Black Flag
Chapter One
Somewhere west of Riuwiee, the capital of Abanhfleft, there was a budding gang that was raising hell in the country like no other. A gang that fought with the valiance of a real military, that was completely fearless and that would win battles against larger gangs by virtue of fighting to the last man. It was a gang that was multinational, both Anglatian and Fleftic, that was united not by nation but by the black flag that they fought under. They were affiliated with the Crows of Otavice, but they were their own force, one that was located in a completely different territory and that had its own culture.
They’d started as a gang to farm members for the Crows, but had grown into one to be reckoned with because of the power they’d gained through ruthlessness. They were bikers, but they weren’t a biker gang. Drug dealers, but they weren’t a cartel. Smugglers, but not a smuggling ring. This gang wasn’t one that enjoyed being labeled. They were many things, and they were the Corsairs, united under the black flag and out in force in Riuwiee, as they gathered around their main clubhouse for what was supposed to be an important meeting.
The clubhouse was an impressive building that had titanium plating boarding up the windows, and a pair of main doors that were reinforced with the same metal. The whole area was surrounded by a tall black metal fence, with a gate at the end of the road that led up to the building. The building itself was made of some kind of metal, and the parking lot was filled with motorcycles and with armored cars and vans and even a few military looking armored trucks. In the parking lot, there was a flagpole that flew the three flags that represented the group. The Anglatian one, the Fleftic one, and the solid black one that represented the Corsairs themselves. There were two more black banners hanging from the building between the windows and doors, and above the door there hung a metal sign that displayed the name of the place in all capital letters: ‘THE RAIDER COVE’.
On a day like this when there was an important meeting, the parking lot was full. The gates were opened, and there were plenty of people milling around the lot, all of them dressed in black. Some of them wore leather jackets that had a logo on the back displaying a laughing skull, and text above that logo that read ‘CORSAIRS’. Others simply wore black shirts and hoodies, and some had hoodies with the laughing skull patch on the shoulder or the chest. There were twenty something people, and those were just the ones in the parking lot.
Inside the Cove, there were plenty more. The interior of the building was wide and spacious, with a bar and plenty of seating and a large lounge, along with a stairwell in the back that led up to the second, third, and fourth floors. It was a place that had been recently renovated, with hardwood floors and all new furniture, with the exception of the well weathered bar counter and the shelves behind it. Around that bar was where the high ranking members were gathering and making conversation while they waited for the top leaders to arrive to give them the go ahead on what they were planning.
Those high ranking members knew how far the Corsairs had come. Some of them had been there when the gang recruited its first class of members, stealing from rival gangs. Now, they were hundreds strong, and allies with the mighty Crows. It was because of the help of the Crows that they had been able to expand into Abanhfleft early on in their history, which had helped them grow equally in both of their countries. It was rare to see a gang like that, but because they’d seized their chance early on to be multi-national, they could consider both Abanhfleft and Anglatia to be their homeland.
“How many do we have here today?” asked Mateo Vidal, the Anglatian from Bathgate that was the number three man in the pecking order of the five leaders. He was wearing a black biker jacket, with four star patches on the chest indicating his high position.
“I believe the number is something close to one hundred and twenty five,” answered Scout Jonsdottir, the head of the female wing of the gang and a native of Rastaka, Upper Valeria. “This is the largest meeting we've held, at least in Riuwiee. And we still have the other group coming, so we can add six or seven more to the count. Impressive, isn't it?”
“I never thought we'd get this big,” Mateo said, watching the doors as they opened up and someone else wearing black stepped in. Except, this person had an Orthodox cross patch on their jacket, showing that they weren't actually a member. They were from the Crows, and they were one of the ones that Mateo and Scout were waiting for. “Ah, here's one of the others. The Crows envoy that Slobo sent.”
He waved to the young man, who approached the bar counter and sat down at one of the stools. He was different than the others here. A bit more clean shaven, with his hair cut low. There was also a Slavic look to him, indicating that he was from Crows country and not from around here. “Hello, brothers,” he said, giving Mateo a firm handshake after approaching. “I hope I'm not late. I was sent by Slobo to act as the official go-between for our two groups. He said you guys need someone to take stock of everything so we can see how much supplies we’ll be sending you. Well, that someone is me.”
“Perfect,” replied Mateo, nodding. “You can stay around my place while you're here, if you want. My name’s Mateo Vidal, I'm the third man in the ruling five. My female friend is Scout, and if there's five leaders, she's the sixth most powerful person here. We're still waiting on the other four leaders to show up.”
The man looked between the two like he was memorizing their looks. That wasn't a hard task. Mateo was memorable for his long, straight hair that went down to below his shoulders. Scout, on the other hand, had her hair cut down short, and could be recognized by the tattoos on her lower arms and on her neck. Possibly the most notable one was a wide open eye, on the left side of her neck, and the laughing skull on the other side. “Right… My name is Darko Jelacic. I came here all the way from Wolfe, and I'm sure it's not hard to tell I was born in the City of Devils, Otavice.”
“Of course. The accent is a bit of a giveaway,” remarked Scout. “You'll fit in just fine around here, as long as you're used to things being more rough than they are in Otavice, believe it or not. We've got more bikers around here than simple drug dealers and smugglers… The type of men who have an appetite for chaos. It's why we've survived for this long behind foreign lines.”
“I think I can handle chaos,” chuckled Darko. “The higher up you go in the Crows, the more chaos and backbiting there is. I think I've seen enough of it to last a lifetime, to be honest.”
“We’ll see about that. The difference between us and them is that they're usually working towards some major goal and destroying anyone who gets in their way… Us, on the other hand? We’re fine causing destruction for the hell of it. It's not all about money, as they say. I think you'll find that while the Crows are our allies, we aren't a carbon copy of them.”
Before Darko could reply, the doors swung open again and another group entered, led by three men. The first one was the highest ranking leader, Jose Sorondo. The young Fleftic born gangster was the one to create the Corsairs by subjugating and absorbing several local gangs, and had also been the one who was good enough at diplomacy to get the help of the Crows. He'd convinced them that they had a mutual enemy, the Huesca Cartel. Together, they would have enough firepower and turf to give them a run for their money in their own country. Sorondo wasn't necessarily the most physically imposing person, standing at about average height and not being particularly athletic. But there was something about him that made him recognizable as someone important, who was to be listened to.
Next to him was Benton Singer, the biker from Bathgate who was the biggest leader in the Anglatian wing of the gang. If Jose had a regal air around him, but wasn't physically imposing, Singer was the opposite. He was tall, muscular, and was the type of man that most people would be afraid to run into in a dark alley. It would be forgivable to mistake him for an athlete or a military man, and while he didn't carry himself like a leader, anyone with good sense knew to listen to him if they wanted to remain in one piece.
The last member of the group was Arvin Navarro, the Fleftic biker who was likely the most recognizable face in the biking wing of the gang that operated in Riuwiee. He'd been born here, had grown up here, and knew the area inside out, including the landscape of the various criminal organizations. Arvin was the one responsible for most of the major plans, along with Mateo Vidal. If Benton and Jose served as the fists of the gang, Arvin and Mateo were the brains that told them where to strike.
“Here they are,” said Mateo, pointing out the new group to Darko. “That's Jose, a Benton, and Arvin. The rest of the ruling five. They're supposed to make an announcement that we've talked about before in some meetings… Or rather, a declaration. You'll see in a few minutes, I don't think Jose wants to keep everyone waiting for long.”
Jose indeed didn't want everyone to have to wait long to hear the announcement. “Alright, shut the fuck up and listen!” he shouted over all the noise, before climbing onto the bar counter to stand over everyone and everything in the clubhouse. “I have important news and I'm not going to repeat it if you miss it, so listen up! There will be time to party later. Right now, I need everyone's full attention.”
The crowd grew silent, and everyone turned towards the bar. Jose waited a few moments, and then spoke. “Today, we are officially going to war. We've engaged other gangs in small turf clashes, but this is different. We're not fighting over land this time, and we're not fighting a small battle for prestige. No, we’re actually going to war, against the Huesca Cartel. We both want the same turf and as you know, our allies are also involved in a full scale war against them. It’s time to stop letting them push us around in Riuwiee. This city is ours, and starting now, we’re going to prove that to them. We may be smaller but we fight fiercer than they do, and that’s what matters. From now on, Riuwiee is a Corsairs city. Of course, we’re going to have to prove it if we want to be taken seriously.”
There were some cheers from the crowd before they went silent again so Jose could continue. “This may be a new war, but we’re coming out hot and striking them where it’s going to hurt them, near their leadership. Everyone here knows by now that Amelia Pena is the big leader in their gang. Are we going to continue to allow them to encroach on our territory, and continue to get pushed around by a rival led by a fucking woman? No. We’re going to send a message to her right away, that our gang is not to be fucked with for much longer… That this is our city and that these streets belong to us. We’re going to show that we can strike anywhere, any time, at anyone that we want.”
There was another cheer, and the energy in the building changed. The Corsairs were ready to go out for blood. “Our scouting has revealed that much of the breaches in Crows territory in Anglatia by the Huesca Cartel have been organized by Maricel Ocampo, a friend of Pena who specializes in management and organization. Because of her, the Huescas now have a presence in the territory of our allies, and they’ve turned a simple grudge into a real feud between three gangs. Well, we’re going to accomplish two things with one act. We’re going to pay Maricel a visit, both to remove her from this turf war for good and to make an example out of her and send a message directly to Pena.”
Jose stepped down from the counter, but wasn’t done. “Remember, everyone. We’re at war now. The Huesca Cartel should be treated as our number one enemy. No more ducking from conflict with them. We’re going to take them on head on from now on. Now, it’s time to make the first move in this war. Benton, Scout, Isko, Rizal, come on. You asked for more action, and now you get it. Bring your bikes, too. I want to make sure that everyone knows who to blame this on.”
And with that, the war between the Corsairs and the Huesca Cartel had begun. In a way, it was just an extension of the war between the Crows and Huescas, but now, there were gangsters from both countries involved fighting on each other’s turf. The war was about to get much, much bloodier from that development.
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On what should have been a calm evening in the suburbs of Riuwiee, the attention of the whole neighborhood turned towards the group of motorcycles that were roaring through the streets and making a ruckus. They were no ordinary motorcycles, these were customized ones that were either barely street legal or not street legal at all, and the one in the front of the convoy displayed the black flag of the Corsairs from the back. All four of them were speeding, and they were followed by a black van that looked like it had been reinforced with military armor. It was clear to the people of the neighborhood that something was up; something dangerous.
After roaring around the block and finding the right house, the motorcycles and van suddenly stopped, and onlookers were able to get a better look at the riders. They all wore black leather biker jackets, with a laughing skull on the back. The top rockers said ‘CORSAIRS’, while the bottom rockers used the same font and said ‘RIUWIEE’, representing the branch of the gang that the members were a part of. The exception was the woman who was with the group. The bottom rocker of her jacket said ‘RASTAKA’, because she represented the Upper Valerian wing.
A few more men exited the van, and the main group went inside the back of the van and came out with weapons. Not the kind of weapons you’d expect to see on the streets, but shotguns and a few rifles. The kind of weapons you would expect to see on the battlefield in a warzone. The leader of the group, Jose, also picked up a loudspeaker and walked back to the bikes that were outside the driveway. “This is the Corsairs, open the fuck up!” he shouted through the speaker. “We know you’re in there, Maricel! Open up and surrender yourself, or fight and die. Your choice. You have one minute to decide.”
“One minute is too much time, in my opinion,” complained Scout, loading her shotgun and adjusting the helmet that was still on her head. “Let’s bust in now, you never know how many of them are in there, ready for a fight-”
As soon as Scout said that, one of the windows opened up and someone pointed a rifle at them. The person shot one of the men that had gotten out of the van, but Scout reacted quickly and blasted a shot through the window to drop their attacker. “Told you,” she quipped, pumping the shotgun and surveying the area for more hostiles as the others raised their weapons.
Isko Riviero, the weapons specialist, switched the safety off of his assault rifle and charged towards the door, reaching to the utility belt he wore to find an explosive charge that he quickly placed onto the lock. “You best stand back!” he shouted to the others, moving back from the porch and raising the rifle again. Someone else was standing by the window now, ready to fire with a rifle if Isko didn’t aim quickly and fire first.
“I got him, you focus on the door,” said Benton, carefully aiming his rifle and using the grenade launcher attachment to fire a grenade through the glass of the window. The bang came seconds later, and Benton and the others couldn’t tell if the person had ran in time. “Let’s take this lock out and move in, before any of their friends decide to show up…”
“Got it,” nodded Isko, lowering his rifle long enough to reach for the detonator for the charge. He pressed the button and stepped back, as a small explosion shattered the metal lock and made the door swing open. Another man was waiting for them behind the door, but Scout quickly shot him through the chest with her shotgun, as the rest of the group swarmed towards the porch. “How many of these fuckers are in here?”
“This place is supposed to be a hangout for them, according to recon,” said Jose. “Looks like we caught them on a day when a lot of em were in the house. There shouldn’t be many more, though. This place isn’t that big, after all. Benton, Rizal, I want you to head around the back. Make sure that our target doesn’t slip out through that door and get away. I’m surprised we haven’t seen Maricel yet.”
“Aye, she’s probably hiding upstairs,” said Benton, but he nodded and ran around towards the other side of the house along with Rizal. “What happens if I find her around back? Are we taking her alive or what?”
“Depends on how much she resists. We could keep her around for a bit and see how far the Huescas will go to get her back-”
“Wait a minute, looks like we found her,” shouted Scout, making a quick decision and deciding to pursue the person that had just run out the front door and towards a car that was parked in the driveway. They all recognized the woman as the person they were after, Maricel, and Scout had reacted quickly enough to shove her up against the car before she could unlock it. “Not so fast… We tried to warn you not to run.”
The two were involved in a grappling match, but Scout was taller and had better positioning. She had Maricel pinned to the car door, and Jose ran over to help. “I’ve got her, I don’t need any help,” Scout said, twisting her arms behind her back and holding the other woman in place. “See? Now, what the hell are we going to do? You said we were going to use her to make a point to Pena?”
Jose nodded, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I’m actually planning on letting our friends from Otavice make a point… One to the tune of crucifixion.”