Steve Nobody idled along to the station when he saw Pinkshirts patrolling for the first time. On the opposite side of the road, they looked over and one slapped a baton against the palm of his hand. Steve kept his head down and continued through the light rain. He nipped down an alleyway and rounded a bend toward the station just as it all began to kick off. Umbrellas waved in the air, accompanied by angry yells and arm waving. The way to the station was clearly barred, so he held back. Pinkshirts moved forward to corral part of the crowd between a brick wall and a Destructor mounted on the pavement. Batons slammed down on the hemmed in commuters and the debris of bags and umbrellas were crushed underfoot. They kettled the unfortunate people into a corner and injuries mounted.
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