06-26-2014, 11:48 AM
Since Damien’s announcement the cartels had escalated their offensive against his forces. Those numbers had risen exponentially, although his newly risen army comprised of patriotic citizens with almost no combat experience. Nonetheless, they were not useless. Most had experience with some kind of firearm, ironically used in most cases to protect family from the turbulent and unpredictable whims of the street gangs.
Damien had supplemented their inexperience by organizing them into squads led by Gamez and his supporters’ professional guards. They were called ‘guards’ but in truth they were hardened warriors with the structural discipline of mercenary soldiers just short of the Custody regulars.
This night, just as he had done so for the past four nights, Damien walked the streets of Mexico City with an escort of fifty. Yulian’s compliment of twenty was confined to the Estande manor as representatives on Damien’s orders. He wished to distance the Custody’s involvement as much as possible. It had to be the people who acquired victory. The people with Damien at their head.
Against her father’s wishes Rosita led the raiding party as she did every time Damien joined them. The night was pleasant if one could ignore the occasional sound of gunfire or explosion. The sounds were distant but the fact brought them no comfort. Tonight, they braved the heart of cartel territory.
The way fifty fully armed men and women moved were unnaturally silent. Damien had created a bubble of what he could only describe as sound negation. The area was limited but enough for his purpose tonight.
“Everyone is ready. We await your word.”
Rosita still spoke in a hushed voice despite it being unnecessary and Damien smiled. She would have made a perfect soldier in another world. As soon as Damien had shown his mettle the woman had dedicated herself to the cause and had become one of his most fervent allies.
Clad in a coat of deep red and gold, Damien held himself with confidence to combat the fear he saw in the eyes of his revolutionaries. “Begin the operation, and remember,”
he caught Rosita by the arm as she turned to direct the raiding squad. “I want Guitterez unharmed.”
Damien waited in silent contemplation with five guards remaining by his side, nervously fiddling with their rifles. Everything had been proceeding smoothly. The Custody showed no interest in intervention and the standing government had successfully diverted the United States’ attention, not that Congress showed any interest in anything but their obsession with the Custody.
His attention was drawn to the precise short bursts of gunfire close by. “And now it is our turn.”
Damien’s advance was for all intents casual while his guard flanked him with growing nerves. Gunfire continued to pierce the night’s quiet but only for moments at a time with no lasting conflict. On the outside, Damien looked like a wealthy man taking a midnight stroll but the Light burned bright within him and at a moment’s notice he could reduce a block of the nearby hovels to cinders if he wished.
They met no resistance in their brief travel, no shots penetrating the dark and his approach was unnoticed. Upon arrival at Guitterez’s stronghold, he greeted the four heavily armed men who stood alert with a grave smile. Four automatic rifles were aimed at his heart. Damien stopped short and waved his own guard to lower their weapons. “Evening, gentlemen,”
was his greeting, although it was far from pleasant. “Put down your weapons and you will be spared. Nobody will be coming to your aid, me and mine have taken care of that.”
One handsome man in his prime shook the other three out of their stunned stupor. “Ignore the bastard. Kill them all.”
Unfortunately, it was already too late. Damien traced eight patterns of coiling Wind, four to disarm the enemy and another four to immobilize them. The handsome man’s confidence drained from his stiff body. “Kill them,”
was Damien’s command as he took the ID card from one of the paralysed men’s pocket.
Four lone shots rang through the night and Damien proceeded into one of the four most powerful cartel leaders, Perrado Guitterez’s sanctuary.
Damien had supplemented their inexperience by organizing them into squads led by Gamez and his supporters’ professional guards. They were called ‘guards’ but in truth they were hardened warriors with the structural discipline of mercenary soldiers just short of the Custody regulars.
This night, just as he had done so for the past four nights, Damien walked the streets of Mexico City with an escort of fifty. Yulian’s compliment of twenty was confined to the Estande manor as representatives on Damien’s orders. He wished to distance the Custody’s involvement as much as possible. It had to be the people who acquired victory. The people with Damien at their head.
Against her father’s wishes Rosita led the raiding party as she did every time Damien joined them. The night was pleasant if one could ignore the occasional sound of gunfire or explosion. The sounds were distant but the fact brought them no comfort. Tonight, they braved the heart of cartel territory.
The way fifty fully armed men and women moved were unnaturally silent. Damien had created a bubble of what he could only describe as sound negation. The area was limited but enough for his purpose tonight.
“Everyone is ready. We await your word.”
Rosita still spoke in a hushed voice despite it being unnecessary and Damien smiled. She would have made a perfect soldier in another world. As soon as Damien had shown his mettle the woman had dedicated herself to the cause and had become one of his most fervent allies.
Clad in a coat of deep red and gold, Damien held himself with confidence to combat the fear he saw in the eyes of his revolutionaries. “Begin the operation, and remember,”
he caught Rosita by the arm as she turned to direct the raiding squad. “I want Guitterez unharmed.”
Damien waited in silent contemplation with five guards remaining by his side, nervously fiddling with their rifles. Everything had been proceeding smoothly. The Custody showed no interest in intervention and the standing government had successfully diverted the United States’ attention, not that Congress showed any interest in anything but their obsession with the Custody.
His attention was drawn to the precise short bursts of gunfire close by. “And now it is our turn.”
Damien’s advance was for all intents casual while his guard flanked him with growing nerves. Gunfire continued to pierce the night’s quiet but only for moments at a time with no lasting conflict. On the outside, Damien looked like a wealthy man taking a midnight stroll but the Light burned bright within him and at a moment’s notice he could reduce a block of the nearby hovels to cinders if he wished.
They met no resistance in their brief travel, no shots penetrating the dark and his approach was unnoticed. Upon arrival at Guitterez’s stronghold, he greeted the four heavily armed men who stood alert with a grave smile. Four automatic rifles were aimed at his heart. Damien stopped short and waved his own guard to lower their weapons. “Evening, gentlemen,”
was his greeting, although it was far from pleasant. “Put down your weapons and you will be spared. Nobody will be coming to your aid, me and mine have taken care of that.”
One handsome man in his prime shook the other three out of their stunned stupor. “Ignore the bastard. Kill them all.”
Unfortunately, it was already too late. Damien traced eight patterns of coiling Wind, four to disarm the enemy and another four to immobilize them. The handsome man’s confidence drained from his stiff body. “Kill them,”
was Damien’s command as he took the ID card from one of the paralysed men’s pocket.
Four lone shots rang through the night and Damien proceeded into one of the four most powerful cartel leaders, Perrado Guitterez’s sanctuary.