The Conversion Bureau: The St. Louis Massacre

by Cloudhammer

03 - A City Screams

Year 5, Week 19, Friday

Corporal Mark Burton was not a man usually prone to alarm. His route was a simple one, just the ten or so blocks around the serum plant and the main Bureau. He’d only been shot at once in his career, and that was just some dumb kid thinking his crappy Chinese automatic made him a man. That being said, seeing ten black Suburbans open their doors not a block down the street from him, men in tactical gear carrying assault rifles start jumping out, and three more flipping open their roofs to swing out literal miniguns, was a sufficient reason for him to cry out in alarm, slam his foot down on the accelerator, and skid down a side street. He’d later realize that he meant to hit the brake, but the act of hitting the accelerator saved his life as, with a ripping howl like a band saw, a stream of bullets tore into the rear of his cruiser.

“This is Unit 5-21 under attack! I’m taking heavy fire from unknown suspects carrying assault rifles, body armor and fucking miniguns! Requesting backup now!”

“Unit 5-21, this is Dispatch. What is your location?” The voice came over the radio before it suddenly broke into screams and a similar band saw noise.

“Dispatch! Dispatch! Shit, shit, what the fucking hell is this?” Burton shouted as he drove his mangled cruiser onto the next street, where he stopped at the next intersection. Fortunately another cruiser drove up as he was surveying the mess the minigun had made.

“What the hell’s goin’ on Mark?” Officer Don Stewart asked as he got out of his car, both officers ducking as a burst of gunfire split the air.

“Hell if I know Don, but whatever it is, it’s bad. I think they’re hitting the precinct too. Got on the horn to Dispatch ‘bout this here, overheard that same noise and screaming.”

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Don asked, his face ashen.

Mark took a few deep breaths. “Okay, I want you to get on the radio, hit all the emergency channels. I want a perimeter set up around the Bureau, any officers in this area only. Other precincts are going to be looking to their own right now.” The two officers began to wave other traffic around, feeling a little bit better as a few more officers showed up. Hearing more gunfire, he cursed his helplessness and wished for just one Hostage Rescue team.

Cheerheart flinched as that horrid ripping noise echoed down the halls again. The foals were crying their lungs out, and she was on the verge of joining them, but she needed to stay strong. She’d closed the door and herded the mix of fillies and colts to the opposite corner, but didn’t know what else to do.

Suddenly, the door swung open, the foals and Cheerheart screaming in terror. Cirrus galloped in, herding a few other Bureau staffponies in before closing the door. “Are you alright Cheerheart?”

“Cirrus, what’s going on?” Her ears plastered flat to her head, chest hiking as she breathed rapidly, she looked fit to fall apart at any second.

“I don’t know. There’s some people attacking the Bureau and the research facility too, I think.” he ushered the other frightened ponies to the back of the room, and then turned back to Cheerheart. “Alright, we need to push your desk to block the door. Then we get the foals into the opposite corner, then the adults in front of them. I need you to focus here Cheer.”

Cheerheart still felt like she was going to be sick, but Cirrus’ words were cutting through the fog of fear in her mind. Nodding, she and Cirrus put their heads to the desk and shoved it in front of the door.

“Okay now everypony,” Cheerheart said in a forced sing-song tone, trying not to lose control of herself as another chatter of noise rang out, “let’s all get into the corner. We’re gonna play a game of Shhh. Does everypony know how to play?”

The foals, tears in their eyes, nodded and gathered in the far corner, whimpering in fear as more noise echoed down the hall. The adult ponies piled in between the foals and the door, with Cirrus and Cheerheart at the front of the group. Though for the time being, all of them were shaking like leaves in the wind, wondering if they’d make it out from the nightmare the average morning had turned into.

The main St Louis precinct looked like a warzone, bullet holes cratered the front of the main buildings, and officers still exchanged token gunfire with the well-armed men waiting outside. For some reason, they seemed content to simply sit and wait, not pushing into the building itself.

“So what the hell are they waiting for, an invitation?” One of the junior officers asked, fingering his pistol nervously.

“Looks like they don’t want us goin’ anywhere.” Chief of Police Oliver Nance said. “But we ain’t waitin’ for them to change their minds. You, you and you, I want you to head around the back to the armory, get every assault rifle, sniper rifle, shotgun, riot shield and set of body armor you can find. Then we’re gonna put any HR guys in them first, then anyone else who’s passed their marksmanship training. I am not going to let the St Louis PD sit here like a bunch of fuckin’ girls while these pricks get free run of our city! Now let’s move!” The officers sprang back into motion as Nance picked up a shotgun, firing another slug out the atrium. The barks of a dozen assault rifles answered, chewing new holes into the walls. “There are times when I really wish I had Fridays off.” The officers manning the front office chuckled nervously, from well behind cover of course.

Switchboard was in a panic. When the main precinct switchboard went down, the number of calls from officers requesting information had doubled. To make matters worse, a number of the black trucks had appeared outside his building too, though they only had two officers who carried firearms. As the reports came in that the Bureau was under attack Gary, the elderly officer in charge of this precinct had pushed Switchboard to the side and taken over his station. “In case they’re listening in, don’t want them to know you’re in here.” made a heck of a lot of sense to him.

“Dispatch, this is Unit 7-12, I have Units 7-8, 7-9, and 7-3 with me. What’s your status?”

“That’s Helen!” Switchboard cried out in relief.

Gary nodded and motioned for him to keep his voice down. “Unit 7-12, this is Dispatch. We have guests outside and they do not look happy to see us. Advise you attempt to rendezvous with other units at...” He trailed off as he looked over a paper map, “30 by 336. Acknowledge, over.”

There was silence on the other end. “Roger that Dispatch. Stay safe. Over and out.”

Switchboard looked at Gary. “What does that mean? Are they going to come and rescue us?”

Gary shook his head. “I told them to meet here, at this intersection. That’ll put them far enough out of the way that they should be able to avoid getting hit by any more of these assholes.”

“B-but what about us? Are those humans going to k-kill us?” Switchboard started to feel the panic returning.

Gary put his hand on the earth pony’s shoulder. “They might, I won’t lie to you. But our job is to help keep the officers on the street informed of what’s going on. We can’t let our friends down, right?”

Switchboard sniffled. “I... I guess not.”

Gary smiled. “Atta boy... err, colt, I guess. Now, let’s see if we can get ahold of anyone else.” They turned back to the desk, Switchboard handling the non-speaking roles for Gary, who continued to direct officers to rally spots away from whoever was attacking their city.

President Foster was eating breakfast in the White House kitchen when the Secret Service agent opened the door. “Sir, we have an emergency.”

Foster nearly choked and took a drink of water. “Excuse me?”

The agent reached over and turned on the television, which showed an aerial view of a city with a horribly familiar arch in the background.

“Oh God no...” Foster whispered, going pale as the helicopter pilot’s audio cut in

“As you can see Diane, we’re over downtown St Louis now, where you can see a large number of black trucks have disgorged armed men into the city. The police precincts have been put under siege, with no officers able to enter or leave. There’s been an additional group of trucks sighted heading for the secondary Bureau on Kingshighway Boulevard. We can see a number of trucks outside the serum research facility now, along with what appears to be an armored tractor trailer. Furthermore, there’s a number of trucks entering the city’s so-called ‘pony district’. They appear to be...” the reporter fell silent as a group of fleeing ponies was gunned down by weapons fire from the Suburbans, “My God; those ponies were just killed down in the street. We have no idea who the people attacking St Louis are, but they are armed and extremely dangerous. At this time we must urge all citizens to remain indoors and away from windows, especially any ponies watching this. For now we’re going to stay up here at a safe altitude, back to you.” The feed cut to a harried looking news anchor, who began to recap the information just shown.

Foster ignored it and turned back to the agent. “I want Defense State, Transportation and Homeland Security in the Situation Room ASAP. Find Curtis; have him meet us there too. I want the FBI and CIA working on finding out how in the world whoever the hell this is was able to just waltz in and kick us in the balls. Tell the FAA that I want all flights diverted away from St Louis, same for trains and public buses.” He started to walk out, and then paused. “And get a message to the Equestrian embassy. We’ll want to keep them involved with this.”

“Right away sir.” The agent began speaking rapidly into his wrist radio as he followed Foster out of the room. Other agents had already begun stepping up their own security protocols to ensure that if there was another hostile force hoping to pull off a repeat in D.C., it would fail.

Lariat sat on the floor in the common area of the hotel suite, tapping his forehooves on the floor. “Are you going to spend all day in the baño guys? We need to be going soon if we’re going to be at the Bureau in time.”

“Just a few more minutes tovarich.” Anvil called out. “Dusty still has his muzzle in the bowl.”

Snorting in amusement, Lariat started to get to his hooves to turn on the TV when he heard a faint buzzing, coming from the windows. Trotting over, his jaw fell open at the sight below him. Wheeling about, he galloped across the room and pressed the oversized power button for the TV. As the image snapped onto the screen it he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “All of you, get in here now!”

The alarm in his voice was infectious, and soon everypony was clustered in front of the screen, staring open-mouthed at the scenes of devastation unfolding across the city. “What do we do amigos? I’m not a coward, but I don’t like the odds of seven of us against miniguns.”

“I don’t either. But the guards stationed at that Bureau won’t be able to fend off that many humans either.” Cloudhammer furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “Okay, Flare; I want you to send a message to the embassy. Tell them we will proceed to the serum research facility on hoof to scout out the enemy forces. Any further coordination of forces with the United States will be handled on their end as per the treaty.”

“Yes sir.” Flare trotted back into his room to begin transcribing the note.

“The rest of you, put your armor on. Lariat, go get Aegis and bring him in here. We’re moving out in five minutes.” Cloudhammer said as he started to put on his armor, his russet coat beginning to shift to white.

The six trucks speeding down the quiet streets toward the suburban Bureau were a little surprised at the lack of police they encountered before they reached the actual Bureau. With a squeal of brakes they came to a stop, the men inside jumping out with their rifles up. The two minigun trucks flipped open their roofs and began to cover the two approaches to the front of the Bureau.

Illustrious Shine, the First Lieutenant in charge of security at the Bureau, had been in the process of opening the door when he saw the rifles and started to turn to shout a warning to the guards inside. The cry died in his throat along with him as a burst of armor-piercing bullets tore through his neck. The guards in the lobby had barely enough time to turn away from the small TV the receptionist had on the desk before the men had taken the steps and filled the lobby with a storm of firepower. Breaking up into fire-teams, they began to move through the Bureau room to room, brief chatters of gunfire ringing out as they cleared the building.

Gentle Smile shivered as the sound of boots on tile drew closer, keeping her small group of foals behind her. This Bureau’s daycare wasn’t as populated as her friend Cheerheart’s, given that in the suburbs there were fewer single parents who needed a place for their kids to play while they were living at the Bureau, but some of the staff had their children here with them.

The sound stopped at the door and Gentle Smile hoped that whoever was doing this would leave, but then the door was kicked in with a sharp crack. A large, armored figure stepped into the room, an assault rifle held tight in his hands. His eyes turned to look directly at them, and Gentle Smile recoiled as she saw... nothing. There was no emotion, like this human was simply taking a walk in the park. The weapon started to come up and she took a breath to scream for help.

Five minutes later, the gunmen left the building, re-entering their trucks. The man in the passenger seat of the lead truck picked up the radio.

“This is Section Gamma. Secondary Bureau clear, no hostiles remaining.”

“Roger that. Move to grid twenty-four, squad Charlie has intercepted a police officer. Radio chatter indicates they are rallying at the intersection of routes 30 and 336. Link up and contain them.”

“Yes sir. Orders received.” The man put down the radio. “Let’s go.”

The trucks sped off, leaving a few citizens to timidly venture out to see the damaged Bureau. One, a boy of about nineteen, felt his hands starting to shake with rage. He’d known some of these ponies, hell, one of his best friends had just spent a week in here. Reaching into his pocket, he first pulled out a green bandana and tied it around his forehead. Then, he pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number from memory. “Ricky? It’s Carlos. You seen the shit on the TV? Fuckers just shot up the Bureau. Get the guys together. We’re gonna do something ‘bout this shit.” Hanging up, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of bloodstained paper. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the number. “Man, I never thought I’d be doin’ somethin’ so stupid.”

The phone rang for a few seconds, and then a harsh voice answered. “Who the fuck is this?”

“This is Carlos of the Southampton Homicidas. I know your asses have seen the shit that these black-suited fuckers are doing to your streets and mine.”

“So what the fuck you want me to do?” The voice asked, though some of the anger was now replaced with guarded curiosity.

“I know yours and mine ain’t seen eye to eye, but these streets don’t belong to some pansy-ass out of towners who think they can roll in here like they’re hot shit. So I’m sayin’, put our shit down for a day, and teach these motherfuckers what it means to fuck around on our turfs.” Carlos said.

“You’re a crazy ass fucker and I should shoot your ass dead where you stand for even having this number.” The voice replied, but Carlos could hear other voices in the background now. “Your puny ass gang has twenty-four hours. Any of yours try to fuck up any of mine, your asses are dust, you got me? BOD’s got our reputation to uphold, after all.”

“Same goes for the Homicidas.” Carlos hung up the phone and started walking away from the Bureau. A dark grin crossed his face, “Who’da thought there’d be a day when the Boys and the Homicidas actually agreed on something? Fuck me, this just don’t make no damn sense anymore.”

Second Lieutenant Brightwing was worried. They’d been able to seal the entrances into the inner parts of the research center and watch the feed on the cameras. But the soldiers hadn’t continued to press their attack. He felt his blood beginning to boil as he saw the bodies of those who hadn’t been able to make it, and switched the cameras to the loading dock. His eyes narrowed as he saw a tractor trailer being backed up to the dock. “So just what are you all up to now?” He cursed as the men walked up to the cameras and shot them out. Flipping between the other cameras, he could see they were being shot out too.

“Sir?” He turned to see Sergeant Cinnamon, the unicorn wasn’t technically under his command, but given the situation the normal rank structure seemed unnecessary.

“Round up the guards, post them to the rear entrances. The bastards are trying something new.” Brightwing ordered, getting to his hooves and making his way to the rear of the building. A dozen of the human security team were waiting, along with six of the Guard. After the other six Guards arrived, they spread apart to take up defensive positions.

“So, these doors are safe, right?” Cinnamon asked nervously.

“Well, even if they can get through them, we have enough firepower to hold them off until more help arrives.” A security guard said reassuringly, only to pause as a hard bang echoed from the other side of the door, a dent the size of a basketball forming. Repeated bangs echoed as whatever was on the other side hit it over and over. Eventually, the door gave way with a tortured squeal of metal and flew off its hinges into the room. After a split second to see if a flashbang was coming, the security guards put a hail of bullets through the opening. After a few seconds, they stopped, looking confusedly at one another.

Suddenly, a piercing cry split the air as a hulking shape burst through the door, followed by four others. The security guards lifted their firearms to return fire, but they were too slow, their brains not willing to register the monstrosities charging toward them before the staccato bark of submachine gun fire tore into them. The Royal Guards fared little better, one of the unicorns managing to get a needle fine beam of fire off that carved into one of the shapes like a scalpel before they were cut down.

The shapes stopped for a second, before the one leading the group coldly put a burst of bullets into the wounded one’s head. Gesturing for another to take the carcass to the tractor trailer, the three survivors checked the room for any stragglers. Once the fourth rejoined them, they set off into the facility.

Spatial Shift cowered in the corner of the supply closet. He’d been cowering in the center of the room, but the renewed bursts of gunfire had scared him into soiling the carpet. He wasn’t sure where the others were hiding, but didn’t dare open the door to find out. He checked the small plastic bottle sitting on the floor next to him. Batch #37658 floated serenely within, the faint glimmers of light it gave off calming him down somewhat. When the alarms had sounded he had managed to sneak the bottle he’d been tasked to work with into the pocket of his coat.

Flinching as a strange new noise made itself heard from outside the door; Spatial began to hyperventilate as the handle began to turn. Picking up the bottle and putting it back into his pocket, he began to pull as much power as he could into his horn. In a blinding flash of light and a bang of displaced air that knocked supplies off the shelves, he disappeared as the door was ripped off its hinges. The figure standing in the doorway hissed in displeasure before it set off down the halls, searching for the rest of its targets.

Comments

[djthomp]

Yeah, I was wondering if that gang was going to get involved, both of them it looks like. And one of the daycare centers bites it.

God I can't wait for these bastards to start taking some casualties of their own. Preferably 100% casualties.

[Vi Et Armis]

Go antagonists!!!!
static.fjcdn.com/pictures/pop_0ba225_1175594.jpg

[Defoloce]

Police unit 7-3 is best unit.

[Comma-Kazie]

Very brutal. You have a knack for setting up and drawing us into catastrophes.

[Erik Tiber]

This is a clusterfuck of unimaginable proportions. Congratulations, this guy must be a Bane-level magnificent bastard to pull this off.

Shit is SO REAL!

[TheCrazyMan]

I just have to say, the HLF are morons in this. Why? Because they're wearing black armor and using miniguns. Black armor is distinctive, and you don't want to be seen when you're a guerilla group. You'd want to be in plainclothes in order to stop people from identifying you. Secondly, miniguns just don't work as infantry weapons. For one, you wouldn't hit jack when firing the thing, and secondly, do you really want to carry 40 kilograms around, plus an ammunition backpack that going to run out in a few seconds?

Plus the fact that the HLF is pretty much guaranteed victory unless the National Guard steps in. A few out-of-station cops and a gang or two isn't going to last a minute against a well trained force. Also, if they had miniguns, they could definitely afford a bomb, which would make a hell of a lot more sense in this situation....

[Midnightshadow]

the excrement has hit the air excitation device in a big way. What the hell are they after? And how the hell do they think they're going to get away, let alone away with it?