Shadow of great britain

A thick wall formed in the pouring rain, which blocked the connection between people. Even if they were less than one meter apart, they could not touch the hearts of their companions.

Under the Arc de Triomphe in Wellington is the smallest police station in London. It is often ridiculed for being too small. However, today, it has the strongest police force in the Metropolitan Police Department.

More than 300 police officers were temporarily recruited from nearby places and gathered here.

The road covered with plaster is lined with roadblocks arranged in layers, and there are several carriages parked under the arches. They are the weapons that Officer Tony borrowed from the Armory of the Tower of London according to Arthur's instructions. Iron shield with some rust.

It can be seen from the mud formed on the surface of the shield after mixing with rainwater that these old antiques must have been stored for some years. They may have been made in the 16th century, or the 17th century, the Middle Ages, or the Renaissance. No one can tell. Their true age, perhaps only the ravens raised in the Tower of London and bred from generation to generation know their detailed origins.

With the assistance of several police officers, Arthur stepped on the roof of the carriage and jumped onto the platform built with wooden boxes early in the morning.

Behind him is the majestic Wellington Arc de Triomphe, nearly 50 meters high. On top of the Arc de Triomphe is displayed the Duke of Wellington's Leap that towers like a giant under the sky, bringing a heavy and oppressive feeling like a dark and gloomy sky. Horse statue.

The rain washed over the bronze statue over and over again, and the rainwater rushing like a waterfall splashed on Arthur's shoulders, but it could not shake his body in the slightest. This was not because he could withstand the power of the rain, but because he It was found that many police officers below were already shaken in their eyes.

He knew they were unwilling to do this work, so maybe instead of letting them do this, it would be better to let them go back to patrol in the heavy rain.

But at this critical moment, someone has to stand up, and Scotland Yard must be ready for its first security crackdown since its establishment.

Arthur's eyes swept across the eyes of everyone present. His eyes were slightly red, not sure whether it was because of Agares or because of the rain.

The figure of the red devil floated behind him, and Arthur's penetrating voice penetrated the rain curtain, shaking the eardrums of every police officer present. Whether they were willing or unwilling, this deafening, soul-shaking sound would directly Pour into their ears.

"My colleagues, every honest police officer at Scotland Yard. I am delighted to see you here, braving the heavy rain, the muddy roads, the difficult tasks and the long journeys, you have been taken from us. All police districts are assigned here.

With your consistent courage and responsible attitude, you have once again proved why the Metropolitan Police is worthy of the public's trust, worthy of the affirmation of the Cabinet and Parliament, and worthy of every dollar you get. make.

I, Arthur Hastings, stand here today, as you can see, wearing a pair of white gloves and a tuxedo uniform, without a police officer's knife or a flintlock pistol, but only carrying a civilized staff. .

I am not ordering you as the superintendent of the East London District of Scotland Yard, but as an old patrol officer who has worked on the front line for a year, I want to talk to you about our past, present and future problems. Problems you have already encountered or will encounter soon! "

Following Arthur's roar, he swung his clenched fist into the air, his strong and powerful arms punching through the rain curtain, and the banging sound seemed to be able to break the air.

Only a thunderbolt was heard, and lightning pierced the gloomy sky of London. Everything was plunged into darkness. The only thing that more than three hundred Scotland Yard police officers could see was the majestic statue of the Duke of Wellington and the statue of the Duke of Wellington illuminated by lightning. Hidden in the dark shadow of the statue are those sparkling red eyes.

Arthur's figure seems to overlap with that of the Duke of Wellington. It seems that the statue standing under the Arc de Triomphe is not Scotland Yard Superintendent Arthur Hastings, but the Wellington galloping on the battlefield of Waterloo. Duke Arthur Wellesley.

The few retired army superintendents who followed Arthur felt goosebumps all over their bodies. They couldn't help but subconsciously uttered a curse word, not as an insult, but to express their feelings.

"Holy Shit!"

The police officers present all took a deep breath, and their panicked hearts slowly calmed down. Each of their eyes fell on Arthur. Even when they were praying in the church, they had never been so attentive as they were now.

Although the rain was heavy and the water was pouring, they could no longer hear the noise. All they could hear was the beating of their own hearts competing with the thunder and Arthur's voice.

“We are not thugs or accomplices, we are just a group of former shoemakers, blacksmiths, carpenters, grooms, hutmakers, assemblers, construction workers, bakers, as well as unemployed workers and landless farmers!

We come from all over the world and all over the country. Among us are English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish, but in the final analysis we are all the public and citizens of Great Britain!

The words in the "Police Instructions" are not fucking farts. The words "the police are the public and the public are the police" are not meant to flatter you, nor are they meant to make the public relax their vigilance against us!

It's because, before we put on these tuxedos, our group of people were really just a bunch of ordinary people who were no different from the public marching today!

The relationship between the public and the police had been established as early as the Act of Winchester in 1285. At that time, the sheriffs were selected from the public, and citizens with good conduct and good behavior in the parish were responsible for taking turns to perform duty. This kind of The tradition continues to this day!

That's why I see so many strong, kind, and upright young men standing here!

Today, we are going to suppress a demonstration initiated by a group of workers. I do not shy away from talking about the purpose of our action. I also empathize with you and understand the resistance that exists in your hearts to a greater or lesser extent.

I know you have doubts about today's action, but I must also reiterate here the efforts the government is making to improve the living conditions of workers.

In 1802, our immediate boss, Sir Robert Peel Sr., the father of the Home Secretary, Sir Robert Peel, proposed to Parliament to pass an Apprentice Health and Moral Act to solve this problem. This is not only British history but also world history. The first factory law dedicated to protecting workers’ rights!

It stipulates that apprentices must not work more than 12 hours a day, improve factory hygiene and ventilation conditions, and require factories to allow each apprentice to receive at least one educational component in reading, writing, or arithmetic during working days and business hours.

In 1815, Sir Robert Peel Sr. proposed another amendment and expanded the scope of controlled factories to areas hardest hit by child labor abuses such as cotton, wool, and linen. The amendment strictly stipulated the daily daily limit for child laborers under the age of 18. Working hours must not exceed ten and a half hours, and factory owners are ordered to provide one and a half hours of reading, writing, and arithmetic education every day for child laborers for the first four years of working in the factory.

In 1819, textile factories were prohibited from employing child laborers under the age of 9. In all factories, child laborers under the age of 16 were not allowed to work more than 12 hours a day. Factories must arrange for half an hour for breakfast and one hour for dinner.

Yes, you may say that these laws do not really work because they lack proper supervision and are not enforced strongly.

That's right! This is why workers took to the streets to protest.

I don't mean to defend the government, I just want everyone to understand that the British cabinet is still functioning normally, and it is still introducing new laws and constantly amending them.

Because everyone understands that our Scotland Yard police are not allowed to have political stances. The purpose of our existence is only to help society create a good environment for normal communication, which not only allows workers to have their voices heard, but also prevents the situation from getting out of control. Later, the workers were allowed to break through our defense line, which led to the dispatch of military police!

Letting the workers go back is not to destroy freedom, nor to protect the soulless sculpture behind me, because everyone knows that this triumphal arch has another name, it is called the 'Constitutional Arch'!

The original intention of the establishment of Scotland Yard, we patrol so far and work so hard every day, is to maintain the constitutional tradition and social order that have been passed down since the bloodless 'Glorious Revolution' in 1688!

If the situation is allowed to continue to expand, we may witness one bloodshed after another. We will take our responsibility and refuse history to repeat itself!

We are not allowed to see the next Peterloo Massacre, St George's Field Massacre, Gordon Riots, or the fucking Catholic Queens Riots!

Our mission is, has been, and will continue to be to protect the public's property and lives!

Many members of the public, and even many of us, believe that Scotland Yard is just an organization that has been established for more than a year, that our law enforcement is traceless and that our style is brutal and ruthless!

They believe that we are just a group of violent machines that exist to deal with the public and squeeze out the living space of small traders, workers, prostitutes and a group of poor people!

They called us ‘blue devils’, ‘lobster claws’, ‘Peel’s accomplices’, ‘England’s French gendarmes’ and ‘the government’s murderous Janissaries’!

Most of the headlines about us Scotland Yard officers in the news carry the words ‘barbaric’, ‘authoritarian’, ‘ferocious’ and ‘thug’!

But here today, right here, we are going to make it clear to the public and to society as a whole in Great Britain that they are wrong, how wrong they are! ! ! "

There was another thunderbolt, and as lightning flashed across the sky, rain dripped down the chins of more than three hundred police officers. The sky was still gloomy, but at least there was some light in their eyes.

They were divided into fifteen queues and stood straight, and in the aisle left in the middle of the queue, Officer Tony was distributing those old-looking shields to their hands one after another.

The weight of the shield was very heavy, weighing down their shoulders, but the shield in their hands was heavier, and the stone weighing on their hearts was lighter.

Several Scotland Yard police superintendents looked at the approaching crowd of demonstrators in the distance. Perhaps lightning ignited the long-suppressed passion in their hearts, or perhaps they believed that the roadblocks placed in front of them were a provocation to them.

The irrational crowd smashed the windows of roadside shops and besieged nearby police.

The sound of breaking glass and the shouts of fear and anger broke the already fragile and delicately balanced environment.

A policeman was pushed to the ground. In an instant, four or five workers came around and kicked and punched him. After enduring for a while, the infuriated policemen finally couldn't help but began to pull out the civilized sticks from their waists and fight back.

After a while, I saw people among the demonstrators and police officers with their heads bleeding. The blood reflected red on the workers' single clothes and the blue tuxedos of the police. It also reflected red on the ground. It was unclear whether it was clean or dirty. Gray water stains.

Several superintendents spat on the ground and pulled out their civilized sticks, intending to use them as command staffs.

They glanced at the Scotland Yard police officers who had equipped their shields and formed a square formation, and several superintendents grinned and cursed.

"Damn, this feels more exciting than fighting. Superintendent Hastings is a good morale booster."

"After all, their name is Arthur, so there must be a bit of Duke of Wellington's charm, right?"

"The shield with the command staff is a bit medieval."

"Stop talking nonsense, are you going to do it?"

Several superintendents looked at each other, then turned around in unison, and saluted Arthur despite the heavy rain: "The London Metropolitan Police, the police forces of all regions and branches have all been reorganized. Commander, please give the order! "

Arthur glanced at the crowd in the distance and took a deep breath. Veins popped out on his neck. His voice penetrated every eardrum and every piece of glass present.

"Listen to my order! All divisional units will form a formation, run forward, attack the demonstrators, and suppress the demonstrators! Anyone who engages in violent behavior will be arrested, and weapons such as civilized sticks and shields can be freely used!"

As soon as Arthur gave an order, the whistles of several superintendents of the London Metropolitan Police immediately replaced the thunder and became the sharpest and harshest sound in the field.

"Follow the whistle and run forward with small steps!"

Beep, beep, beep...

Under the command of the superintendents, the police phalanx advanced slightly clumsily. They held up their iron shields and rubbed their shoulders. They were not used to it at first, but after a short adjustment, they soon took a piecemeal and neat step. stride.

The whistles sounded slowly at first, but as they gradually got closer to the demonstrators, the superintendents' whistles suddenly became shrill and rapid.

Beep beep beep! ! !

"Impact!!!"

Accompanied by the howls of the superintendents, the police square was like a waving brick hitting the demonstrators. The unorganized and unprepared workers were staggered by them. The front team wanted to retreat, but the rear team The team still doesn't understand what's going on.

Like a sandwich, they were all squeezed together.

But a frightened shout of "The police are out" soon triggered panic and chaos among the demonstrators.

As the sticks of civilization hit their heads like whips, some workers wanted to escape, while others wanted to resist.

In Arthur's eyes, he only saw a man wearing a short-sleeved shirt with his face bleeding and beaten, pointing his finger at him from a distance.

Just as Arthur caught sight of him, so Agares, riding on the head of Wellington's statue, caught sight of the man.

The red devil suddenly raised his eyebrows. He snapped his fingers with a smirk, and suddenly amplified the man's voice in Arthur's ears.

Arthur was startled. No one knew what he heard. They only saw Arthur's hand groping for something in his pocket.

His throat was dry and itchy, and he wanted to smoke something, but after groping for a while, he suddenly remembered that the thing he had put there had been given to Tony.

The people paying attention to him may have thought that he was surprised by the rumbling thunder and lightning, while the London citizens standing in front of the windows on the roadside and watching seemed to think that he was surprised by the bloody and violent scenes.

After losing consciousness, people only saw the young superintendent of Scotland Yard saying nothing. He just stood there alone, standing under the statue of Wellington, like a shadow that no one cared about.

Arthur raised his hand and wiped his rain-stained face. He didn't make any expression, and he didn't know what expression he should make.

He just couldn't forget the desperate roar of the man covering his bloody face before he fell to the ground.

It's like a condemnation from the soul, like a scream from hell.

——Fuck you, you betrayed the working class!

Agares gently turned over the pages of the parchment in his hand and slowly pushed up his glasses.

The devil smiled and murmured: "Arthur... maybe you are right, this is your destiny to become the king. The struggle or pain, are you not to blame for all this?"