"Welcome to the Riots"

"Blackshot reporting in," he said as he sprinted across the grey pavement of the city. He gripped the handle of his gas-powered paintball rifle in his hands. His brown glowing eyes darted from left to right, looking out for any gangsters that might ambush him.

"We have six perps moving around the bank, brother. Take them down and make sure to restrain them so Night Watch can bring them in."

"Who says about restraining?" Blackshot asked. The street around him was lively, bright and crowded. The people around him snapped photos of him but their smartphones ended up corrupted. The mundane beings make way for him; each had a surprised look in their faces. Blackshot could not distinguish if the shock was out of fear or awe. But one thing is certain.

They wanted nothing to do with him.
Storefronts and neon lightings illuminated the snow-covered streets. Few groups of people in motorcycle gears herded the crowd to a safe location as the Protectorate carries out his duty. Blackshot turned a bent to the right, paintball gun raised and saw what he was looking for.

An appliance store was being robbed by six men in cotton jackets. They were wearing striped bonnets of green and red color. Each wore x-ray sunglasses, eyewear infused with a technology achieved by humanity's science over the course of years. Underneath the jackets were cardboard armors spray painted in maroon.

"Hands up, perps!" He yelled, catching them off guard as they exit the store with electronic appliances in hands.

"Get to the van!" One of them yelled, dropping their loot and dashed towards their old Volkswagen.

Blackshot's aim didn't falter as he opened fire at his first target. He aimed at the second one while moving to the nearest cover; his movements were similar to that of a machine programmed to kill. His paintball rifle recoiled and ejected green steam of smoke while colored pellets were dispensed towards the neck of his target.

The remaining four retreated back inside the appliance store, whipping their electric-powered airsoft guns and opened fire at Blackshot. The Protectorate hid behind the trashcan; the sound of BB pellets pinging echoed in his eardrums like tinnitus.

"Deodamnatus!" He cursed. "Brothers, do not send in reinforcements, I'll take them all!"

"Be adviced, brother! They got a drone in the air!"

Blackshot looked up and saw a floating white drone with four turbines spinning. Below it was a device attached; its tube was aimed at Blackshot.

The Protectorate reacted quickly; raising his left hand and releasing a stream of electricity at the floating drone. Its circuitry was fried and smoking; it fell to the ground and exploded in small flames.

He lifted the garbage bin and threw it across the street, towards the storefront. The glass windows and doors were shattered into millions of pieces, allowing Blackshot access without having to deal with small entrances. He sprinted across and entered; he saw two bound and gagged Chinese couple, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Sorry about your storefront," Blackshot said. "You will receive compensation from the Property Management Department."

"Hey, we ain't handling that shit!" A different voice yelled at his earpiece.

"Shut up, Myers," Blackshot replied as he raised his electric-powered S&W airsoft handgun.

He navigated shells filled with electronic appliances; from toasters to microwaves to air conditioners and flat screen LCDs. He saw parts and circuitries scattered on the white tiled floor, probably discarded by these assholes for portability. Blackshot's retinal display link lit up; his targets were leaving through the back door.

He sped up his movement and spotted one of them reaching for the grey door. He wasted no time firing; three pellets made its way towards the base of his neck. The man fired back without looking; Blackshot leaned to the right. He grabbed a red toaster from the shelf to his right and tossed it at his enemy. The impact was powerful that it knocked his enemy down.

Switching to his paintball, he followed them to a graffiti-covered backyard. The fence surrounding it was cut open; the hit was well planned that they have a second plan in case all shit hits the fan.

"Get over here, perp!" Blackshot yelled as he snatched one of them by the neck, lifted him up, then smashed him on the ground. He stomped an armored boot at the face of his target, knocking him cold. Blood flowed freely from his nose. "Bastard."

He moved towards the cut fence, squeezed, and moved towards an alley filled with homeless hobos. The two halted in their tracks, halted, and raised their pistols at him.

A standoff.

Blackshot opened fire, the easiest target of the two didn't even have the chance to fire his gun as a colored pellet hit his forehead. It splattered, covering his face in green liquid foam. The other one fired at him, the pellets bounced off harmlessly.

Blackshot aimed for the man's right kneecap. He heard him yell, this prompted him to move closer and take his kill when the man snatched an innocent hobo and used him as a body shield.

"Drop your weapon, asshole!" The man yelled, pressing the barrel of the airsoft against the hobo's forehead.

"No, you drop your weapon," Blackshot said as he slowly lowered his gun, confusing the perp.

"What?"

Blackshot swiftly raised his weapon and fired; a colored pellet hit the man's face. He fell down with a scream. Soon, dancing lights appeared behind the Protectorate with two men in motorcycle gears approaching and yelling instructions.

****

The interrogation room was empty, save for a table, three chairs where one of them was occupied by the leader of the perps, and a polarized window to the left. Protectorate Leon and Digit were chosen to interrogate their captive.

"What kind of weed do you use?" Leon asked as he tapped the table with an armored hand.
"Eric, scaring him wouldn't do any good," Digit said as he placed a hand on Leon's shoulder.

"Good cop bad cop, you think that'll work? You all pieces of chicken shit." Their captive said.

Digit suddenly lost it as he leaped at their restrained captive but Leon immediately stopped him.

"Dammit, Paul! Calm down."

"I have little tolerance with imbeciles," Digit said as he approached the man from behind. He pulled his hair upwards and said, "Let's just do this the easiest way possible."

"Whatever, brother. Be sure to share it with the Regiment afterward."

"Sure." Digit's eyes glowed white. The same happened to their captive. For three minutes, their minds were locked into an unbreakable bond. Information after information flowed through a tube that Digit metaphorically created to leech knowledge from his enemy. He was weak in mind; no psychic defense, no resistance, nothing, as if he was giving away what he knows.

After a few seconds, Digit and the man were pulled back to reality. The Protectorate double over and threw up on one corner.

"Are you alright, brother?"

"I need to find Blackshot." He glanced at Leon. "It's Blood Moon all over again."

****

Blackshot and Digit were on horseback, riding across the streets with little regards for traffic rules that the Night Watch enforces. Their Human counterparts didn't mind as they reached their stops and destinations.

Their horses were covered in armor made out of scrapped car bodies. The armor that protects the ribcages of their equine vehicles were attached with holsters to accommodate spiked melee weaponry. The symbol of the Enochian Guards and the Night Watch were stenciled on the 'headgear' of the horse.

"What do you know about our target?" Blackshot asked. "You didn't tell me earlier."

"I didn't? Well, Kilson Klayer, one of our captured perp, belonged to a cybernetica cult that aimed to rebuild their 'god' using Human technology like appliances or computers. One of them found the essence of the Demon Agariel, the one that we banished six years ago."

"What were they planning to do with it?" Blackshot asked as he glanced at his surroundings.

Graveyard Takashima was a largely abandoned compound filled with skyscrapers with exotic designs, each was stripped to their rebars and foundations. It earned its name because it looks like a wasteland filled with the remains of colossal titanic gods. Few birds from the Pan Pacific Shore flew overhead, hoping to find any rats down in this archaeological hell.

The wind carried dust as it blew past. The only people that wandered here were scavengers and undesirables. Sometimes this was a battlefield for combatants in cardboard armors and bubble wrapper suits, sometimes this was a hive for gangsters, sometimes this was a secret meeting place for two lovers.

"They were planning to revive the Demon in a robotic suit," Digit replied.

"Stupid idiots. How close are we in reversing the effects of the Blood Moon?" Blackshot asked.

"The Archangel Michael said, nowhere near."

"I didn't ask about the Archangel."

"To be honest, the Humans were hit hard that they were not sure where to start."

Blackshot pulled his horse, halting it.
"Androids," Blackshot warned as he stepped off his horse and pulled the spiked mace holstered on its body. "Moving in to terminate, brother."

"Joining to assist," Digit said as he jumped off and raised his spring action riot BB rifle.

"Assess," Blackshot muttered.

"Negative, no clear view."

Blackshot didn't reply as he sprinted towards the combat android. Its grey exoskeletal body was covered in black grease. Parts of it were consumed by rust and wear. Its face bears semblance to the skull of a dog. Its yellow eyes were glowing the same way a Protectorate's eyes glow.

The android turned, raising its handgun at Blackshot. The Protectorate swung at the direction of its weapon, amputating its arm in a single strike. He thrust at the chest of the android, sending it down to the ground. He raised his mace and smashed the android's head twice.

"Drone in the air, brother!" Digit warned as he aimed skyward. "Terminating!" He moved in a disciplined manner, raising his weapon and fired. One shot made a crack on its shell. Digit wind the cock of his rifle back and fired again, sending it spiraling down.

"You'll need a better weapon," Blackshot said as he glanced to the left, preparing to fight two incoming androids.

Graveyard Takashima was an open wasteland filled with dust and rubbles from the tall skeletal buildings that never see the conclusion of their constructions. Every step they made, dust slowly rises; it was a desert covered in the sand of ignorance. Blackshot rolled to the left, his left free hand snatching a gas-powered Colt 45 and immediately took aim. His shots when through the two glowing eyes of his target. Three more went straight to the exposed circuitry of the android, causing it to spark and burst in flames.

"Electronics were fragile, weren't they, brother?" Blackshot asked as Digit opened fire at the other one.

One shot damaged the base of its neck. It fired back at Digit, who took cover behind a stack of tires. He rewound his rifle and took aim again. He fired a shot in the middle of its chest; it fell backward while emitting a high pitched sound.

"Okay, screw this. I'll be using my nightstick." Digit said as he strapped his rifle to his body and lifted a retractable baton instead. "Let's move."

The two sprinted across the road and encountered four androids on patrol. Digit made the first move, swinging his club at the face of an android in an upward motion, decapitating it. The second one fired three paintball pellets at him, splattering orange neon light at his armor. He retaliated by smashing its handgun, then breaking its left leg with a downward swing. It fell off balance; Digit smashed its face with his weapon.

Blackshot vaulted over a roadblock, firing two pellets at the face of an android. His target fired back; Blackshot threw his mace at the direction of the other android before engaging his original target. The mace smashed the chest of the second one instantly. Blackshot continuously fired at the plates of the android while running around it. The android's programming has gone haywire and instead, began shooting itself. Blackshot gave a kick at its head, taking it down and exposing it to a vulnerable position.

He raised his handgun and fired at its exposed parts, killing it for good.

"Two more, brother!" Digit yelled. "And they look meaner!"

The androids were heavily armored, welded with galvanized irons painted in red with white stripes running vertically across its chest. The word, 'Guardian' was stenciled on its chest. It carried with them long rubberized hammers made out of a tire of a backhoe.

"It's time to get serious," Blackshot said as he retrieved his mace from the chest of the dead android. His hands illuminated. "Arcane Enochian Combat, brother."

"Affirmative," Digit replied, his hands sparked with electricity.

When the first Guardian charged, Blackshot stepped out of the way. He aimed a hand at the neck of his target and launched a streak of fire from his palm. The Guardian emitted a growl similar to a rabid animal and swung its weapon.

He jumped and rolled over the hammer, raised his pistol and opened fire. He blasted its neck with a beam of light from his hand and fired at the same part. The Guardian swung mindlessly and missed.

Blackshot concentrated on the loose nuts and bolts that his attacks had made and in one powerful telekinetic pull, he successfully detached its head from its socket. The Guardian fell to its knees, dropping its weapon and reaching for its neck. Oil and grease spilled onto the dust covered ground.

"Paul!" Blackshot yelled as he hefted the hammer and tossed it at his brother.
Digit caught the hammer both hands. He jumped to the left, avoiding another strike from his adversary. He struck sideward; the blunt edge of his heavy weapon detached a plate covering the knee ball joint of the Guardian. Three lightning blast and the android starting to fall off balance.

"Die, scum!" Digit yelled as he raised his hammer and smashed the head of the Guardian.

A moment of silence settled; only the sound of spilling oil, sparking circuits and burning wires could be heard. In the distance, they could hear a wild roaring of a crowd. The two followed the source of the sound; the distance was closer than they originally thought. They saw pillars of tires arranged in a circular manner. Men in cotton jackets and maroon cardboard armor cheered as the other cult members weld a piece on the enormous humanoid structure that they had created. A few members were working with their laptop, probably programming the robot's intelligence.

"You're all under arrest!" Blackshot yelled.

"Brother, we don't have spare ammunition!" Digit scolded.

The cult members slowly turned to them, raising their cardboard swords, foil covered machetes, and rubber guns. A muscular figure in the middle raised his 'broadsword' and the men charged at them.

Blackshot swung downwards, incapacitating his target before he could do harm. He blocked an attack on the left, swinging the mace over his head and smashing the face of an enemy to his right. He thrust his weapon to the left, towards his attacker, and smashed his face twice.

Three men charged, swinging their weapons like madmen. Blackshot stomped on the ground, the earth beneath them rose and sent them flying away. He launched a fist on his next target before launching his right elbow horizontally, breaking his enemy's nose. An uppercut from the Protectorate finished him off.

Digit launched two straight jabs at the face of an enemy, followed by a downward elbow chop to the scalp. The man fell to the ground, unconscious. He lifted the man's body to use him as a shield. Digit silently inserted a Frequency Grenade while four men jumped on him at once. He activated it and tossed it at the general direction of the cult members. Loud whining sound ruined their eardrums in momentarily; Digit drew his two gas powered pistols and opened fire, sending men after men running.

"Brother, can you still continue?" Blackshot asked. A sea of bodies covered the dust. More men stood on the opposite side.

"We are Protektovare, we were bred for war!" Digit yelled before charging with a yell. Blackshot joined him; both sides met. Blackshot swings at every target he sees while catching a few punches that broke his nose or bruised his cheek. Digit continually fired at every cultist before his ammo ran out.
He broke out his nightsticks as soon as his weapons ran dry. He struck at the first one in the left temple, then to the right before sending an uppercut. He shifted his stance and sent a kick at another one to the left. His left hand blazed; he launched a fist at the next one, scorching his target's chest with arcane flames.

The fight continued for two more minutes until none remain.

"I guess I'll just have to deal with you." The leader yelled. He turned to his programmers and engineers. "Activate GOD, I will control him manually. We shall crush his enemies!"

Three engineers placed a headgear over the man's head. It was connected to a large machine that was connected to the inanimate structure behind him. Soon, its green eyes flashed and it began to stand from cross sitting position.

Blackshot and Digit transformed into their Angelic Forms; ten-foot tall mechanical battle Angels capable of wielding Burning Blades and Archangelic weaponry. They flew and engaged GOD in battle, mirroring the fight between Lucifer, Michael, and God, except the colossal figure supposed to represent God was evil.

"Look for the joints, brother!" Blackshot yelled, his voice was mechanical. A hand almost swat him away. He spotted the titan's shoulder socket and fired three blasts of powerful heavenly light.

Digit found his target and fired as well while avoiding a gigantic hand that almost caught him.  He pulled out his Burning Blade from empty space and sliced the damaged joint apart. Blackshot did the same with his target. Soon, they blasted its legs and its remaining hand until it fell to the ground.

The Protectorates directed their light at the head of GOD until it melted into silver liquid. They landed, reverting back to normal.

"Surrender now, there's no way for you to escape!" Digit yelled as he raised his weapon.

The leader spat on the ground, tossing the headgear from his helmet to the ground and charged. His remaining men, engineers and programmers alike, joined the fray. Digit and Blackshot cut through their ranks as they smash and perforate their enemies with their spiked clubs.

Until the leader only remains.

Blackshot launched a streak of lightning at the left knee of the leader. He let out a yell before swinging his broadsword, hitting Digit. The Protectorate shrugged off the pain and advanced, launching his fist forward. His punch toppled the leader to the ground; Blackshot stomped on his face, knocking him cold.

"That's the last of the Children of the Marooned," Digit said.

"What the hell was that?!" Blackshot rhetorically asked. After recovering from the absurdity of the events he finally said, "Dammit, we need to get the boys out here."

"No need." Digit pointed at a fleet of drones in the sky, all of which were belonging to the Night Watch.

--END--