernadt. Stay safe."

As the sound of the unit commander's orders rang out, Lucian's attention snapped back to the task at hand. "Bernadt! Get in the vehicles NOW! We move in five minutes!"

Without another word, Bernadt gave a quick nod and disappeared into the chaos of the station.

Lucian watched him go, a tightness in his chest that he couldn't quite shake. But there was no time to waste. The moment had arrived.

He hurried into the station where officers were shouting orders, barking out instructions, and racing to prep their gear. The place was a mess—papers scattered across tables, maps pinned to walls with red circles marking the hot zones of the city. Radios blared in the background, the voices of commanders giving out instructions to every unit.

Lucian felt the pressure mounting as the minutes ticked down. This wasn't just another crowd control operation. This was an all-out war zone in the making, and everyone knew it.

"Lucian!" a voice called through the noise. He turned to see Chief Varron, an older officer with years of experience and a no-nonsense attitude. His face was etched with the weight of countless battles, and now, it was lined with worry.

"Yes, Chief?" Lucian stood to attention, his heart pounding.

"You're going to be the frontline commander for the 4B unit," Chief Varron said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. He grabbed Lucian's arm and pulled him toward a table covered with more maps. "The situation is worse than we thought. There are six major groups out there, and one of them is at Hares Square, near the Main Bank. That's where the real danger is. We need you to get them moving and keep them contained. You're in charge now."

Lucian swallowed hard as the reality of what he had just been told hit him. Frontline commander. It was a massive responsibility, one he hadn't expected, but there was no turning back now. He nodded sharply, mentally bracing himself. "Understood, Chief."

Varron continued, pointing at the map. "We need you to direct the crowd toward Gallen Street and push them through to Innen Park. Once you get them to the park, meet up with 2A unit, and together, you'll dissolve the crowd. If things get violent and they start pulling out weapons, you do whatever it takes to bring them down. Don't hesitate."

Lucian's eyes narrowed as he studied the map. "What if it all goes wrong? What if we lose control?"

Chief Varron's eyes locked onto his, the tension in his gaze telling Lucian everything he needed to know. "If things go wrong, you fall back, Lucian. Head to the Reinban streets where the main force will be. Regroup with the others. But I don't want to hear any talk about things going wrong, alright? We need to keep control."

The gravity of the situation was real. Lucian felt the weight of the responsibility crushing down on him, but he was no stranger to pressure. He had dealt with violence before, but this felt different. 

"Stay sharp out there," Chief Varron added as he clapped Lucian on the back. "And remember, we're not here to make friends. We're here to restore order. Do whatever it takes."

Lucian's mind was already spinning as he turned to leave. The sound of radios crackling, the shouts of officers, and the sense of impending violence all seemed to fade into the background as he focused on the task ahead. He was in charge now, and the weight of that responsibility settled on his shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Lucian took a deep breath and rushed to get changed into his uniform, his movements quick and precise, driven by the urgency of the moment.

First, he discarded his regular clothes and pulled on the heavy riot armor, feeling the weight of it settle onto his shoulders. The thick, reinforced fabric hugged his body tightly, offering a sense of protection but also serving as a constant reminder of the violence that was to come.

His boots, sturdy and worn from years of use, clomped loudly against the floor as he fastened the last strap of his armor.

Next, he reached for the most important part of his gear: his firearm. He hesitated for a brief moment, looking at it with a certain distaste. Lucian had never used a firearm in the line of duty before, and he never intended to. But the weapon was part of the kit, and he would carry it, though he hoped it would remain holstered for the entirety of the operation.

He grabbed his helmet, securing it firmly over his head, and with one last look at his reflection in the mirror, he exited the locker room.

As he burst through the door and stepped out, he saw the 4B unit assembled outside. A sea of officers in riot gear stood at attention, their faces stern and unreadable. About 100 officers, all ready for what lay ahead. They stood in perfect formation, their gear shining under the harsh lights of the parking lot. Lucian could feel their eyes on him as he approached, waiting for him to give the order. Every one of them knew what was at stake. They knew this would be dangerous. They knew this could be their last operation.

Lucian's heart raced as he walked to the front of the unit, taking his place at the head of the formation. The men and women under his command looked at him with varying expressions—some of confidence, others with apprehension. He could feel the weight of their trust and the responsibility that came with it. They were looking to him for guidance, for leadership. And right now, they needed to know that he was ready, that he wasn't going to let them down.

He raised his hand, signaling for silence. The murmurs died down instantly. He stood tall, facing his unit, his voice firm as he spoke.

"Alright, 4B unit, listen up!" Lucian's voice rang out, cutting through the cold night air. "We've got a job to do, and it won't be easy. We're walking into a volatile situation, and it's going to get ugly. There are groups out there who are not afraid to use violence to get what they want. We may be called to do the same, but remember, our goal is to protect and restore order. We will not let the streets fall into chaos. You follow orders, stay disciplined, and stay safe. No matter what happens, we stick together. We fight as one."

He paused, looking over his unit, locking eyes with a few of his officers.

"We will get through this. I promise you that. Let's make sure we go home tonight, and let's make sure Aurelia doesn't fall apart on our watch."

The unit remained silent for a moment, the gravity of Lucian's words sinking in. Then, one by one, the officers nodded in acknowledgment. The collective resolve was palpable.

"Gerard, you're second in command," Lucian said firmly, locking eyes with his trusted officer. "We're going in with four 25-man groups. Each group will have a leader, so make sure everyone knows their role. Keep it quick, keep it organized. Never lose contact with each other. Use your radios at all times to stay in sync."

He took a breath, the earlier chaos of the station still fresh in his mind. The tension, the urgency, it all rushed back as he spoke. "If things go south, use your firearms to fire warning shots only. Only if it's life-threatening should you fire at the crowd. We don't want to escalate unnecessarily."

Lucian's eyes darted to the equipment nearby, his mind running through every possible scenario. "We've got only two teargas launchers and limited ammount of bean bag rounds. Conserve them. Only use them if the target is clear. We can't afford to waste anything."

He could feel the weight of every word he spoke, the importance of the moment hanging in the air. The officers nodded in unison, each one steeling themselves for the challenge ahead.

"Get ready. We're moving out in five," Lucian said, his voice low but strong. He turned to the convoy of vehicles parked at the far end of the lot, the first signs of the operation getting underway.

The officers moved in unison, climbing into the trucks and vans. Lucian followed them, his mind already back on the mission at hand. The time for words was over. Now, it was time to lead.

He climbed into the lead vehicle, his body settling into the familiar hum of the engine. His fingers gripped the seat as he glanced at the other officers in the truck. This was it—the point of no return. Lucian felt the adrenaline surge through his veins, and though there was fear, there was also a deep sense of focus. He had a job to do. His unit had a job to do.

And together, they would face whatever came their way.