[center][b][h1][color=#44F03E]𝔽[/color][color=#42E93C]𝕦[/color][color=#40E33A]𝕥[/color][color=#3EDD39]𝕚[/color][color=#3DD737]𝕝[/color][color=#3BD136]𝕚[/color][color=#39CB34]𝕥[/color][color=#38C532]𝕪[/color][color=#36BF31]:[/color] [color=#32B32E]𝕋[/color][color=#31AD2C]𝕙[/color][color=#2FA62A]𝕖[/color] [color=#2C9A27]𝔾[/color][color=#2A9426]𝕣[/color][color=#288E24]𝕖[/color][color=#268823]𝕒[/color][color=#258221]t[/color] [color=#21761E]𝔾[/color][color=#20701C]𝕒[/color][color=#1E6A1B]𝕞[/color][color=#1C6419]𝕖[/color][/h1][/b][/center]
[color=008000][h3]𝕊𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕤[/h3]
[b]ℕ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟠𝕥𝕙, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟜   𝟙𝟡:𝟚𝟘[/b]

[b][𝕊𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕝], 𝔼𝕩𝕖𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘....[/b][/color]

As scattered as the crowd had gotten, the mass of bodies seemed to balance out the sea of people that had once conglomerated together. While the isolated nature of the Reclaim Zone prevented Enforcers from responding in their typically advertised '2 minute timeframe to anywhere in America', that didn't stop the Response Squad from arriving almost immediately. The high-tech EMTs jumped through the crowds and skittered across walls with technical gear unlike anything most Reclaim citizens had ever seen in their lives. Why they had shown up before even the Enforcers became evident as the Response Squad Jumpers shot from the sky to land upon the stage. Gatch must have had a deadman switch. There was no end to the endlessly expensive treatment plans the Response Squad offered to the CEOs and corporate seelouts that could afford them. Even in spite of the firefight between the destructive assassin and the Enforcers pulling up in squad cars to combat the crowd and reach their target, the Response Squad remained steadfast in their duties, airlifting the Priority Injured Parties and tending to whatever leftover wounded they could as they continued to extract men and women to hospitals around South City. To many people's surprise, the EMT jumpers seemed entirely unworried about the ongoing hail of bullets, though they seemed to be relying on a mixture of bravery and common decency to not catch bullets in their craniums.

As more and more Enforcers arrived on scene, more fire was focused on the assassin. In spite of his outward invincibility, the man seemed to be on the backfoot. For a moment, he locked eyes with a Response Squad EMT as they passed one another. One had aimed to save Gatch, the other had nearly killed him. More questions arose in the minds of all involved as the cruel figure seemed to leave his business unfinished. It was only after the mystery figure shot past the EMT when he caught sight of S'venia's drone. Assuming it to be an ineffective reporting drone or some recorder for the Response Squad, he was entirely unprepared as the burst of bright light sent him reeling back. It was clear that the receptors in whatever augments were laden in his eye sockets stood momentarily overloaded. In the drone's next burst, however, a set of deployable flashbang protectors covered his lenses. If only he were seconds quicker.

The next shot from the Engitech Drone offered nothing but a blinding white screen, as though the drone itself had been blinded. To any manual onlookers, the impact of a rocket-propelled ballistic weapon could be seen smashing into the assassin. As the explosive plumes of smoke cleared, the cyborg assassin shot sparks from his metallic exoskeleton, now protruding from under his kevlar coat. He only remained in his place for one more shot from the drone, though this picture was distorted. Funnily enough, it was only distorted around the assassin, as static appeared in some sort of circular field around the man. Without a second's hesitation, the assassin shot off towards the back of the stage, immediately beginning to run up the wall as he was propelled by the massively powerful servos grinding in his cybernetic legs. The drone captured a number of shots despite the assassin being aware of its presence. It seemed he had bigger problems to worry about. Very few pursuers even dared to chase him, but those who did found their efforts lost to [i]Futility.[/i]

As Proctor ascended to the window of the hollow building he found himself in, the carnage was palpable, viscerally painted throughout the square. Some men had even taken arms against the Enforcers. Of course, that wasn't such an uncommon occurence for the derelicts of the Reclaim Zone. Some supported Rott while others just hated the vile lawmen. Nonetheless, it wasn't long before they realized the [i]Futility[/i] of taking on the massive armored soldiers that had responded to the scene. Carefully scattered throughout the crowd, Proctor's keen eyes could locate that some Knights had joined in the firefight. Vendettas ran wild in the Reclaim Zone, but even wilder between its gangs and the Enforcers.

There were a number of peculiar details that the Reclaim's ghost could identify however, or rather, [i]not identify.[/i] For starters, each of the men in the crowd that had Knights markings painted across their implants were all unrecognizable. Grunts and lackeys. None of Rott's officers were there, nor were any of his recognizable high-level operators. The Knights that were there were by no means a full force. It seemed clear that they would be slaughtered by the Enforcers should they continue to fight. No matter the outcome, the situation would be dire, though. That much was clear. Blood painted the Reclaim that day.

And not all of it was the blood of Knights and Enforcers. After what felt like hours, a Response Squad jumper kneeled beside Campbell. He brought his tools out and began to inject some foaming solution into the clear wound in Campbell's skull. The results were unclear. Few eyes were caring to look at the fallen politician when the rest of Central Square was filled with rampant carnage. That didn't matter to the Response Squad, though. No matter the danger, the circumstance, the political leanings, anyone paying them was getting the care they needed. A set of two jumpers soon descended on Campbell's location with a gurney in their hands, their jetstream suits lofting them down slowly and preparing to loft Campbell back up into the sky with them. The fate of the candidate was unclear, but he would be getting to a hospital nonetheless.

A day of hope across the Reclaim Zone had changed in an instant. The world was like a game, with so many pawns being thrown left and right. So many chips entering and leaving the pot. There were a thousand leads and a thousand different paths, but a much narrower margin with desirable outcomes. One could wonder if any sort of good could come out of pursuing a cause in this mess, or whether all parties involved would just be swallowed by [i]Futility...[/i]