An author's edition of A Species Guilty of Adultery is out today!

Paperback ($5.99) - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HNJJF3FJ

Kindle ($2.99) - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HNJ18M6C/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0

Unwilling to let their marriage fall to ruin, Zeke investigates the reason behind the death of his wife's first husband and child. They talk to familiar faces and find themselves in a situation they can't get out of, involving a hidden human trafficking ring and people they know.

This author's edition contains redone artwork by An_dres_art, Behind the Story trivia, and the original artwork made for the free eBook version found on books2read.

Shadows in Service of Light: Chapter 1 – Enemy of My Enemy and My Enemy

Chapter 1 – Enemy of My Enemy and My Enemy

I rush my way through a burning ship, shooting every criminal and getting shot in return in an attempt to save captive and abused children. In the depths of the ship, I hear gunshots and their screaming, so I run even faster to the source and shoot the criminals, only to find that I’m too late. Every child is dead on the floor, with one in particular grabbing my attention the most: a naked child filled with bullet holes and holding a burning, ruined teddy bear. A child rises from the pile of dead bodies, picks up a pistol from the floor, and puts it to her head.

“I can’t take it anymore…I can’t take it anymore…” the child says while crying.

For some reason, I’m frozen in place and unable to talk, and only able to move the second after the child pulls the trigger.

“You failed…again,” a distorted voice says.

Jolting awake, I find myself on a plane, remembering that the dream was nothing more than a nightmare inspired by what I’ve seen recently. Now fully awake, I see that I’m back in the plane I was in with my fellow SIB agents, Garnet Nox and Bezalel Lior. Garnet is a woman with brown hair in a ponytail, red-and-gold agent glasses, a green sweater with a dark pink flower in the center and an SIB agent pin on it, a red shirt, a dark green skirt, red pantyhose, and black heels. On the other hand, Bezalel is less formally dressed than usual, wearing his Great War gas mask, which he keeps on because of breathing problems, along with the brown military shirt, pants, and boots he wore during the war. He also has a robotic right arm, wears an SIB pin on his left shoulder, and carries a pouch belt bag across his chest.

“What’s wrong, Draco? Have another bad dream?” Garnet asks me.

“Yeah, and I’m hoping they stop soon,” I say as I cross myself and say a small prayer in my head.

“Are you still dreaming about that human trafficking syndicate? I’ve been having nothing but peaceful rest since then,” Bezalel asks as he peeks out from behind a book written by a saint that he’s reading.

“Yes, I’m still dreaming about it for some reason.”

“The only nightmarish thing that’s come about as a result of us bringing justice to the syndicate is the president selecting us to oversee this operation, helping the Middle East fight against the Slav Federation.”

“Give me a sec.”

I get up from my seat and walk to the bathroom.

“See? Even Draco is sick about this.”

“Bezalel.”

“What?”

Entering the bathroom, I take off my black-and-gold agent glasses, wash my face, and look at myself in the mirror. My black hair has a few more grays than it usually does, and my brown eyes are a dark green today. I make sure my yellow tie, black shirt, blue suit jacket, blue pants, and black shoes are wrinkle-free for today's meeting, then exit the bathroom. I sit down and try to relax again, keeping my mind on the task at hand. Our plan soon lands; we grab our things and meet our new, unlikely allies in a hangar, men dressed in white Middle Eastern garb and military gear provided by the United Chimaera States.

We smile at each other, greet one another, and bow, and then the leader of the group says, “Thank you, agents of Chimaera, for coming to our aid in our greatest time of need. I hope that this partnership not only strengthens the friendship between our nations, but between our faiths of the Suffering Church and the Submission Church.”

Speaking for my group, I say, “We have more in common with you than the Slavs and Vorfahren. Our unity will prove to the world that their seeming recent supremacy in Eastern and Western Proavus cannot spread everywhere, and their godless ideology is false and will be the damnation of them.”

“Truly, God will give them what they deserve. Would you like a tour of the base?”

“Yes, please.”

The Middle Eastern people we are working with are part of what we call the Church or Cult of the Pale Green Horse, or sometimes the Submission Church. They typically deal in war and forcing others to convert. During the talks to make this partnership work, they refused to work with anyone who was Israeli or from any faith other than their own and the Suffering Church, or Patiens Ecclesia, or the Catholic Church. The unity that we talk about is true in a superficial sort of way. We do not worship the same God as ignorant people think, and won’t get to the same afterlife by staying true to our faiths. The Suffering Church is the only true faith in the world, while the Israeli Church and Submission Church are perversions of the real truth.

As such, any partnership between the United Chimaera States and the Middle East is superficial and may come apart at any moment that our common enemies are destroyed, which we already have a plan for. The Middle Easterners tell us how thankful they are for our help as we walk around their base and see United Chimaera State soldiers training their soldiers and talking and joking with them as if they’re all part of the same army. This is all only to secure the Middle East and its resources against the Eastern Slav Federation, who have already conquered Zubr, or what was once known as Poland, and every other territory along the way to get to the Middle East. There’s no official declaration of war between the Chimaera States and the Slav Federation since the Chimaera States still have to make certain preparations before the so-called Second Great War can begin in earnest.

After giving us the full tour, the Middle Eastern leader asks, “From what I see, we are ready to bring death and justice to the Slavs, don’t you think?”

“I do. That’s why we chose to be here today. Let’s get our battle plans together before we move out.”

Before joining everyone in the battle room, we change into nondescript military armor and uniforms and hand our clothes, SIB pins, and badges to the pilot who flew us here. He then departs. No one must know that the Chimaera States were involved here. Not even the Chimaera State soldiers, their uniforms, body armor, weapons, or vehicles show any indication that they were supplied by their country of origin. The only way you’d know is if you had access to internal military or SIB records, and those are closely guarded by the most trusted in both departments. Today, with our arrival, we’ll be overseeing and taking part in the operations of the Middle Easterners and our troops as they fight together against the Slavs.

We’ve heard reports that they’ve been doing well together in small battles and hit-and-run operations, but today, they’ll be taking back one of their major cities and worship sites. The Middle Easterners want the Slav Federation to know that they and their country aren’t weak and conquered yet, so they plan a head-on assault. It’s their favorite tactic to use overwhelming force, if the option is open to them. I also know why they’re doing it. It’s to make sure that we’re on their side because if we just sat back and didn’t risk our necks, then they wouldn’t be helping us. As such, Bezalel and I are out on the front lines with the rest of the soldiers, while Garnet is on comms, updating everyone on the situation.

The leader of the Middle Easterners reminds me, “To die for another, and especially die for God, is the most honorable and noble way to die, especially when it’s in battle fighting for the sake of others and the truth of our belief.”

“Then it must disappoint you that we have copters and tanks backing us up,” Bezalel says.

“Not exactly. When we battle our enemies, it is more honorable and just to do it wisely rather than recklessly. God detests fools who uselessly throw away their lives without guaranteeing themselves a sure outcome. What disappoints me is hearing that your woman is giving us and our forces commands.”

“Garnet is a great tactician, and with all the planes that she has with cameras that show her what is happening, she’ll be keeping us updated on enemy movements and possible reinforcements,” I say.

“If anything, women are better as assassins in war, but if you people from the States have trained them to play with soldiers like pieces on a chessboard better than most men can, then I have to applaud you.”

One of the Middle Easterners jokes, “Women can be manipulative and controlling, so the Westerners may be onto something.”

Bezalel and I not so earnestly laugh along with them as we ride with them in a heavily armored truck into battle. Our truck stops, and we all rush out of it and into whatever cover we can as chaos ensues in the city. Helicopters rain bullets and missiles on our enemies, while tanks fire their shells from afar and get as close as they can to avoid hitting buildings and churches. Many of the Slavs are scrambling for cover as well and struggling to get into their vehicles and man their anti-air guns as our own vehicles destroy them. As one of the helicopters blows up and shoots a building, it falls and crushes a squad of Slav soldiers.

“Careful about hitting those buildings,” Garnet says over the radio.

“Do not worry about them, woman,” the Middle Eastern leader says. “The blood of our enemies and justice done upon them is a reward worth the damage done to anything in the city.”

“You heard him. Destroy all targets regardless of damage done to the city.”

At Garnet’s command, the helicopters and tanks start shooting more recklessly at targets, much to the delight of our Middle Eastern allies, who cheer at the destruction and chant their praises to their god. Meanwhile, I cross myself for the souls of our allies and enemies. Advancing, we enter one of their most sacred places and start clearing it out. Armed with a rifle and pistol, I switch between the two as I rush the enemy, especially after hearing from Garnet that they’re keeping hostages here.

“Be careful not to rush ahead, Westerner. There’s no need to be reckless,” the Middle Eastern leader says.

“I’m an expert at hostage rescue. This is how we do it in the States,” I say.

“If God wants them to be rescued, then they will be. If not, they will die.”

Obviously, but still. I don’t want others to die just because I’m concerned for my own safety. Thankfully, we’re able to rescue the hostages before the Slav can hide behind them, and the so-called holy site for the Middle Easterners is mostly intact, save for the explosive damage, blood, and bullet holes on its ceilings and walls. One of the hostages, a young girl, rushes up to the Middle Eastern leader, hugs him, and then kisses him on the cheek.

“She’s my wife. Well, one of them,” the Middle Eastern leader says with a smile.

Bezalel and I nod and then look at each other, probably thinking the same thing. We look around the area and see drawings across the walls of Middle Easterners in battle, killing pagans, Israelites, and Christians alike. There are also drawings of weddings where men marry multiple wives and also mostly women burning in fire. In the center of the building is a strange black box obelisk that’s said to hold the remains of the Middle Easterner’s prophet who started their church, plus other so-called holy men, their wives, and various objects of importance that only the highest in their church can observe and add to the collection.

Garnet radios over to us, “The Slavs are retreating, and the battle is won. All units regroup.”

“Delay that order,” the Middle Eastern leader says. “Chase down the enemy and destroy every single one of them.”

“What if their retreat leads into an ambush?”

“Send more men.”

“… Roger. All available units, destroy the retreating Slavs.”

We do as we’re asked, and thankfully, the rest of the units are able to catch up to the retreating Slavs and destroy them before we can. The bad news is that they walked into an ambush, and many of the Chimaera States’ soldiers died. Once the ambush is destroyed as well, the Middle Easterners and all the occupants of the city celebrate. They have a party throughout the rest of the day and into the night, with sporadic speeches they broadcast to the world, telling them that the Submission Church and the people of the Middle East will not be easily conquered by the Slav Federation, and that they’ll drive out the invaders all the way to the borders between the countries and far beyond. Garnet, Bezalel, and I are celebrating their victory in our own way, in a separate part of the city, enjoying alcohol that is forbidden for the people of the Submission Church to drink, but they tolerate us drinking it as a way to get rid of it.

“At least they didn’t mention us in their big speeches,” Garnet says.

“They can’t. If they did, then it’d damage their pride and make them look like they can’t defend or get justice for themselves,” Bezalel says as he finishes one drink and goes for another. “Draco, I know you’re thinking the same thing I am. That sick freak of a leader has a child bride, and I’m betting that the rest of his wives are children too.”

“Actually, only ten of his wives are underage teenagers. The other five are women around his age,” Garnet says.

“Regardless, I think they have something to do with that human trafficking syndicate we previously busted. It’s probably why you’ve been having those dreams, Draco. The Cult of the Pale Green Horse was involved with the syndicate and supplied women and children for those degenerates in the City of Angels.”

“We can’t do anything about it now, while we’re working with them, and keep our minds on our primary objective. You already know when our chosen time to act is, anyway,” I say.

“Yeah, but seeing child brides and the exploitation of women is getting under my skin.”

“How do you think it’s making me feel, especially with the things these foreign men say to me?” Garnet asks. “We need to play it cool, for now.”

“You two may be able to bear working with these savages, but I’m not. I mean, look at them down there, parading around the bodies of their enemies and beating them to death like that.”

“Is that so different than what we allowed to happen?” I say.

“That happened to people who deserved it, but those soldiers down there…you know what? You have a point. The Slavs deserved it too.”

“I think you need to lay off the booze, Bezalel,” Garnet says.

“Sure, sure. Let me just finish this last bottle first.”

“Bezalel,” I say as I grab the bottle from his hand.

Even though I can’t see his eyes, I get the distinct impression that Bezalel is upset, not so much at me grabbing his drink, but at me denying him his way of dealing with our situation.

“Okay. Fine. I’m going to sleep,” Bezalel says as he knocks the bottle out of my hand and storms off.

Garnet and I look at one another and agree to go to our separate rooms, not really wanting to drink or talk anymore. I’m sure we both feel the same way that Bezalel does, so getting this whole situation over with is our best course of action. God, I hope it will be, and that the Slavs will be easier than we think to defeat and push back to their hellscape of a godless country.

My latest short story is out today for free!

Download at select online retailers found on books2read -  https://books2read.com/b/mdrw1Z

The Secret Intelligence Bureau, or SIB, is a public law enforcement agency that works in the shadows. When you least expect it, they'll show up at your door and question you about what you may be guilty of. Agents Draco Jung, Bezalel Lior, and Garnet Nox check on strange electrical readings from an apartment complex that lead to the discovery of a human trafficking syndicate that involves many people in movies, TV, and entertainment in the City of Angels.

Government-Sanctioned Mafia: Chapter 4 – Secret Justice

Chapter 4 – Secret Justice

All agents and police officers already outside the targeted house move in just as we arrive on the scene. Bezalel, Garnet, and I move in and are surprised that no one fires a single shot. Everyone in the house surrenders and is taken away without a fight.

“Did you know this would happen?” Bezalel asks.

“This house was surrounded the moment we knew what was happening here. The bureau wasn’t going to take any chances,” Garnet says.

“Whatever. I’m digging deeper into what’s here.”

In the house, Garnet connects to the computers and finds files on the many degenerate parties they had here and the kinds of people they did work with. They apparently worked with other criminal human trafficking rings, a rape gang from the Cult of the Pale Green Horse, and other people they knew in entertainment. Thankfully, no one in the government is mentioned since the syndicate didn’t want to risk their entire operation. The government here is mostly filled with traditionally-minded, good people, so they probably wouldn’t find any allies in it anyway. Going into the basement, we find pictures on the walls of many of the victims of the human trafficking syndicate, most of whom are children.

Further in the basement, we find dozens of dirty beds, and in one room, we find barrels buried into the ground, clothes of all sizes scattered around, flies swarming the barrels, and the smell of something beyond horrible, as if we could smell the evil of what happened here.

“If those fuckers don’t get the death penalty, then the justice system is dead,” Bezalel says as he storms out of the room and runs up the stairs and out of the basement.

Because of what happened and the public outcry surrounding it, the trials of everyone involved are expedited so that the public unrest will die down. Most of everyone associated with the human trafficking syndicate receives the death penalty, except for the people in entertainment who have the most influence and power. For some reason, the evidence we have is insufficient for the jury and judge, but because of the public outcry and the evidence we do have, they are given a few months in prison for severe negligence.

Bezalel jumps up during the decision and says, “Bull-fucking-shit!”

Garnet and I have to hold him back as he and everyone else in the audience cause a scene at the trial. Nothing is changed by the crowd’s outrage, and the decision of the judge is final. With nothing else to do, the three of us go back to the SIB office and are surprised by the bureau throwing a party for us and everyone who helped out take down the human trafficking syndicate. They especially recognize Garnet, Bezalel, and me for discovering it and everything we did, even going so far as to give us raises and promote us in rank. We’re all thankful for it, but the three of us are still somewhat upset by the results of the trials.

“Maybe the jury or judge was bought out. Maybe some of the evidence was deleted,” Bezalel guesses.

“None of the evidence in the investigation was tampered with as far as I knew. I made sure that it was secure in the SIB’s database. I feel like it’s my fault for not being able to get some of the information that was deleted on their servers and computers when they were scrubbing those,” Garnet says.

“Don’t blame yourself for that. You did what you could,” I say.

“I know, but I feel like I could’ve done more.”

“We all feel that way,” Bezalel says.

During the celebration, I can’t help but try to reassure myself that we did everything we could and that this was the best result we could’ve gotten. I even try to delude myself into thinking that those who didn’t get the death penalty maybe were actually guilty of severe negligence, but a part of me can’t stop thinking the opposite. Things are quiet in the City of Angels for a while as the day of the release of the remaining people associated with the human trafficking syndicate arrives. Garnet, Bezalel, and I are called to the briefing room of the SIB office by our superiors. When we enter the room, we’re surprised to find that our bosses aren’t there. Instead, it’s the president and vice president themselves, President Vincenzo Campione and Vice President Cesare Campione.

Vincenzo is dressed in a red and black suit and hat and black hair and blue eyes, while his brother, Cesare, has a grey and blue suit, blonde hair, and green eyes. The three of us bow to them and say how much of an honor it is to meet them. Vincenzo waves us off and says that the honor is his.

He continues, “You three helped save so many children and innocent victims of a syndicate that should never have existed in our country.”

“We’ve been monitoring the situation ever since we heard about it, making sure that everyone is doing their job and no one is stabbing us in the back. I wish I were there to help and not uselessly on the sidelines. You three have more self-control than I will ever have because I would’ve shot every single one of those bastards without even thinking of taking them in alive,” Cesare says.

“Trust me, sir. I was on the edge of killing them all myself. I don’t have as much self-control as you think,” Bezalel says.

“And yet, you held back, but don’t worry about self-control for what we have planned.”

Vincenzo says, “As you know, the people in entertainment associated with the syndicate that got away with their lives and a slap on the wrist are getting out of jail soon. We’ve heard that they’re going to have a getting-out-of-jail party, and we’d like you to make the celebration special for them.”

“What are you suggesting, sir?” I ask.

“What you’re all feeling. What you all know that these people should’ve gotten.”

Bezalel looks at us, and I can tell he’s smiling behind his gas mask.

“Sirs, this is highly illegal,” Garnet says.

“Illegal, maybe, but as I like to say, men make laws, but God decides what is right and wrong.”

“You sound like this is going to happen with or without us,” I say.

“It will. Justice must be served outside the law as much as it is inside of it,” Cesare says.

I’ve heard the rumors that Vincenzo and Cesare are associated with vigilantes and the mafia, but this solidifies it. Given their influence, power, and what they’re going to do, I can’t see trying to stop it as the right course of action.

“What would you like us to do?” I ask.

“Draco!” Garnet says.

“Tell us what we need to do. We’re willing to do anything,” Bezalel says.

“Bezalel!”

“If you don’t want to help, you don’t have to, Garnet. Just don’t try to stop us,” Vincenzo says.

Garnet looks at us, sighs, and agrees to help. Vincenzo and Cesare tell us their plan, and we enact it on the day of the party. As the party is underway, we make sure everyone is inside before cutting the power. We all put on our masks, draw our pistols, and enter the mansion. Bezalel wears a new gas mask in the design of a plague doctor, while Garnet and I wear crow masks. As we move through the house, we silently take out the guards by strangling them with fiber wire. Everyone in the building is now gathered, afraid for their safety, so we radio our backup to enter the mansion from all sides. Before they can come in, we open fire on the remaining guards and tell everyone to stay down.

Our backup arrives, other people in masks, and begins threatening the partygoers with guns and bats as they force them out into the streets, where they start beating them to death and yelling at them about how they’re monsters for destroying their lives and taking away their loved ones. The rageful parents and grandparents are the most vicious, as they yell about their dead or forever mentally damaged children or grandchildren. This whole scene causes the neighbors to call the police, who soon arrive in a few minutes. While the police are telling the crowd to stop what they’re doing and that they’re under arrest, President Vincenzo and Vice President Cesare take off their snake masks and step out of the crowd with their hands up. The police are shocked to see them and are unsure about what to do.

“Do you really want to deny these people justice?” Vincenzo asks.

“No-no, sir,” an officer says.

“Then leave.”

“B…but this whole thing is-”

Cesare interrupts by saying, “Is what? We all know that these pedophiles and scum are guilty, and yet our system let them go free with a slap on the wrist compared to what they should’ve gotten.”

“This isn’t illegal in the slightest,” Vincenzo adds. “This is why my brother and I instituted vigilante laws, so that criminals like these wouldn’t get away with their heinous sins, so please, let these families have what they were denied, and then they’ll leave.”

The police officers look at one another, agree, and then leave. With the police gone, the crowds continue to beat the scum that abused and took away their loved ones before hanging them on a nearby tree, still alive. They hurl their final insults at them, and then leave. Back at the SIB office, the president and vice president thank us for helping them.

Vincenzo says, “Even though no one but those in Heaven will know about what you three did today, I’ll make sure you’re all properly rewarded with a bonus, promotion, and favors in the bureau.”

The three of us thank the president and vice president, who then leave the office as if they just concluded some mundane business with us. Bezalel is ecstatic over what we did, while Garnet is unsure exactly how to feel, though she is satisfied that the loved ones of the human trafficking got what they felt they deserved. As for me, I feel a strange sense of satisfaction and finality, as if what happened was the actual right thing to do and the best thing that could’ve happened to end this whole situation. Thanks be to God for justice finding a way to be enacted on the guilty, both inside and outside human law.

 

The End

Government-Sanctioned Mafia: Chapter 3 – A Messy Rescue

Chapter 3 – A Messy Rescue

All the agents and police officers for the raid on the sex traffickers enter the briefing room and make small talk with one another as they enjoy the free coffee and hoagies.

Seeing a familiar face, I go up to him and say, “Chief Leo! It’s great to see you again.”

“Of course I’d be here after hearing that you were heading the investigation. Will you be in the field or just directing everyone behind the scenes and doing your own thing?” Chief Leo asks.

“Hell no. I’m not going to stay on the side while lives are on the line.”

“And that’s why I always said you were a model officer, and the SIB would be worse without you. I’m sure you two don’t need to worry with him on the field.”

Speaking for them, I say, “Actually, I wouldn’t be able to do as much without Garnet’s advice on comms and on the field and Bezalel’s help in detaining suspects.”

The meeting is about to start, so I tell everyone to please sit down and quiet down for the briefing.

“Did you hear what they said, Draco?” Chief Leo asks.

“Sorry, I didn’t. Tell me later,” I say.

“Get used to Draco being deaf to hearing anything good about him. He’s usually focused on the task at hand. Speaking of which, let’s hear what you three have to say.”

Garnet goes to the front of the room and switches slides on the projector as she talks. She begins by saying, “The sex trafficking syndicate we’re after is about to be trading and getting rid of the people they have on hand at the docks we’ll be heading to, so I’ll be brief. You're all already assigned to teams, and each part of the docks you’ll be attacking. We have sniper support, EMTs on standby, and the Coast Guard ready to chase anyone who tries to escape from the water. Any questions?”

“Do we really need this much support for an operation like this? It seems a bit overkill,” an officer asks.

“Of course we need all this help. The lives of innocents, and especially that of children, are at risk here.”

Another officer asks, “Does that mean it’s kill on sight for these suspects since human trafficking, especially child trafficking, is punishable by immediate execution?”

“Take them in alive, if you can. Because they’re connected to many people in entertainment, we need to know what they know and their testimony to put the people they know in jail,” I say.

“What about those people in entertainment? Shouldn’t we be arresting them?”

“That’s already happening as we speak from other squads of agents and officers,” Bezalel says. “We’re after the suppliers, while the buyers are being put behind bars before their trial.”

With no other questions, we conclude the meeting and go out to the docks. We get to work immediately just as it starts to rain. Heading in with other agents, Garnet, Bezalel, and I attack the docks from the side where all the ships are docked, and start with the one ship that was noted as being the one with all the sex slaves in it. As we board, a crane on the docks starts taking the containers and tossing them into the ocean.

Over the radio, I say, “Get the Coast Guard to move in immediately! They’re tossing away evidence, possibly people into the water!”

“Are you sure? That’ll ruin your element of surprise-”

Cutting off the Coast Guard contact, I say, “Get them over here now! All agents and officers, go loud!”

Gunfire rings out in the night, and the guards on the boat rush to the edge to see what’s going on. The agents I’m with fire non-lethal knockout rounds at them and push into the bowels of the ship. We catch the guards shooting the slaves in the rooms; some we’re able to save, others we’re too late for, which pushes us to move faster. At the very bottom of the ship, we find the guards gathering all the slaves into one cage and setting a fire under it, trying to burn them all alive. Seeing this makes me throw caution to the wind for my safety and the safety of the scum trying to kill innocent children.

I don’t care what kind of ammo I’m loading into my pistol, whether the suspects get shot in the head or not, and how many times I’m getting shot or grazed by bullets. All that matters to me is the safety of the slaves, especially the children. I reach the cage, shoot off the lock, and help everyone out of it. My fellow agents help everyone out of the boat, and it isn’t until I get off the boat that I feel the effects of the bullets I took. I fall to my knees and have to have Garnet and Bezalel get me to an EMT for help. Thankfully, most of the bullets grazed me and didn’t get too far into me, thanks to the body armor I’m wearing.

“That was reckless, Draco. What were you thinking?” Garnet says.

“I wasn’t thinking. I was only concerned for the safety of others, as a real agent of law enforcement should,” I say.

“He’s right. Of all the times to be reckless, that was the most appropriate. Those people are alive because of him,” Bezalel says.

“Tch. I can’t argue with you on that. Just try not to make it a habit,” Bezalel says.

The results of the raid led to the arrest of dozens upon dozens of criminals and the rescue of many sex slaves, most of whom were children. Unfortunately, some of the suspects and many of the slaves were killed, and not much new was discovered from questioning the suspects. There weren’t any servers or computers that could be mined for info, and the only thing that was discovered was one last place where the slaves were brought, bought, and abused, that being the house of a famous movie and TV producer, one that Bezalel and I see every morning during our coffee breakfast together. The next morning comes, and Bezalel, Garnet, and I look at the house as we have our coffee and make our plan.

“You know what we should do?” Bezalel asks.

“What?” I say.

“I should get a launcher from the SIB armory and blow the place up.”

“You can’t do that. The bureau won’t let you,” Garnet says.

“You know what sickens me? That house is one of the most visible places in the City of Angels because it’s on a hill. We see it every day. Everyone sees it every day, and it’s where those sick fucks have been selling and abusing people from! Don’t say that I should take in anyone alive because I plan on killing every single guilty motherfucker in there!”

“We need them alive, Bezalel,” I say. “We don’t know how much deeper this goes.”

“How much deeper can it go? The government? The Church? A lot of those guards on the docks were from the Cult of the Pale Green Horse, and people are saying that the Israeli mafia may be involved with it too. If you want suspects to question, then you better get to them before I do, because I have every legal and moral right to send those pieces of shit to Hell.”

“Okay.”

Bezalel downs his coffee and tells us to get a move on. Garnet and I quickly drink our coffees, go to the SIB office for our briefing, and then head out to the house on the hill.

Government-Sanctioned Mafia: Chapter 2 – Digging Beyond the Bottom of the Barrel

Chapter 2 – Digging Beyond the Bottom of the Barrel

A good thing about being an agent for the Secret Intelligence Bureau is that I can choose who I work with on an assignment and which assignments I take on. For the most part, the Bureau lets us agents decide what we do and only asks us to work with certain people or on certain assignments when the need arises. Since Bezalel, Garnet, and I discovered this sex trafficking ring, we have to see it through to the end, and because of our particular skills, we can simply work with one another like we usually do without having to have anyone else help us on the aspects of the investigation we choose to tackle. Given the list of targets and places we can go, Bezalel and I chose to go to a child talent agency that’s done multiple collaborations with the streamers who owned the apartment complex where this all started.

Gathered around Garnet’s office, I ask her, “What do you have on this child talent agency?”

“I’ve found that most parents who use their services are from poor or middle-class backgrounds, and that every child who enters the agency either gets a job in entertainment or leaves it without a complaint. What’s weird is that some of the kids who did complain about how they were treated either retracted their complaint or disappeared,” Garnet explains.

“That should’ve been investigated before this all started,” Bezalel says.

“They were, but nothing ever came of the investigations. No detective got beyond the surface level or looked deeper into the agency.”

“Maybe they were bought out.”

“Maybe, but they also never got permission to be able to get into the agency’s deeper systems.”

“We could be dealing with an internal issue as well.”

“That’s something else to look into. For now, let’s head to their recruitment center and see what we can find,” I say.

“I want to work in the field today,” Garnet says.

“Why’s that? You have better access to information here.”

“Given the fact that this sex trafficking ring has now been exposed to the public, they’re more likely to start erasing information from their servers and devices. If I’m there in the field, I can use my personal laptop to stop them from doing so and prevent them from wiping their systems.”

“I see your point. You can come then.”

“This is going to be interesting since you’ve only worked with us in the field to stretch your legs from being in the office every day. How’s your shooting?” Bezalel asks.

“I practice a few times every week and go to the gym every day. You won’t have to look after me if a fight starts.”

“I like it. Get your stuff and let’s head out. I want to personally beat these child traffickers into the dirt.”

Garnet goes to the lockers to change and get her stuff, and when she comes out, she isn’t wearing her usual green sweater, red dress shirt, flower bow, red shirt, black stockings, and red heels. Instead, she wears a green and red suit jacket, black dress pants, and black combat boots, but she’s kept her red and gold agent glasses on that she usually wears. We take an SIB agent car to the child talent agency office, park a couple of blocks away so they don’t immediately see us coming, and walk into the building. Despite the place being a popular place to send kids, it’s oddly dirty and quiet at the same time, with seemingly no one around. Garnet, Bezalel, and I walk around looking for someone until a fragile-looking woman walks out wearing a name tag that says Sharon, casual pants and shoes, and a shirt that has the child talent agency’s name on it.

Approaching her, I show her my badge and say, “Hello, miss. I’m SIB agent Draco Jung, and these are my fellow agents. We’re here to investigate your connection to the streamers who were recently arrested.”

“Sir, we didn’t know what they were up to outside of our collaborations. They just had their events here, recommended our services, and that’s that,” Sharon says.

“That may be true. Please stay here while we investigate the rest of the building. Where is everyone?”

“They’re off today. Given the drama happening today, everyone associated with the arrested streamers has been harassed, so my boss has given most people off. Today it’s just a few other workers and me taking care of the building and some office work.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

As the three of us walk around, looking through the rooms, it really looks like no one is here, so then we turn our attention to the back. Bezalel sees someone duck into a hallway and calls out to ask a question. Before he reaches them, something catches his attention in a room ahead of it, and he ducks down and takes cover behind a wall as shots ring out from it. I turn around just in time to see Sharon pull a small pistol out of a nearby drawer, so I tackle her, cuff her, and tell her to stay in place before joining Bezalel and Garnet in the gunfight.

“We can’t waste our time fighting these guys! Put your earplugs in!” Garnet says before pulling out her phone and activating a special function.

I manage to put my earplugs in just as her phone makes a high-pitched noise that makes the shooters hold their ears in pain and drop their guns. Using non-lethal rounds, we knock out the shooters and quickly run through the rest of the building, encountering more armed men and staff. I throw a flashbang into a particularly crowded room, and we put down everyone in the room. The door leading into the next room is locked, but as I’m about to lockpick it, Garnet tells me to move aside. She places a small charge on the door handle and blows it open.

Inside the office room is a colorfully dressed man in a suit, tie, and dress pants with all happy faces on them. Something is burning in the trash next to him, and he holds up a pistol at us.

“You won’t take me in alive! I won’t let you!” the man says before putting the gun to his head.

Before he can pull the trigger, I tackle the man to the ground and knock him out by hitting him in the head with my pistol. Garnet rushes over to the man’s laptop, connects her phone to it, and quickly types away at it.

“Can you save whatever is on there?” Bezalel says.

“I’m on it! He was trying to erase everything on the company’s internal databases! Ugh! Some of it is already gone!” Garnet says.

“Save what you can then!” I say.

“I am! Alright, I got what I can.”

Garnet disconnects her phone from her computer, and it blows up.

“The guy had a self-destruct function on his computer? Next you’re going to tell me that the whole building is going to explode,” Bezalel says.

“Call the cops to arrest everyone here and secure everything else they can,” I say.

While we’re waiting for the cops, the three of us wait at the entrance where we left Sharon, who thankfully is still on the ground.

Suddenly she blurts out, “I did it because I needed the money!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“I gave my kid to this talent agency because I didn’t want to be poor anymore. I wanted to live like the rich people in entertainment and business in the Golden State that they make documentaries, shows, and movies about.”

“What did your kid want?”

“I taught them to want what I wanted, and what’s wrong with that? A parent is supposed to teach their child to care for their parents.”

“Did you know what they were putting your kid through? Did you know about the sex trafficking ring that this place was associated with?” Bezalel says.

“My kid told me about it, but I said that it’s the price of fame and fortune, and I don’t regret a thing.”

“Why tell us this? Do you think you’ll get sympathy or a lighter sentence for your crimes?” Garnet asks.

“I did what I had to do to get a better life for my family. You can’t judge me for that!”

Bezalel slams Sharon’s head against the floor, knocking her out.

“Bezalel! You can’t do that!” I say.

“Piece of shit!” Bezalel says. “That’s what she is! She doesn’t have the honor of even being considered a mother! She’s the lowest of the low!”

“If she remembers that you did that, she could get a lighter sentence, and you in trouble,” Garnet says.

“Whatever. I feel better after giving her what she deserved. I need some air.”

The cops come, arrest everyone associated with the child talent agency, and secure the area. While they’re doing that, the three of us go back to the SIB office and wait for Garnet to connect the information we got to get a new lead for the case.

As we wait, Bezalel says, “That was really quick thinking, tackling that creep before he shot himself, Draco.”

“I got it during my time as a cop, saving suicidal people. Being too late or not reacting fast enough imprints on you the reaction to act first so that you don’t see someone take their own life again,” I say. “You reacted pretty fast to being shot at.”

“Ah. It’s much the same for me. Getting shot and blown up during the war gives you the instinct to recognize the familiar danger. You got any special reactions that you got on the job, Garnet?”

“I can recognize patterns and make logical leaps with the right information,” Garnet says. “I may not have experience fighting people as you boys do, but my studies and work on many investigations help me solve the puzzles we’re given.”

“Oh, that’s right. You know a lot of higher-ups and given one of those expensive educations, right?” Bezalel asks.

“Yes. Doesn’t mean that I got a privileged start to my job, though. I still had to work hard to get to where I am. Speaking of my skills, I’ve found multiple connections between the many suspects we’ve arrested and people in entertainment. This computer has a lot of dirt on them, with pictures of celebrities and politicians with children and sex slaves.”

“Don’t show them to me, or I may break their necks with my robotic hand.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m putting these pictures and videos through a program to make sure they aren’t fake. It looks like these people took in these child actors for a guaranteed role or job in entertainment, on the screen or behind it, as long as they didn’t complain about the abuse, and people in entertainment have criminal contacts who don’t care about killing children or young people, in case they want to get rid of them.”

“Is there enough in there to put these people away?” I ask.

“Yes, there is, now that the program has confirmed that everything in here is real. The last piece we need is just finding what was deleted. The files on this computer are placed under different tiers of importance, and the deletion program deletes the most important first.”

“So, should we wait to find what the other investigators find to get our missing information?”

“There may be no need. I’ve discovered that one of the docks is a place where they import and make bids on sex slaves. If we go there and discover the location of this slave marketplace, we may find what we need.”

“Let’s hurry then, if that’s where people are being kept. Arrange a raid with the local police and agents.”

“On it.”

Government-Sanctioned Mafia: Chapter 1 – Caught Unaware

Chapter 1 – Caught Unaware

My partner, Bezalel Lior, and I are out on the streets of the City of Angels in the Golden State, enjoying a short coffee break. We watch tourists take pictures where movie and TV stars show off the premiere of what they star in, and watch as amateurs perform their tricks or sing on stage to get attention for their craft.

“This almost makes the high taxes worth it. We get free entertainment while enjoying our breakfast,” I say.

“You have a weird idea of entertainment, Draco. Watching a bunch of attention-seeking idiots make fools of themselves in public is sadder than anything,” Bezalel says.

“So, why are you watching it then?”

“It’s something to look at while I’m drinking my coffee, and it is cool to see the actually talented people do their thing and amusing to watch the idiots try to impress people.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you if it’s uncomfortable for you to drink coffee like that, always having to take your gas mask on and off.”

Bezalel is a Great War veteran who needs a gas mask from the war to breathe properly. He also has a robotic right arm and wears a brown suit, a fancy black bowtie, dark brown suit pants, black dress shoes, and has his SIB pin on his suit.

“I got used to it.”

“How come you didn’t pick something more normal to wear in public? Why did it have to be a gas mask from the war?”

“It’s because I wore it so much during that time that I feel safer wearing this than the other masks they offered me.”

“What about the damage done to you?”

“It’s nothing but fancy war scars.”

“So, you don’t look ugly under that mask?”

“Not at all. I look quite handsome.”

“Prove it.”

“Nah. It’ll make you jealous if you ever saw my real face.”

I look at myself in my car’s window for a second, and imagine how Bezalel looks under his mask. In comparison to him, I look like a normal SIB agent, with my black hair, with some light tones to its side, black sunglasses, blue suit and pants, black dress shoes, yellow ties, black dress shirt, and SIB pin on the side of my suit.

On the earpiece radio I have, I hear Garnet say, “You boys done your coffee break yet? We have to make those tax dollars spent on us worth it.”

Garnet Nox is an office worker at the local SIB office who is Bezalel and my backup to look up anything we’re investigating, is able to get us police or agent backup, and just generally keeps us on our toes.

“We’re on it, boss,” I say.

I go into my SIB car and check its system for any reports of suspicious activity that we can investigate. One of the nearby reports says that an apartment complex is unusually using a lot of power for the number of people that are there.

I tell Bezalel about it, and he says, “If the tax agency had as much power as they did before President Campione took office, they’d just give them a higher bill and not look into it, unless the tenants weren’t paying their dues.”

“God bless President Campione for severely limiting the tax agency’s power and influence. I’d hate to be an annoying lawman, so let’s just check what’s going on and get them off the list. Can you tell us anything about them, Garnet?”

“Everyone in there knows one another and is associated with moderately popular online streamers. They bought out every room in the apartment, and everyone who wasn’t associated with them was paid a generous amount of money to leave,” Garnet radios over.

“That isn’t illegal to do?” Bezalel asks.

“Not technically. The people they kicked out made a settlement with them, so it’s legal. It must’ve been a good deal since the current tenants haven’t been sued, nor has their deal been argued since.”

“Okay, let’s just go there, write them off, and leave. They probably have a high bill because they just stream and party all night. I’ve heard these people survive on a diet of energy drinks and pornography,” I say.

“That’s pretty close to the truth,” Garnet says.

“God help those faggots,” Bezalel says.

I drive Bezalel and me to the apartment complex. From the outside, it’s nothing special, except for all the graffiti all over it. It’s three stories high, and many of its windows are blacked out.

Using my agent glasses to send over to Garnet what I’m seeing, I ask her, “Is all this graffiti legal?”

“It's their apartment. If someone within didn’t complain, it’s legal,” Garnet says.

“Alright.”

Bezalel and I go to the office of the apartment, say we’re SIB agents, and ask for the manager. A woman in a business suit approaches us from the back room, and for some reason, she looks all frazzled, and with the way her business suit is, you’d think she was dressing for someone with an office-woman fetish.

“Excuse me, miss. We’re SIB agents Draco Jung and Bezalel Lior. How are you doing today?” I ask.

“Fine enough. Can I help you with something?” the woman says in a somewhat tired tone.

“We saw that the amount of electricity used in this apartment complex was unusual. We’ll be investigating the reason for that, and then be on our way.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

The woman walks back into her office and closes the door behind her.

“I was going to ask her for a layout of the apartment building, but I guess she’s busy with something,” Bezalel says.

“I can get that for you. Check your phones,” Garnet says.

I look at my phone and see a map of the apartment complex with every room marked.

“Thanks, Garnet. This shouldn’t take long,” I say.

Bezalel and I decide to check the electrical room first and find that it’s locked. Asking the nearby electrical workers and janitors for a key, they say they don’t have one but should be getting a replacement soon. Not wanting to wait for it, I use the lockpick gun I have with me and open the door for us.

“What is all this?” I ask.

“Data mining servers,” Bezalel says.

“I know, but I’m asking more about why it’s all here.”

“Is there any record of them having this, Garnet?”

“Not at all. We’ll have to do an investigation as to why they have it,” Garnet says.

“Bezalel. The electricians and janitors are coming down,” I say. “We opened the door for you. Would you happen to know why-”

Before I say anything else, I see the electricians and janitors drawing their pistols on us. I draw my own and open fire on them as I take cover.

“Garnet! We’re under assault from the apartment’s staff! Get police backup down here!” I say.

“On it!” Garnet says.

Bezalel fires back at our attackers and asks me, “Should we take them in alive or dead?”

“Alive! They know what’s going on here,” I say.

I load special rounds into my pistol that inject a solution into what it hits that puts people to sleep. I can’t penetrate hard surfaces, but it can penetrate normal clothes. Bezalel and I use our knockout rounds on our attackers and head up the stairs, wary of any more threats. Sure enough, some Middle Eastern-looking men come out of the apartment’s office firing at us, and there are also others shooting us from the stairs. Bezalel and I shoot them and then chase after the others who are running up the stairs. More people come out of the apartment rooms to fire at us, forcing us into cover.

“They must really be afraid of us finding what’s on those servers if they’re all trying to kill us,” I say.

“Let’s give them another reason to be afraid of us. Put your mask on,” Bezalel says.

He reaches into his pockets and throws small, metallic capsules into the hallway that release a red gas. I reach into my back pockets and quickly put a half-face mask on. The red gas makes people choke up, fall to the ground, and drop their guns.

“The SIB want the owners of the apartment complex in cuffs for questioning,” Garnet radios over. “The primary streamer’s family, who owns everything, is on the top floor.”

“Let’s get this degenerate,” Bezalel says.

Bezalel and I go to the top floor to find more people shooting at us. We shoot back, and we throw more gas to easily take them out. I look at my map and go to the one where the owners live. The door is locked, but instead of picking it, Bezalel punches a hole through it and unlocks it. Inside the room, we find various statues of nude men and women, neon lights, and empty food boxes. It doesn’t seem like anyone is here until one of the doors bursts open and a man in a cat full-body costume charges at us with a bat. After shooting him and knocking him out, Bezalel and I see that the bat is the kind that people shove in private places.

Moving on from the pathetic degenerate, I open a bathroom door to see an older, tanned woman dressed like a schoolgirl. I tell her to put her hands up, but she says she hasn’t done anything and reaches into her pocket. Not taking any chances, we shoot her, and she drops the phone she was reaching for. A fat young adult male with cat-ear headphones then comes out of his room with a rifle decorated with naked anime women and neon lights. We tell him to put the gun down before he can raise it, and he seems afraid to even hold it.

“You hurt my wife! You gotta pay!” the young man says as he raises his rifle.

We shoot the young man, knocking him out. In his room, we find various lewd anime-girl character figures, femboy posters, and pictures of children, both boys and girls. The computer is on, and it looks like he was streaming a popular children’s game. People in his livestream see us and start saying hi, telling us to make sure everyone in the apartment is dead and not to shoot the dog. Police backup finally arrives and helps take everyone in, including the other residents who didn’t fight us. Everyone is questioned, and the apartment’s data servers are analyzed. Bezalel and I meet with Garnet back at the SIB office to go over the findings in my office.

As I lay out the files, I say, “It looks like we’ve walked into a real mess of a situation.”

“I always joked in my head about degenerate streamers being pedophiles because of their audience of kids, but I didn’t want it to be true. Garnet, did you know anything about it before we went in?” Bezalel says.

“There were reports and rumors, but nothing formally investigated for some reason,” Garnet says.

“Well, we’re going to find out that reason soon. The Bureau has all local SIB offices and police stations on this case. The entire apartment complex was not only hosting their streams, but they also streamed porn, and not just any kind of porn, but rapes and child pornography, featuring the apartment’s residents and men, women, and children who were being trafficked and abused for the sick amusement of the people on the dark web.”

“That explains the servers,” Bezalel says.

 “That thing hosted their website and dozens and dozens of their videos, pictures, and pornographic games that they made. It also showed that the operation is bigger than themselves because they’re the buyers, not the suppliers of the people who were trafficked,” I explain.

“Heads are going to roll for this, or should I say hang,” Bezalel says.

“Technically, they may get lethal injection, electric chair, or a bullet to the head,” Garnet says.

“Whatever the case is, we have to arrest them first before they face justice in a court of law, so let’s not keep the executioners waiting,” I say.