The guard was standing by a booth that sold plush rainbow-colored ponies just two stalls away from me. And the phrase that drew my attention was “police cordon”. Hopefully it was just somebody making a bomb prank.

My hope for a bomb prank was busted when I reached the windows in the corridor.

Instead of ambulance, bomb squads and K-9, there were several trucks surrounded by units wearing black-and-dark blue equipment. And they did not have Police badges that would mark them as an elite police unit either.

I was lacking the knowledge in modern special forces, but I felt that it must be the rumored British SAS, Special Air Service. There were also quite a few ordinary police officers, but they were in the minority and they were setting up cordons and guiding people away from the site.

Even with my lack of interest towards modern military, I still naturally knew some basics about weapons and equipment. But the only thing I was sure about, was the fact that SAS due to its multirole missions could be equipped with numerous types of the weapons. And even if I knew about the existence of Heckler & Koch G3, Colt M16 or any other assault rifles, I doubted I could tell them apart considering that I was not even fully sure about the difference between assault rifles, carabines and all sort of modifications, especially with all the mountings I could see equipped.

I also saw several large vans at the back of the police lines, which were heavily guarded despite having no special markings. I could not see what happened to the people wishing to exit the venue, as the doors were apparently on a different side of the building. Behind me rose a commotion as people began to notice the armed forces outside.

---

“Everyone, do not panic! Police is here to provide additional security for the event, do not worry! We are proud to inform you that our Con has exceeded the estimated popularity this year, that is the reason!” - a man in a suspiciously new-looking security uniform used a loudspeaker from the stage.

At least they had stopped the music before the announcement. Most of the people readily believed the man, while I heard some talks in surroundings about some child of a big-shot that had snuck into the venue and all that fuss was caused by the VIP wasting the taxpayers’ money to pamper his kid. But to call out SAS just to provide security for an event aimed at teenage nerds? That seemed too suspicious.

I picked up a conveniently discarded ticket from the floor and drifted towards the exit. I quickly found a rather tense-looking middle-aged security guard and joined him by the wall.

I put down all the bags and stretched as if relaxing muscles. Then I turned towards the guard, lisping due to the artificial fangs: “Fumfssing frong? I hfeard feofle talking apfout folice?”

“Sorry?” - security guard turned towards me and first looked at my armor with appreciative eye, before stopping his gaze for a moment at my awfully fake-looking fangs: “Ah, yes, police is around. They let some people in, but claim that for security purposes people have to wait a while before they allow people to leave. Nice armor, by the way.”

I nodded: “Fanks. Cost mfe a lot to get it done.”

“But you need to do something with those fangs. They are turning you into a comedian.” - the guard continued the conversation just like I had hoped.

Shrugging, I exaggeratedly gesticulated with both hands: “Imfagine, I sfent ofer two tfousands fo get fis look comfleted, and fen I forgot mfy custfomf mfade ferfect fangs at homfe. Or losft fem somfewhere. Fuck!” - I yanked the fangs off my teeth: “Much better. They are okay only for photos. And with police around, I am in no mood for photos anymore. There goes my hope for being noticed by professionals.”

Guard nodded: “Yes. I can’t go out for a smoke either.”

“At least you are in no danger of heat stroke.” - I grumbled as I showed off the heavy cloak and banged my chestplate. Unfortunately, I still did not sweat, but the guard was no Sherlock Holmes to notice that.

We chatted for a while, with guard complaining about recent stop of airplane traffic due to alleged volcanic eruptions in Atlantic and Pacific regions, which was quite a surprise for me.

“Thank you for your patience, we have arranged secure road crossings and reorganized the entrances to improve the safety and flow of crowds. Exits are now open normally.” - a grey-haired woman in police uniform barked into the loudspeaker.

---

“Want a smoke?” - the guard offered me a cigarette, already impatiently moving towards the exit.

I thought for a split second and nodded: “Thanks.”

Twirling a cigarette between my fingers, I grabbed my bags and followed him. Waving a larger bag in front of my face, I loudly complained about stuffy air as we passed first policemen who lined the walls of the corridor that led towards the exit.

“Hope people will move faster. “ - I grumbled to my new acquaintance and he agreed, pointing at the rows of police: “I heard they tightened the security for some rich kid. And now we have to bear with it. What are we paying our taxes for?!”. I loudly supported him as we exited the venue under the scrutinizing gaze of surprisingly uniformly fit, straight-postured police.

As we moved on, I noticed that the forces securing the area openly wore crosses, stars of david, crescent moons and stars, miniature scroll cases and even small figurines. They also wore advanced body armor which looked more like exoskeleton than ballistic protection equipment. That was clearly not some usual police or even anti-terrorist SAS unit, I was sure. Especially since I saw that they vital energy was almost twice as vigorous than that of surrounding people.

I kept talking with the guard who had already lit his cigarette, but paid careful attention to my surroundings. Unfortunately, all the special forces were completely silent and almost unmoving, only their radios kept occasionally clicking and hissing.

In the middle of the row there was a slight congestion, as there stood a bald man with hooked nose and bushy black beard. He was pretty much as tall as me, but he was much, much wider, being a proud owner of a few extra dozens kilograms of fat. And surprisingly, he was also fitted into the same equipment that was worn by the surrounding special forces, but without any visible weapons. I was plenty sure that a set of his size must have had been custom-ordered.

The confusion was further deepened by a white shawl with blue stripes that he wore over his shoulders, making him look like a volcano with glacier on top. He stood between the rows of armed forces, pretty much blocking the way out, but he kept talking cheerfully, sometimes patting people on their shoulders and asking forgiveness for all the inconveniences.

The security guard slowed down as he was fitting the lighter back into the pocket, so I stepped forward to pass the big guy. I politely nodded to the man, hoping that I looked as tired and uncomfortable as the rest of the crowd. He smiled, his cheeks leaving only small slits for his eyes, and brought down his hand on my shoulder. First, I was surprised that the man had the strength of a bull. Two, the man’s eyes rolled back and he sagged to the ground while twitching slightly.

The next moment I found myself looking into a half a dozen muzzles pointing at me and I could distinctly feel a dozen or so more pointing at my back and sides.