Chapter
4 – Less than Saints, Greater than Sinners
With support for Vincenzo being
greater than it’s ever been thanks to the attempted assassination on his life,
all that the Hydra Roundtable has had to do is defend our supporters from the
shadows, while the Campione brothers promote themselves in the light. The
Paradox Collective has been sending their foreigners and far-left supporters to
harass everyone into trying to vote for their candidate, so the Hydra
Roundtable and our allies have to step in to protect the people. If that wasn’t
bad enough, they’re using their contacts in opposing dictator-led countries
like Adler and Cocodrilo to send over their rigged voting machines to sway
votes, and today, my friends and I will be intercepting those voting machines.
In the Hydra Roundtable hideout, I
say, “This will decide the election. If these machines make it to the voting
centers, then the country is lost.”
“I’m still surprised that our main
import ally, Vito D’Accordo, couldn’t stop all the illegal imports from coming
in,” Suzuki says.
“The old man can only do so much in
his city. It’s not like he controls imports from all airports and docks in the
country,” Al says.
“Your family might as well have
full control over the country.”
“And it soon will be for the
betterment of everyone.”
“Heh. This is all weird and sorts
of strange,” Kelly says.
“How so?” I ask.
“We’re helping criminals gain
control of one of the most, if not the most, powerful countries in the world as
opposed to another criminal syndicate.”
“Remember, one criminal syndicate
is virtuous and does criminal things to safeguard its people and preserve its
honor. The other is not,” Suzuki says.
“I’m not complaining. Just saying.
There’s no such thing as honest governments nowadays, is there?”
“Not at all. That’s why we need to
fix it from the outside in,” Al says.
“And the difference between our
enemies and us is that we’re right and they’re wrong. We fight for truth and
justice while they fight for sin and falsehood. They murder. We execute. They
steal. We redistribute. Let’s get this done, and save our country,” I say.
Kelly, Suzuki, and I cheer as if I
made some kind of rousing speech. I nod at them as we put our masks on and head
out. We take up our positions in the warehouse and wait for the ships to get
closer to the docks. Looking around us, I see other people from the Hydra
Roundtable, people with clown masks, animal masks, and masks with fictional
characters, historical figures, and their own custom designs. Switching to
universal comms unique to my friends, me, and those in the innermost circle of
the Hydra Roundtable, I hear them talking about what they’re going to do after,
the patriotism and virtue of this work, the pay for this job, their theories on
who is running the Hydra Roundtable, and guessing it correctly to be the
Campione brothers.
Hearing them reminds me of my own
group during our first year, when we were in the middle circle of the Hydra
Roundtable. My own words and the points that my friends brought up enter my
head as the firefight starts. Strangely, remembering them keeps me calm during
the firefight and makes it pass by as if I’m doing some mundane job. We will
make this country and the world by our criminal deeds. We may have made some
questionable decisions here and there, but none were obviously sinful, at least
not to me. Even as we gun down everyone on the approaching boat and destroy the
rigged voting machines, I feel no shame or guilt, only satisfaction.
“We’ve discovered the location of
more rigged voting machines! We need your help chasing them down,” I hear over
the radio.
My friends and I race to the
location and find the truck speeding away. I drive close to the driver, and
Kelly shoots the driver, causing the truck to crash. Going over to the wreck,
we open it up, shoot the survivors inside, and blow it up.
“Requesting backup at our location!
We found a warehouse belonging to the Paradox Collective that is holding the
rigged voting machines!” I hear over the radio.
Not stopping for a second, my
friends and I drive out to the location and back up our allies. With more
reinforcements coming, our side becomes unstoppable, allowing us to move
through the Paradox Collective.
While finishing them off, one of
the injured enemies says, “You call us cultists and accuse us of using sinful
means of obtaining power when it is really you-”
I shut the man up with a bullet to
his forehead. I know I’m right and he’s wrong for the simple fact that we
submit ourselves to higher powers for a good better than us, while they try to
manipulate it for their benefit. They’re all wrong and in need of salvation. I
cross myself as a prayer for them and leave the warehouse to answer more calls
and send more souls to God for judgment. As the morning sun starts to rise, the
calls stop coming in, and everyone from the Hydra Roundtable and its allies
retreat into the shadows like night shift workers clocking out for the day
shift. When the day shift takes over, the citizens come in and cast their vote.
Vincenzo talks on live TV and streams across the internet to encourage people
to vote for who they think is the right candidate, while also making it obvious
who he thinks is the right one.
For some reason, his opposition
doesn’t say anything on social media, TV, or online anywhere. No one knows
where he or his cabinet are, as if they disappeared off the face of the Earth. The
Campione brothers didn’t sanction their assassination, nor do any of our
underworld know what happened to them, as we were all focused on destroying the
rigged voting machines, and our friends in politics and business don’t know
either, since they’re focused on spinning what happened last night as gang
violence, which it technically was.
“I guess that’s it then. We win,” I
say as my friends and I preemptively celebrate at a café.
“We won the moment Vincenzo survived
the assassination attempt,” Al says.
“Nothing says that a person has God’s
favor other than narrowly dodging a bullet,” Suzuki says.
“So, what? The other candidate and
his friends just ran for the hills?” Kelly asks.
“That’s what it looks like,” I say.
“And nothing’s going to be done
about that?”
“Not unless the authorities say so,”
Al says.
“There’s already an investigation
looking for them. I’m sure they’ll be taken care of appropriately, especially
when the new administration takes control,” Suzuki adds.
“As if they haven’t already,” Al
says.
“To a new, better future we helped
create,” I say with my coffee cup raised.
My friends and I toast to God, our
future, our friends, and ourselves. Sure enough, Vincenzo wins the presidency
by a wide margin. He makes his victory speech in the nation’s capital, where
one of the largest, if not the largest, crowds ever to come out for a presidential
speech comes out. Vincenzo has both a joyous and slightly devious smile as if
he just got away with the biggest heist in the history of the world, which he
really has.
At the podium, which is flanked by
bulletproof glass, Vincenzo says, “Friends, no family. Who am I to call you
friends when you’ve done so much for me that I consider you all my brothers and
sisters? Thank you for trusting my country in your hands, but as for you who
don’t, I pray and hope that I will gain your trust through my actions. I know
that you think I’m taking away your so-called rights to murder your unborn children,
but I’m sure we can both agree on limiting to the point of getting rid of the
tax agency and limiting the powers of the SIB will do our country good. A wise
mentor once told me that men make laws, but God decides what is right and
wrong. Therefore, my allies and I will sanctify our country by making laws
where necessary and getting rid of them where they are not. Do not be mistaken
that I will be breathing down your necks or be completely hands off. The
government I will create is one guided not by my own ambitions, but one guided
by God and what is true and good for all of us. I will not impose my beliefs on
anyone, because true love is given, not forced, but if you do anything to harm
or hamper the lives of my family, my fellow countrymen, even my enemies, then I
will bring down the full force of the law upon you. May God have mercy on all of
us and teach us all to get along and learn to love one another. May God bless
the United Chimaera States and help me to be the leader worthy to serve you. God
bless you all. Amen.”
The crowd says Amen and cheers for
Vincenzo. My friends, the rest of the Hydra Roundtable, and I celebrate as if
we’re just faces in the crowd, which we are. I suspect our job is not done yet,
and that this is just the beginning of our work, something that neither my
friends nor I mind. A life of crime in the shadows to affect what happens in
the light is what we chose, and is a life we wouldn’t want to live any other
way. May God truly help us to make this country a better place, worthy of His
grace, through us, His servants in the dark. Amen.
The End
Chapter
3 – Dirty Work for a Cleaner World
I can’t wait for this election to be
over with. Our Hydra Roundtable keeps indirectly attacking the Paradox
Collective, and they keep indirectly attacking us. They go after Catholic
churches, poor houses, and have gangs of migrants attacking our people, while
we keep stealing from their banks, research facilities, and underground cult
hangouts. These are just a few examples of the attacks that both groups use on
one another, with some being minor fights between groups to larger robberies or
destruction of the other’s goods and money. Vincenzo keeps calling in favors
from people in power that he knows, and they keep calling in favors from their
people in the media and in power, who slander Vincenzo and try to get him out
of the presidential race.
The liberal candidate and his
cabinet, Vincenzo is up against, are the Malefic, the heads of the Paradox
Collective. I wish this were simpler, and that I could just kill them since
they’re always out in the public spotlight, but since that would make their
cause look better and the information we’ve gathered suggests they have others
to take their place, I have to hold back and just do what I can. According to
polling data, Vincenzo is sure to win; however, the Paradox Collective has
people in high places like we do and can skew the election in their favor. It’s
all so irritating to deal with. God, please help the right person to win, and
don’t give our country to the cultists who want to ruin it for their own gain.
Sitting in a Hydra Roundtable
hideout, my friends and I go over the latest task set for us by the Campione
brothers. This time, our friend on the inside of the Secret Intelligence Bureau,
or SIB, Donnie Parlarono, has informed us of Paradox Collective agents in the
SIB who he can’t get rid of and needs us to take a more forceful approach to
the matter. We’re also supposed to hack into a hidden server in the SIB that
Donnie can’t get into and thinks it’s one that holds secret communications
between the Paradox Collective and the Malefic.
“Are we seriously raiding the SIB?”
Kelly asks.
“Guest passes can only get us so
far, and going there in masks will only start trouble, so we might as well go
all the way,” I say.
“It’s what our friend, Donnie,
suggests anyway,” Al adds.
“I’m not complaining. Just saying.
Do you think we can attack the tax agency across the street too?”
“That’s not part of our objectives.
Vincenzo’s friends, probably more Israelis, already have the situation there
under control,” Suzuki says.
“Ah, man! Those people deserve a
beating more than the SIB, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“Alright, so the plan is, go in
with our modified masks, juggernaut armor, eliminate our targets, use
non-lethal rounds on non-targets, and download the server data. Easy enough?” I
ask. My friends agree. “Let’s get this done.”
Getting into the armored SWAT van
provided to us, we put on our masks, make sure we have everything, armor up,
and head out. We put on our police lights to clear traffic as we speed to the
SIB building. Once it’s in sight, Suzuki further puts the pedal to the floor
and rams through the front entrance, injuring a few of the workers.
Immediately, we run out of the SWAT van and arm ourselves with our special
light machine guns, ones that have two drum mags and two triggers; the right
one fires lethal bullets, while the other fires non-lethal rounds. We start
firing non-lethal rounds at the guards inside the building and go to the part
that Donnie said had all the agents of the Paradox Collective.
Pushing our way to it, we find our
targets trying to escape and gun them down. With them dead, we take their
access cards and use them to get into their secret server room. Kelly and Al
get to accessing the server’s contents while Suzuki and I cover them as the
cops and SWAT arrive to back up the SIB agents. Our non-lethal rounds can
pierce through the armor of the heavily armored units, but some of them,
dressed up in juggernaut armor like us, take several more bullets, mixed with
lethal rounds, to take down.
“You almost done in there,
Cappuccino and Rosebud? It’s getting a little too hot in here,” I ask.
“Almost! We’re just getting a lot
of info, some of which from the SIB’s founding,” Al says.
“Our foe has been around since
then, so it makes sense that they’d have their claws in this agency,” Suzuki
says.
“You could say that again, Byakko.
You have no idea how dirty their hands are according to this info. Oh, no.”
Kelly says.
“What is it?” I ask.
“We have to get to our boss now!
They’re going to get to him like how they got to the sixteenth president!”
“Understood!”
Kelly and Al leave the server room,
blow it up, and join us in pushing back the cops.
“They must be getting desperate to
go after them,” Al says.
“They’re going to blame an liberal
extremist, who the SIB is actually responsible for hiring. Afterward, they’re
going to kill him,” Kelly explains.
“Just like with the assassin who
killed the president, the mafia got into office? These people are so predictable
and less than trash,” Suzuki says.
“They’ll be dealt with soon. Let’s
just focus on getting out of here,” I say.
I hit my radio a few times to
signal our helicopter, and by the time we get to the roof, a news helicopter
arrives and takes us away. We tell the pilot to head straight for Vincenzo’s
rally and radio over to our allies what we discovered.
“The Snake Knight is about to be
beheaded! Keep an eye on the secrets!” I say.
By the time we get to the rally, my
friends and I have taken off our armor and masks. We hit the ground sprinting
toward the rally and see Vincenzo talking on the stage.
“My family, Great War veterans, and
neighbors and I helped get a good man elected while the election was being
rigged by the city’s very own police force and corrupt mayor. That’s how you
know that I am doing nothing to rig this election, so don’t listen to those
liars in the media, those people over there who want to wrongfully discredit me
so they can have control of you,” Vincenzo says, much to the crowd’s delight
and agreement.
Everything seems to go in slow
motion as I catch sight of a sniper dressed in an SIB officer’s uniform lying
down on a shack. The sniper takes his shot at Vincenzo, and the sniper is shot
at the same time by an SIB sniper on another shack roof and is killed. Looking
at Vincenzo, I see him slightly turn his head and duck behind his podium. Time
resumes back to normal, and now Vincenzo is taking cover; his SIB guards are
finally covering him, and the crowd erupts into a panic. Nevertheless, Vincenzo
stands tall above his guards and raises his fist in the air, while chanting
something with the Chimaera States flag behind him. The crowd starts saying,
“Fight, fight, fight!” as Vincenzo continues his brave performance, even as he
bleeds, his guards try to keep him down, and get him into the ambulance. He’s
then driven away with a police escort and his family members, both
blood-related and criminal, following close behind.
The four of us are able to join
Vincenzo in his hospital room when he tells his security that we’re business
associates. When we’re let in, I apologize for learning about the attempt on
his life too late, and consider myself a failure because of it.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
Vincenzo asks.
“Yes, but-” I say as Vincenzo
raises his finger.
“If God wanted me to die, then I
would’ve died no matter what you’ve done or failed to do. You and your team did
well, Ace. Turn on the news. Donnie should be giving his report on what
happened.”
Donnie Parlarono appears on the
hospital’s TV and explains that the attack on the SIB was known about. He told
his colleagues that far-left anti-authority extremists would attack the
building, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. The TV then shows the people we
killed as Donnie explains that they were not on the SIB’s official list of
agents and were double agents whom his friends thankfully killed during the
raid. He then brings up the attempted assassination of Vincenzo, saying that
the shooter and the sniper who shot him were both infiltrators, and that the
one who is still alive is being held for intensive questioning. He goes on to
explain that the SIB will look into the shadowy organization associated with
these people, ensure that an attack on the SIB and its infiltration will never
happen again, and make the public safe from any secret syndicates.
“Despite what Donnie said, we
should go after those who planned your assassination. No one takes a shot at my
brother without getting shot in return. No one!” Cesare says.
“Why should we when they’ve handed
us the presidency? All we need to do is ensure they don’t steal it from us,”
Vincenzo says.
Cesare turns to Vincenzo’s wife,
Marin, and she agrees with her husband. Meanwhile, Cesare’s wife, Okazaki, can’t
help but agree even though she also agrees with Cesare.
“Damn it. Damn it! This is why I hate
politics! I can’t stand it!” Cesare says as he storms out of the room, followed
by his wife and kids.
“Vincenzo…” I say.
“Leave him alone. He just has to
blow off some steam. He won’t do anything rash. Go back home and enjoy your
payment. We’ll be defending more than attacking in the coming days,” Vincenzo
says.
My friends and I leave the hospital
room and try to enjoy a nice dinner out in the city.
“You sure we shouldn’t be doing
anything? I like chaos as the next revolutionary, but something like this is
beyond wrong,” Kelly says.
“It’s what the boss said. Cesare
said exactly how I feel, but we can’t do anything about it,” Al says.
“We joined a group of rogues. When
did we ever play entirely by the rules?”
“We joined an orderly, virtuous
group of rogues,” Suzuki specifies. “Break the code of conduct or chain of command,
and your way of life or life itself is forfeit.”
“Ace?”
“I agree with Cesare’s wife, Okazaki.
Something should be done, but we have to lay off for now and reap the rewards
of our enemy’s mistake,” I say.
“Shit, and here I thought I escaped
all the political violence and nonsense when I left the Slav Federation.”
Suzuki, Al, and I try to console
Kelly and to enjoy our dinner together and pray and hope for the best for the
future of our country.
Chapter
2 – Purifying the Food Chain
Meeting at one of the many Hydra
Roundtable hideouts, my friends and I go over the new target that the Campione
brothers have given us. It’s a food and drink research and processing facility
and farm, a place that seems more like a humble facility that supplies and
makes better food and drinks. The information gathered for us suggests that
this place is making products that poison the public to influence and cull the
population, and also sells them the cure in medicine and needles that further implant
diseases and behavior-altering chemicals.
“Am I reading this right? They’re
putting chemicals into the food and water to turn people gay?” Suzuki asks.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re
putting nanobots into everything we consume to either keep track of us or make
us do what they want,” Kelly says.
“Well, I don’t think that
destroying this research and production facility is part of their plan,” I say.
“They make people sick to make them
healthy to their standards and to control them? It’s no wonder why they call
themselves the Paradox Collective. Everything they do is a contradiction,” Al
says.
“As far as I’m concerned, they’re
the living embodiment of sin and need to be purged by our righteous fury,"
Suzuki says.
“Amen, brother.”
“Let’s get this done so I can stop
worrying about the food we eat and what we drink,” I say.
My friends and I put on our hazmat
suits and take our guns, explosives, and USBs to collect any defamatory
information on the Paradox Collective’s allies. When we head out to the facility
and research center, the favor the Hydra Roundtable called in is already
waiting for us, drawing the guards’ attention at every entrance. We rally the
people who’ve been affected by the Paradox Collective’s experimental food,
drinks, and medicine, and they’re all protesting, rioting, and causing all
sorts of trouble. They hold signs and shout about their woes, including losing
children and the elderly, miscarriages, an inability to conceive, and incurable
diseases thanks to the so-called medicine and products made by this place.
Using the chaos as cover, we head into the nearby sewage system and use the map
of the underground to navigate ourselves to get inside the facility.
“I’m glad that we’re wearing hazmat
suits; otherwise, this place would literally melt us alive from the inside and
out,” Kelly says.
“It’s also good that we won’t
encounter any resistance down here, and only have to look out for the cameras.
How do they make sure the toxic sewage here doesn’t get backed up and contained
below?” Suzuki asks.
“They send down underpaid employees
to take care of it. For them, it’s as easy as coming down here with a hazmat
suit and flipping some switches, but if they fall, they’re either chalked up to
being missing or counted as a workplace death, depending on whether a body
turns up. If whatever is down here is released, it could do a lot of damage to
the surface. That’s why we’re destroying the facility above and not touching
anything below it,” I explain.
The four of us carefully make our
way past the barely held-up catwalks in the sewers. Because we take care of the
cameras with our suppressed weapons, some workers come down here to fix them;
unfortunate souls we have to take care of by gunning them down. Surprisingly,
only one group of workers is sent down, and no one else bothers us as we break
more cameras and make our way to the sewer’s exit. Inside the facility, we find
that everyone is wearing a hazmat suit of some kind and going about their
business. To better blend in, we find a changing room and change into the
particular hazmat suit everyone is wearing that has the facility’s logo on it.
“Okay, everyone. You know where to
go,” I say to my friends as we spread out.
We place charges throughout the
facility in places where it's weakest, something that would be harder if we
didn’t have insider info because a lot of places in this facility look poorly
put together.
“It’s no wonder that man-made
diseases get leaked from here. This place is more poorly put together than fake
Mediterranean food made by people who don’t love the culture,” Al says.
“Was there info about human
experiments going on here? What should we do about them?” Kelly asks.
“They’re presumably volunteers,
Rosebud,” I say, using Kelly’s codename. “Once we start blowing this place up,
they’ll have some time to escape.”
“Some time, but not a lot, as if
they deserve it. No one deserves to leave here alive, Cowboy,” Suzuki says,
using my codename.
“What makes you say that, Byakko?”
I say, using Suzuki’s codename.
“Do you see the experiments going
on here? You can’t work here and be innocent, given how it’s all done in
service for a wicked cause and it all results in innocent people being
needlessly hurt.”
“Now you’re making me want to start
the party early,” Kelly says.
“We’ll get there, Rosebud. All my packages
are delivered,” Al says.
“Good work, Cappuccino,” I say,
using Al’s codename. “Start clocking out, and we’ll meet you to pop the
champagne.”
As we set the final charges, we
also tell the friends of our informant to leave while they still can. All of
them leave, knowing what’s coming next. Additionally, we find whatever nearby
computers, use our USBs to get inside them, and gather whatever intel we can,
assuming no guards or cameras are watching.
“Is anyone else seeing that the
computers and servers have more eyes on them than the employees?” Kelly asks.
“They’re more protective of their
information than their people, Rosebud. If you can’t get the dirt, then don’t
worry about it,” I say.
“Yes, sir.”
With all the primary and secondary
objectives completed, the four of us make a quick escape out the front door of
the building, use the car keys that Al nabbed off one of the workers, and drive
away. When we get to the facility gate, we signal to the crowd what’s about to
happen. They radio to the other groups, who then run away from the facility
before we blow it up, causing a massive explosion that blasts away the gates of
the facility, the farm near it, and nearly craters the ground underneath it.
Thankfully, everyone in the crowds got away before the blast got to them, and
all of us are away before authorities arrive. My friends and I go back to our
hideout to change into our normal suits before going to where the Campione brothers
and their campaign allies are making food and handing it out to the poor along
with water and a bit of money. Additionally, there are charitable services here
that offer the poor a home and opportunities to obtain simple jobs.
We meet our informants at the event,
give them the USBs, and thank them for their help, saying, “It was a lot simpler
than I thought it’d be. I expected them to send more security after blinding
their peeping eyes and sending away their repairmen.”
“They never cared about their
people or even the security equipment, especially in the sewers because nothing
could be made to last down there. I’m pretty sure no one was watching the cameras,
and they were just jerking off on their phones,” the informant says. “It’s why I
turned on them. I thought I could do a lot of good there, but I was really poisoning
people. All the bosses there cared about was manipulating the public and
getting government grants to perform their experiments and make their poisons.
I should’ve been working in a charity like I am now.”
“Speaking of that, why don’t the
four of you join us?” Vincenzo says with a gentle smile to my friends and me.
We agree and help our bosses feed
and give to the poor. It’s a strange change of pace, and somehow, out of all my
friends, I’m the only one who hasn’t done this before.
“That’s because you’re too focused
on your usual job of taking things. This’ll do your soul good, Ace,” Vincenzo
says.
“This is another thing that’ll do
my soul good?” I ask.
“Yes, forgive my word choice. I’ve
been taking greater influence from my teacher, Russell Tranquillo.”
Assuming he’s some bigger mob boss,
I don’t question him about Russell. Instead, I focus on handing out things to
people, and I do find it weirdly satisfying. Looking at my friends, they’re
also enjoying this with smiles on their faces and making small conversation
with the poor. Everything suddenly changes when a group of Middle Easterners
spit in Vincenzo’s face and throw their sandwiches at him, complaining that he
didn’t respect their religion by giving them pork.
“Listen, you ungrateful pieces of-”
“Cesare, I’m fine,” Vincenzo says
as he stops his brother, wipes his face, and gives the Middle Easterners a
gentle smile. “My apologies. Next time, mention it, and I’ll give you a steak sandwich
instead or a peanut butter and jelly. Would you like either or both?”
The Middle Easterners look weirdly
at Vincenzo, tell him no, and walk away.
“Those goat-fuckers deserve to eat a
concrete sandwich. They don’t know the meaning of true charity. All they know
is having sex with animals and raping other people’s women,” Cesare says.
“Don’t mind them, and stop speaking
so loudly,” Vincenzo says.
“It’s the truth.”
“Regardless, we have a public image
to keep up. Besides, it is true charity to feed even your enemies. Remember,
the only true man of honor died on a cross while we were still enemies to Him.”
“Tch. You’re right, and you’re
taking too many lessons from Russell.”
“Vincenzo, do you need us to do
anything?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just keep serving the
people.”
“They were probably sent here to
mess with us,” Al says.
“You’re right. No real poor person
denies a free meal,” Kelly adds.
Vincenzo tells some of his people
to take care of giving to the poor, while we go into the kitchen of the charity
house to talk privately.
“Whether or not they were sent by
the Paradox Collective is none of our concern, no matter how likely it is,” Vincenzo
says. “Elections are won just as much in the light as in the shadows, so I don’t
need any of you to cause a scene, unless our lives are at stake. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” the four of us say.
“Nevertheless, I am glad to see
that I can always rely on you four to get the job done. Now, despite what I said,
I need you to cause a little trouble for the Middle Easterners. I’m tired of the
liberal political leaders that the Paradox Collective aligns itself with using
them and the immigrants from the south to invade and ruin our country. I’ll
call some friends that you’ll meet to help you. Show them not to mess with our
home.”
Going out with our masks, we meet
Vincenzo’s allies who are going to help us intimidate the Middle Easterners,
who just happen to be members of the Israeli mafia. They give us bats, Molotovs,
and pistols, give us the general plan of causing trouble in their neighborhood
and having it blamed on the Middle Easterners, and leaving.
“Any questions?” an Israeli mafia soldier
asks.
“Yes,” Suzuki says. “What do you
have to gain from this? Forgive me for assuming your religion, but you people
are usually on the opposite side of us, and care more for your people and
country than this one.”
“I can say the same about you, foreigner.”
“I have loyalties far above my
country.”
“We can say the same. We have no
care for the Middle Eastern dogs, and have common cause with the Catholics in
making this a safe country.”
“You do so to manipulate it from
within.”
“Maybe so, but at least we aren’t
violent and driven by lust like those from the death cult of the Pale Green Horse,
right?”
“Sure.”
“Now, does anyone have any real
questions? No? Let’s get to work, boys and girls.”
We do as the Israeli mafia soldiers
say and cause trouble by throwing Molotovs at churches of the death cult and
breaking their windows with our bats. When we are chased by their adherents, we
bring them to the Israeli neighborhood, where they start a fight with the
locals they blame for the attack on their church. Then the police come in and
arrest them for assaulting the locals. The Israeli mafia soldier thanks us, and
we go our separate ways. Back with Vincenzo, he tells us we did a good job and
shares a meal he’s personally made with us. I have to admit I feel a little
conflicted about what I’ve done. It felt a little like my old job, working for
predatory Israeli loan sharks, but at least this time I was bringing down
people who deserve it, poor as they may be. Well, all I can do now is ask God
to help me be better, enjoy the good I do, and enjoy this amazing meal that Vincenzo
has made.
Chapter
1 – To Steal a Country
“Let’s get this done and get out of
here,” I say.
My three friends agree as we exit the bank’s bathrooms. We spread out and check on everything we need to before proceeding with our plan. Looking above at the cameras, I see that the lights on them are off. Checking my phone, I get a message that the police in this city are preoccupied with other crimes happening here. The guards who usually patrol the floor are not here, and the customers and workers are starting to realize that something is up. My friends and I quickly go to the back and put our masks on. Kelly puts on a clown girl mask, Al puts on a grey mask with black stripes around its eyes and mouth, Suzuki wears a tiger mask, and I have a clown mask with the Chimaera States flag on it.
We’re all wearing suits with long
jackets; I’m wearing the most basic black-and-white suit with a tie, Al is
wearing one with a bow tie that looks like a butler's suit, Suzuki’s suit is
like mine and has his golden thorny cross, and Kelly’s suit is bright pink and
looks similar to a ringmaster’s. At the vault door, our insiders open it,
revealing all the cash, gold, and valuables inside. My friends and I ignore all
that, go up to the locked boxes in the back marked with small dragons, pick the
locks, move the valuables aside, and pull the levers to reveal a hidden door in
the bank. Opening the hidden door, we find a room filled with gold, cash, and
cultists wearing dragon masks and black-and-gold vestments who are beheading infants
on an altar. Noticing us, the cultists stop their ritual and stare at us.
“Sick bastards,” Kelly says as we
take out our compact assault rifles from under our long jackets.
Before the cultists say anything,
we open fire, killing the cultists and saving the remaining infants. We put
away our compact assault rifles, hand the infants off to our insiders, and take
as many of the valuables as we can in large bags. Walking back out on the bank
floor with our masks off, nobody seems to be aware of what’s happened, and no
one questions any of us as to why we’re carrying a bunch of heavy bags. Outside
the bank, I drop a bunch of hundred-dollar bills into the cup of a homeless
veteran of the Great War who is drawing pictures and has a cat with him, before
we enter our truck in the bank’s parking lot and drive off.
“Smooth as always, guys,” I say.
“We weren’t smooth enough to save
all the infants before they could be sacrificed,” Kelly says. “Do these
disgusting pagans really have to be so archaic in the way they try to get what
they want?”
“It’s how they’ve operated for
hundreds of years, and they think it works, so they keep doing it,” Suzuki
says.
“I wish I could go back there and
shoot them again,” Kelly says.
“We’ll get our chance to punish
more of them. They’ll all get what they deserve,” Al says as he crosses
himself.
“Amen.”
Looking at each of my friends, I
see Kelly’s youthful face, her half-blue, half-blue hair, pale skin, blue eyes,
and black lipstick. Al has long black hair, green eyes, and an equally youthful
Mediterranean face. Suzuki looks like the spitting image of the tough samurai
from Tatsu that he is, with long black hair, brown eyes, and a gruff face.
Meanwhile, I’m a slightly old man with a lot of greys in my black hair and
goatee, and my dark brown eyes show a lot of what I’ve been through. Just
looking at us, I can see that my friends are a bit disturbed by what we saw,
but not completely shaken. We’ve seen worse. At least it wasn’t like that
pedophile island run by the wealthy and influential elites of the world that we
raided not too long ago.
We park the truck we’re in at a
church’s parking lot, hand the keys over to some friends, and the truck is
driven off again to a safe location. Right now, a presidential rally for
Vincenzo Campione is happening here with dozens upon dozens of supporters here
for him and his brother, Cesare Campione, who is his choice to be vice
president.
Going up to Vincenzo, I say, “The
withdrawal and deposit of your political donation is complete.”
Both Vincenzo and Cesare Campione
are sharply dressed men and look like real men of status and power, which
should be a given since they own casinos, are the secret heads of a syndicate
of virtuous criminals called the Hydra Roundtable, and are part of the mafia,
or the family, as they like to call it. Vincenzo wears a black-and-gold suit
with a red tie and a black-and-red fedora, and has black hair and deep blue
eyes. Meanwhile, Cesare has a grey and blue suit, a blue bow tie, a grey and
blue fedora, and blonde hair and green eyes.
Vincenzo softly smiles at me, tips
his fedora, and says, “Thank you for the kind donation. Let’s head inside the
church. I think I need a little rest from all the attention.”
“Thank God. I thought this would be
easy, but it can be both boring and exhausting,” Cesare says.
Going inside the church, Vincenzo
waves toward the priests and nuns who smile at him and walk away, presumably
knowing that he wants to be left alone with us.
“What of the cultists?” Vincenzo
asks.
“Filled with holes like Swiss
cheese,” Kelly says.
“That’s good to hear. Did you put a
bullet in them for me? I wish I could’ve been there myself,” Cesare says.
“Yes, we did,” Al says. “All I’m
curious about is whether the tax agency will really turn a blind eye to your
newfound wealth in your bank account.”
“We have people within the agency
who will help us out with that. Besides, that money was in the invisible
account of our foe. No one is going to claim it actually exists. They’ll just
take this loss on the chin. It’s not like they don’t have cash and gold
reserves in other areas of the country,” Vincenzo says.
“Or other places where they’re
sacrificing infants. I say we strike their abortion clinics and the orphanages
they run,” I say.
“We can only hope and pray that we
eradicate it all and that, when I’m president, I can abolish the great evils of
the tax agency and abortion clinics.”
“But is this really the best way to
destroy our foe, this Paradox Collective?”
“It is, Ace. They already have too
much power in the rest of the world, so we can’t allow their candidate to win
the presidency of the United Chimaera States.”
“What about the Malefic? Just
because they don’t have the presidency and we flush out the rats from their
hiding places doesn’t mean they’ll be completely erased.”
“Let me handle that. Getting rid of
them is like getting rid of sin from humanity. We can never completely erase it,
or our other foes like the Middle Easterners, Eastern European Slav Federation,
and Western European Vorfahren aligned Mediterranean Empire and Zeitloses
Imperium.”
“Stop overthinking things like you usually
do, Ace,” Kelly says as she slaps my back. “We’ll be fine.”
“We’ll deal with the problems as
they come to us. We can’t do it all at once, and if things get more difficult, what
are you going to do? That’s life,” Al says.
“Providence will ensure our victory.
There’s no need for concern even in turbulent waters,” Suzuki adds.
“Okay, okay.”
“Ace, please stay with us for mass,
our rally, and dinner afterward. It’ll do your soul good,” Vincenzo says.
I agree and stay for the mass that
they’re holding and dedicating to the country and Vincenzo’s presidential run.
Afterward, a dinner is held in the church’s parking lot where Vincenzo gives
his speech. When I first joined the Hydra Collective, I wouldn’t have expected
to be told by the bosses to support their run for president, but I guess that’s
what happens when you get in the innermost circles of an influential and
powerful organization.
On the stage, Vincenzo says, “Family
and friends, or should I just say, family? We’re all family under God, so let’s
not act distant or separate ourselves from the struggles and lives of one
another. Thank you so much for your support in my struggle to run for president
and for trying to make this country an even better place than it already is. Believe
it or not, my first career choice was one in politics, even though I became a
car mechanic and casino manager. I’ve always wanted to help our country and
wider world from a place where I can do the most, and with your help, we can
make that dream a reality, so I can’t thank you enough. From what I’m hearing
from the news, it looks like I’m certain to win the Traditionalist pick, and
after that, we’ll only have one more hurdle to overcome.
I promise you that I will always
listen to your concerns and do what’s best for our country. As you know, I’ve
already dedicated my life to bettering this community, and I have done so, so you
know I will surely do the same for the wider country. May God help us secure
victory if it is His will, and may God forever bless us and the United Chimaera
States.”
Everyone claps for Vincenzo and
cheers for him. He smiles, bows, and steps down from the stage to talk to them,
sign autographs, and take pictures.
My friends and I are sitting at a
table in the very corner of the parking lot under the shade and a place where
not many can see us.
“Do you think a rally like this
could be attacked?” I ask.
“They have to be stupid to do so. Attacking
a candidate only gives credence to his cause, and killing him makes him a
martyr,” Al says.
“Or sometimes their death is just
their death, just like in my country,” Kelly says.
“The United Chimaera States isn’t
as backwards as the Slav Federation,” I say.
“You sure about that, Ace? It uses
people like us to give illegitimate wealth and power to legitimate people who can
also be considered criminals themselves.”
“The systems of politics and
business that man builds are imperfect. It needs correction from outside,
Kelly,” Suzuki says.
“I know your government is used to
it because they use samurai like you without directly saying so, but also, I’m
not complaining. I’m just stating facts, and why I prefer the career I have
over getting into politics.”
“It’s a noble career path that
requires a lot of discipline and the ability to endure the temptations of
corruption. Vincenzo and Cesare are probably the only men who can handle the
job,” Al says.
“You’re just saying that because
you’re in the same “family” as them, but I guess I have to agree with you. They
are our bosses and, as long as they don’t tell me to join them in the White
House, they have my vote,” Kelly says.
As I look around the parking lot, I
see a lot of infectious optimism and happiness. I’m sure the Campione Brothers
have their underhanded methods in securing the presidency against the Paradox
Collective, who are still a concerning mystery to me. I can only hope and pray
that we win, and that their Malefic leaders see justice one day.
