Scales of Justice (Closed/GD)

[Patrick OConner]

On TV screens across Greater Dienstad, whatever broadcast was on was interrupted. A picture of an of old fashion scale replaced whatever was on previously.
A voice spoke over the image.
"Standby for an important announcement."

The picture of the scales was replaced with a room. The room was plain and white with only a small podium in the center. On the back wall was the same image of the scales painted in gold. To the left and right of the scales is a single man each one heavily armed and dressed in tactical gear. Both of them were wearing balaclavas. Behind the podium was an another dressed this time like a judge with robes and gavel. He also wore a mask but this one was model on the face of Lady Justice.

The man behind the podium spoke
"People of Greater Dienstad, now you will receive us. I stand before you today as part of an organization. We do not ask for your poor or sick. It is your corrupt and evil we claim. With every breath we have, we shall hunt them down until there blood rains and their bodies fill the sea. Do not kill, do not rape, do not steal, these are principles which every man of every faith can embrace. These are not polite suggestions, these are codes of behavior. And those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost.
There are varying degrees of evil and transgressions. We urge the lesser forms of scum to not cross the bounds and become truly corrupt and evil for on that day we shall be there and we shall send you to whatever afterlife you choose.
For too long the corrupt, the evil, and the scum have been able to escape the justice of this world or the law has failed to punish them fully for sometimes the law does, unfortunately, fail to protect the innocent. And since no one else will, we shall stand up and avenge the wronged for through your silence and inaction you have given us your consent and we shall thusly act according to our principles.
Through various means, money, fame, power, they have escaped justice and flouted the law. The police are rendered helpless to stop them or are actively collaborating with the scum. Corrupt politicians, rapists, murders, human traffickers, slavers, terrorists, those you swindle others of their life-saving. All traffic in misery, fear, and suffering of the innocent common man and woman. All have broken the law and not been caught or if so the law has failed to punish them fully. They have inflicted pain and suffering upon the innocents of this world and they have done so without fear of retribution and the victims have gone unavenged. No more, the time has come for the criminals and scum of the world to know the misery, pain, and fear they have inflicted upon the world for we shall inflict it upon them.”

The man on the right stepped out of the frame and returned dragging a man bound and gagged with duct tape onto the screen. He then firmly sat the man down in from of the podium and secured him to it. The man was wearing old style prison clothes with the horizontal black and white stripes. The man was in early twenties narrow shoulders. He had black hair and olive skin.
The man dresses as the judge resumed speaking
“This man Hector Salamanca, a Sicario of the Salamanca Crime Family. He is a member of the family itself. Mr. Salamanca has committed many crimes in the name of his family and in the name of drugs and money. Such crimes as premeditated murder, manslaughter, torture, kidnapping, rape, arson, and many other violent crimes. And if he did not do it he ordered it done. He has hurt an untold number of innocent people in his life.”

The man dress as a judge leaned down and ripped the tape from his mouth.

“How do you plead?” the judge asked

“My father will pay you any ransom you can ask.” Hector responded sounding and looking very much afraid

“How do you plead” The man dressed as the judge asked again

“P-Please have mercy.”

“Did you have mercy when you slaughter families? Did you have mercy on those women you raped?”
“Spare me I promise-”

“HOW DO YOU PLEAD?!?!” The man dressed as a judge bellowed

“INNOCENT!!!” Hector said in a terrified scream

“I highly doubt that." The judge said as his voice rapidly built into a thunderous roar "THIS COURT FINDS YOU GUILTY OF CRIMES AGAINST THE INNOCENT!! GUILTY OF MURDER, OF RAPE, OF SLAUGHTER AND DESTRUCTION WITH NO REGARD TO YOUR FELLOW MAN!!! I FIND YOU GUILTY OF ALL THESE CRIMES AGAINST THE INNOCENT MASSES!!!!”
The man dressed as a judge looked down at begging pleading man and he declared loudly and boldly
“THE ONLY PUNISHMENT SUITABLE FOR YOUR NUMEROUS AND HEINOUS CRIMES IS DEATH!!!!” and the man dressed as a judge slammed his gavel down with a finality of an irrevocable sentence pronounced
“SENTENCE TO BE CARRIED OUT IMMEDIATELY!!!”

With that the man on the left stepped forward and drew his side arm and leveled against the man's head and then pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the room and blood, bone and grey matter sprayed on the right side of the room and the man slumped over. Blood flowed from his from the gaping head wound and quickly pooled around the podium and the man dressed as a judge.
The man dressed as the judge resumed speaking
“LISTEN TO ME NOW SCUM OF THE WORLD!!! There will be no mercy, no compromise, no escape from us. We will come and we will find you and we will make you pay dearly for your crimes. No matter where you are, no matter who you are. No money, nor power, nothing will stop us or save you from our wrath. This is our promise, this is our purpose. We will find and we will right the Scales of Justice.”

The men to either side thrust banged there curled fist against their chests, right over there hearts and both yelled.
“Librae Appendebuntur!!!”
The image clicked off and replaced with a precious picture of a set of scales.

[Mokastana]

Callapata, Colombia
Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Challapata was, like most small Surian towns, full of wealth and very little else. Downtown, if it could be called that, was pocketed with little boutiques, jewelry shops, stores of the latest Macabean fashions, and spotless paved roads. Expensive foreign cars filled the parking spaces along the sides of the roads and major international banks stood side by side, just across the street from the Mayor’s house. In the center of it all stood the local Courthouse and Constabulary, the arm and shield that protected the inhabitants of the town from harm. This was the heartbeat of the town’s social circle, where those who made the town prosper met to socialize and network. At the top of the town's social hierarchy, the wealthy hacienda and plantation owners walked around in brightly colored clothes, wearing jewelry that looked almost comically big for their owners. Just underneath them on the social ladder were the local business owners, supplying the Hacienda families with all their extravagance. Beneath them, was the working class and skilled labor of the town. Although not as extravagant as the business owners above them, the working class of the city still could afford their share of amenities and maintain the town's appearance based lifestyle.

The Surian drug and medicinal trade had brought in literal tons of money to the area. While some family companies spread the wealth, building up the run down parts of their towns to show off, others, like the Salamancas of Challapata, were less generous. Instead, they spent their money on their own investments and extravagant castles outside of town.

Because of that, the socio economic divide took a sharp dive outside downtown Challapata. Well maintained roads lead to family farms and wealthy neighborhoods, but it was easy to miss a turn and end up in a poor neighborhood, flanked by run down buildings and questionable people watching your every move. These were the neighborhoods full of field hands and other unskilled labor that did the dirty work. Many lived in apartment blocks built during the Soviet times, while others managed to live in government subsidized housing that technically counted as livable. It was these neighborhoods that tourists were never shown, outsiders didn’t venture into without a very clear reason, and no one wandered into after dark.

It was one of these neighborhoods, the Zvezdan district, that tonight's events would take place. Many small towns in Suria had immigrant districts, Zvezdans, Panoolies, and others from a million wars around the globe. Immigrants found easy labor jobs in the South, working fields and scrubbing the floors. It wasn't glorious work, but it paid the bills. However, some immigrants found employment as another kind of cleaner. Being a former soldier was a good skill in a place run by Cartels. Foreign born soldiers appreciated the wealth dropped on them far more than soldiers native to Suria, and they were far more willing to prove their worth.

The so called “Scales of Justice", an international vigilante organization, had decided to set up a safe house deep in cartel territory, buying a cheap building in a poor part of town. Unfortunately for them, the Cartel had eyes and ears all over the city, they had been on Cartel radar for some time, but even they didn't see the kidnapping coming. It was probably from here that the Scales had planned their kidnapping of Hector Salamanca, a young and hot headed member of the Salamanca Cartel. Yet, despite his temper and troublesome nature, he was still a Salamanca, and publicly killing a family member required a response.

The two SUVs pulled up outside of the building, and six men poured out from each vehicle. They carried assault rifles, shotguns and wore body armor underneath their civilian clothing. They split, with a team waiting behind the SUVs, another rushing to secure the back door, and two two man teams with gas masks rushing for the wall and windows. Smashing them out, they threw in glass bottles of ammonia and bleach, the bottles broke inside and the chemicals mixed, creating a poisonous gas. It had been a long time since Javier Salamanca set out a hit squad, but his nephew had been murdered on public television, and he needed to make examples of his own.

[Mokastana]

Callapata, Colombia
Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Sheriff Tico Dolores drove to the scene of the explosion, his pick up truck bouncing around on the unpaved dirt roads of the Zvedan slums. Morning would be coming soon, but until then his headlights lit the way. Street lamps were a luxury only afforded to paved roads in this city, at least traffic was minimal. Up ahead, two men in Selma Security uniforms waved him past the perimeter of the crime scene. In the distance, flames still licked at the a few building in the center, while firemen and Deputies did their best to sift through the wreckage, either putting out the last few fires or looking for evidence.

Behind a few deputy pickups and the fire trucks, Sheriff Dolores could see that the investigators from La Policìa Nacional had beaten him to scene. Their massive olive green Humvees dwarfing his truck as he parked behind them. They had been in town meeting with the Salamanca family about their recently murdered relative, and no doubt a major explosion perked their interests.

Much of his own deputy forces were already on the scene, no doubt called in by the Nations Police. His mobile forensics lab sat parked next to one of the Sheriff's caballeros rounding up the horses. In the center of all the police confusion, stood the camouflage uniform of a National Police Officer, the man coordinating the event. Tico climbed out of his truck, grabbed his carbine and approached the soldier. The older Officer of the National Police turned and barked a greeting that sounded more like a command:

“Sheriff, Welcome, sorry to disturb your sleep, but this seemed like a very dangerous incident. Plus I need your help.”

Tico looked at the Officer, a Lieutenant Gomez he had met yesterday during the interview with the Salamanca family. Despite probably not sleeping once since then, this NP Officer seemed wide awake and ready to do his morning laps.

“What happened here?” The Sheriff asked.

“We got word of an explosion, so we came to offer our help. When we got here, one of your deputies was on site with those... Selma Security types. I informed the civilian security folks this was a police matter and they needed to leave, but your deputy informed me that you subcontract work out to them often?”
The slight hint of an accusation was passed in that question, and caught by the Sheriff.

“Any time you investigate something in this neighborhood, you bring any guns you can."

“Well, seeing as I recognize at least one of these bodies from the Selma Security guards at the Salamanca residence,” the Officer waved to the broken SUVs and mangled corpses in the street around what was left of the central building, “I don't think his friends need to be in our crime scene. Right now I have them on perimeter duty, but I want you to ask them to leave.”

“In this neighborhood? Selma Secu-"

“Sheriff, I need to know if I can rely on you. Right now this looks like the Salamanca family tried to find their nephew's killer and found someone, someone whose not afraid of them. I know how much influence that Salamanca family has in this town, but we have to treat this like a terrorism investigation, and that makes it a matter of National Police. I don't want to have to cut you out, but if I can't trust local law enforcement I can't have them in my investigation.”

“Your investigation?”

“Yes, National Police is taking over the Salamanca case. Will you cooperate with us on that Sheriff?”

Lieutenant Gomez crossed his arms and looked at Sheriff Tico Dolores, awaiting a response.

“I'll send them away, but then we might be in danger.” The Sheriff warned, “How many of my men are here?”

“A few of your patrol units and horse riders, 20 ish total, each armed. Plus the firemen, but don't worry about security. I have a platoon from the base on route. Should be a few minutes out. Two Hinds with 16 men, plus a convoy of humvees. I think that should be enough to keep the local gangsters away, wouldn't you agree?”

As if on cue, or maybe because the Sheriff finally recognized the sound, helicopter blades could be heard in the distance. Gomez reached his hand up to his helmet’s radio:

“Copy that Red Cobra five, LZ is secure. Local constables on site. Recommending repelling down…..” turning back to the Sheriff, “We got it from here, go get those Mercs out of here.”

Sheriff Dolores straighten up, and walked away. He was cornered, and Gomez knew it.

A few hours later, with the morning sun up and the smell of cabbage and carne cooking in the air, the sheriff managed to get away long enough to make it to a local cafe. He and three caballeros tied up their horses outside, and the Sheriff went inside to make a phone call.

“Hey, Yuri, I need the private phone!”

“Si, Señor, come on back.”

Once inside the storage room, Sheriff Dolores pulled out a large older mobile phone from a box, and dialed a number.

“Patron, it's me, look, this is serious. I need a minute of your time….. Yes, National Police are all over the scene, and they think it was a revenge hunt gone wrong, but they are more focused on Hector’s killers….. They think it was international terrorists that killed your nephew….. But we need to protect ourselves, because right now National Police are all over a bombing site full of bodies and SUVs belonging to your Niece’s Security Firm….. Patron, listen to me, this isn't just some group of punks or upstarts that we can just send down river. This is big. National Police assumed control of the investigation, calling it terrorism, meanwhile I have Federales from the Department of National Investigations wanting to come up from Ecuador. With this much activity we know the DFSC(Department of Pharmacy and Controlled Substances) is going to be watching us like a hawk….

Patron, I don't know who these people are that killed your nephew, but they pissed off the Feds big time with their vigilante crap. You keep me on the payroll to keep the Feds off your back, but right now we need to lay low. I'm still apart of the investigation, but if more of our men end up dead they may use the DFSC to dig deep into your family Patron. I'm asking you, stay low for now, let the Feds work, and when they find Hector’s killer, we'll arrange a private meeting first. Deal?”

[Patrick OConner]

Morichalito, Colombia Province
El Sur de Gran Mokastana, PUF


The two luxury SUVs felt the final bump of the main road as they turned onto the smooth streets of one of the wealthier neighborhoods. They passed various houses that were comparable to most western upper-middle-class homes, two to three stories tall with well-manicured lawns out front. Only when one took this route many times a week did it become clear there were only about 5 different designs, each design imported from major powers like Imbrinium or the Golden Throne. This was the Mokan upper middle class: mass-produced houses, wide, neatly cut yards, and Anuien immigrants working the hedges during the day. It was the last place one might look for a former lieutenant of a drug cartel.

The two cars drove down the quiet neighborhood, the sun already set hours ago. Until they reached an intersection where an accident had recently occurred. At the intersection of the two roads, a car and a moving van had collided. The front right portion of the car was pretty messed up, reduced to a tangle of twisted metal, broken plastic, and rubber, while the front left of the moving van was only slightly damaged. The intersection was completely blocked by the two vehicles Two men dressed in jeans boots and shirt stood outside seeming to argue over the accident and who was at fault The man next to the car seemed to favor one leg as though it was injured in the crash. The two cars were forced to come to a halt.

“Dios Mio,” a voice from the back of the lead car spoke, “Barrett, just drive up on the lawns, I don’t have time to deal with this mess.”

The man in the back giving the orders was a Fertilizer baron by the name of Eric Cozora, formerly Ernesto Cortez of a once powerful crime family. As the SUVs began to drive up on some unfortunate person’s lawn and go around the accident, the back of the moving van opened up and six heavily armed men dressed in full heavy-duty body armor and tactical gear exited the rear of the vehicle. Each man was covered head to toe so no part of them was showing. Four of them were armed with suppressed submachine guns but the fourth and fifth was armed with what looked like a cross between an assault rifle and a cannon. The gun even had a suppressor screwed on the end of it as well. Two of the SMG men were also carrying riot shields and the two carrying shields advanced forward while the rest spread out in a line.

“FLOOR IT!” the order came as the V8 of the lead SUV roared to life. Perhaps the Zaragozas had finally tired of keeping Ernesto around, either way, he had no intention of sticking around to find out. One man holding a cannon fired twice, aiming at the grill of the lead SUV and a double crack of the round echoed loudly through the quiet neighborhood. Smoke suddenly poured out from under the hood of the SUV and the engine died, the SUV rolled forward without power to a final stop. The other man fired twice into the other SUV, killing its engine as well, but the guards inside had no intention of being the next target. Cracking open the doors of their now dead vehicles, both produced submachine gun sized AKs and began firing into the mass of attackers.


One of the guard's head simply exploded as a round from one of the large vehicle killing gun passed through it, shattering the window he hid behind. The other guard maintained cover, barely hanging out of the SUV and firing. His rounds hit one of the attacking men but body armor he was wearing stopped the round and only staggered the man. The team responding by opening fire with the SMGs. The air was filled with the sound of brass hitting the asphalt and sound of copper coated lead ricocheting off the armored car. The SMG rounds failed to penetrate the glass of the front windshield, instead spider webbing it with cracks and the metal was only dented by the impact of the bullets.
One of the men with a cannon took aim and fired. This time the glass shattered and cry of an injured man was heard. The other one fired as well and the cry of pain was cut off, replaced with the sound of dripping blood.

During the commotion of gunfire and death, the driver of the lead SUV barely opened his door and rolled a small metal object towards the attackers. The fragmentation grenade bounced a few times before going off, lighting up the intersection with a bright flash and a shockwave that set off a few car alarms.

The two center men went down and the others threw themselves on to the ground. One of the men armed with the mini cannon popped up and put a round into the driver's side of the SUV. The driver painted the inside of the SUV. The rest of the team climbed back to there feet.

The team moved forward calmly in line formation and surrounded the lead vehicle. As they looped around they noticed the passenger side door facing away from them had been opened, in the distance, an Eric Cozona was running around a house as fast as he could.

One of the men with the SMG saw Cortez running he raised his gun and fired off two-three rounds bursts and Cortez fell over clutching his leg. The team rapidly advanced and surrounded him. As the men approached Cortez he lifted his pistol and aimed, firing a few shots in the direction of his attackers.

“AYE CABRON! VOY A MATARTE! PENDEJO!”

The man Cortez hit staggered back but the body armor did its job and stopped the bullet while another man drew a taser and tased Cortez. One man knelt removed a roll of duct tape from a pouch and quickly bounded and gagged Cortez.

Once Cortez was tied up, the man who tied him hefted him up into a fireman carry and the team withdrew to the moving van. The team entered the rear and the door was closed, the van cracked up and backed up and left the scene as the police sirens wailed in the distance.

A new video popped up on the internet and it goes as such.
A picture of an of old fashion scale replaced whatever was on previously.
A voice spoke over the image.
"Standby for an important announcement."

The picture of the scales was replaced with a room. The room was plain and white with only a small podium in the center. On the back wall was the same image of the scales painted in gold. To the left and right of the scales is a single man each one heavily armed and dressed in tactical gear. Both of them were wearing balaclavas. Behind the podium was an another dressed this time like a judge with robes and gavel, even wearing the old style powder wig. He also wore a mask but this one was model on the face of Lady Justice.

The man behind the podium spoke
"I come to speak to you once more people of Greater Dienstad, for it is time to carry out justice again.”


A bound and gagged man wearing a torn up and bloody suit was dragged out into view by another man dressed like the guards and dumped in front of the judge. The man’s leg was bandaged recently and was red from blood.

“This time I bring before you, Eric Cozora aka Ernesto Cortez, a former lieutenant of the Cortez Cartel, now works for the Zaragoza Cartel. He has been living the high life as a fertilizer baron as of late. You stand accused of murder, both manslaughter, and premeditated, rape, torture and ordering such, aiding and abetting those that perpetuate even more such crimes upon the innocent. You escaped justice one time by agreeing to turn on your former family and friends and aiding the PUF but not this time. ”

The man dress as a judge leaned down and ripped the tape from his mouth.

“How do you plead?” the judge asked

Cortez gulped and looked around, and began laughing through bloody teeth
“This is how it ends? Some crazy nut jobs in a mock trial?” He barked, coughing up a bit of blood before finishing.

“How do you plead?” The man dressed as the judge asked again unconcerned and unbothered by Cortez’s outburst.

“It doesn’t matter how I plead, you’ll kill me anyways gringo.” Cortez smiled with broken teeth.

“ True.” The judge said “But do know what you have done? Do you know that it was wrong? Do you not wish the redeem yourself even a little? Again I ask how do you plead?” The man dressed as the judge asked again.

“Redemption? Ha, a bit late for that it seems. As for your ‘charges’... Rape? naw, wasn’t me. On my orders? Maybe? I don’t know what my men did in those days. Murder, sure, it passed the time. What do you want? Me to grovel before I die, just do it Cabron. It was going to happen eventually.”

The judge said "It would redeem yourself a little if you admit what you did was wrong but since you do not seem to see it that way, we have a duty to perform. This court finds you guilty of all crimes you have been accused there of”
The man dressed as a judge looked down at the man and he declared loudly and boldly
“Only punishment your crimes is death” and the man dressed as a judge slammed his gavel down with a finality of an irrevocable sentence pronounced
“Sentence to be carried out immediately.”

With that, the man on the left stepped forward and drew his sidearm and leveled against the man's head and then pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the room and blood, bone and grey matter sprayed on the right side of the room and the man slumped over. Blood flowed from his from the gaping head wound and quickly pooled around the podium and the man dressed as a judge.
The man dressed as the judge resumed speaking
“The scales have been balanced and the victims can rest in peace now. And to all of the remaining criminal scum out there...Judgement Day is coming.”

The men to either side thrust banged there curled fist against their chests, right over there hearts and both yelled.
“Librae Appendebuntur”
The image clicked off and replaced with a previous picture of a set of scales.

[Mokastana]

Special Agent in Chief Alice Dougal stepped out of the vehicle, a simple black SUV with Federally issued plates identifying it as property of The Department of National Investigations. The sounds of a helicopter taking off in the distance muffled most of the noise from the soldiers marching on the parade ground. At least the artillery battery wasn’t actively firing this time. Last time she had a major assignment here the Howitzers would erupt in a blaze of glory every few hours, then go silent again. It had been frustrating to be in the middle of something when the whole battery opened fire without warning, but at least it had been making some Cartel’s day a whole lot worse than hers. This was National Police Station 15C, also known as Camp Cazador. Just south of Bogota, this was home to the Colombia Province Headquarters for the Policìa Nacional. Since the Drug Wars ended three years ago, she had not brought this many agents with her for any assignment. Most had been short interviews or one or two night stays, maybe the occasional week for something big, but whatever had happened two nights ago had warranted more expertise than what Policia Nacional could provide.

Tall and built like a boxer, Alice walked down the dusty parking area towards the building she was supposed to meet her National Police Contact. A bigger man in army green fatigues, waved to her. He almost reminded her of a bear, and the beard didn’t help.

“Special Agent in Chief Dougal, what a pleasure to see you again.” He spoke loudly as she approached.”

“Captain Domino, pleasure, How’s command life treating you?” She smiled politely as they got within normal speaking range. He had been a good contact years ago, and it was nice to know she would be working with someone she already trusted.

“Oh hell, they haven’t let me out of this base since the War. I have to live indirectly through my Lieutenants. Speaking off, did you get my report?”

“Yes, it was rather short, but intriguing. It seems we have a group of vigilantes roaming El Sur, killing Cartel try hards.”

“It would seem so, but I need to show you what we found on them.”

Captain Domino led the way into one of the major buildings of the National Police Headquarters, pointing out the barracks that her team could set up in, while leading her to one of the many evidence rooms. In it was a computer and quite a few stacks of paper related to the case.

“Two nights ago, as you know, Deputies from Morichalito responded to concern citizen emergency calling about an accident outside of their home. Within minutes and while the concerned citizen was on the phone, shots rang out followed by an explosion, then one of the vehicles from the accident drove off. Leaving three dead private security guards and three wrecked vehicles behind them. What I alluded to in my report, was that we have footage from that accident from a private residence security camera. One advantage of commiting crimes in a rich neighborhood, someone has the gear to collect evidence.

Alice perked up, and when the Captain played the tape, she could see why her team had been called in to take this case. It showed the car and moving truck impact, nothing really happened as the drivers did something in the vehicles, then soon the two drivers got out with full single color suits on. What was odd was that they started removing the license plate from the smaller vehicle. Everything was only in black and white, as the camera was in night vision mode, but it was clear these men removed the plates, then their suits, and then hid it all in the truck, before waiting around for a minute.

“Is there any audio?”

“Only the shots and explosions. Nothing worth transcribing.”

They continued to watch the video, the two men started arguing, and within seconds
two SUVs pulled up to the accident, stopped for a minute, then began pulling around onto the lawn in front of the camera. The truck opened up and six men exited. The camera’s microphone picked up the cannon blasts into the first SUV, and then the ratta tat tat of AK fire. She saw one man from the truck take a bullet and stumble, but get back up and keep fighting. The grenade had a similar story, knocking a few down while a man exited the vehicle and ran past the camera. Gunshots and the six men gave a short chase, eventually pulling him into the truck, and pulling away, leaving the damaged car and SUVs behind.

“Well,” Alice began, “I’ll have my team analyse that video, see if we can get any decent audio from that mic, and see if we can get any details on who these guys are. Did you find the truck?”

“Yeah, a few kilometers from the attack. They parked it in an covered garage in an industrial part of town. Owner came by the next morning and saw a giant truck in his building. No wonder helicopter patrols found nothing all night. Thing had been hosed out and sanitized. I’ll have your team flown out to Sheriff’s impound where it is being stored to give it a proper search.”

“Great, so these are the Scales we’ve been hearing about?”

“Seems to be, the SUVs attacked belonged to a Fertilizer Company owned by a ‘Eric Cozora’, which DFSC confirmed as a possible alias for ‘Ernesto Cortez’. Then they promptly swooped in and locked down all of his company’s assets. They are going over his properties with a fine tooth comb, but they did let us on the sites for anything they won’t need.”

“Sounds like the DFSC alright. Wish I could just shout ‘smuggler’ and get all the red tape cut in my investigations. Regardless, I assume you have been tracking down the origin of the vehicles the attackers used?”


“The moving Truck was rented from a company in Bogota, we have a few officers getting a description of the renter from the clerk, but it seems they paid in cash. The other car they used matches a reported stolen car, but the attackers wiped the registration numbers. The owner of the stolen car claims it is a match, and that seemed to work for the Deputies.”

“What about ammunition used?”

“Ballistics is still analysing them, but we have the preliminary results. Forty five caliber pistol rounds, from the video it looks like from suppressed SMGs, but the big cannon those guys used… We’ve never seen a bullet like it. My guess is .50 caliber, but the casings are nothing domestically produced. Given my Lieutenants tell me that according to their investigation, these guys move and shoot like professionals, and given their armor and weapons, I gotta think some serious money was involved.”

“To capture a former Cartel Lieutenant? I wouldn’t bring or spend anything less, but yes, they are too well equipped and trained to be new players on the field. Someone is shelling out serious money to take out these nobodies. You think they have a corporate sponsor?”

“No doubt someone with money is giving them the resources to operate.”

“Think they are Wellovians or Tatomese?”

“Those accents? The ones in the videos? Nope I’ve analysed the first video and we are working on the second, but those are not any local accents. It’s flatter like a Tatomese accent, but no known Wellovian accent matches. My guess is that these are foreign freelancers, either being rented out to Cartels who don’t want their hands dirty, or someone is setting up a terrorist group to take the fall when they do something big. Either way. We’ll need to bring in DFSC to follow the money. Find out who is sponsoring this terror cell before they do something even more stupid.”


The Western Villas
Morichalito, Colombia Province
El Sur de Gran Mokastana, PUF

Jorge Zaragoza got the news his pet had been sometime last night. His men were on it, but so were the police, which meant they had to be quieter and more clever. Their contracts in the police informed them of what National Police were looking for, but Cortez wasn't worth intervening on a police investigation. He was under their protection, of course, but everyone knew he was only allowed to live as long as he was useful. Still, he was property of Zaragoza, and these Scales had stolen from them. He would begin his own investigation soon.

[Mokastana]

Bogota Field Office - Department of Investigations National
Bogota, El Sur de Gran Mokastana
People’s Unified Federation

There was a knock on Special Agent in Chief Dougal’s door, causing Alice to look up from her notes regarding the various deals and monetary transactions that had gone through the Fertilizer company owned by ‘Eric Cozora’/‘Ernesto Cortez’. She had a meeting with the Dept of Pharmacy and Controlled Substances in a few minutes and wasn’t expecting to be bothered, unless…

“Come in” she said in a mildly annoyed voice, really hoping it was.. “Jerico! Please tell me you got something.”

It was her ballistics guy, finally back with some information on the bullets used by the assassins in the Cozora case. Already there was quite a bit of unrest as the public was catching wind of another group of murderers roaming the countryside. This wasn’t the Drug War anymore, the Feds needed to prove they controlled the nation, by any means necessary.

“I certainly have… something. The other guns are interesting. The other round found at the scene were much larger, 50 caliber and here is where it gets interesting the casing are not traditional ones but made of a much stronger alloy. These are pretty special, only a few guns use these to help with certain issues and they are all large caliber guns made in the Timocratic Republic, the smallest of which is the Beowulf, a very high end rifle and very expensive and matches the guns we saw in the video. The rounds themselves were even more interesting. They were sub caliber tungsten alloy needle. Probably fired using a SABOT.”

“Guess the SABOT would explain the odd metal pieces we found. What does that mean?”

“It means there guys have some serious hardware. These rounds are meant to penetrate some serious armor. What armor they had on that SUV was basically like tissue paper. Also no rifling to speak of.”

“So these guys have specialize ammunition and weapons made only in one country? Half a region away? Dios Mio, well, that certainly gives us a start.”

“Not necessarily It could be an attempt to frame someone. These weapons and ammo are available on the open market.”

“True, but it’s not like it’s difficult to get an Anti-Tank rifle in the Federation. Can you find me anyone who imports these weapons, find out if they bought them domestically, or someone smuggled them in. I have to run to meet with the DFSC, care to talk on the way?”

Alice stood up, collecting her papers in a folder and pulling out her Access Card, before pocketing both in her briefcase. She smiled at Jerico and waved him after her as they turned down the hall to the meeting room where Dept of Pharmacy and Controlled Substance agents waited for them.

“So tell me this, why would someone invest in one of these rifling less guns when I can go buy a PTRS or Barrett 50 with what I assume is longer range?”

“I don’t know. I would need to I.D. the weapon these used to tell you why.”

“Can you get a good ID from the security camera footage?”

“Well...not a good one but I can guess…would you like that?”

“A guess is a good start.”

“Well….Based on the footage… the dimensions of the weapon, which we know using trigonometry based on the height of the vehicle and height of Ernesto Cortez , and overall shape of the weapon….it might be an Eastwood and Wayne. Specifically their Beowulf Anti Hostile Wildlife Heavy Rifle….Uh Mark 1 I think based on the barrel length.”

“That’s rather specific for not being a good guess,” she gave him a sarcastic smirk, “I am guessing they don’t keep these in stock at the local weapons store.”

“Well I am a bit of a gun nut and the Beowulf has a very distinctive outline. With the custom stock, under barrel recoil absorber and muzzle brake.”
Jerico snorts loudly at that last statement.
“No way. This is like the Lamborghini of rifles. A bare bones basic can easily cost 10 grand. As to why they would chose it...Well who would not if they had the money to spare.”

“Someone who wants to stay anonymous probably, but I think the Scales enjoy their showmanship. This is a good lead. Good job Jerico. Track down any known importer of these rifles. Assuming the customs people didn’t get bribed to look the other way again. DFSC is waiting for me behind this door, hopefully they have some info we can use. Good luck, and let me know when we have something on these guns.”

With that, Alice bid farewell to her Ballistics expert, and charged head first into the inter agency meeting that would begin a task force for hunting down the Scales.

[Patrick OConner]

Somewhere south of Bogota, the shining jewel of the south sits the abandoned industrial park of Rioeste Industries. It’s buildings reminiscent of the Mokan tech boom of the eighties when drug money poured into Mokastana, and the upper class changed from Communists Despots to Drug Lord Despots. Much like the rest of the tech boom, a lot was destroyed in the Surian Civil War. Silos still stood with bullet holes in them from when Montana Family troops attacked the industrial park, while the main office remained half opened, where an artillery shell had landed, blowing off a side of the building and killing the defenders inside. It was a reminder of the Surian passed, a relic to a more hostile time. These days, the 30-year-old dilapidated buildings stood defiantly, guarding their wasted land that was too expensive to tear town and plow over, but to useless and unsafe to bring back into production. So they sat, used only as an occasional homeless shelter or criminal hiding place, left alone by even the National Police unless someone reported something.

Despite the derelict and disgusting exterior, the complex hid many secrets, one of which was a top of the line security system in the form hidden cameras and thermal sensors are hidden all around and even more discrete command detonated mines and structures rigged to blow on command.

Inside of the many buildings, the inside had actually been turned into a nice and livable if utilitarian in nature place to live. A central room held a table and 8 chairs for people to sit in off to the left was new if basic kitchen and a bar. To the right was a series of door mounted in dividers to give the illusion of privacy for people. A roll-up garage door and regular one was mounted on the wall between the kitchen and bunkrooms. Weapons racks lined the wall holding various guns from pistols all the way up to a rather monstrous looking cannon with a scope mounted on it.


One man sits at the table while another is in the kitchen area preparing a meal. The man sitting at the table looked young and in great shape. His skin is smooth and faces unlined. His skin in white. He looks like a teenager almost. He was currently cleaning a large caliber assault rifle.
The man in the kitchen looked old and seasoned as the other man looked young, wrinkled face and white hair and tanned skin from exposure to the sun.
“What ‘ill ya have Johnny Boy?” He asked
“Screw you Finlay its McBoy and you know it,” Johnny said without any heat in his voice while the other man chuckles.
“Rocco will be here soon.”
“Yeah, that bastard likes his stuff spicy...heathen…”

The side door opened and Alexi Del Rocco stepped in, slowly raising his hands as the sheer number of guns pointing at him made him mildly nervous.

“Ehh… nice place you guys got here. Those guns are nice. You know. After the first two I wasn't sure about you guys, but” Rocco sighs “ that was some impressive work. If you were here three years ago this might have been a different country.”

Finlay just waves at Rocco and keeps cooking.
Johnny nods
“I am not surprised you doubted us but it does not matter. My only regret is that we could not have been here sooner but it is what it is. We are here now. Now, what intel do you have on the next target?”

“Well, I think I found a great one for you all,” Del Rocco slowly walked in, looking nervous, but sets down his briefcase and opens it up slowly. He pulls out a picture and sets it down in front of the group.

“His name is Major Caesar McCoy, a former commander in the Federal Army. He was a Division Colonel during the drug war but convoys under his command got hit way more often than others. Soon he got transferred to Aqua Anu, and the same shit happened. Army couldn't prove anything, but his leadership got a lot of people killed. So they demoted him and kicked him out. He's now a private contractor working with various private militias.

Now, the army couldn't prove it, but I did the accounting and found a few payments that went his way.

Now he's worried, going to be setting up a meeting with Zaragoza private troops for protection. I've found the location of the meeting, it's in this Park outside Bogota.”

“Hmmm...interesting. I will pass it on. I think another Weight will take care of this target.” At this point, the door to the quarters loudly banged open and two men walked out. Tall, slender with broad shoulders and fiery red hair and pale freckled complexion.
“Andrew and Alpin” Johnny said, “Are you two-”
“Finished cleaning the weapons?” Alpin said
“Yep.” Andrew said “Even checked and calibrated the MASEs”
“Was that not-” Alpin began
“The most annoying thing?” Andrew finished
“Well well,” Alpin says seeing Rocco and grinning “If it is not-”
“Our old friend Rocco” Andrew finishes.
Both of them walk up to him and put an arm around Andrew on the left and Alpin on the right.
“What brings our reformed friend here?” Alpin and Andrew said together.
“He is here to bring us intel on our next target,” Johnny says with a sigh. Dealing with the twins could be taxing.

“Alright, you guys want a big target? How about a currency clearing house? Outside of Santa Merda, there is a warehouse district, the Zaragozas use it to store the various cash flown in from across the border. Everyone knows the Feds watch the ports like a hawk, so the Cartels smuggle the money in through Yaroslav. Drugs leave via the west, money in from the South. It's a well-fortified complex, but they have convoys drive up on various back roads to the banking offices in Bogota. You want to kick them in the balls, this is how to do it.”

“Interesting…” John says smiling “I bet if we hit that it will hurt them a lot…”
“Oooh...I know that look” Alpin says
“Me too,” Andrew says “It means-”
“Trouble” they both chorus
Johnny smiles
“Yes, it does call in everyone else its planning time,” Johnny said. His smile morphed into something a wolf would recognize .

[Patrick OConner]

The currency clearing house was less of a house and instead of a large industrial warehouse. Three times long as it was wide with one of the short sides facing the main road. To the east and west, warehouses of similar size lined up like dominoes, parallel to the target warehouse. Behind the line of warehouses was an abandoned lot, full of grassless dirt, a few overgrown weeds and a couple derelict construction vehicles for decoration.

As for building itself, tall well maintained chain link fence encircled the perimeter. One armed security gate granted access to the paved parking lot of the service docks along the long western side. Semi trucks came and went, always presenting identification and moving on with a few people in the cabin, just in case. All in all, it looked like any modern printing company, generating forms and documents for use across Mokastana.

As the sun set and darkness over took the city, one semi truck pulled up to the gate and was waved on through by the guards and drove on through. It pulled into a parking spot in the middle of the rest of the trucks.

A few miles away at a substation, an inconspicuous part had been recently added to the main line transformer to help “monitor energy usage” exploded. Sparks flew everywhere and metal screeched and broke. Towers fell and cables hit the ground. And the power for the entire city block blinked, then went out.

At the same time the semi that recently pulled in, started venting a yellow-red gas meant to knock people out and the gas quickly spread through the area. At the same time, within the trailer, a large device came to life and began to jam all nearby radio waves.

Around back a man about thousand yards away snuggled up to the stock on his MacManus Ordnance Whisper, a long-range suppressed rifle, peered through the scope and smiled he as lined up the first target. He squeezed the trigger and the gun coughed lightly. The round arced down range and hit the target in the head. The sniper worked the bolt and shifted targets. He fired again and worked the bolt then once more. Three men who were guarding the place dropped dead with bullet holes in their skulls. The sniper smiled and shifted his aim to the visible phone line boxes and then shot them out.


He raised he reached and depressed his throat mike, the attacker's radios having the frequency pattern to bypass the jamming.
“Twins are a go.”

Back at the warehouse, the venting gas got some attention. Two cars parked in the lot opened up and armed men stepped out. One bringing a radio up to his lips, trying to reach someone. As the lights went out across the block, a few kicked back on as back up generators kicked on, including in the parking lot the attack was happening in. Realizing what was happening the six guards who exited the cars dove for cover while one ran for a phone mounted to a light pole. Across the parking lot, two people in a car began moving around quickly as if assembling something.

The gas rapidly spreads around parking lot and quickly rolls over everyone and thing there. The rears doors of the trailer swing open to reveal a darken interior. Then two figures step out. Both are covered in body armor and their heads are helmeted with goggles mounted on them, faces covered with gas masks. A weird exoskeleton is attached to the outside of the body armor. One figure was carrying a heavy machine gun and the other was carrying a grenade launcher while the heavy machine gun was slung on his back. Immediately the six guards opened fire with Kalashnikovs. They jump out and the one with the grenade launcher 2 at the men inside the car. They impact the car and the car explodes fling shrapnel everywhere. While the other one turned and laid down fire at the other six men sweeping his gun across, the big rounds putting holes through there cover.

Suddenly, a rocket tore through the air from the third level of the warehouse, targeting the truck pumping out gas, turning the cab into a mess of twisted metal and flames. A klaxon began screaming, warning the rest of the staff of the impending threat.
The front of the truck was toast but all the important gear was housed in the trailer. The rocket got the attention of the twins however who both fired up the front of the warehouse with bullets and grenades. With that final strike, the threats on the outside of the building were cleared.

Around back 6 men, armed with SCAR assault rifles with under barrel shotguns and grenade launcher and body armor plus gas masks, approached the rear of the building and, after checking for booby traps, entered. Each man had a pair of bulky goggles mounted on their helmets. They come to a door and Finlay opens it, he notices a wire and snips it and they enter.

Once inside, the strike team heard the numerous footsteps of soldiers rushing to the main entrance. A mix of hallways lead towards a secure door, clearly well built and designed, complete with a digital pad to enter a passcode, while another route led to a locked metal door of lesser quality, leading to the main floor of the warehouse. The sound of various engines can be heard from the main floor of the warehouse.

Outside the twins calmly march toward the front of the warehouse. There sightless eyes scanning the area for any movement or targets. The one with the launcher, Alpin, stops and reloads in front of the building while the other watches for threats. Alpin then aims the launcher and starts firing gas grenades into the building, this time it is just a dark yellow mustard gas. Six grenades enter the building through various windows and spew the dark yellow fog, filling up the building.

Inside the team splits into two teams of three, one head for the main floor while the other prepares to breach the electronic door. The first team stacks up next to the door then breaches the door in a loud explosion, flinging shrapnel and debris into the locked room. As the smoke and dust clear, they see what is simply a well build the safe room, complete with a giant stack of Ríokmarks on a pallet in the center. The team enters and quickly begins to set up incendiary charges around the room and on the money. Then they exit the room. And head down the hall after the first team of three.


The other three-man team breached the metal door and enter the main floor of the warehouse. Gas was filling it from the lobbed grenades, obscuring vision. As the team breaches the door, they come face to face with the remains of a group of soldiers that were heading their way, only to become a shower of blood and torn flesh, painting the walls red. The 3 men rounded the corner and moved into the mostly empty floor of the warehouse, only to finally recognize the sound of one of the motors, the loudest of them all in the enclosed space of the warehouse. In the corner of the room, sat a Lyran Ironheart IFV, complete with PAK2 25mm automatic cannon.

The three men hit the wall and take cover while one of them, Grant Hew a man that resembles a dwarf without a beard, loads a grenade into the launcher under his gun while another one, Ducan Hershire a thin reed of man, hit his radio.

“Weight 2 weight 3 this is Weight 5 we need back up. The enemy has an IFV in the building.”
“Weight 5 this is Weight 3 we copy. Location of the IFV?”
“About 5 meters northern wall the 50 meters from us. We are on the on the west side”
“Roger Weight 5. We are coming Weight 3 come on.”

Outside both men break into a jog and quickly arrive at the loading docks they easily hop up there and face the closed roll down door. Both of them take careful aim and then fire through the doors. The big powerful rounds penetrate the thin steel door easily. The rounds are heavy duty armor piercing incendiary and they easily impact the IFV. Some miss, some ricochet off but some explode into sparks and fragments, damaging the Chobham style armor but failing to penetrate. At the same time, Hew pops up and aims his rifle/grenade launcher at the IFV and fires off his HEAT grenade and he ducks back down. It flies through the air and impacts the side of the IFV. The heat grenade round would never have worked against something like a main battle tank but against an IFV or an APC or a building, that is a different story. It exploded with a thunderous clap and shoves the IFV to the side causing it to rock on its suspension, destroying the aftermarket cage armor built around the IFV. Despite the first HEAT grenade, the IFV opens fire at the same rolling steel doors the incoming armor piercing rounds came from, it’s own 25mm High Explosive rounds firing blindly through the wall into the parking lot, striking trucks and trailers alike. Outside, the twin jumped to the side out of the line of fire and ceased firing through the doors at the IFV.

Inside the engine of the IFV roared to life, as the sound of grinding gears and twisted metal confirmed that the entire right side track was wrecked from the first HEAT round. Grant reloaded his grenade launcher with another HEAT round. He popped back up aimed carefully for turret this time and fired. Again the round sailed true through the air and hit the side of the turret with a splat. It exploded, ripped the 25mm gun into a million white-hot fragments of twisted metal and discarded debris. A roar of fire rose up from the remains of the turret as the ammunition cooked off inside. As a last-ditch effort, the IFV fired off its grenade launchers, loaded with IR obscuring smoke, filling the warehouse with even more colored clouds to distort the view of anyone trying to fight inside.

Outside the twins note the lack of fire from the IFV. They look at each other, nod and then one rips open a rolling door using the power of the suit and steps in followed by the other.
“Weight 1 and 5 be advised we are entering the building.”
“Roger this is Weight 1 all teams rendezvous on the factory floor then we will continue the sweep.”
“ Weight 2 Roger Wilco,”
“ Weight 5 Roger Wilco.”
The team reassembles and sweep the office looking for more targets or information. Along the way, they plant more explosive charges. Finding some computers in the upstairs office, the team quickly rips them apart and retrieves the hard drives. The team finds the escape tunnel but decides to not investigate it and instead quickly exits the building only to see the main entrance being swarmed by a small group of gunmen. Reinforcements for the Cartel that begin to take up positions behind anything solid and open fire. A few soldiers who tried to rush into the reddish-yellow gas quickly fell, coughing and crying as the fumes burn their lungs and the ones that have rushed the further into the fog hit the ground out cold from it.

The sniper from earlier returns now, picking some of the ‘reinforcements’ from his perch. The cartel men looked shocked as some of them suddenly drop or their heads explode. A few shouts “Francotirador! Franco!” as others immediately begin diving behind walls and for cover in the street.

“Contact front, fire at will,” Johnny says over the radio.
The most of the team spread out and takes cover and fires on the cartel men with there weapons. The twins spread out a bit but instead of taking cover lay down heavy fire with there heavy machine guns. The heavy machine gun rounds tear into the cover the cartel men are taking, spraying entrails and blood everywhere. The other 6 men laid down precise 3 round bursts of 30 caliber rounds while a single red flair fires into the night sky a few blocks away. A grenade is thrown by one of the team and it sails through the air and lands amid the cartel men and explodes, tossing debris and body parts into the air. The remaining attackers fall back into back alleys and buildings across the street, realizing the frontal assault will not work.

Six of the team find an undamaged truck and trailer and they commandeer it, while the twins press their attack on the cartel men. One of them slings the heavy machine gun and unlimbers the grenade launcher and lobs the last six grenades he has, which are high explosives, at the cartel soldiers, taking out store fronts and blowing holes into the buildings where the Cartel troops retreated too. Then he slings it and unlimbers the heavy machine gun and lays down bursts of fire further chewing up the buildings. The other six have loaded themselves into the trailer minus Hershire, who has climbed into the cab and is hot-wiring it. Soon Hershire has the trunk cranked as he passes the twins, they hop onto the running board of the semi and hang on.

As they leave Grant Hew presses a button on a detonator. The trailer that the twins had arrived in explodes destroying most of the evidence, except of a central piece of the broad spectrum jammer, the modulator, which somehow managed to survive The building poofed and the reaming windows shatter and then the structure shuddered and then collapsed in on itself and began to smolder as a pile of burning debris.

At the first intersection a Police pick up truck waits in the middle of the road, two officers on either side of the road hide behind buildings shout “ALTO!” before firing their assault rifles into the fleeing truck.

Both of the twins lay down a bursts of cover fire at the cops, aiming over them or in front of them trying not to him them, and the cops dive for the ground as the semi-truck crashes into their Police Truck, crumbling the side and forcing it out of the way. In the distance, more sirens can be heard.

A mile away the semi truck and trailer pull up next to a van and the team exits and enters the van which then drives away. Moments later the truck catches fire and burns up destroying any evidence. Police pick ups and armored cars race pass towards the flaming truck as the whirl of helicopter blades can be heard overhead. Hinds from the National Police scour the area looking for unusual vehicles fleeing the area.

The simple dark van disappears into the night.

Later that night, the survivors from the attack climb out of an underground tunnel and into the back of a gas station about two miles south of the burning warehouse. The sounds of National Police moving to secure the crime scene fill the air. The survivors know they don’t have much time, so they pull a cord and a dull roar comes up from the tunnel, followed by dust and debris. The light explosives packed in the walls collapses the tunnel, giving them precious hours to escape. Of the seven escapees, two men look at one another, both concerned about what just happened. The tension in the air rises as their respective soldiers now eye each other up.

“I thought you said this was a safe place?” The first man in a leather coat asked in a flat monotone voice. His eyes narrowing on the well-dressed man in front of him.

“We wouldn’t have brought these notes in if anything Intel suggested otherwise. Isn’t it your job to keep vigilantes off of our tail?”

“Not at all, this is your operation, you do with it what you want. I only promised to ensure those that need to look the other way, do just that. We cannot protect you from your own stupidity.”

“You still got what you needed did you not?”


The man in the leather coat raises the briefcase he had been carrying for the past few miles as if to weigh it in his hands in front of the other.

“This looks like barely 15,000 Volkmar's, I was promised over 50,000.”

“Well, you are welcome to go back to the warehouse and see what you can find!”

The room pauses for a moment, soldiers for both men wondering what was about to happen next, finally, after far too long of a pause, the man in the leather coat sighs deeply and speaks:

“All in time. For the moment, however, it seems you might need some help with your vigilante problem after all. Get me any files from the security cameras off the backup server you have around here. If we find anything about them, can I trust you are capable of dealing with them?”

“After tonight…. Yes…. Yes, we will deal with them very well.”

With that, both parties share a collective breath of relief, and after a quick data transfer, both went their own separate ways out into the night.

A new video popped up on the internet and it goes as such.
A picture of an of old fashion scale replaced whatever was on previously.
A voice spoke over the image.
"Standby for an important announcement."

The picture of the scales was replaced with a room. The room was plain and white with only a small podium in the center. On the back wall was the same image of the scales painted in gold. To the left and right of the scales is a single man each one heavily armed and dressed in tactical gear. Both of them were wearing balaclavas. Behind the podium was an another dressed this time like a judge with robes and gavel, even wearing the old style powder wig. He also wore a mask but this one was model on the face of Lady Justice.

The man behind the podium began to speak
"I come to speak to you once more people of Greater Dienstad, for it is time to carry out justice again. This time the Zaragosa Cartel refused to head our warnings so we acted. One of our Weights attacked a major money clearing house and destroyed it and all the cash there in and slaughtered all that stood in there way. We are not done nor even close. Heed this warning if you care for you pathetic existence at all run and hide. Cease your criminal activity or we will come and find you and end you. This we swear by all we hold dear. So if you are set in your ways and wish to continue your disgusting existence go ahead but we will find and we will kill you. This is our declaration of war upon the scum of the earth. There is nowhere to run nowhere to hide, and no one can save you.”

“The scales have been balanced and the victims can rest in peace now.”

The men to either side thrust banged there curled fist against their chests, right over there hearts and both yelled.
“Librae Appendebuntur”
The image clicked off and replaced with a previous picture of a set of scales.

---

Two days later:
Timocratic Embassy
Mokastana City, People’s Republic of the Islands
People’s Unified Federation

The Timocratic Republic embassy was an unassuming little complex of building inside the downtown walled embassy district of the PUF’s capital, Mokastana City. A low white wall surrounded the Timocratic complex, which was only composed of 3 building connected by covered walkways. Inside the walls, just grass and few shrubs grew, nothing to ostentations but everything was well trimmed and maintained. A single entrance to the complex was in front and was guarded by Marines in dress blues as was every entrance to the buildings inside the complex. A walk way led from the simple entrance to the main building of the embassy.

The security motorcade pulled up in front of the Timocratic Embassy,. Stepping out after her security was Foreign Minister Elizabeth Franshaw, a mid-thirties red-headed woman far to pale for the blazing Mokan sun. Her blue suit and wide brim hat seemed to only reflect her desire to avoid sun, but the truth was thanks to her mother’s heritage, she burned about as well as she tanned. Behind her was a man in a long leather coat and a formal uniform from the Bureau of Secret actions, only known as Situation Director Jorge Cero. Lastly, was Special Agent in Chief Alice Dougal, dressed in the blue uniform of the Department of Investigations National, complete with blue jacket with the yellow lettering. She would much rather be back in Santa Merda sifting through the wreckage of the warehouse burned down by the terrorist two days ago, but when her boss’ boss calls her mobile phone directly with orders to brief the Foreign Minister herself, she boarded the first Police flight to the Capital city. It was becoming clear that this case was something much bigger than what she had expected.

The Marines saluted and wave them through, they were expected.

Inside the building, the floor was covered in a deep red and soft carpet and the walls were paneled in a dark reddish wood that was shot through with crystallize veins of yellow sap and the place was lit with soft warm light. A desk made of native wood sat in the middle of the large open room. Behind the desk was a rather attractive secretary dressed in a tight skirt suit, behind her was a hallway with a door on either side and at the end was another door that simply said, Ambassador George B. McClellan. Guarding every door was an armed Marine and two stood in the corners of the lobby.

“Good morning, would you please inform the Ambassador that Foreign Minister Elizabeth Franshaw is here to see him?”

The secretary nods
“Please leave your weapons here and you may go back and see him, he is waiting.

Elizabeth smiled externally, slowly pulling out her compact .380 and handing it over to the appropriate security personnel, behind her, both Jorge and Alice did the same, giving up their Hellhammer and Jaguar Defense pistols, respectfully. The Ambassador knew the importance of this meeting and yet had chosen to wait in his office for her to come to him, rather than greet her in the lobby. This meeting was going to go great, she could already tell.


The Ambassador’s office was simple, same carpet on the floor and same wood on the walls and same soft warm lighting. A desk of iron sat in the middle and book shelves to either side. In front of the desk was a variety of expensive and comfy chairs and couches. Behind the desk sat George B. McClellan. He was a man of average height, around 5 foot 10 and half inches. He had a stern face and solid black hair on his head and black moustache on his face. He was in the midst of reading some papers then they entered. He put them down as she entered.
“I am sorry I was not there to greet you in the lobby but I have been playing catch up the recent affairs including the one that has brought you here. Excuse me sorry where are my manners. Please sit. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Elizabeth smiled once more, “Water for me, and whatever my Federal Agent companions would like.”

“I’m fine,” said the man in the long Leather coat, followed closely by Alice’s own “Nothing for me either, thank you though.”

McClellan nodded and presses a button on the phone on his desk.
“Water and a scotch.”
The secretary reappears with a tray and the drink she offers the water to the Foreign Minister and McClellan takes the scotch and takes a deep drink from the glass.
“Forgive me, I do not usually drink this earlier but the matters before us have left me in great need of one. Now let's get down to business I assume you are here because of the so-called Scales of Justice?” he says, a slight Scottish accent peaking out now.

“Before we begin, may I call you George, or would you prefer Ambassador McClellan?”

“George is fine by me.”

“Well, then let’s keep this relaxed,” a slight roll of the tongue on the word ‘relaxed’ betrayed the accent Elizabeth was keeping under wraps, “My first question before we get into any specifics, is, how many soldiers do you station in Mokastana Proper? What are their qualifications? I will admit that military matters are not my strong suit, I am a diplomat after all, but surely a man in your position has some familiarity with these details, do you not?”

“I am aware of them yes and can get access to them. Do you want the numbers and such? That is very large about of information. And something I can not give out free of course. Such things are sensitive and require higher authorization.”

“Well, George, I am sure you are aware that normally the Federation is very particular about who they let set up bases in our country,” with every word Elizabeth’s accent became slightly stronger, “your military in our country was a unique case since they are technical, private military contractors, if I recall correctly. However, it seems that after your country is allowed to house soldiers on our soil, terrorist begin attacking Federal civilians, and all the evidence is pointing to the suspects being well-trained soldiers from the Timocratic Republic. Would you like to see what we have found so far?”

McClellan smiles at Franshaw.
“Lucky for you I requested such a thing ahead of time and actually managed to get it. About 10 minutes before you arrived actually. My secretary will get all the information on our troops and such here in Mokastana for you on the way out. As for what you have yes you can show me.” McClellan said then took another deep drink from his glass.

Elizabeth returned the smile, and leaned back in her chair, “Those military records will certainly be appreciated, George, but that is far from the only thing we are meeting today for.
Obviously, we want full cooperation with your FBI regarding tracking down who these particular individuals might be. They have already helped us identify some accents, but we are going to be needing far more cooperation over the course of this investigation and I would hope you could expedite any requests and cut through any red tape for us.”

“I can most definitely try and we will lend whatever aid we can to your investigation.”

“Thank you, and in addition, your military units in the country are hereby suspended from receiving any additional manpower from back home, and any soldiers currently in the country are to remain on base at all times, less they be arrested by Federal authorities. Federal forces will also need full access to the base during the course of this investigation, including access to the armories for testing of weapons and searching for anything that might be related to these crimes.”

“Permission for that will take a little longer to get but get it I shall.”

“Thank you, George, the alternative was to suspend the base in its entirety, so the sooner my agents can have access, the better. The Senate tends to be rather paranoid when foreign soldiers are killing people on our home soil, so they might end up kicking out everyone if another attack happens. Luckily, I will have a chance to talk them out of that because the Timocratic government will be cooperating fully with us.”

“I will do my best but things take time but you still have yet to show me what evidence you have to indict us.”

“I will leave that to my Federal agents, Special Agent in Chief Dougal, you may begin.” Elizabeth turned to the woman in the blue uniform of the Department of National Investigation, her Surian accent was only marginally less sharp than Elizabeth’s.

“Ambassador McClellan, are you familiar with the Beowulf Anti Hostile Wildlife Heavy Rifle?”

“Personally no. I am not a hunter but I do know it is available on the open market.”

“That it is, and based on my findings, only one company in the Federation imports it, and has only sold a few units. All which my agents have been able to account for. Now this weapon is made in the Timocratic Republic, and only there. It was the clue that got my Department looking into a nation halfway across the region. When your FBI got us an accent identification, that was another clue these attackers were from your Republic. Now, based on video footage from various attacks, we know these men have military training. I won’t bore you with the hours of investigation we have put into here, but these men are speaking your language, using your weapons, and what appears to be your tactics. Perhaps even more damning, is that they seem to be well funded.”

As Alice finished, Situation Director Jorge Cero pulled out a few still images from a briefcase and set them down. They were of a pair of men, covered from head to toe in body armor, carrying huge weapons and wearing what looked like powered limbs. Jorge spoke up this time:
“Send these pictures to your military attache, tell us if he ID’s the exoskeletons these two are wearing as a Timocratic design. I can assure these are neither domestic, nor any designs we have seen, such as Macabeean or Havensky built models.”


“And what does that mean for the Timocratic Republic? I assure you if the government was up to something you would know, even if it was only after the fact.”

This time Elizabeth spoke up: “Right now, it means we are looking to ensure we are on the same side. A public statement against these terrorist would go a long way to proving that. As would international police support. The problem my agents are facing is that this is very clear, and present, threat to the stability of the Surian Nation. Don’t get me wrong, I am a socialist, and despise the illegal drug trade of this country, but the drug war has always been a domestic affair for us. Help us find these terrorists, and we can continue with our growing relations.”

“I am sure we can agree on these things and cooperate in this endeavor”

“Thank you Goerge, I knew we could come to an agreement. I will have my agents pick up the information you have prepared for us, and we will be looking forward to hearing from you about full access to the military installation.” Elizabeth stood up and offered her hand to the Ambassador to shake.

McClellan stood up and took her hand and shook it while smiling.

‘I am glad to be of service, maam”

[Mokastana]

Cordova, Venezuela Province
El Sur de Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Alexi del Rocco paid the baker. A fresh loaf of bread and a few sweets for the road before he went to the farmer's market for produce. Everything was piled into a paper bag, sending Alexi merrily was on his way. Walking down the sidewalks of the cobblestone roads towards the market, Alexi noticed a Police cruiser slow down at the intersection. After the attack on the warehouse, police forces had been overzealous with trying to hunt down every possible lead. The last thing he needed was to be detained and for someone to figure out who he was.

“Greetings Hector.” A voice startled him from behind. Hector was the name on his government ID, issued by... That voice, Alexi recognized that voice, “Don't turn around, a van is going to pull up soon, get inside when it does.”

Alexi swallowed, and did what he was told. The van pulled up and the door swung wide open, two men in balaclavas reached out and Alexi was willingly pulled in, bread bag in hand. Shoved into a seat, the door was closed behind him and the van took off. Alexi looked out the window towards the police cruiser, whose driver just turned his head away and stayed at the intersection.

“Alexi Del Rocco, as I live and breathe, glad to see you're healthy, alive and well.” the man across from Del Rocco took off his face mask, smiling at his prey. Alexi winched at the man he hadn't seen in years.

“Special Agent in Chief Salvador Franco, good to see you again.” Alexi lied. Of course it was the Dept of Pharmacy and Controlled Substances, they were the people who got him his new identity for turning state's evidence, and they were known for being very blunt and to the point. Both in a metaphorical, and literal, sense.

“Situation Director Salvador Franco these days. Helping to bring down the Cortez family bought quite a few perks, including a promotion or two. How are you Alexi?”

“Alright, except for the kidnapping. What do you want Salvador?”

“That's easy, I want the Scales."

"What do I have to do with that?" Alexi tried to feign boredom, but inside he was debating his chances of getting out of this van alive and not liking the odds.

"You've been making a few trips to Bogota these last few months haven't you? Plus, you're one of the few people who know where the Zaragoza money comes from. Now, I'm all for Cartel pendejos taking it in the ass, but when vigilantes are involved, people lose faith in the government. Plus, it means that you either withheld information from us, or you're back in the game. We don't like either of those conclusions.”

“Look Salvador, I don't know what you're going on about… I mean…”

“Alexi, I wouldn't have organized this little discussion if I didn't already know everything. Did you really think we wouldn't be observing you for the rest of your natural life? Using Federal protection to hide from your enemies while working with terrorists to get rid of them? Good play Alexi," Situation Director Franco clapped mockingly for a moment, "but we're not idiots, and neither are your enemies. So as of now, consider yourself, once again, under arrest. If you're useful in bringing down these terroristas, we might consider relocating you, otherwise, you know how popular ‘Fortitude of Body’ is as a sentence for former Cartel members. Diego, wasn't the last guy they sentenced used for chemical weapon testing. Could you imagine, Alexi, being exposed to horrific chemicals for the rest of your life? That life might only be a few weeks long, but what terrible weeks those would be. Horrible way to die. Alternatively, we could just drop you off at the Zaragoza family estate, who knows what they might have in store for former accountant who helped their enemies destroy their money supply. They might even be more creative than us. Welcome back Alexi.”

The van rode off into the city, just another roadside kidnapping in a dangerous city.


A modest Villa outside of Bogota
Colombia Province
El Sur de Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Jorge Zaragoza found himself in his grandfather's Villa once more. A much more modest Villa than his own. His grandfather’s villa was build more like a fortress than a palace and Jorge always thought grandfather's home had more of a Soviet feel to it. After all, grandfather had spent his childhood under the Soviet government, and although it was still extravagant, it felt almost spartan compared to main family villa Jorge resided in. Yet, the fact that grandfather was still here, while Jorge’s father wasn't might give some merit to Grandfather's way of thinking. It might have been pure luck, or it might have been grandfather's paranoid nature. As Jorge walked into the lobby, it was that paranoid nature Jorge hoped to take advantage of today.

Things had gone bad rather quickly, one of his trophies killed, dozens of security guards dead, one of his key money catches burned to the ground. This was now a war, and Jorge knew what that meant. He would be ready. The electric wheelchair rolled up to greet him, carrying a frail old man inside it. Pushing well into his seventies, the old man removed his oxygen mask to smile at the visitor.

“Welcome Niño, what brings you all the way out here?”

Jorge looked around at the armed men in the halls, giving them skeptical looks. Most were older, with hard looks in their eye, as if even the family head of the strongest cartel in the nation was just another bug to squash

“It's OK to speak in front of them, most have been with me since the Montana rebellion.”

“I don't know abuelo, spies are everywhere.”

“Not here, not in my home. All that is in this Villa is a dying old man and his private security, but if you insist, come with me.”

The electric wheelchair turned around and rolled further into the house, and Jorge followed. It was the same thing grandpa always did when the family came to him to talk about serious issues. A stop in the kitchen for a fruit beverage, and then a stroll in the garden. A nurse wearing far to little clothing was already preparing two drinks, pouring them from a single pitcher and giving the Master of the house a straw to drink from before waiting for his opinion.

“Ah. Perfect Dominic, like always, please set it in the cup holder.”

It was Grandfather’s little ritual to show guests he didn’t poison the drinks. The nurse did as she was told and handed a second glass to Jorge. Although she dressed provocatively, everyone on the grounds knew she was property of their Master, and the last guard who touched one of Grandfather's nurses ended up as living piranha food in the garden. It still made grandpa smile thinking of it, but first, business.

“So niño, what brings you all the way here?”

“It's these Scales. They were originally just another annoying death squad, trying to prove their moral superiority, but they are good at what they do. What's worse, is that they have someone in my organization feeding them information, but no one can find who it is.”

“I told your father to move that warehouse.”

“He was busy trying to win the war.”

“And look where he ended up. Jorge, I've seen numerous wars, and there are two things that you need to win a war in Suria. The support of the people, and the money to keep it. Your father and his boss had neither. You were smart to rebel against the Cortez family.”

The two traveled into the garden, with a moment of silence between them before Jorge spoke up.

“I need El Cozutlu.”

The old man laughed before taking another breath from his oxygen tank, letting his breath catch up to him, before beginning again: “Get me my drink, niño.”
Jorge did so, giving his grandfather the straw for a long drink, before being waved away.

“Cozutlu huh? You really want them dead that bad?”

Jorge set the drink back into his Grandfather’s cup holder. “They burned down a fifth of last month's income and forced us to reroute next month's shipments. They killed two dozen of our men. We cannot show weakness.”

“Jajaja.. you sound like a Cortez, niño. But you are right. This action cannot go unpunished, but Cozutlu isn’t something you release on just anyone. He’s a fucking monster, in the truest sense of the world.”

Jorge’s voice softened: “When I was a boy, you and Papa used to speak of him, like he was El Diablo.”

The grandfather paused to catch his breath, breathing in from the mask before responding: “When we first found him he didn't speak a word of Spanish. Killed nearly a dozen of our men before we got him to work for us. Your father and I only used him four times, only when things got totally fucked,” another pause, another breath, “but he isn’t just some hired gun, he makes Natul Priests look like fucking choir boys. Has a thing for murder, don’t care who, or why.” another pause, “Even the Feds chose to carpet bomb the jungle than face him head on. You don’t get this guy unless you are 100% sure you need him.”

“Abuelo…Was he not the man who saved us from Cortez’s retribution?”

Jorge’s grandfather remained silent for a minute, breathing in from his oxygen mask and catching his breath. The two casually strolled for a few more moments before the wheelchair bound man spoke:

“Your father and I made a deal with the devil that day to give you this empire, and you want to bring that devil back into our midst. In the olden days, we could point Cozutlu at an enemy and let him embrace his calling. If a few police and army patrols disappeared in the meantime, no one cared to look. He always did enjoy prey that fought back. But these days, perhaps it is good that he has grown old.”

“What will it take to get him?”

“A few days, nothing more, only whatever vengeful and bloodthirsty Devil he serves knows where he is, but he will respond to our call. He always knows our calls means prey worth hunting down. He will chase them with glee.”


Department of Investigations National
Bogota Headquarters
El Sur de Gran Mokastana

Special Agent in Chief Alice Dougal had only just made it back to the office when she found herself in a meeting with various police agencies, and even their rival agency, the Bureau of Secret Actions(BAS). Representatives from the DFSC, the National Police, and local Marshal services had combined their intelligence for one goal, stopping the Scales before the Cartels got to them. Everyone had a piece of the puzzle: The BAS had drone footage of the strike team entering a white van and fleeing the city and the DFSC had an informant who revealed the location of a possible safe house, one they had been monitoring for awhile, only for a white van to show up there the same night of the attack. It seemed that, together, they had location of where the scales were staying. However, the scales had proven far more than just resourceful, they needed to be sure what they were dealing with before rolling in with Armored Personnel Carriers and attack helicopters.

The location was put under 24 hour surveillance, they needed to know if this was one the only cell, or if it communicated with others. This wasn’t merely a few helicopters and patrol vehicles, this was Federal Intelligence assets being used, once again, to spy domestically. For days they would watch and listen to the warehouse with high altitude spy planes and recon balloons, passive electronic listening devices would pick up the faintest signal broadcasted. Even a Special Operations Squad from the National Police, the police equivalent to Federal Special Forces, was on site a kilometer away, acting as long range observers. They wanted to know who left and when. For all practical purposes, the industrial park was surrounded with eyes and ears kilometers away.

For the moment, all the pieces were falling into place for something big, the only question was what that would be.

[Patrick OConner]

Zaragoza Family Villa
Outside of Bogota
Colombia Province
El Sur de Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation


Jorge sat in his chair on the patio of the fourth floor of the villa. Cigar in one hand and glass of rum in the other. It had been so long since the Cartel was at war. Especially now, with police at their strongest ever, even annoying militias were picking at him. He set down the drink and rubbed his eyes, wondering what happened to their prestige. The view of Bogota from here was breathtaking for most. Perched atop one of the many hills of Bogota, looking down at the modern city that commanded the wealth of an Empire. In the distance the skyscrapers of major business demonstrated how far the south had come. Mokastana News Network, Athean Logistics, The Alliance of Private Farming Communities, all with Headquarters buildings reaching to the sky, but of course, none matched the splendor of The Montana Incorporated World Headquarters complex reaching to the sky.

None of that mattered to him right now. What did was tracking down his new enemy. Informants were out, spies in place, everyone knew the price the Zaragozas would be willing to pay. So when his personal phone buzzed, he pulled it out and saw a text message from “NUMERO PRIVADO“. Inside it reads“Our mutual problem" and had an attachment, a picture. A High altitude picture of a simple industrial Park, with a few buildings highlighted. A second message followed shortly: “Kill them all. You get one chance.”

Could it be… it had been so long since he heard from the Mysterious Stranger. Despite his best efforts he never could figure out who it was, but his suspicions were that they were government, somehow. Not that it mattered, but as long as he followed with their requests, life was easy for him. Someone in the Federal Government wanted the Scales dead, and they were willing to help the Cartels do it.

Jorge forwarded the message to his Security Chief and then made a quick call.

“Benito, yes, it's me. Prepare the rabbits. We are cooking tonight.”


Rioeste Industrial Park
South of Bogota
El Sur de Gran Mokastana


Once an hour, the scout team outside of the Industrial Park would check in with headquarters, either confirming situation normal, or a morse code stating otherwise. It was a simple infrared device, pointed away from the park, and would sent out a unique pattern to a device on a local tower. That tower would then broadcast back to police HQ a code along with all the other genetic traffic it passed along in service to the communication network of the Federation. Around seven PM local time, the recon team failed to submit their check in. After 20 minutes of a failed check in, a genetic message was sent out on National Police Radios asking for Car 17 to report. Which was followed by a request for car 65 to proceed to 17’s last known location. Neither car actually existed, but were instead coded messages to inform the associated teams that the Recon teams failed to report in.

Five minutes later, a drone flew over the target area looking for body heat signatures or other signs of struggle. Normally the Recon team would have their IR dampening cloaks on, but this scan revealed bodies sprawled out, cooling slowly as the night chased away the warm tropical air. Worst, it revealed movement, well within the observation zone. Two bodies on a hill outside the fence line, and about two kilometers further back, eight more were assembling something. Upon zooming in with the high definition IR cameras it became a high probability of mortars. The Cartel had found the Scales, and was making a move.


Police National Barracks
Located outside of Bogota
El Sur de Gran Mokastana




“Dougal, wake up, it's Captain Domino, we need to move!”

Alice woke up to the sound of knocking on her door and recognized the urgency in the Captain's voice. That was urgency of battle. She quickly threw on her combat gear, a spider silk combat suit with a dauntless built vest. Damn thing was heavy, over 6 kilograms by itself, plus inserts. It would slow her down a bit, but when it came to getting shot, damn thing could take most anything. Helmet was last and with that she was out the door heading for the checkpoint. The DIN and National Police had been anticipating a surprise attack for some time. Either the Cartels would find the hideout, or the scales would discover they were under observation. All around the base police forces assembled. This was a well drilled habit left over from the war. If the base was under attack, go to A, if the base was launching a surprise attack, go to the helicopters. This time, it was the latter.

Alice reached the checkpoint where Captain Domino was already loaded and ready.

“Grab a rifle and follow me Dougal, we'll be in the command helicopter.”

Alice did as commanded and joined Captain Domino in the smaller Buzzer, compared to the older but more durable Hinds the National Police were loading into.

“What's going on? Did they figure out we're watching them?” Alice shouted into the Mic.

“Negative, Cartel found them and is shelling their base. We gotta move in now.”



1.5 km outside of Rioeste Industrial Park
South of Bogota
El Sur de Gran Mokastana


The Cartel members looked over their measurements, ensuring their four dropper mortars would be accurate. A scout at the top of the hill nearby the park had a laser range finder to get the distance to the target, but to be sure, simple civilian drone with an HD camera had been launched, hovering just above the tree line outside of the park, broadcasting a signal back to them to keep them on target. The target was most of the industrial Park. They weren't sure which building the Scales were in, so they would just bombard the whole area to be safe. Plus with Cozutlu in the area, it wouldn't hurt to be extra liberal with the explosives. Cozutlu had been known to hunt his allies when they failed him. So to be safe, all rounds fired would be high explosive.

“Tico, are the horses ready?”

“Sí, everyone's loaded up.”

In addition to the mortar attack, six cartel soldiers mounted horses and climbed out of the ravine, they would attack once the mortars leveled the area. Armed with Montana made M-16s, complete with armor piercing rounds and under barrel grenade launchers, they would be mopping up anyone left.


Closer to Rioeste Industrial Park
South of Bogota
El Sur de Gran Mokastana


El Cozutlu laid motionless, breathing almost non existent. It was here, in the abandoned overgrowth by the chain link fence that he waited for a sign. The IR camouflage cloaks stolen from the dead watchers provided the cover he needed from the government forces who would be looking for their men. At least until the fireworks started.

This country had grown since he first came here all those years ago. Whether it was the police getting better, or him getting older, serving his God was still as exciting as it was when he was younger. He may not have been as fast, but he still relished at the chance to bring chaos to the world. These Scales, they were killers like him. Perhaps they would be a challenge after all.

Underneath the IR dampening cloak, he was dressed in the custom garb of a Khornate chieftan, a culture all but lost to history. Plate mail that had seen decades on combat, backed by bullet proof webbing. Originally it was kevlar, but as he killed more soldiers, he found their spider silk armor more useful. A folded badger trench axe/shovel, stained red from the years hung on his side. In front of him, nestled closely and hiding underneath another cloak, was a MGJ-21, a Lyran designed Light machine gun firing the military standard of 6.5x45mm rounds, aimed at the center of the compound.

The first whistling of incoming Mortar rounds hung in the air before the familiar double tap explosions of Dropper mortars echoed from the industrial Park. Eight shells landed among the old buildings, destroying walls and derelict equipment alike. More would follow.

Although it had begun, Cozutlu waited patiently, seeing if anyone would react.



Inside Rioeste Industrial Park


Scales

The first mortar shell fell on a bulldozer and exploded followed quickly by its second. The bulldozer was reduced to a heap of scrap metal. The rest fell around it and reduced a nearby warehouse to rubble.

In a nondescript at the building that once served as a receiving and shipping center and office, men rolled out of cots and grabbed weapons.
Johnny dashed out of his room to one across the hall. He throws the door open, inside Duncan sits in front of a bank of computer screens.
“We are under attack Johnny.” Duncan says.
“Mortars...I am attempting to triangulate now.”
“SHIT!!!” Johnny cursed. He turned around and saw the other members of the team.
“Grab what you can rig rest we are leaving now.”
The men scramble to grab there gear.
“ANDREW ALPIN SUIT UP WE NEED SOME BIG GUNS!!!”
“On it boss!!” the twin chorused together with glee
“Dibs on the grenade launcher!!!” Andrew says
“Hey…”
“You got it last time.”
“Fine.”
“Finlay get a gun and delay now.” Johnny said turning to another man
“Yes sir.”


The second round of mortar shells fell, more spread out in terms of distance and time between shots.

The men quickly grabbed there body armor and suited up then secured there weapons. The twins took longer having to put on the MASEs and then grab there portable HMG (the M2a3) while Grant set about setting charges on the rest of the gear. Luckily some of it had already been moved out in preparation for another hit while some it was packed up to leave.

In the distance the dull roar of helicopter blades can be heard.
“Shit” Grant said and broke open a case holding Stingers.


On the roof of the building, Finaly law crouched under a concrete colored tarp, with a Beowulf, He saw the helos and hit his radio.
“Weight 1 we have helos in bound….look like police.”
“Shit” Johnny mumbled.


National Police

“All units be advised, we are two minutes out. Enemy forces using mortars to shell target zone. Target zone may be protected by powered suits. We are commencing assault plan B.” Captain Domino broadcasted his message to his attack helicopters in his fleet.

“What about the Mortars?” Alice yelled over the sound of the engine and wind blowing past as the pilot flirted with the treeline.

“Step ahead of you Agent.... Cobra Actual to Snake den. Requesting Thunder on predetermined target.”

“Copy that Cobra Actual, skies on fire. Repeat. Skies on fire.”

In the distance, the thunder of 155mm Howitzers from the National Police base warned of the incoming shells. As the helicopters moved into position surrounding the Industrial Park, with two even intending to land inside large clearings of the compound, the whistling of inbound shells was all too clear. Just a kilometer and a half away, the Cartel mortars were subjected to 155mm High Explosive shells. It didn't take long for the mortars to be silenced.

Scales

“Wieght 6 delay.” Johnny radioed to Finlay.
Finlay just nodded and tracked one of the transport helos. He paused took aim and pulled the trigger once then once more. The gun barked and the rounds flew down range and hit the turbine on one of the transport helos.
He shifts aim and fires twice on the second one again hitting the turbines.
“Displacing” Finlay radioded to Johnny. Then Finlay crawled over to a hatch and entered and closed it behind them.


With one helicopter going down, the second turned it's cannon on the possible location of the sniper and began unloading its 12.7mm gun on the building. Until it's side exploded into a fireball of molten metal.

Cozultu

Leaving the LMG covered, Cozultu had pulled out a Ru'ahk rocket launcher and tracked the nearest police helicopter. As the helicopter fired into a building, Cozultu fired into the side, showering it in molten aluminum, causing the Hind to begin a decent of its own. The 80mm thermobaric rocket was meant for infantry, not helicopters, but in this case it would make due. The fireworks had begun, and Cozultu was ready to join in. Grabbing his LMG he moved into the base.


Natainal Police

“Cobra six taking Atl Atl fire, Cobra Six is going down”

“Cobra four, suppressing fire!....Holy shit, we've been hit, Cobra four’s been hit! Going down!”

“All units be advised we have AA fire. Get to your LZs. Cobra Actual will provide fire support. Cobra Four, Cobra Six, come in!”

“Cobra Four, setting down in the Industrial Park.”

“Actual to four, Sitrep?”

“Wounded unknown, disembarking and taking shelter, requesting reinforcements.”

“Copy that, Actual to six, come in?”

Cobra Six burned as it plunged into the ground. Either its radio was out or it's crew was. Either way, the Captain didn't like what just happened. His small Buzzer helicopter flew low and fast over the tops of the Industrial Park, slowing only long enough for the Captain and his men to toss smoke grenades around Cobra Four. It wouldn't stop everyone, but it might keep the attackers blind.

“Cobra Actual to all units, we are disembarking to support Cobra four.”

The Buzzer hovered over a building nearby the downed police helicopter, and Captain Domino jumped out, followed by a few other soldiers and Alice Dougal. They fanned out and took up positions on the roof to keep watch over the downed helicopter.

Cartel

Outside, six Cartel soldiers rode up on horses to part of the fence hidden behind a building. Rather than standing around waiting to be shot, they dismounted and pulled up the old fence, just enough for them to climb under while the rest took turns watching for snipers. Those that had under barrel grenade launchers verified they were loaded before advancing. The Scales had already proven their armor was difficult to penetrate, so this time the Catel wasn't taking any chances.

Cozultu, unlike them, moved much more naturally through the wreckage, LMG in hands. The battlefield was his home, and he knew to watch for traps and security. The screams of police burning alive in a nearby helicopter brought him a little joy, but they were not the prize. He moved, keeping cover and watching his six, knowing the enemy could be anywhere.

Scales

Using the tunnels that had been added or expanded as the case maybe, Finaly was able to move between the buildings with ease. He took up a new firing position overlooking the crashed helicopter. He watch the one swoop low but did not have a shot so he waited.
Back at the command center Duncan watched and the man stand up and shoot it down.
“Weight 6 we got a wild card. Possibly cartel. Took down a helo Be on the lookout.”
“Roger wilco.” Finaly said.
Finlay paused thought for half a second then withdrew from his position.

Else were the Twins were ready.
“This is Weight 2 and 3 ready to roll weight 1”
“Roger standby”

“1 this is 5 I have spotted six hostiles on horseback definitely cartel.” Duncan radioed Johnny
“Roger weight 2 and 3 move to engage.” Johnny said into his radio.
“Also some moving amid the wreck chopper seems to be a man. Same one that took it down. Shit he is headed toward 6.” Duncan said
“Crap. I am enroute now.” Johnny said dashing out of the command center.

Cozultu

Cozultu entered the building cautiously scanning left and right. He stopped and looked down and smiled slightly. A thin almost invisible line stretched across the path. He followed it to a claymore directional mine. He clipped the wire and moved past it and heard someone coming down a stairway. Setting down his LMG he unfolded his shovel and waited. When the prey came down the stairs Cozultu stood up.
“Shit” Finlay muttered as he dropped the Beowulf and went his side arm while falling back. The .45 was half way out of it holster when Cozultu moved forward. Cozultu grabbed Finlay’s right arm, the one he was drawing with, and stabbed Finlay in the shoulder with the trench axe. Cozultu, continues forward and pushed Finlay off his feet but lost his grip on him. Finlay fell back and drew his side arm and fired off some wild shot but only managing to graze Cozultu right arm. Cozultu pushed forward and kicked the gun out of Finlays hand then stomped on it breaking it. He took a knee on Finlay chest and was ready to finish off the old marksman when something made him duck and roll behind a steel column. A three shot burst rang out and tore the air where he had just been.
Johnny stood in the doorway.
“Weight 6 leave now I will take care of this.” Johnny says.
Finlay nodded and scrambled up and grabbed his Beowulf and left.
“Mind telling me your name? I at least like to know the names of the men I kill.”

Cozultu said nothing, only watching his prey get away before drawing his own .45 caliber pistol and unloading it in Johnny’s direction. Johnny dodged, taking one round to his chest armor before returning fire with his SCAR. A few rounds even made contact, but the metallic ding of a hit signified a non fatal strike before Cozultu rolled around a corner to the left. Johnny continued to fire through the walls as his target, hoping to get a blind hit. Reloading quickly before pursuing his target, he kept a wide berth around the corner in case of ambush. The all to familiar clank of a hand grenade rolling down the hallway forced Johnny behind the steel column. The bright flash and loud bang would have been disorienting had he not expected it.

Counting to three, he hit the ground and aimed the SCAR down the hall as a torrent of bullets flew over his head, Cozultu had grabbed the light machine gun and was spraying the hallway. Johnny fired back, forcing Cozultu to take a knee and fire wildly. Johnny rolled back to cover behind the pillar as debris and parts of the floor kicked up around him. Checking his rifle he saw the bolt had caught an LMG round meant for him. The rifle would be useless for the rest of this fight.

Tossing the rifle out into view and rolling the other way, his SCAR bought him the second he needed to get out of the firing line as the LMG chewed up his rifle. More fire followed him through the walls, tearing down the already weakened plaster and studs Johnny had shot through not a few seconds ago. Staying low he scrambling to his feet and ran to a doorway. Pistol up, he began looking for a way around, through this small office area. Keeping his guard up he stepped over a trap or two set up to protect against intrudes like this, but it seemed the attacker knew his way around such tricks. Moving up against a wall, he slid towards an door leading into another hallway and listened. Something moved outside, and it sounded like…

Johnny hit the ground as the wall tore open with the spray of bullets from the LMG. The bullets tore apart the office around him, seconds passed until the wall above him had been almost turned to dust, covering johnny in plaster and wood. The sound of someone heavy with a limp walked into the room. Johnny looked up and saw Cozultu, Cozultu noticed the movement in the debris and looked down. Johnny aimed his 1911 at Cozultu’s good leg and fired, the beast of a man collapsed under his own weight as Johnny rose up and threw his weight into kicking the LMG away while emptying his 1911 into Cozultu. Cozultu fell over, rolling to protect himself from the hail of bullets. Once the 1911’s slide locked back, Johnny dropped the magazine and began reloading when three .45 caliber rounds hit him in the chest, knocking him back and forcing him to drop the magazine. Cozultu sprung up, tossing the gun and drove a knife into Johnny’s stomach under the chest peice. Both men fell back as Johnny returned the favor, pulling his own knife out and stabbing Cozultu under the plates covering his shoulder. Both men cried out and pulled back from each other, taking their knives with them.

Johnny stood up, switching his knife to his left hand before using the palm to hold his stomach wound close. With his right hand he pulled out a hatchet, ready to finally kill the man giving him so much trouble. Cozultu stood up as well, blood dripping from his right armpit and a wound in his left leg where a lucky SCAR round had pierced his leg armor.
Cozultu dropped the knife and pulled out the Badger trench axe.
Both men breathed for a second, sizing the other up. Cozultu closed his eyes to exhale and Johnny took the opportunity, swinging the hatchet at Cozultu’s neck. Cozultu raised the shovel and caught Johnny's arm on the blunt blade, smacking the hatchet arm up and cutting the surface skin. The shovel point turned to Johnny's neck but Johnny turned and pushed it away with his left hand and led the knife down Cozultu’s arm towards his neck. Cozultu fell back as the knife swooped passed his throat and rotated his chest to bring the axe down on Johnny's left arm, the wound wasn't serious, but it was enough to keep that arm out of the fight.

Johnny pulled back once more and gripped his hatchet tighter. Both men stood, bleeding, looking for an opening. Johnny circled Cozultu who favored his good right leg, despite the major bruising caused by a .45 caliber round. Cozultu was injured, a bullet through his left thigh and an open wound near his right armpit, both bleeding quite heavily. Heavy bruising from numerous .45 caliber rounds covered his body. The Spider silk stopped them from being lethal hits, but they were still fresh and sore.

Not that Johnny was faring better. He too had taken multiple .45 caliber rounds to the chest, bruising him up good, but the stomach wound tore open a little more every time he moved. His left arm was cut near the bicep, killing any strength it had, while his right forearm had been bludgeoned by a shovel blade. Both men were skilled fighters, but with each step more blood fell to the floor.

Johny thrusted, faking a strike from above before swinging the blade around and catching Cozultu’s side, burying the hatchet in Cozultu’s body armor and breaking a rib. Cozultu brought down his axe on Johnny's helmet, missing the intended shoulder, but catching it on the deflection. As the two men wrestled a flash bang exploded at their feet, and both men were hit by police rifle fire. They hit the ground as the Police secured their new prisoners.


Scales

Across the Industrial Park the twins were chuckling as they watched the cartel goon sweep the place from the second floor of a building.
“Shall we Andrew?” Alpin asked his brother as he ready his machine gun.
“We shall.” Andrew said as he sighted the grenade launcher.
Alpin pulled the trigger and the machine gun spat out a few round then exploded, a round blowing in the breach trashing the weapon.
“FUCK!!!” Alpin said and staggered to the side, metal lodged his legs.
“SHIT” Andrew said and grabbed Alpin and dragged him back.
On the ground the the cartel goons noticed and open fired.
Inside Andrew tended to Alpin.
“Did not penetrate but the leg is fracture at least.”
“No shit. Go kill those guys.”
“Oh yeah on it.”
Andrew turned around and looked out the window, but the cartel goons were gone.
“Crap. Here hold this.” Andrew tossed Alpin the launcher and unslung his heavy machine gun and headed down stairs. He rounded a corner and came face to face with a goon. Andrew reacted and punched the man in the face. With the power of the MASE behind it, the punch caved in the man’s skull and sent him flying through a wall. Andrew turned and faced the another goon. He leveled his gun and fired a grenade at Andrew.
“SHIT!!” Andrew sidestepped and the grenade barely missed him and impacted the wall, exploding. Andrew was tossed forward and his back peppered with debris and sharpel but the heavy duty body armor held. However he lost his machine gun. Andrew was tossed to the ground and landed face first, at the feet of the goon, who tried to shoot him. Andrew reacted quickly, he knocked the barrel of the gun away and then he punched upward hitting the man in the groin, the augmented strength crushed the men's genitals and he scream in pain and agony. He let go of his gun and tried to clutched his destroyed dignity only to be met with with a throat punch that completely crushed his windpipe and spine, he died instantly.
Andrew picked himself up and retrieve his heavy machine gun. Andrew was forced to pause and reconnect the ammo feed assembly, gripping the whole time.
Andrew turned and advanced through the building. Two more goons popped from around a corner and fired off some shots then dove back behind the wall. A small cylindrical grenade was tossed from around the corner and bounced down then exploded in a loud bang and bright white flash. While the helmet protected his ears from the worst of it, his eyes were not so lucky.
Andrew was blinded by the flash and he swore loudly and reacted the only way he could think of. He clamped down on the trigger and sprayed 50 caliber rounds were he guesed the goons were while moving backwards. He hit a wall and then slid along it till he found a door and took cover until his eyes cleared.
Once he could see again he rounded the corner and looked around. The wall was full of holes and heavily damaged from the spray and pray. He round the corner and saw the two goon lying in a pool of blood one of them was still alive, if only barely. He looked up at Andrew and grinned, his teeth red with blood. Then he produced frag grenade with the pin already pulled. He smiled and released the spoon.
“SHIT!!” Andrew said as he turned away and ran. The grenade exploded and finished off the wall making it collapse on top of Andrew.
“Well shit shit shit.” Andrew cursed and pushed debris off of himself.
“Damn it he damage the left arm. Gonna be a pain to fix it.”
Andrew flexed the left of arm of the MASE which was now moving slower and stiffer than before as well as weaker.
Andrew finished digging himself out then began searching for the last two.
He turned around and saw the one more goon. He saw him and opened fire. Some of the bullets connected and but the body armor held. Andrew grunted under the impact but fired back and, while the goon had body armor, it was no match of the heavy .50 caliber rounds. Both of the goon were shredded into red pulp.
Andrew radio crackled to life
“3 this is 2 I have a problem.”
“What 2?”
“I am under attack”
“En route” Andrew responded and took off running.

Upstairs the last goon had found Alpin and was firing on him pinning him down and alpin was unable to move with his busted leg. Alpin cursed
“Stupid MG has to go and break.”
Alpin stuck the grenade launcher around the corner and fired blindly. The wall exploded but was far enough away to only pepper the goon with splinters. And he fired back with a grenade. The wall that was directly between the goon and Alpin exploded flinging Alpin across the room. He landed hard but recovered quickly and rolled over. He empty the remaining 5 rounds of 40 mm grenade ammo at the area where the goon was. The whole section of the warehouse was trashed, but the goon was dead, may he rest in pieces.

Andrew turned and made his way rapidly back to the stairs and climbed up. He found his brother, among the debris, who had managed to set his leg and use the MASE frame to keep it in place.
“Come on Al, time to go.”
“Right, this place is a little too seedy for my taste.”
Andrew helped Alpin up and Alpin leaned on him.
“Yead” Andrew said “And the neighbors are terrible.”
“Oh yeah definitely, making all kinds of noise and being so inconsiderate. Why there dog keeps crapping on our lawn”
“Yeah. terrible, truly terrible. Wait a minute.” andrew said activating his radio “this is weight 3, 2 has been injured but squad has been dealt with confirmed 6 KIAs. We are falling back”
“5 copies” Duncan responded.
The twins shuffled as fast as they could down to the tunnels and out of the building, heading for the command center.

Natianal Police

“Cobra two to Actual, two subjects in custody.”

“Copy that Two. Return to LZ for evac with subjects. All units be advised, three way combat. Hold positions and masks on. I repeat, masks on.”

Captain Domino reached down and put on his gas mask and the rest of his squad took turns doing so, even Alice. Below them, Cobra four had set up a defensive perimeter and pulled their wounded into a nearby building. Explosions and heavy caliber fire filled the air. One building in particular had quite the explosion symphony, with nearly six grenades going on in rapid succession.

“Cobra two airborne, requesting screamers on building Echo.”

“Copy that Actual, building Echo, screamers away.”

With that order the Hind flew overhead and fired dumb rockets into the building that Andrew and Alpin had just fled, leveling it almost completely. As the building collapsed the industrial Park flooded with dust and debris from the building, killing all visual sight.

“All units switch to IR and hold position. Cobra two continue to Evac point….DIN. Secure a route to Cobra four.”

“Copy that, DIN out.”

Alice turned and climbed down into the building and began finding a way to the bottom floor with her partner. The windows had kept most of the dust out, but it was still hard to see in the building as they climbed down stairs. Eventually they made it to thre ground floor where Alice made a discovery.

“Steven, check this out, it looks like a tunnel."

“Copy that, do you think they using these to move around?”

“Probably….DIN to Cobra Actual, DIN found a tunnel, possible escape route route for the target. Possible movement.”

Alice heard something inside the tunnel, so she jumped in, missing the grenade trap. The explosion knocked Alice into a wall, and her partner back into the building. She fell on her back and felt the world spinning. Nothing had been losts, but she had the wind knocked out of her. Behind Alice a sudden beeping noise is heard followed by a series of loud thuds. Trying to scramble to her feet she runs down the tunnel, but the collapsing debris land everywhere, some of which hits Alice hard enough to knock her out.


Scales
Andrew palmed the detonator as he and his brother limbed out of the tunnel. He was going to collapse it and this whole section of the park per prior plans. Andrew pressed the button and turned around only to see a woman in police gear running behind them.
“Oh shit.” Andrew said as the charges went up catching her in the blast.
“Shit shit shit” Andrew said and dove forward and dug her out.
“Come on Andrew no strays.” Said Alpin.
“I know but we need to take her with us. For now at least this whole place is coming down besides she might have useful info.”
“Okay but you are gonna have to take it up with Johnny.”
Andrew picked Alice up in a fireman's carry and then helped Alpin limp out of there.

From the command center, Duncan Hershire watched as Johnny squared off with Coz and them both of them got captured.
“Shit shit shit...All weights this is 5, 1 has been captured...I am in command. All weights….withdraw now and scorch.”
Duncan activated a program to scrub the computers of any data and then got up and activated a timer then grabbed a ruck sask and headed down a tunnel. Four minutes after he left the whole building blew up and collapsed in on itself as did the rest of the building in the industrial park.
The individual members of the scales made there way through the sewers and tunnel networks underground to get away from the scene before coming up and meeting up. A van was waiting for them. They entered and were whisked far away from the scene.

[Mokastana]

Unknown location
Mokastana

The first thing he noticed was the sharp rhythmic beep followed by silence, another beep, silence, beep, silence beep. The electronic drum beat of a heart. Then he noticed the bright lights, his already shut eyes to try to close further, but the light was still bright enough to pierce the eyelids and demand his attention. Moving an arm to block the light was met with resistance, as the thick padded restraints held him in place. All four limbs were restrained in this way.

“Are ye awake? Ye hear me a’right? Anyone ‘ome?”

It was clearly a modern hospital room, even if the lights were all pointed at the bed and a complete absence of windows. Johnny McBoy groaned slightly then cracked open his eyes and looked around. He rapidly took in his surrounding then he locked eyes with the man and grunted.
“I got nothing to say to you.”

“Say any’ting? Not one to talk are ye? Well, then I'll do some talkin’ and we'll see what you want to share. You aint a Federal Citizen, we know that. Ye prints weren't in our system, but we're hoping the Timocratic government has you on file. They've agreed to cooperate with us to get some hooligans out of our jungle. Ye know anything about that?”


Johnny cracks a smile
“That getting what you really want won’t be easy. Everyone has secrets that they want to stay that way. Everyone has thing they would rather remain buried...even governments… Say I am thirsty can you get me a drink? ”

“You have an IV feeding you saline. You'll be fine. As for secrets, I understand that one. You work in Intelligence long enough, and you see the cracks. If I was the Republic, I wouldn't claim you either. To messy diplomatically.” The man sat in a chair near the bed, a tailored suit adorning his body. Instead of a carnation or handkerchief, however, a leather carrying case held a laminated badge with the logo for the Dept of Investigation National. The man paused to take a long sip of his water, enjoying the cold refreshing liquid, despite its cheap paper cup.

“IV does not do a thing for sore or dry throat Mr. Suit.”

“Then let's start simple, you want water, I want to know who you are. Give me your name, and all have a nurse give you a sip from a straw.”

“Okay then water first.”

“Sorry, doesn't work like that.” The suit smiled, waiting patiently for a response.

“Fine then my name is Aequitas.”

“That a family name?”

“No just mine.”

“So no last name? Everyone has a family name.”

“Nope orphan. Now you promised water.”

“I did, for a fair exchange. Now, are ye goin’ to be blowing smoke up me ass until your lips get tired, or do ye want play nice and get some water?”

“I see….do all Mokan’s not keep their word or just the ones that sell drugs and wear suits?”

“Oh wow… Tough words coming from a cop killer. Look, Aequitas, I'm not here to bullshit ye. We both know th’ only reason you and your boyfriend are still alive is because we want to know more about ye and ya band of merry men. So let's drop the tough guy act and talk.”

John shrugs
“He was too old and not really my type, honestly so who is he anyway? I just met him, I swear officer.”

“Ah, see, I knew ye had a sense of humor. He's just an old legend too stubborn to die, something I'm sure your familiar with.”

“That “old legend” put up one hell of a fight. I have rarely met men that can go toe to toe with me.”

“Hehe, most of ‘em do. Most of ‘em do. My ‘ardest arrest was a old Islander Vet from their unification wars. Mean right ‘ook for a 50 kilogram Padre. But I take it you've been around the block a few times yourself, eh?”

“You could say that, but world would be more apt. Also I would like that water now. Our exchange was fair. I have been known as Aequitas. It was a … nickname you could say.”

“Very well,” the suit turned to the door and shouted, “Nurse, please bring 8061 a glass of water.”

He turned back to the prisoner, and began speaking again as a middle aged woman in scrubs came in with a small paper cup of water, complete with straw, standing an awkwardly far distance from Johnny, she held the straw to his lips.

“Nickname, huh, we've all got a few of those. Mine was less exciting. Owl. Guess they thought of me old then too.”


“Owls are nice. They are symbols of wisdom and …. silent killers”


“Yeah, that they are… Listen, Aequitas, normally I'd have all night and day to chat, but there's a bit of a situation that needs resolving. We think your men managed to capture one of our agents in that shootout. We'd like our agent back. Now you've already been caught. If they ask for trade they ain't getting one. Every agent knows the risk. But given your situation, helping us find that agent might work in ye favor.”

“Is she an honest upstanding agent of the law?”

“Why would that matter to ye? You Scales have already proven you only pay lip service to justice.”

“If you are referring to the agents that were killed….that was an accident and a tragedy. I wish it could have been avoided but it happened. It was a accident. My men misidentified them as hostiles. Though I do wonder what they were doing there? If they were monitoring they would have been less conspicuous... Not to me to my men that have her. If she is a good law woman she will not be harmed at all.”

“And the police helicopter you shot down, another accident? Or was that not your sniper?”

“You guys attacked us that was your fault though I will say it could have been much much worse.”

“They usually do. Well, you did kill two Feds, which means the Bureau of Secret Affairs is on my ass to take into their custody. You ain't a citizen, meaning the paperwork on your disappearance will be gone before they black bag ye. I'd have a mind to step out of their way, but your friends have my agent.”

“Again I am sorry about that. Truly I am but nothing much to be done about it. If we can find out who the families are I am sure some compensation can be arranged. Again relax as long as your agent is honest and true to the law she will be fine if not...she will be made an example of..”

“Ha, give you the info on Federal agents family’s? Here are your options, you cooperate with the recovery of my Agent, and you'll get a public trial, sentenced to a quick death, maybe Life in Servitude. If my agent doesn't get saved in time, or you decide to forfeit, we sentence you to Forfeiture of Body and the Bureau halls your ass off some God forsaken black site, cuts your head off and sews it onto a chihuahua or whatever sick shit they do to people.”

“We will find out one way or another it does not matter really. Really? Interesting. I am still not sure what you are worried about. She will more than likely get released and barring that be well taken care of. Interesting options….back too what you said earlier...you think I was not ready for this? Also you think my compatriots are not going to try and rescue me? Better off just releasing me, honestly. I go free and you get your friend back. We continue to kill scum and clean up your country...everyone wins.”

“Buddy, you ain't the first Special Forces who tried to fuck up Mokastana, you won't be the last. Fucking with the Cartels, without Federal support, is a great way to turn this whole place against you. I admire your stupidity, don't get me wrong, but the last thing anyone wants is death squads blowing up neighborhoods for their own sense of… justice.”

“What? You mean killing people that honestly deserve it and would have gotten the death penalty if your justice system worked right? Doing your job? Please, if anything we are far more focused that your own police forces. Your own justice system has failed and broken the social contract.These people have broken the social contract between citizens of a sovereign nation and profited from it. It is time someone made them pay. ”

“Focused? You're really using that defense after apologizing for killing two Feds? Numerous buildings destroyed, vehicles damaged, and civilians killed? Did they deserve it? Maybe, maybe not. I'm not crying over dead Carteles, but I do enforce the laws.”

“Besides the agent, the buildings and vehicle mostly belonged to the cartels especially that warehouse. We have not killed any civilians you made that one up. We killed cartel flunkys and thugs. Idiots should have know what they were getting into when they agreed to work for the scum. And doing a poor job of it. Scums walks free while you pursue men that only want justice.”

“Like I said, I'm not crying over dead Cartel goons, but they are still our civilians. Either way, my offer stands. If ye’d like, I could let the Secret Affairs Agents come in and talk to ya. Get to know ye options.”

“Sure let him in. I am sure he will be fun. Oh and tell them I like red carnations in case anyone wants to send me some flowers.”

“Alright, I'll send them in.”

The suit stood up, buttoning his jacket before following the nurse outside the door. Any glimpse into the hallway would reveal plain sea green walls, and still no windows or identifying features. A few seconds passed before the door opened again, revealing two men in long leather jackets, black slacks and dark red button up shirts, with what Johnny could easily identify as a pistol holster strapped across their chests, even if the actual guns were under the jackets. One man removed his officer’s cap and jacket, setting them down on a counter. The .50 caliber handgun now clearly visible.

Pulling out a black plastic tube from the jacket, the man walked over to Johnny. Without a word, the tube expanded into a metal baton and he swung it hard into Johnny's center mass, twice. Collapsing the baton back down, the man sat down in the suites chair, smiling at Johnny.

“Ow” Johnny said wincing

“Greetings, I'm Situational Director Itzli Void, Special Operations Division. My associate in the corner with the tool bag is Situation Director Cero, Intelligence Division. He promised me a chance to rough you up a little bit before questioning. I don't know what you said to get that DIN Agent to let us in the room, but I'm grateful. You like killing people right? Me too. Especially when the fucker deserves it. Like when your working hard, trying to protect your country, and some asshole blows your operation to hell. Cero though, he's not like us, he's more like a specialist in keeping people alive, an artist if you will, I've seen some pretty messed up things in my life, but it's damn near admirable what the human body can survive, especially when the artist working knows the right places to touch on. So, the DIN wants their agent back, and us, we just want to know who's paying you to fuck up the Mokan countryside. Oredenites? Scandivans? Slavers? Some Gothic asshole?”

“No one is paying me. I am doing this because it is the right thing to do since your system has failed to uphold justice and protect people. Now if you are going to torture me please get on with it. I am getting fairly bored here. Also let Dumbo take a swing at me. Yours lacks effort. You need to put you back and shoulder into not just your arm.”

“The only thing I’ve failed recently is letting you Scales kill my men and escape alive. Now, luckily for you, the DIN still has first claim to your remains, but trust me, when we get our hands on you, the first thing we will take is your nose, then your left ear, and more after that depending on how well you cooperate.” The man swung the stick once more into Johnny, this time aiming for a collarbone.

The other man picked up his bag and motioned to the door, “Let’s go Void, we’ll have all the time we need with him later.”

Johnny squirmed and managed to take it n the shoulder and avoided any more broken bones.
“See you later jackboots.”



Mokastana
Scales Hideout.


Alice Dougal was handcuffed to a simple bed frame. Her head was covered in bandages and some more were wrapped around her ribs and covered various other injuries. She was dressed in simple pajamas. The bed was plain and simple with white linens and the room had a chair in it and that was it. It had one door and no widows.
The door opened Finlay MacDougal and Duncan Hershire entered both dressed casually and wearing masks. Duncan is caring a tray and offers it to Alice.
“Are you feeling any better Miss Alice?” Duncan asks “You took a pretty nasty hit and some debris tore you up badly.”

“How do you know my name?”

Alive looked around her confinement area, getting a feel and mentally noting anything of value. Rather than taking the tray, she tries to sit up, testing her muscles and body for damage, a few sharp pains, but nothing she couldn’t force herself through if need be. For now, she rested and waited for a response.

Duncan shrugs
“It was on your badge and ID you had on you. And I looked you up. Poked around the Internet first then popped over into your agency database...you guys needs way better security by the way. It was like poking holes in tissue paper… Anyway it is nice to meet you SAC Alice Dougal. Conscripted into the Wellovian Army followed by education in forensic science at University of Riverlands, then joined the Police force of a small town called Derry outside of Silvertol for 6 years. Not a bad service record all things considered and squeaky clean.”
Duncan walks over and places the tray on Alice's bed before retreating out of arm's reach. Alice looked over at the food, rolled her eyes, and then back to Duncan.

“If you’re going to put a bullet in my head, just do it. Don’t waste the food, nor the breath to give one of your masterbatory ‘Justice’ speeches either....”

“Well I would not quite call them mastabtory…” Finlay says “but self rightous and theatrical sure.”
“Besides we have no intention of killing you. You are clean pretty much. A fine upstanding citizen and law enforcement officer. Most definitely not our kind of target.”

“So, you’re not going to make a public example of me, but you can’t let me go either, so what are we going to do?”

“Actually that is exactly what we were going to do...let you go that is. Not killing you.” Duncan said “Like I said we have no reason to keep you and you really don’t know anything useful”

Alice wondered if they actually expected her to believe any of that, but she'd play along until an opening came up.

“Why do I doubt that? Is it less honorable to kill a cop you have chained up vs one in the street?”

“Ah you are referring to the two federal agents we killed in our raid on the warehouse.” Duncan said now sounding somewhat ashamed “Yeah that was an accident. We did not mean to kill them. They were mistaken for hostiles. We are very sad about it and are trying to make arrangements to compensate the families. It was a truly horrible thing. We would not have fired on them if we knew who they were. It is a shame that we do not have such ready sources of intel.”

“Guess you've never been trained to check targets before firing? Amateurs. And you want to compensate the families? You know they'd turn you in the first chance they'd get? I've seen what we do to Death squads like you, it's not pretty.”

“Accident happen even with the most well trained of professionals you ought to know that, it was dark and chaotic and they looked like threats. Of course we want to compensate them. It is the right thing to do. They were not targets. We have our ways to avoid being detected and turned in. Also I am not a fan of Death Squads honestly. I would prefer something more along the lines of Karma Squads or Sentencing Squads. Soots us much better than Death Squads.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Honestly we want someone on the inside so this want happen again.”


“So what doesn't happen again?”

Duncan sighs
“What we have been talking about. So we can avoid killing more police officer or federal agents.”

“And why would anyone give you that information? Seems counterintuitive to give you info on our agents if we're trying to capture or kill you.”

“So we don’t kill anymore of them. We are honestly not here to fight you. We are here to fight the evil and the scum. And we do not want to hurt the innocent or those that protect them.”


Alice cracked a smile, that only widened before becoming a full on belly laugh, she continued for quite a few seconds before the laughter began to subside, to a minor chuckle and then to a few final hiccups:
“Are you serious? You are! I mean, I was pretty sure this whole ‘good vs evil’ thing was just your act. Each death squad has their own signature strange, but in the end it's all about the money. You all, actually think you're doing good here? That's… that's cute.”

“Yes we think we are doing good. You ever delve into philosophy and ethic?”

“Ethics of killing people? Alright, let's hear it.”

“Ever heard of the Social Contract? I assume you have everything I have read on you indicates a high level of intelligence. We, the Scales of Justice, take it a step further. Instead of it merely existing between the populace and the ruling government extend it to include all of the populace with in a community or society or country or whatever name you prefer for a designated body of people. Within the community the social contract requires all to participate in a willing free exchange of goods and services for the benefit of all and, theoretically, the detriment of none. However, these...scum...have violated the social contract and profited from it. This would not usually be an issue since the ruling government should in theory step in and punish these offenders and see that they never profited from such actions again one way or another.. However since the ruling government has failed to do so, aslo violating its part of the social contract, it become necessary for other to step up and fill that role so as to prevent a further break down of society, for once people realize that they can profit from such criminal acts, society could and possibly will rapidly descend into anarchy. In short, these people have profited from wronging people, and must be punished, to ensure society remains firm and stable, one way or another.”

“You truly believe that, don't you? So you think that your actions prevent anarchy? So then what happens when the Cartels decide enough is enough and start causing terror to hunt you down? Burning villages and bombing stores? Then the government, namely me, has to step in….”

“They will all be dealt with in time and they will all pay for there crimes and misdeeds. In the meantime they will have a harder time finding us. Mistakes were made and we learned from them. Maybe your government will finally get off its ass and get to work. Tell me what do you believe in Alice?”

“You think you can do what the Federal government hasn't done yet? Your camping buddies are going to bring down an entire economy. That's ridiculous.”

“We don’t care about the drugs or the economy only the misdeeds and suffering these other people have caused in there pursuit of power and money. If other rise to take their place and use more ethical approaches and do not spread misery and fear then we will not bother them.”

“Fine, you want to know what I believe? I believe all those pretty words are just an excuse to hunt for glory. You never showed up when the Cartels held real power, when people truly were afraid. Back when the Blades of Zabe cut up people in the street, or the Cortez family threatened Bogota with firebombs…”

Duncan shrugs
“We are only human yet you demand we be gods. The Scales of Justice did not exist as an organization then. We only recently formed and have been able to act. And once we are done here...well we have more plans.”

“I wasn't done. You, like every other foreigner that marched against Mokastana, thinks you know better than us about how to live our lives. You don't know us. You don't live here. After you kill a bunch of thugs, you'll board a plane or boat and go on home, leaving us to clean up the mess. You said it yourself, you don't care about the drugs or the economics, but you're foolish to think that has nothing to do with it. You kill one, another rises up, in the end you've done shit all to solve the problem. As long as you gringos want to get high, someone will sell it to you, but you have to prove yourselves morally superior. So you come here after our government already cleaned house, and start killing people just to prove yourself better than us. You don't live here, this isn't your social contract to rewrite. We did what we had to do, you can judge us all you want, but until you've lived it, don't give me that absolutism garbage.”

“The untold suffering, the deaths the rapes the torture. A government that basically surrendered and settled for a truce instead of finishing the job. That caved in to the scum and evil of the world.”
Again Duncan shrugs
“Of course it has something to do with it but in the end they are just object incapable of action on their own. It is the people that cause things to happen, in this case bad things and these people must be punished. As for leaving a mess...it is true...cleaning up Mokanstana will require long term planning but that is not my department. I do not think to prove myself better than anyone...except maybe you tech support… we are here to right the scales. Once we are done, the scum will not dare rise up for fear of us. We will become their greatest fear, for fear and strength are the only things they understand, there boogeyman, there baba yaga and they will tremble at the mention of our name.
You may think as you like Alice but that does not change the fact the Scales of Justice is here and will set about accomplishing its mission. You will be tomorrow. We will take you to a location and drop you off. You will be blindfolded and have to make your way back from there. I am sorry it is the best we can do.”

“You think the world is so black and white…”

“Sometimes things are...a favorite quote of mine is “The only thing necessary for evil men to triumphant is for good men to stand by and do nothing.” Well the good men are done standing by.”

“I've heard that one before, I too consider it a favorite. Which is why we can't just stand by and let you burn our nation down. To many lives will be at risk, too many people will be caught in the crossfire. Today it's a couple of Feds, tomorrow a family.”

“You underestimate us Alice.”

“I really hope you're right, but I'll do everything I can to ensure you never get a chance to prove me wrong.”

[Mokastana]

Unknown location
Mokastana

Duncan and Finaly entered the room that held Alice.This time wearing masks and Finlay was holding a ear muffs and a bag.
“Miss Alice” Duncan said “We are going to release you today. However, we want to take certain precautions. Please put these earmuffs on and this bag.”

“You trust me to put on my own… alright. If you're going to kill me, then you better take this bag off and look me in the eyes when you do.” Alice put the earmuffs on, albeit slightly off and adjusted it while putting the bag on.

“If we were going to kill you we would have left you buried in the debris.”
Once Alice had the earmuffs and bag on Duncan and Finaly lead her to a van and loaded her up. They drove to the nearest town opened the door and pushed her out then left.

Upon impacting the ground and hearing the car drive away, she pulled the bag off and looked around. Unfortunately, by the time she found a National Police Officer and reported her status as a Federal Agent, the vehicle that dropped her off was long gone.



Callapata, Colombia
Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Javier Salamanca sat on his porch, cleaning a golden SLR and watching the news. Once again his ‘rival’, Jorge Zaragoza, was on Mokastaña News Network. This time talking about some private school he was opening up in the Bogota slums to give immigrant children a chance at Mokan prosperity. As if the publicity funded schools weren't good enough for immigrants. Javier didn't care to teach foreigners anything but how to know their place, and scoffed at Jorge’s trick. It was simply a ploy to create loyal troops and lackeys out of them, nothing more. Javier thought Jorge was an idiot for wasting money like that. If Jorge kept that up, Javier thought, Bogota may turn to other, more effective, leaders, such as himself.

The reality however, was that the Zaragoza Cartel was biggest Cartel in Mokastana, and the Salamancas barely caught their attention, but Javier still acted like he was their equal. That any moment he could persuade their under families to join him. For today, he had a plan. A prison guard at the Santa Nazario Maximum Security Prison outside of Bogota had contacted them with evidence of a foreigner in custody. Normally not a big deal by itself, but so closely after the Feds attack on the Scales, it was worth looking into.

A few bribes to a few prison gangs later, and Javier knew that the Scales soldier by the name of Johnny was there. He planned to make an example of this one. Besides, if he got to the Scale before the transfer to Barbados Maximum Security Prison in the Mokan Sea, he could kill the Scale before the Zaragozas got a chance.

A few million transferred, and The Saints of the Bay, the biggest prison gang in the Santa Nazario Prison had a target: Kill the foreigner, by any means necessary.

---

Timocratic Republic Embassy
Mokastana City, Mokastana

The Timocratic Republic Embassy in Mokastana was one of the more, one could almost say, most important embassies posts the Republic had to offer. It was not given to just any diplomat and today McCellan was feeling the full weight of his position. All of this recent upset caused by the Scales of Justice had but a major train on relations between the Republic and Mokastana, and it was his job to keep them from getting any worse and if possible to improve them. Today he was reviewing all the information he had on the Scales when there was a knock at his door.
“Enter” He said
In stepped his secretary holding a set of thick files.
“Uh sir we just received information from the Department of War and the Deptartment of Justice”
“The Department of War? Justice? Why?”
“It is related to the Scales sir.”
“Oh dear, bring it here please. I guess I need to look them over.”
The secretary approached his desk and placed them on it. McCellan opened the first one and flipped through it and grunted.
“Found a fingerprint on some debris eh? Hershire. Figures. Hacker with a moral complex.”
He closes it then flips open the other one. He begins to read and his face slowly turns pale.
“Johnny McBoy...Force Recon Team Lead… oh shit...”
McClellan Grabs his phone
“Ann get me the head of the Mokan DIN now.”

Department Director Domingo Chavez was a busy man. While his agents and commanders did the fun work of fighting bad guys and making arrests, he was stuck in budget meetings and press conferences, settling inter-Departmental disputes and making deals with the Federal government. So when he got a call from his Secretary informing him that the Ambassador from the Timocratic Republic was calling, he figured it was some Merican VIP had gotten lost in a brothel, and the poor guys family assumed it was cartels that had kidnapped him. Sure, there was evidence that the Timocratic government might be helping the Scales, but that was being handled by the Foreign Ministry. Either way, any excuse to leave a meeting was a good one, especially when this was a simple issue his Divisional Director could handle with ease. Taking his time to get back to his office, and knowing the Ambassador was on hold, Director Chavez stopped for a glass of water to take back. He had forgotten one in the meeting and decided a dry throat was no way to greet an Ambassador. Plus the Timocratic people tended to be arrogant, so leaving one on hold for a minute was a friendly jab, but once back into his office he got right on the phone.

“Department Director Domingo Chavez here, apologies for the delay, but they had to track me down in an important meeting. What can I do for you Ambassador?”

“It is what I have for you. I have an ID on the man you captured. I suggest you send someone over now. It is critical. You and your country are in deep trouble. I can not discuss it over the phone, however, this information is critical and very sensitive.”

“This sounds rather important Ambassador, I’ll call the Foreign Ministry as they will probably want to know whatever this… trouble is.”

“I suggest you hurry, you have no idea what you are holding or dealing with.” McClellan then he hangs up.

An hour later the black SUVs rolled up to the Timocratic Embassy, once again, Elizabeth Franshaw was there, but this time with Dept. Director Chavez. They went through the all too familiar security briefing before being escorted into the office of the Ambassador, although mildly annoyed, the Director acted like a polite guest, before getting to the brass tacks.

“Alright Ambassador, you got us here, what was so dangerous that you couldn’t share over the phone?”

McClellan sat at his desk sipping a glass of scotch, it was one of those days.

“You have no clue who you have in custody right now.” McClellan slide the files over with McBoy’s on top.
“Captain Johnny McBoy. Codename Aquitis. TRMAC. Force Recon Team lead until he was discharge due to... circumstances that arose due to his personal beliefs. Trained in everything the TR Armed Forces has to offer. He is less a man than a living weapon and he is loose in your country.”

“So then the question is Ambassador, why is he running loose in our country? If he's one of yours, I'd really like to know why he's blowing up buildings in El Sur.” Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, as she asked a very logical, if dangerous, question.

“He is not one of ours any more. He was discharged from the military. He is a civilian now and has been one for years. He is free to travel though we did keep tabs on him but he disappeared a few years ago. As to why he is here, I think its connected to the Scales. How are you holding him now?”

“We were holding him in a secure facility while trying to get info about a missing agent, but when the agent turned up, we moved him to general population. He'll be transferred to Barbados Prison Island soon. There he will await trial and probably execution.”

“I assume he is under guard 24/7 and completely immobilized?”

“Honestly, unlikely. We get enough former special ops mercs coming through here. If they kill each other, it's less for us to clean up.” The DIN Director said with a chuckle.

McClellan snorts.
“Great just great. He will be out soon enough and back to working for the Scales. I suggest you read that file. He will be trying to get out and his friends will be trying to get him out. I have requested a special unit be brought in. They will be arriving in 72 hours. Here is a file on them.”
McClellan opens a desh draw and removed another file and adds it to the stack. The cover says 4077 Special Military Police Battalion .

“So what you're saying is execute him now and save us all the headache? He's not a Federal civilian, would be easy to treat him as a foreign agent and kill him under counter espionage laws.” The DIN Director began thumbing through the report.

“I would or drop him into a black site see if you can get anything from him either way the 4077th will be here to help mop up the rest of the Scales. They specialize in taking down rogue military operators of the toughest kind. They will be loaned to your government for now to help take them down.”

Elizabeth piped in, “So you want to send in your Special Forces, from your Republic, to help us kill these terrorist, from your nation?”

“Unless you have a better a idea then yes.”

“Foreign Minister,” this time Domingo spoke up, “We might be able to use their expertise.” he said with a slight grin. The Foreign Minister looked between the Director and the Ambassador, clearly annoyed. Taking a minute to decide she looked at the Ambassador.

“Very well, I'll see to it that your special forces are cleared. In a very.. limited role.”

“To be clear, these soldiers are not Special Forces. They are not a part of SOCOM. They fall under a completely separate command and they are military police. They are merely trained to a much higher degree than normal”

Elizabeth responded: “Whatever they fall under the only reason I'm allowing them in my country is because my Director of Investigations National wants them here. Be aware they will be under a very tight leash while in our country.”

“I am aware. We are trying to help clean up a mess we are at least partly responsible for and trying to keep as many of your people alive as possible, as well. This is why the Republic is offering specialist to help you with this problem.”

“Thank you Ambassador, I'll be sure to meet them when they arrive.” Director Domingo Chavez said with a smile.

“I suggest you be ready. A full platoon is coming full equipped for investigation and appreciation. ”

---

Santa Nazario Maximum Security Prison
Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Santa Nazario was one of the less famous Maximum Security Prisons in the Federation, but it was easily one of the most important. From holding famous Cartel leaders to fighting off full scale military attacks, Santa Nazario Prison had been through it all. A National Police and Surian Army base were both just a 20 minute drive away, meaning any show of force could easily be beaten back by 30,000 reinforcements on stand by. Which meant all attacks needed to be done in the shadows.

A shiv was palmed and passed down the lunchline, a pipe left behind in a prison cell during routine maintenance, a prison made crossbow was assembled piece by piece and left in an air duct. Guards found reasons to be elsewhere that afternoon. The Saints were working overtime to bring down the man who went one on one with El Cozutlu and lived.

Johnny's first indication something was off was when the tactical team that normally led johnny to the outdoor rec hall turned him left instead of right. Something seemed off about the guards, they were wearing masks and armor like usual, but the heights, the steps, something was different. Eventually they turned to a tight hallway with double gates on both sides. When the gates opened, the two lead guards led him in while the four behind him stayed behind the open gate. It became clear this was an ambush when the four inmates stepped out in front of him, four behind him and the guards just walked on passed them towards the exit. The back gate closed, leaving Johnny, cuffed, alone with 8 professional killers. Shivs, pipes, and blades became clear as the first two charged from front and behind, blades ready to unbalance this scale permanently.

Johnny looked around himself and smiled. He was surrounded and all the doors were closed and locked. Perfect, they could not escape. His hands we cuffed so that made things somewhat fair.
Johnny ducks at the last minute and spins around to face the rear attacked and pushed back hard running right into the left front attacker hitting him square in the solar plexus with his left shoulder. The air whooshed out of the attackers lungs but Johny was not done yet. He jabbed backward with his elbows hitting the attacker square in the chest then lashing out and grabbing the attacker’s right arm at the wrist with a quick twisting and shoving move the attacker was on the floor being held by his arm with a foot on his neck. Johnny broke the man’s wrist and the attacker dropped the pipe he was holding which Johnny caught it while stamping hard on the man's throat, crushing it. The gang member gurggled and gasped to death.
With some quick movements and dislocated thumb the handcuffs were off.
Johny did not take the time to savor his victory though. The second attacker did not hesitate but instead continue to charge in after Johnny. He stabbed at Johnny with his shiv clearly knowing something about knife fighting. Johnny casually grabbed his shiv arm by the wrist bent then broke it causing him to drop the shiv, Johnny then beat him in the head with the pipe hard enough that man stumbled back concussed. Johnny pursued him and then using his palm struck him directly in the Adam's apple crushing his throat.
He ducked as one of the remaining attackers swung at him. Johnny pushed off the floor and slid back snatching up the shiv on the way. He bounded to his right behind the second of the rear attacked. Johnny kicked the man in the back of the knee causing him to topple backwards. Johny rammed the shiv into his forehead then used the pipe to hammer the shive into his skull with one blow, burying most of the shiv in the thugs brain. All this happened before the thug hit the floor, now dead.

Things began to turn when the prison made bolt struck Johnny in the side as he finished off the third of eight. Attacking from both sides the trained killers charged at the same time, if Johnny focused on one, the other would shank him from behind. The first faked high to throw a low kick to Johnny’s knee while the other rushed the blade towards Johnny's abdomen.

Johnny grunted as the bolt pierced his side and lodged in a rib. It hurt alot. But he had more pressing concerns two men from opposite sides trying the kill him. Johnny raised his right leg and blocked the kick with his shin will turning his torso and grabbing the other mans hand holding the shiv. He redirected the attack pushing the man hand down forcing him to stab himself in the thigh with that shiv then clubbing him upside the head. Johnny then spun flinging his arm out with his hand holding his club out hitting the man upside the head. He crumpled to the ground blood spewing from the side of his head. Johnny then fell back until we was leaning against the wall. He reached over and snapped off the bolt with a grunt.

“Well? I am waiting scum.”

Four down, four remain. It seems that their prey was going to be more difficult to finish than previously thought. Rather than rushing in, two from both sides approached cautiously, the second four ready for the kill. A few shivs, a broken mop made into a spear and that damn prison made crossbow, being reloaded by a bigger guy with what looked like part of a bed frame turned into a makeshift axe at the ready.

One of the guards yelled “We don’t have much time, finish him!” before the Mop bucket lunged forward in quick stabs, the user clearly knowing how to gauge distance to target, while the crossbow fired again before being discarded for the axe. The final struggle began.

Johnny smiled and dodged the initial stabs of the thug with the spear then on the next attempt Johnny moved to the side then down the shaft and grabbed the man by his left wrist, using his weight and leverage Johnny threw the man off balance and reposition him. He was now between Johnny and the crossbow wielding thug and his arrow thudded in to the mans back and the injured thug gasped in pain. Johnny used his club to smash the thugs wrists and he released the spear. Johnny threw his club at the left thug armed with a shiv, hitting him in the crotch hard enough the man doubled over in pain. Johnny lifted his left foot and pounded the thug with the arrow in his back in the knee breaking it causing the man to collapse on the ground in pain while Johnny was distracted the remaining attacker seized his chance and dashed forward slashing Johnny right arm, Johnny fell back bleeding from a long cut then he went back on the offensive.
Then Johnny struck out at the other attacker on his right. Johnny spun the spear and wielded it more like quarterstaff than a spear. He used the superior reach it offered to attack the shiv armed thug. In a rapid series of attacks the thug found himself quickly overwhelmed by the speed and ferocity. He was forced to retreat. Johnny spun the handle around one more time then swung low taking the thug’s feet out from under him. Johnny stepped in close and stomped on the thug’s throat, crushing it.
Johnny quickly scooped the dropped shiv up and threw it like a knife at the axe armed attacker. He managed to raise the axe up in time to stop the shiv...only to have the mop handle come spear impale his stomach. The thug gasped and dropped his axe and clutched at the offending piece of wood lodged in his intestines. Johnny moved swiftly but calmly over and scooped up the fallen axe then wielding it with both hand slammed it into the thug’s throat. The blade only went about half threw the thug’s neck. Johnny wretched it out then spun and delivered a backhand blow that cut threw the rest of the thugs neck. He head was knocked off by the force of the blow and rolled along the floor while the body collapsed.


The final thug that took the club to the crotch recovered enough to come to his feet. He grabbed the club and charged at Johnny from behind. Johnny spun but slipped in the blood spewing from the decapitated man and lost his footing and tumbled to the ground losing the axe. The thug jumped on top of Johnny and began to rain blows upon Johnny. Johnny took one to the face and one to the shoulder before he got his arms up in time to block the rest.
The thug reeled back for another blow but this time Johnny was ready and grabbed him by the wrist then grabed the thug with his other arm and rolled to his right hard. The thug fought back but after a quick struggle was tossed off. Both he and Johnny sprang to there feet and the thug came forward slowly this time. But Johnny did not give him a chance as he slid forward rapidly and came in low and fast and with a rapid series of palm strikes to the man head and torso, some of which he managed to block, the thug was knocked out cold. Not one to leave business unfinished Johnny then proceeded to stomp the thug’s skull in. It popped like a rotten apple.

Johnny was now panting while his side was drenched in in blood with splatter all over his prison uniform.
He looked around and smiled
“That is all? I was just getting warmed up!!”

Two shotgun blasts tore through the air as the XREP Taser rounds found their target. Johnny's muscles seized up involuntarily before he collapsed to the ground, fighting for control of his own body. Tear gas followed before a hallway door opened and guards in full armor with shields and batons made their way in to secure their prisoner.

“Prisoners! Stay down! Prisoners! Stay down!”

[Mokastana]

Santa Nazario Maximum Security Prison
Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation

Ever since the attack on Johnny, he had been moved to isolation for his own protection into Santa Nazario’s VIP wing. It was a separate building on the top of a hill with most of the actual structure underground. Staff was rotated straight from the Department of Pharmacy and Controlled Substance, ensuring the most uncorrupted men watched these animals. A rotating staff was supposed to limit the amount of contraband and smuggling, as guards wouldn't be around long enough to allow relationships to form between inmates and prisoners. However, the same could not be said of the staff. Prison doctors, and even a few custodians from the main prison, would often work in the tower. Long term prisoners managed to build a few working relations. It wasn't enough to smuggle serious things into the Tower, but the occasional message could sneak through.

One morning, or perhaps night, as light was artificial here, a meal was slipped into Johnny's cell, under the plastic cup was a folded piece of toilet paper. On it was a quick scribble, with what one could only hope was ink. It offered an answer to something Johnny and his followers had been looking for quite a long time for…

“I know how deep the sickness goes. Find me when you can.
Bajito."



Bogota Federal Court
Emergency Closed Session

"Closed session is now in progress. Honorable Federal Judge Isaiah Vasquez presiding."

The judge sat at his desk in the front, to his left, the Prosecution, complete with DIN Special Agent in Chief Alice Dougal as their star witness. To the right, the defense, a lawyer who had been assigned this case the night before, to ensure the government did their diligence. It would be a quick trial, as the defendant wasn't even present to speak with his 'attorney'.

"Prosecution, you may begin."

"The People's Unified Federation is charging the subject, identified as Johnny McBoy of the Timocratic Republic, with the following:
Two counts of 1st degree International Terrorism,
One count of 2nd degree International Terrorism
17 counts of 2nd degree Attempted Murder
23 counts of 2nd degree Murder
27 counts of 3rd degree Attempted Murder of Federal Police in the line of Duty,
10 counts of 2nd degree Attempted Murder of Federal Police in the line of Duty,
14 counts of 2nd degree Murder of Federal Police in the line of Duty,
7 counts of 1st degree Smuggling of Controlled Weapons
28 counts of 1st degree Smuggling of Controlled Explosives
7 counts of 1st degree Possession of Controlled Weapons without a license
28 counts of 1st degree Possession of Controlled Explosives without a license"

"I'll admit, I was expecting a much longer list from the prosecution, given the situation. "

"The Ambassador from the Timocratic Republic, recommended we have this gentlemen executed as soon as possible. These charges will more than ensure that solution is expedited."

"Very well, let's review the evidence…"

The closed court case was quick, given the prosecution had chosen their charges carefully. Jonny had not hid his association, and was found at the scene of a police raid that claimed 12 officer's lives. He was leadership, of some kind, in the Scales, with evidence putting him in their temporary base for quite a while. They had enough to ensure a punishment of execution, if not Forfeiture of Body. Still, execution was preferred and decided upon.

"By the Power of the Federal courts. I hereby sentence the defendant, identified as Johnny McBoy of the Timocratic Republic, to death by traditional means."


National Police airfield,
Outside Bogota
Two hours later

DIN Special Agent in Chief Alice Dougal waited on the tarmac with a National Police General, two officers from Army Intelligence, and her boss, DIN Director Domingo Chaveza. Around them field agents watched the perimeter, as the National Police units stood guard. Whoever these 'Military Police' were, they would be treated with just as much suspicion as their countrymen on the run.


Coffee house and lounge
Ecuador City

Walter Blanco relaxed with his coffee, reading a newspaper left out on a table for patrons to use. The nook he sat in overlooked the busy street, with trucks and scooters scurrying to and fro, dozens of people walking to their various destinations, most dressed in light and casual clothes. The occasional lady with a parasol passed by. It was a good day today, Walter thought to himself. The chili pepper blend added to the coffee really gave it a kick, and the smell was the envy of western nations everywhere.

Sure, the drug cartels were wealthy, but they also had to deal with the DFSC(Department of Pharmacy and Controlled Substances). The right coffee could sell for almost half the price of cocaine and avoid the high tax on narcotics. Sure, taxes were still a drag, but everyone had their favored drug. Where there was a demand, there would be a supply, and coffee was a great retirement business.

Outside a van turned and blocked traffic on the road. The door swung open and three people jumped out, two with rifles, and a third with an RPG. All three turned towards Walter, their weapons aimed at his cafe. He dove into the cafe, his pistol already in hand from decades of practice, shouting for everyone to get down. The bullets struck first, smashing glass and hitting walls and patrons alike. Screams could be heard over gunfire as the rocket barreled into the cafe, exploding into a wall and tearing apart the restaurant next door as well as the cafe.

The explosion left Walter dazed and confused lying on the ground with only the sound of a high C note in his ears. A face appeared from somewhere, it was familiar but distraught. A work college? Friend? It looked like it was screaming something at him, screaming for him to get up, to run, but no sound could be heard. Even with all the death and destruction, the customers being gunned down in the rubble. The face turned towards where a door once stood, a few gunshots were let loose before the rifleman returned fire. Walter's old friend fell dead, gunned down in front of him. He could barely hear the muffled gunfire, but the severity of the situation became quite clear. He may die, but he would go down fighting. Aiming the pistol he fired at a gunman, a woman screamed as the gunman gripped their leg, the other noticed and responded with gunfire of his own. Walter felt the impact of 7.62mm rounds break his ribs and tear apart his insides, his body fell back to the ground with a thud. Blood was everywhere. This was it, the end. In his last moments he prayed the Saints would watch over him as he exhaled for the last time.

…..

"WE GOTTA GO NOW!" Peytr roared as he lifted Jasmine's arm over his shoulder, she was hit in the leg, bleeding badly and needed to get back into the van. Cevin hid behind an abandoned truck and was firing into a building across the street. No doubt fighting off a sniper or goon. Patricio dove out of the driver's seat to run towards Petyr, but a lucky shop owner got the drop on him, blasting a shotgun into his side. Cevin turned and fired at the shop owner. Petyr didn't see if the shop owner was down or not, but kept racing towards the van, wounded comrade in tow. With Cevin's help, they both threw Jasmine into the back of the van and piled in. Luckily, Patricio had left the keys in, so Petyr climbed into the driver's seat and began to get the hell out of the area. In the distance police sirens could be heard. With any luck, they would make it to the safehouse in time. It didn't matter, in a few hours, after the police and news reports, a social media video will be uploaded to a popular website.

In the video, a masked man in black with a red headband would be sitting at a desk, behind him an image of Scales, painted in red. He would begin speaking, an obvious voice modular active.

"Comrades, today we struck and killed an enemy of the People. Walter Blanco, was an infamous Cartel enforcer during the reign of the Cortez Cartel, is dead at our hands. His actions resulted in pain and suffering for many an innocent. We tracked him down, we found him, and we killed him. The police and politicians have failed us. Instead we find ourselves reliant on foreign fighters to bring justice to our homes. Today, we rise up with these brave heroes of justice and begin to balance our own scales. Anyone caught associating with evil, will be judged as evil. Anyone aiding evil, will be judged as evil. People of El Sur, it is time you made a choice, join us and fight the drug cartels, or suffer as your masters fall. Long live the Scales, long live the revolution!"

The news would eventually report that the Red Scales attack left 38 people hospitalized, 11 of them shot, and 34 people dead. Dead included the 'target' Walter Blanco, two of his business associates, two cafe employees, and multiple customers in both the cafe and pizzeria next door. Most were the result of an RPG round taking out the second floor of the pizzaria, collapsing it on the diners below.

[Mokastana]

Santa Nazario Maximum Security Prison
Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation
Two hours later

Johnny's cell opened and a full swat team was in the hallway.
"Prisoner, exit the cell and accept handcuffs, otherwise you will be executed."

Once Jonny did as was instructed, he was black bagged, and pulled through various hallways, with lots of twists and turns. Under the bag he could hear the occasional cell door open followed by a gunshot. Minutes of this behavior went by until he was thrown into a room, where another swat team picked him up and took him down another series of hallways.

Soon he could smell gasoline and hear engines running, the sound of a van door cracking open and he was tossed inside. The doors closed as the van began to lurch forward towards destinations unknown.

The smell of burning tobacco eventually wafted through the black canvas bag.

"Dat es de ing about men incorruptible, they will still fight, after their bosses sold their souls for the devil. You have to be the gringo everyone is talking about." A hand removed the bag and an older surian gentleman was kneeling down and undoing Johnny's handcuffs.

"Marshal Lestardo Paleta, ex marshal. I paid much Trabajoros to fake transfer papers. They think you are going to the airfield for fly to Barbarossa island. The ruse not last long…. We will need to ditch the van. You can run, yes?"

[Patrick OConner]

Mokastana
National Police airfield,
Outside Bogota


Military Police are special. Regular police chase down criminals of all stripes and even on the organized end they are still just normal people. But military police, they have to chase down trained killers, people who have been taught hand to hand and given weapons training. Those with training in explosives and precision marksmanship. Its a bit more dangerous than chasing down violent but relatively untrained gangs. And it just gets more dangerous for the MPs from there.

The massive transport plane was a C-130, the workhorse and back bone of the air based logistics of the Timocratic Republic Military with its good cargo capacity and long range.

This one named “Miss Santa’s Sleigh” with visible nose art of a scantily clad woman in red with white firm trimmed bikini roared in and landed on the runway in a rather graceful manner for such a bloated looking aircraft. It taxied to a stop then dropped the rear ramp. A series of vehicles, 2 up armored Humvee 2 standard looking cars and a set of 2 tractor trailers with trucks, odd looking up armored ones.

A man is plain forrest TR Army BDU camos came striding down the ramp followed by two men. The lead man had the insignia of a senior Lt. with a name tag that read Kincaid. His determined looking face and steely eyes were at odds with what most would have seen with his rank as a junior officer, if he had not worked his way up from private of course.

Behind him were a Sergeant First Class and a private first class with the nametags McTaggert and McConnell respectively.

Lt. Kincaid marched up to Alice Dougal braced to attention and saluted her.


“Lt. Kincaid and 3rd Detached Special Military Police Platoon of Bravo Company 4077th Special MP Battalion reporting for detached duty. My NCOIC SFC MacTaggert my aide PFC McConnell. It seems that our military has made a mess and we are here to clean it up.”

Kincaid dropped his salute
“I have been ordered to aid the DNI in all manners. I have direct access to databases of the TR Government that pertain to this case. I am to inform you that all of this is classified Secret back home. I can assure you all involved on both sides want this wrapped up and dealt with as soon as possible. Now where are we going?”


Suria del Gran Mokastana
People's Unified Federation


Johnny aquested to the demands. He knew he was outnumbered. If he made one wrong move he knew they would turn him into a colander. Better to go along and wait for the right moment, And it worked and hours later was free-ish.
He simply nodded and took off running. An hour later he met up with another non descript vechile. This one driven by familiar faces. Andrew and Alpin looked out and smiled.
“Well stranger need a ride?” Andrew asked
“Naw I think he looks fine.” Alpin says “Man looks like he needs his exercise.”
“Yeah he is looking a wee bit flabby. Been lazing about there Johnny?”
“Yeah we do we get a vacation!!”

Johnny snorts as he opens the door and climbs in.
“When we are done you two can take all the time you want but now lets get out of here.”


Days Later at a Run Down Warehouse

Johnny was back and ready to get to work and there was some very pressing business that needed to be taken care of. The new so called “Red Scales”needed to be taught a lesson. While they clearly had conviction but they lacked focus and training. And had proven it quite clear that some point needed to be made.

Through intermediaries and cut outs a meeting had been arranged inside a run down old warehouse. Inside the offices of the warehouse a room had been selected and plastic sheeting had been laid down. This would help if things got messy.

Johnny was fully suited up for battle with the whole of his team.

A door opened and Andrew and Aplin escorted in the the people from the attack. Both jokers were looking dead serious for once.