[b]ALL OVER CHICAGO[/b]

"Fuck!" one of the men in welding masks yelled in frustration as Big Rig's armored vehicle roaring away, knocking Iconoclasts aside like bowling pins as it tore out onto the street. He fumbled with his shoulder radio through his gloves, finally managing to key the mic. "Control, we got a runner. Big Rig is taking to the streets. Can we get eyes in the sky?"

"Roger that," one of the women miles away in the command center replied said, conveying the request to teams of Iconoclasts on the South Side. Within seconds, drones began to launch from rooftops, their sensitive cameras searching the streets for Big Rig's vehicles. Only a few seconds later, the radio net crackled to life again.

"We've got eyes on Big Rig." The voice reported a street and direction.

The woman at command nodded to herself, a motion lost on those listening to her all over the South Side. "All units in the area, get on him. We need pursuit vehicles and a roadblock."

"Copy that. Team Four taking over on Big Rig." This voice was a man's, reedy, with a notable Bostonian accent.

Less than a minute after the call was made, three vehicles peeled out from side streets just behind Big Rig's monstrous truck, keeping pace with the armored vehicle and throwing plumes of rainwater from their spinning tires. Two motorcycles and a pickup, driven by men and women who obviously had some skill and long experience at pursuing fleeing vehicles. From the back of the pickup, one Iconoclasts shouldered a G36 assault rifle and fired a volley of 5.56 rounds at Big Rig's truck.

About half a mile ahead of the chase, a heavy semi and trailer were pulled across the road, blocking any passage at all. More and more Iconoclasts were arriving on the scene, grimly checking their weapons and taking defensive positions. "I need any heavy weapons ready to go," one masked man instructed in a Boston accent. Adding action to his words, the Bostonian extended the tube on a M72 LAW rocket launcher- a portable anti-tank weapon, slick with rain.

[b]FULLER PARK[/b]

The cacophony of sirens only grew louder as more police cars drew near. Three more rounded the corner, heading straight for the trio of vigilantes.

Ahead of them all was an unmarked Mercury, lights flashing on the dash. The Mercury squealed to a halt on the wet pavement, and a man in civilian clothing jumped out, badge held aloft over his head. He waved at the uniformed cops with a gesture clearly meant to say "hold on, guys". The black-and-whites rolled to a stop, lights flashing.

The man walked slowly and deliberately towards the vigilantes, hands raised. He made no move towards the pistol on his belt. As he drew closer, any of the vigilantes who had watched television earlier that evening would recognize him: Vaughn Czarny, the cop in charge of the Chicago PD's Vigilante Task Force.

"We can protect you!" Czarny offered without preamble. "If you come in without putting up a fight, we can protect you from the Iconoclasts! No one has to die tonight, we've got the manpower to stop them if you help us!" 

The anti-vigilante cop stopped twenty feet away from Toy King, Arc, and Flare, hands raised and making no move to attack.