Eugene Greatman #2

The Decoy Maneuver

The moment the Capitol’s doors buckled under the force of the mob, Eugene Greatman knew everything was about to change. He had prepared for protests, even moments of violence, but this wasn’t a protest—it was an attack. The noise was deafening. The crowd outside had turned into a sea of rage, surging forward like a battering ram. The barricades had already fallen, and now the mob was inside the building, sweeping through the marble halls with terrifying purpose.

As Eugene rushed up the staircase toward the second floor, his radio crackled with fragmented calls for backup. Officers were being overrun at multiple points. The Capitol was under siege. But Eugene didn’t have time to process the enormity of it—he had to act.

When he reached the landing, Eugene’s heart sank. The hallway in front of him was filled with rioters. They weren’t just standing there—they were hunting. Some were shouting for lawmakers by name, their voices twisted with anger. "Where are they?!" one man bellowed, raising a metal pole in the air.

Eugene knew exactly where "they" were. Just a few yards away, behind a set of closed doors, senators and their aides were huddled in fear. The mob was dangerously close to breaching the Senate chamber. If they broke through that door, it wouldn’t just be chaos—it could be a massacre.

For a split second, Eugene felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. He was alone. There was no backup. He was one man facing down a violent, frenzied mob. But there was no hesitation. He had sworn an oath to protect this building and the people inside it. If that meant standing alone, so be it.

Eugene tightened his grip on the baton at his side. His pulse was steady, his breathing controlled. He didn’t need to win the fight—he just needed to buy time.

The mob spotted him, their shouts turning toward him like a pack of wolves catching the scent of prey.

"There he is!" one of them shouted.

Eugene raised his baton and took a single step forward, planting himself like a wall between the rioters and the Senate chamber. His body language was clear: If you want to get past me, you’re going to have to fight for it.

The mob advanced, and Eugene knew he had only seconds to make a decision. He couldn’t fight them all—not alone. But he could outthink them.

Instead of charging forward, Eugene did something unexpected—he took a step back and turned to the right, toward a secondary hallway. For a brief moment, the mob hesitated, confused by his movement. They didn’t realize that the Senate chamber was directly behind them—they thought Eugene was leading them somewhere.

With deliberate movements, Eugene began backing away, keeping his eyes on the crowd while subtly beckoning them to follow.

"Come on!" one rioter yelled, and the mob surged after him.

The chase was on.

Eugene’s boots pounded against the polished floor as he led the rioters away from the Senate chamber. His heart raced, but his mind was calm and focused. Every step he took was deliberate. He wasn’t just running—he was controlling the chaos.

As he reached the next landing, Eugene glanced over his shoulder. The mob was right behind him, their faces contorted with fury. He could hear their footsteps thundering behind him, the scrape of flagpoles and batons against the floor. But he wasn’t leading them to victory—he was leading them away.

At the top of the staircase, Eugene reached a fork in the hallway. He made another split-second decision and turned left, away from the main entrances. The rioters followed him like moths drawn to a flame, too enraged to realize they were being led astray.

Eugene’s instincts were razor-sharp. He knew every corner of the Capitol, every stairwell and hallway. He knew exactly where he needed to go—and where he needed to keep the mob from going.

He reached a narrow corridor and slowed for just a moment, enough to make it clear that he was still in their sights. He wanted them to see him, to stay locked onto him. The mob surged forward, shouting insults and threats.

"Get him!" one man screamed.

Eugene kept moving, his breathing steady despite the burning in his legs. He reached another intersection and made another sharp turn. The mob followed without hesitation. What they didn’t realize was that Eugene had just led them toward a line of reinforcements—officers in tactical gear who were waiting at the end of the corridor.

By the time the rioters realized they’d been duped, it was too late. They had lost precious minutes—minutes that had given the senators behind those doors enough time to evacuate. Eugene’s decoy maneuver had worked.

But the danger wasn’t over.

As the mob reached the end of the corridor, chaos erupted again. The officers standing in their path were met with screams and shoves. Some rioters tried to push their way through, while others hurled objects. Eugene turned and ran back toward his post, where more officers were regrouping.

His entire body ached, but he wasn’t thinking about his own pain. He was thinking about the people he had just protected. He was thinking about the duty he had sworn to uphold.

The fight for the Capitol continued for hours, but Eugene’s quick thinking and bravery had changed the course of history. The Senate chamber had remained secure. The rioters had been diverted. And though the building itself bore the scars of the attack—shattered windows, ransacked offices, bloodstains on the marble floors—the democracy it housed had survived.

When the mob was finally driven out and the halls of the Capitol fell silent again, Eugene stood in the rotunda, staring at the destruction around him. His uniform was soaked with sweat, and his hands were trembling from exhaustion. But he had done his job. He had stood his ground, not just for the people inside the building, but for the country watching in horror from their homes.

Eugene took a slow, steady breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. The Capitol was still standing.