The citizens of Mexico’s California Gulf region were not standing still while the world turned. Preceding the 1st Central American war, the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) released a bioengineered plant virus targeted at destroying the coca, poppy, and marijuana plants, amongst others. In the short term, it was a massive success. The Cartel drug trade collapsed, and the top cartel bosses were toppled when profits plummeted. In the long term, it was a disaster. These organizations weren’t standing still either. The cartels moved from the drug trade to every other illicit activity on earth. Money laundering, racketeering, kidnapping, and the sex trade—the cartels expanded their operations into just about every seedy enterprise throughout Latin America. And thanks to the repeated military interventions by Uncle Sam, Mexico City was racked with chaos and instability. The government could barely contain threats domestically, not to mention the tons of weapons abandoned by the military when the US pulled out of Panama for good.
Over time, these cartels professionalized their operations as well as their image. They donned corporate facades, investing ill-gotten gains into the legal economy. Los Zetas became AlbaCorp (a tech firm), the Tijuana Cartel became Linex (electronics manufacturing), and so on and so forth. The people living in the border region suffered the most. Women were kidnapped and prostituted, businesses were extorted into oblivion, and citizens were threatened into giving over their children or themselves for recruitment. PEMEX, the state-backed oil monopoly, wasn’t spared either. Corporate theft by hostile nomads and cartels skyrocketed in the decades since. The result was the development of local militias (called autodefensas) as well as corporate-backed police. PEMEX successfully pressured Mexico City into allowing the oil giant to raise an army of its own. Thus, the fight over control of Mexican society had begun.
The autodefensas of Baja and Sonora hadn’t been alone in fighting the Tijuana cartel, the chief terrorists in the region. The Free State of Southern California (SoCal) had been their main backers, providing intelligence and equipment. Of course, the exchange was mutual. The SoCal Highway Patrol learned a great deal about cartel activities south of the border, which aided them in their operations. The dynamic was identical on the Texas-Mexico border, where the battle against Los Zetas was fierce and ugly. Los Zetas, being equipped and proficient at combat, had taken on PEMEX’s armed forces. Prominent leaders within the militias of Northeast Mexico often received training from the Bill McDonald School of Irregular Warfare, the same institution that trained tens of thousands of Texas Rangers in active service today.
Through these connections, the Free State separatist vision was spread to Mexico specifically and Latin America more generally. In the region of Sonora, citizens of the Federal Republic of Mexico began to entertain the notion of secession. Given Mexico City’s weakness in confronting cartel extortion, the changing climate slowly impoverishing farmers, and the endemic corruption at the top levels, people were fed up. However, fate had other plans. The Unification War of 2069 resulted in the reincorporation of many Western Free States, including Southern California. The loss of SoCal meant the “Baja Battalion” (an autodefensa) had to fight without state support. However, what remained were the people. The Free State political faction of SoCal, dissatisfied with the return to federal rule, traveled south and added jet fuel to the cause. At the same time, a political faction in Austin was rising to power with ambitions of regional dominance. It wouldn’t be long before independent Texas, untouched by the war, would take up the torch of supporting their brothers in the Gulf.
*****************************************
Austin, Texas Republic
Capitol Building
June, 2095
*****************************************
The Capitol building in Austin, the center of power, is a pit of vipers. It’s not as though politicians were decent people before Texas secession, but independence introduced new pressures for lawmakers. Austin was basically a corporatocracy, dominated politically by the leading families and megacorps in the republic. The Parker family, heirs of the Petrochem fortune, held a strong grip on Dallas. Jodes Nation, the Oklahoma nomads, held sway in the high plains of Texas. The shipping contractors of the coastal plains were incredibly influential on the local level. And then there was the Rockwell family, heirs to a vast casino empire, who had a particularly strong power base in New Galveston.
New Galveston’s Free Port zone was the major reason why my team and I had been summoned to the capital building after our formal transfer to the military. The operation that we conducted turned into a clusterfuck and royally pissed off the business lobby, along with the Foreign Service. Although Texas was not permitted to join regional institutions like the Organization of American States (OAS) due to fierce opposition from the NUSA and other members, the Free Port Authority had observer status in the organization. Even this accommodation was regularly called into question by Washington. So when we infiltrated a hotel and kidnapped a politically connected guest, like we owned the place, people were going to take notice.
So here we were, in a closed-door session, enduring hour after painful hour of questioning from “representatives” who are probably older than Methuselah. We had to tell and retell our stories non-stop; every detail was scrutinized to the point of exhaustion. Speaking for myself, I was about ready to jump into a volcano or a black hole, whichever ended the suffering quicker. This was no doubt payback from the mysterious Director Alvarez, head honcho over at “Spooksville” in the Foreign Service. Prick!
It was dark outside when the torture session ended. I don’t know how many hours we spent inside being grilled by those old dullards. The team and I went to a bar in a secluded part of town. It was Lawrence Wilkes, a.k.a. Lucky, who picked out the place. His family had been swimming in Austin’s high society long enough to know the nice places to grab a drink and forget your troubles.
“Fucking dick!” Lucky cursed the Texas spy chief, Alvarez.
“That, gentlemen, was a warning. It’s probably best we avoid the Free Port zone for now. Hopefully, that was the last time we’ll have to hear from the Senate,” Terrence said. My senior partner kept a cool head, all things considered.
“This is still your fault, Max.”
“Not this again. Lucky, we have been over this.” I sighed. Lucky thought I was pretty reckless at times. He was right. But if anyone was at fault for this fuck-up, it was HQ.
“You could have left him in the hotel and walked out. It would have been a bad look instead of a clusterfuck.”
“Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Lucky there’s no way we could have known he was political royalty,” I retorted.
“The past is the past.” Terrence said, “What matters now is our primary mission. As long as that goes well for us, the politicians will stay off our asses.”
“The primary mission? Escort service in the Sonoran Desert for some decades-old Militech hardware. Are you fucking serious? We are babysitting some spoiled brat for an MP3 player.” Lucky wasn’t too thrilled.
“This isn’t just last year’s BDs; we are talking about the cynosure program. Militech was piercing the Blackwall, capturing rogue AI from the old net. That’s serious tech, Lucky,” I said. Lucky didn’t look too impressed.
For those who are uninformed, in the early part of the twenty-first century, the old net was a vast telecommunications network. The DataKrash, as it was called, was an event in which malicious protocols were unleashed onto the net. It was chaos. These malicious bits of code occupy a vast portion of the “old net.” Netwatch, the global telecom policing agency, constructed the Blackwall to shield the rest of the net from the rogue AIs that wandered the old system.
“Whatever tech had been able to capture AIs has to be out of date by now. Even if it worked, we shouldn’t be messing with that shit. Haiti was destroyed by those AIs; fucking around with that is bad news,” Lucky said.
“It’s not our call. Look, let’s call it a night. We all meet back at the docking port in the morning. Alejo will board the airship after we reach Kansas City.”
We all finished our drinks and left. Since there wasn’t enough time to make it back to College Station, we booked hotel rooms in Austin. Of course, the Military Department, to whom we had just transferred, wasn’t going to cover the cost. Cheapskates! I was quite buzzed when I opened the door to my room. The room wasn’t grand, but it was decent enough. I walked to the bed and reached for the remote to turn on the TV when I saw someone under the covers. I recognized him! It was Alejo, the twink from the hotel operation.
“What the hell? Oi, chico. Ali!” I said while removing the covers. Alejo slowly stirred awake. He was wearing a red and white shirt with cargo shorts. His longish jet-black hair was disheveled, but he smelled sweet for a guy. Alejo stood up and started stretching.
He yawned. “Hey, Max,” he said.
“Did you have a nice nap, princess?” I said mockingly. He frowned, but I couldn’t care less about his little attitude.
“I told you don’t call me that… OOWWW!” I yanked him by the ear like the spoiled brat he was.
“You little shit! What the hell are you doing here?” I said. Alejo shoved me away.
“I just came to say ‘hi.’ You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”
“You broke into my hotel room and waited for hours, I’m guessing, just to say ‘hi.’ “I wasn’t buying it at all.
“I also came to apologize in person for trying to kill you.” He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it.
I eyed him up and down. The cargo shorts were a little too short but still decent. At 5’9″, he had longish black hair, smooth caramel skin, dreamy hazel eyes, full kissable lips, and thick-toned thighs. Facially, he was a good-looking kid with a lack of facial hair. He could have been a fashion model if you didn’t know him. But then there was that sweet smell emanating from this kid. It was inviting. My more deviant instincts kicked in.
“So that’s the best excuse you can come up with?” I said with a mischievous smile.
He feigned ignorance. “What do you mean? I’m trying to be nice.”
“Last time we met, I had invaded your hotel room. You had every right to fight back. If anything, I owe you an apology. Is that what you wanted? Or were you here to ‘get me back’ for kidnapping you?” I said, referencing the message an unknown sender had sent to my phone.
“I didn’t mean that.” He blushed pink and avoided my gaze. I walked closer to him. “I was just messing around.”
“So a man kidnaps you, detains you in a safe-house, and questions you, and oh, let’s not forget when I stuck my dick up your ass and fucked you silly, but for some reason you wanted so badly to apologize to me that you broke into my hotel room, alone?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
He was speechless, blushing hot pink at this point. Those shorts could do nothing to hide the tent he was pitching. Alejo didn’t come here to apologize. He came here to get split in half.
“It’s not… I. Fuck it!” He reached up and kissed me. I kissed him back. We made out right there in the hotel room. I reached down to grab the ends of his shirt when we were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Damn it,” I said, looking through the looking glass. It was Terrence. I signaled Alejo to wait a minute while I dealt with my boss.
“Terrence, what’s up?” I opened the door and moved into the hallway. He looked exhausted and troubled.
“Here are the mission details. I know you like to reread the documents.” Terrence handed me the screamsheets.
“Preem. Thanks, brother.” He seemed distant. “You’re worried about something?”
“Not something, someone,” Terrence said, “I added some notes of my own. Take a look at the profile sections when you get a chance. I am going to get drunk and hit the hay.”
“Okay,” I said, “Whatever it is that has you nervous, don’t worry about it. I got your back.”
“It’s my job to worry, Max. Get some sleep.” He turned and walked down the hallway.
I returned to my room and was greeted by Alejo, who threw his arms around my neck.
“Whoa. Easy there, kid,” I said. He looked at me with those eyes clouded in youthful passion. We kissed deeply and took our time with it. I brushed my fingers over his tummy down to his hips.
“Can we fuck now?” He was almost begging with those puppy eyes.
“Before we do that, I am laying down some ground rules,” I said. He pouted, which was adorable. I lifted him by the waist using my upper body strength.
“First rule: I am not your personal servant. When we work together, we are a team. I will have your back. But you will listen to me when it comes to danger, got it?”
“Uh-huh,” he said with a playful look.
“Second rule: I’m top, obviously,” I said while I dropped him down on the bed and removed his shirt.
“Yes, papi.” He said as he started unbuckling my pants.
I took off my shirt. “Third rule: No commitments. I don’t think I can handle a relationship right now. And don’t call me papi; I am not that old.”
“Yes, abuelo.” He snickered.
“Fourth rule: Don’t be a smartass.”
With one hand, I unzipped and yanked his cargo shorts off. My eyes almost bugged out of my head. This little twink was wearing a pair of lacy black panties with his cock straining to break free. The fabric and color complemented his honey-brown skin.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Te gusta, do you like this?” he asked.
“Do I like it?” I smiled. “Stand up and spin around; I want to see the whole package.”
He stood up and did a full spin. With his washboard stomach, willowy chest, thick thighs, and bubble butt, the kid was an absolute smoke show. He blushed an even deeper shade of pink under my lustful gaze. Without delay, I dropped my pants and underwear, kicking them somewhere else. Alejo’s eyes traveled from my muscled chest and abs to my groin. He was like a little boy with his face pressed against the candy store window. I brought him in close and kissed him. I never thought a guy could be this hot. He pressed his fingers up and down my chest. We moved onto the bed.
Alejo grabbed my cock and started stroking it while I was on the bed. “It’s so thick.”
I chuckled. He drew a line with his tongue up and down my shaft. “I waited all day; where were you?” He asked before taking the tip into his mouth.
I sighed, “I was at the capital building, getting grilled by a bunch of zombie politicians about kidnapping a Colombian princess. It turns out politicians love to hear themselves talk.”
I sucked in a gust of air as the sexy imp managed to squeeze me into his tight throat. The kid was getting good at this. “How did you even get in here?” I asked.
He took a break from sucking me off. “I cough hacked the terminal, and acquired access; it wasn’t hard. They haven’t updated their security protocols. Very sloppy.” He said before continuing to worship my cock.
“Fucking idiots.” I grabbed a package of lube from my suitcase. With Ali’s mouth busy, I yanked his panties down and grabbed a handful of his plump ass cheeks. Alejo giggled like a schoolgirl from the sensation of my fingers digging into his fleshy backside. I ripped open the package and applied a decent amount to his sphincter, worming my fingers inside of his asshole. He pushed back, humping my digits. This kid was much more eager than last time.
“You should have told me you weren’t with the cartel.” I removed my fingers and landed a hard smack on his left cheek.
He stopped throating my dick. “I couldn’t; I was told not to say anything. My family is powerful; we have enemies back home.”
He yelped when I smacked his right cheek, “I still blame you for getting me in trouble.”
I sat up and pushed him on his back. He lifted his legs close to his chest, hungry for cock. I lined up my cock to his slutty hole and slid inside of him. He struggled to loosen up initially, wincing at the girth, but I eventually bottomed out inside of him. His insides were hot and tight. I pulled out up to the tip, then plunged back inside, causing him to grunt. Alejo’s dick stood at attention as I started fucking him harder and harder. Even though he wasn’t at fault for my current troubles, I took all the pent-up frustrated energy out on his fat bottom. Each time I slammed cock back into him, he twitched, grunted, and cursed under his breath.
“Fuck, it’s too deep!”
I pinched his Hershey Kiss nipples, causing him to bite his bottom lip. “You love it.” I grinned.
He gripped the bedsheets to steady himself as I was fucking him with long, deep strokes. The grunts escaping his lips only added fuel to my thrusts. Alejo was in ecstasy. Whatever reluctance he had about getting fucked by a man quickly melted away. He reached for his own dick and started stroking it when I grabbed his arms.
“No, no, no. I want you to cum from my cock only.” I smiled. He tried to free his hands, but it was in vain. He looked at me; his hazel-green eyes pleaded for more punishment.
Once he stopped resisting, I pulled out and flipped him over, propping his hips up into a downward dog. His impossibly round, baby-smooth bottom was a work of art. Most likely the product of playing soccer for a good portion of his life. Alejo looked back and whimpered as he wiggled his fat tush, seemingly impatient to have my cock filling him up. I buried my dick back in his ass and started fucking him faster than before. The sounds of grunts, moans, and cheeks clapping filled the air along with the smell of sweat. He turned his head to look me in the eyes more than once before burying his head into the mattress. While I was rearranging his guts, he reached between his legs and massaged my balls. After several minutes, his body tensed.
“Ah! Shhitt! Nnggrr!!” His insides pulsed as Alejo sprayed cum all over the bed. I kept up the speed and power of my thrust, fucking him even as he was climaxing. Before long, my own balls were clenching. I buried my cock as deep as I could inside of him before filling his boipussy with my sperm. After a few seconds frozen in position, I pulled out. Alejo was gasping for breath as he rested there. I dropped down next to him on the bed, taking time to catch my breath.
“Don’t get too comfy; we are going to have to clean up. I hope you brought a change of clothes.”
He groaned and turned to face me. “Do we have to?”
I caught a glimpse of his gaping hole leaking my fluids. “Yes. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
“Yes, Abuelo.” He smirked.
I raised a hand and brought it down, smacking his right ass cheek hard enough for him to yelp. He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed. It stung, and I meant it to sting.
“Rule number four. Don’t be a smartass, remember. Alright, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
**********************
1 hour later
**********************
Alejo was fast asleep next to me when I finally got around to reading the mission documents. The information about the region and its political environment was very useful. The profile section contained info on our contacts in Mexico, a long list of colorful characters. There was a section of the profiles page designated as notes. I turned to that section and found a classified document about the activity of a “Special Mission Unit” involving the assassination of a cartel boss in Sinaloa. As I read the details of the operations, it became clear to me why Terrence was worried about our mission.
Alejo stirred a bit before returning to deep slumber with his arm wrapped around my torso. I went back to reading the document.
********************************************************
[Redacted] Village, [Redacted] Municipality,
Sinaloa, Mexico
April, 2091
********************************************************
The mountainous region of Sinaloa was home to a gated community of the wealthy and privileged. Euro corp executives, celebrities, and high-level politicos vacationed in these areas. Rafael Padilla, a top financial consultant by day and Tijuana cartel boss by night, was one of those “big shots.” Padilla came from a nomadic family smuggling illegal goods through customs for various clients. One of his early roles was business organizing for the family. Accounts had to be balanced, bribes needed to be paid, talent needed to be hired, and so on. He had shown talent for the work. The family had multiple run-ins with law enforcement and the court system in Mexico, which piqued his interest in the law itself. Through hard work and determination, he studied at one of Mexico’s best state colleges and started working up the corporate ladder. Being a high-level accountant for a corporate firm showed him how the system really worked. The shady underworld of elite clients were above rules, the only law they recognized was power. Eventually, Padilla left with some of his colleages and founded his own financial consulting firm with deep links to multiple criminal organizations throughout Mexico, operating as MegaCorps today, one of them being Linex.
The Tijuana Cartel bosses (Linex Shareholders and Stakeholders officially) made good use of Rafael’s expertise in money laundering and sanction evasion for their own ends. In time, Rafael was made one of “los jefes” in the cartel when he organized a merger of the rival gangs in the region under the corporate umbrella. Being a boss came with all of the usual perks: luxury cars, a big house in the hills, joytoys, designer drugs, and high-end entertainment. Law enforcement knew all about the financier’s connections but didn’t investigate. Hell, most of the police force was on his direct payroll. In fact, some officers were tasked with escorting a “special delivery” to his residence that very day.
Around one o’clock in the evening, the squad car was spotted by Padilla’s guards driving up the hill ahead of a freight truck. The skies were clear, with no aircraft in sight above. Spring heat radiated off the sparse desert terrain. As they approached the gate, the guards took up positions nearby, dressed in beige camo uniforms with their weapons at the ready. When the caravan came to a stop, the scanners conducted a thorough search of the vehicles. Everything was proceeding on schedule; the cops were professionals after all. Once the scan was complete, the gates opened, and the caravan proceeded into the massive loading dock.
Inside the platform, two officers unlock the freight truck’s back door under the watchful eye of the guards. The lawmen were dressed in the dark blue uniform and armor of the [Redacted] police department. One officer opened the door, casting light onto an enormous ball of dark fur nestled inside a chrome-colored bio-chamber. It was a rare species of black cyberbear, bioengineered for combat. Creatures like this were born and bred for combat during the third and fourth corporate wars. Some of the beasts broke loose (of course), and several now roam the Pacific Northwest. The mammal was deep in slumber, having been sedated for the long journey all the way from the Yukon Territory.
One of the guards whistled, “It’s a big motherfucker, isn’t it?”
“Si, senor. It may look cute and cuddly. But he is a mean bitch,” the lead officer replied. The creature was equipped with optical implants and titanium dentures for ripping enemies to pieces. “You should see what’s left of the team that captured it.”
“Alright, you gonks, let’s get it out to the zoo,” The lead guard ordered.
Padilla’s staff removed the chamber from the truck and maneuvered the creature onto the dock elevator. One of the lawmen offered a couple of the guards some smokes. It was a pretty mundane delivery, nothing out of the ordinary. The lead officer was making small talk with a guard when the “informant” spoke into his hidden earpiece.
“Cameras and turrets disabled, all clear.”
As soon as the call went out, the two other cops drew their silenced weapons and fired shots into the guards, killing them instantly.
“What the fu—” Before the last man could draw his pistol, the lead officer fired two bullets into his brain, splattering the wall red.
“We’re clear.” With the coast clear, the officers deactivated their Behavioral Imprint disguises. Their replicated faces morphed and dissolved away, revealing their true identities.
“Danny, get the girls out of the trunk,” Alex said.
“You got it.” The young man moved toward the police vehicle.
The man in charge of the operation, Alejandro Figueroa, a.k.a. “the Sarapero Samurai,” was a fierce fighter. He was smaller than the rest of the guys but made up for it in good looks and charisma. At 5’9 with short dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes, and a devilish smile, he was known to be a seducer of many affluent women. Alejandro opened the hidden weapons compartment on the side of the truck, grabbed an assault rifle, and tossed it to another agent.
“Raul, take point on the entrance,” Alejandro ordered.
Raul [redacted] caught the rifle with one hand. Standing at 6’3″ or 6’4″, the man was a giant. A dark-skinned mestizo from Colima in the south, he had built up an impressive physique through vigorous physical training. He was a boxer before taking up the fight against the cartel corpos.
“Ah, finally!” Maria exclaimed.
The slim woman stretched her muscles after such a long journey cooped up in the trunk. “Maria” was not her real name. She was Chinese, originally from Bangkok. At about 140 lbs soaking wet, in her mid-30s with beautiful chestnut eyes, you wouldn’t think her to be much of a threat. But you would be badly mistaken. She was an incredible netrunner and handy with a submachine gun.
“Oof, took you long enough. What’s the play?” the other female asked. That would be Sara.
Sara May, a former SoCal highway patrol officer, had joined up with fighters in the Gulf region. She was older than the rest, approaching her early forties. With jet black hair, hazelnut eyes, and her more buxom figure, she was attached to the special mission unit in large part because of her connections to the NUSA. Those connections provided advanced tech, and she had expertise on how to use it.
“We stick to the plan. Cameras and turrets are offline.” Alejandro passed a submachine gun to both women. “Maintain an open channel; things are about to pop off. We only have ten minutes.”
“Are we ready?” Danny asked.
Daniel Rojas was the team’s bioweapons specialist and technician. He stood at about 5’10, with a chiseled jaw, cropped blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Originally from Mexico City, he had been part of a protective detail in PEMEX military for the corporate class and was known as a competent operator. Having spent years fighting “Los Zetas,” he was putting those skills to use fighting the cartel.
“Do it,” Alex replied. Danny used his neural implant to activate the bio-chamber’s stimulant release function.
*****************************
A section of the Padilla’s mansion, called “the zoo,” was reserved for rare exotic animals. Leopards, tigers, and various species of birds and reptiles were kept in this open-air animal cage. It was a popular attraction for the wealthy and politically connected clients of the bosses. The cyberbear was to be another fine addition to the mansion. Padilla’s guards brought the animal into the enclosure when the chamber’s sequence activated.
“What’s the sound?”
The guard took a look at the panel on the bio chamber. Simultaneously, the device circulated a stimulant into the chamber. As the guards were trying to figure out what was going on, the creature stirred awake, opening its eyes. The creature rose to attention, its breathing growing deeper.
“Shit, it’s awake.” One of the men ordered, “Get the tranquilizers—”
The massive chamber door suddenly popped open. “Get back! Get back!”
All of the men drew their weapons, which only served to agitate the beast. The creature roared, fully awake. Padilla’s guards were hesitant to kill the thing. It was worth too much money.
“Someone, get the fucking tranqu—” The lead guard barked before the bear swung its meaty paw toward him. Its claws tore the guy’s head clean off his shoulders, landing on the ground. As the beast roared, the other guards fired their weapons only to be torn to pieces.
**********************
The informant’s job was to monitor the camera feed. “Okay, the bear is loose. You are good to go.” He said.
While the creature was wrecking the place, the team was able to file into the building and eliminate the target.
“Alright, let’s go.” Alex led the way.
Danny opened the door, and the team moved up the stairs. The building had been mostly empty except for the staff and guards. The first step was getting through the lobby.
“Two guards on the right, one civilian on the left,” the informant said.
Danny and Raul moved in, killing two guards, one in the lobby and the other in the hallway. One female worker shrieked and took cover behind a sofa. The rest of the team filed in and cleared the room. Alex approached the women.
“Quiet. Stay there; don’t move.” He said as he zip-tied her hands to the mounted table. The team moved down the hallway and stacked up against the door to the bar. The guards were playing pool while the professionally dressed staff cleaned the counter.
“Five guards and several staff in the pool area.” The informant said, “Stand by.”
Alex watched as the guards received an urgent message from someone up the chain of command. Two men took their weapons and walked out of a glass door closest to the zoo, while the others ushered the staff member into the kitchen.
“Alright, I sent them a request for backup. You’ll have to deal with the rest.”
A guard moved toward the door. As he walked through, Danny got behind him and put him in a headlock, covering the guard’s mouth with his hand.
“HMM!”
“Shh, shh, sshhhh.”
The guard went limp. Alex signaled to Raul, and the two moved in. Raul fired two shots into a guard leaning against the wall, while Alex shot a guard patrolling the hallway in the head. Suddenly, one of the men walked back into the bar from the kitchen.
“Oh fu—” The man tried to draw his pistol, only to have his brain blown off. The body fell backward into the kitchen, which alarmed the staff members, who fled the scene.
“We need to move. Let’s go,” Alex said.
Moving from the bar to the restaurant, Maria was able to quick-hack the cybernetics of several guards, blinding their optical implants. Sara May made quick haste, slitting their throats with a pair of combat knives. As the team moved up to the second level through the stairway, they were spotted by two of Padilla’s protective detail near the top. Ex-commandos of the Mexican Army, his personal bodyguards were veteran operatives, incredibly tough and intelligent. They fired a volley of shots, pinning the team down. At the same time, the alarm system came alive, flashing red and emitting a loud noise that could be heard all the way in San Diego.
“Shit!” Alex tossed a flash grenade in the enemy’s direction before shooting back. Danny dashed forward, with covering fire from Raul, and knocked one of them out with his mace.
“[Redacted], what the fuck happened!” Alex yelled at the informant.
“Alex, I’ve been made! You have to help me!” The informant pleaded.
“Sara, Raul, go get the informant! We’ll go for Padilla!” Alex shouted over the gunfire.
As Raul and Sara turned right to the security room. Alex and the rest of the team fought with commandos, pushing them back to Padilla’s penthouse. The mansion went into lockdown mode. Steel shutters drop to a close, and the automated turrets activate, firing in their direction. Despite the situation, the team managed to disable the turrets with EMP grenades. Alex unsheathed his katana and sliced a few hostiles to bits along the way.
Eventually, the team reached the door, which was sealed shut. Danny covered Alex as he placed explosives on the door.
“Back up!” Alex shouted. With a push of a button, he detonated the explosives. The blast blew in the door, and the team pushed forward. The room was plush with rare paintings and the finest furniture. The trio was then confronted by Padilla’s elite guard. Maria attempted to hack his optical implants, but the guy was equipped with a thick layer of ICE (protective software). The guard raised his heavy shotgun and fired on their position.
The team fired back and found cover where they could. Danny was hit a couple of times; his chest armor absorbed the blasts. Alex readied his katana and charged forward to zero the enemy. The guard dropped his shotgun, reaching for his large machete. The two dueled it out. Blades clashed, and sparks flew as the combatants went toe-to-toe.
“Fuck!” Alex cursed as the machete cut into his chest armor.
As the guard attacked again, Alex spotted an opening and struck him down, severing the enemy’s head from his shoulders. Danny managed to get to his feet as the head dropped on the ground along with the body. Alex panted hard. Maria was a step ahead, searching for the safe room.
“Alex, are you good?! We are running out of time!” Danny asked. Alex sheathed his sword and took up his rifle.
“Fine, I am good,” Alex said.
The team rifled through the Padilla’s penthouse, desperately trying to find the safe room before the police arrived in their AV to save the target. There were multiple guest rooms and gaming areas. With only three minutes left, it was Maria who spotted the panic room. The tiles of the second bathroom formed a hidden door. It was a clever disguise.
“Great work, Maria. Danny, help her get it open,” Alex commanded. “Sara, how’s the informant?”
“He’s safe. We are moving to the rendezvous point,” she replied.
“Got it.”
At that moment, Maria cracked the security on the panic room. The door opened, followed by a burst of gunfire. The bullets ricocheted off the bathroom walls, almost hitting Alex in the head. Danny tossed a grenade in the room.
“Oh shit, shit!”
The grenade blast sent a gust of debris flying in the room, silencing the voice inside. Danny stepped into the panic room, followed by Alex and Maria. The body was partially blown to bits, but there was no doubt that Rafael Padilla was right there, dead as a doorknob. Maria took pictures of the body for confirmation.
“You have your proof? I am sure your people will be satisfied with our performance.” Alex asked Maria. She just smiled. “Good, let’s delta.”
Danny spat on the corpse before exiting the room. The trio joined up with the rest of the team on the roof of the mansion. A “Trauma Team” medical AV was parked, waiting for the rest to arrive. Trauma Team was an emergency medical service company for the well-to-do citizens of the world. As part of its operations, the company is granted freedom of mobility, something that the team took advantage of. All six of the assault team piled into the AV and signaled to the pilot that they were good to go. As the vehicle took off, the crew caught a final glimpse of the luxurious mansion, now one of the most high-profile crime scenes in Mexico.
*******************************
Hotel in Austin, Texas
Present Day
*******************************
Reading the document from front to back gave me a sense of the individual we would be working with in Sonora. These were hard-charging, incredibly tough, and brave individuals. Talent the likes of which TBI (Texas Bureau of Investigations) would die for. The operation they pulled off was a success by any metric. Their skills were not a concern so much as who they were.
Alejandro Figueroa was known to the rangers. He was one of the militia who had trained at the McDonald School. If Lucky thought I was reckless, he had no earthly idea. Alex was tough and highly intelligent, being an expert in explosives and demolitions. He was also the closest thing to a cyberpsycho without being completely crazy. The man delighted in combat to a degree that was almost inhumane. His profile detailed some striking examples of bone-chilling brutality when he was fighting Los Zetas in Veracruz and Tamaulipas. Los Zetas are fucking monsters, but the way he treated POWs was beyond the pale.
Surprising as it may seem, that wasn’t even the most concerning thing about the document. The woman known as “Maria” was a danger. Her official profile was sparse, but Terrence had added some notes on her in the classified document. Her backstory and the shadowy organization that she served helped me understand what had Terrence so worried.
“Well, shit,” I whispered so as not to disturb my guest.
This was going to be a fucking problem.
To Be Continued…