ELITE SERGENT DESIREE BROWN held an electronic tablet and was doing a damage assessment of survivors, on their Washington's mission detail. On the ground by her foot, was the seated wet group of waned monk-boys survivors, with their hands bound in zip-cuffs to their backs. Some boys were naked because their clothes were washed away while surviving the sewer flooding disaster escape earlier.

Opposite to them, was a row of dead Intersexuals laid on the pavement, in their soaking robes...

Michael was wearing only his boxers, looked up in tears at the drowned Matthew's body, who died asphyxiated by the very robe that he wore.

He debased his own leadership as a failure, by the bad call he made in regards to being church attired in their consecrated robe at all times — that had in return, caused the death of some of his dear brothers.

In tears, Michael commiserated the rest of the survivors, joining with prayers softly, to those who had died tragically.

Outside the Cathedral's main gate, Elite Commander Petersburg nodded back at the saluting Roberta Jensen, before she climbed into the back of a military truck with her PD team. The reserve-backup units were leaving, after completing the special detail — and they have driven away from the St. Mary's Cathedral in Cleveland and back to Columbus, Ohio.

Petersburg progressed into getting rid of the personage, interloper — Sargent Jensen away — with the rest of the merry reserves units, as fast as possible, before Agent Wolfe returned from the Convent — so that, she could accommodate her own confabulated version of the events by the river. She needed to cover-up for her mistake plans, of extruding the Intersexual boys out of the sewer by flooding it — which then had left many dead.

She too made a bad call like Michael today — but, had to cover-up her own mistake, for the sake of saving her career.

Sergeant Brown advanced to her Commander...

"Sir, 21 boys alive, and 15 dead from drowning and the explosion — and one, seems to be missing."

The death numbers also derived from the commander's kill-order at the wild riverfront, by smash-in the heads of four limbless boys with their rifle butts — as an act of coup de grace, to put the creatures out of their miseries.

Commander Petersburg was distracted soon, by the sight of the mission's superior Agent Agatha Wolfe walking impendent, passing the burning Cathedral — she was heading towards the main gate, where every one of the e-SWAT was now stationed.

Wolfe shook her head in dissatisfaction while walking pass the odd dozen shemale corpses — and, she demanded to know...

"Petersburg — what the fuck happened here?"

The Elite-force Commander took her aside, from her staring troopers — and she lied...

"Some tried to escape, Agent Wolfe — and so, they perished — both from the cathedral fire, and the other escapees, were drowned in the river."

They both looked up, to spot two female Elite force soldiers dragging the unconscious Doran — Michael looked relieved seeing him, to know the oddball had survived the dreadful ordeal.

He overheard Petersburg saying next...

"So you found him, Agent Wolfe! We were looking for that missing boy, in the headcount."

Agent Wolfe glanced at the extant monk-boys detainees squatting, while she was applying pressure with a handkerchief, over her own split eyebrow...

"Yeah, probably he is their ringleader — and, he was a good fighter too — even killed two of your e-SWAT twats with these..."

Wolfe handed a pair of blood-stained, homemade, wooden cudgels to the staggered Commander Petersburg, looking dazed after hearing that there were two more of her soldiers dead, at the Convent. In hatred, Petersburg observed the unconscious Doran who was dropped among the other survivors. The cudgels fell on the pavement, while the Commander whipped her pistol out...

It must have been the same stealth-like executor, who was responsible for killing the other three from her e-SWAT outfit — where two of the extracted bodies were exterminated beyond recognition, in the blazing Cathedral earlier.

Now, e-SWAT Commander had to inculcate the detailed incident report on her five dead members in the mission — that excluded the two that had drowned while being swept away in the river...

'Seven fucking deaths, in the goddamned incursion!'

She never had lost these many troopers during any of her watch before, when in their countless urban street drug-wars that she had helmed...

This assault on the monastery was a huge curse...

Petersburg pointed her gun, at the unconscious Doran — and cursed out...

"This motherfucker does not deserve to live!"

Agent Wolfe intervened and abased her in front of her troop...

"Stand down, Commander!

"That boy and the rest of the survivors are the property of the United States government! You pull that trigger, and I will personally find a way to strip you off from all of your fancy pins and stripes — and make you a foot-soldier, for the rest of your damn career — is that understood, Petersburg!!?"

The threatened commander backed off and returned her firearm back into her holster.

Wolfe looked at the burning Cathedral...

"Burn the rest of the place down, with all the dead boys and the penguins in it!"

She warned Petersburg again before leaving...

"If anything happens to that kid over there — your flabby fat-ass is mine, remember that!"

Wolfe glanced at the knocked out Doran for one last time — and walked away to her parked black Secret Service sedan.

Commander Petersburg called out to her Sergeant in choler...

"Sargent Brown, load all these Jesus cocksuckers into the cage!"

A green, military pickup truck backed up with a metal-cage welded on the back — the caged door was opened. The commander was still affronted by Wolfe, she booted the nearest boy seated on the ground and barked...

"Get in all of you, you girlie-dick scumbags!"

She was pointing in rancour at unconscious Doran...

"That bastard too — throw him with the rest!"

The twenty-two monk-boys were cramped inside the crowded cage, while a few e-SWAT cops covered the cage with army chartreuse hued tarpaulin, to conceal their catch of the day for Washington — the mission of that day was accomplished, in slightly over an hour of execution.