Men of the Law and Shield: Chapter 1 – Another Day on the Job

Chapter 1 – Another Day on the Job

“Hey, coppers. I got a bone to pick with you,” Max says as he reaches for something in his trench coat. “Which one of you gave me a three-hundred-dollar ticket for going five miles over the speed limit?”

“I did. Got a problem with that, or would you like another with a little bit of a beating on top?” I say while reaching for my controller on my desk.

“You know the answer to that. You better put up or shut up.”

Max takes out his controllers, and my friends and I start to play free-for-all on our favorite FPS game on the breakroom TV in the office.

During the match, we joke, and Max says crazy things like, “He’s reaching, he’s reaching! Stop resisting, stop resisting! Officer down, officer down!”

Coming to see what the fuss is about, Sergeant Kurtis Thomas enters the room, rolls his eyes, and says, “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother my boys, Detective Max Marlowe?”

“No, sir. It’s another quiet day in the field,” Max says.

“That’s funny, because I thought you were supposed to follow up on me about the thieves we’ve been after.”

“Ah. I got the file right here.”

Max reaches into his trench coat and hands Kurtis a folder. Looking through it, Kurtis says, “Alright, boys. We got work for you to do right here. You can play your games later.”

The four of us listen to our commanding officer, turn off the console, and take out and look at the files in the folder. Our squad of four is known as the Angel's Trumpet, and our symbol is a flower rendered in a tribal tattoo style, with a white center, four yellow petals, and a red shield around it. Detective Max Marlowe has brown hair and brown eyes, a slight goatee on his chin, and wears a long brown detective’s trench coat, a blue dress shirt, a yellow tie, black dress pants, and black shoes. Underneath his clothes, he has a thin layer of bulletproof body armor. In contrast, Sergeant Kurtis Thomas has black hair, dark green eyes, a chevron mustache, wears a helmet with a king poker card on it, and normal police body armor, a shirt, boots, and everything else. Corporal Cole Belmont has dark brown eyes, wears heavy police armor, a helmet with a shield on it to protect his face, and has the look of a grizzled veteran about him since he was a soldier in the Great War.

Meanwhile, I have brown hair, green eyes, and a normal police officer hat, and I wear the same sort of outfit and armor as Kurtis, but slightly less since I’m not wearing any armor on my shoulders, forearms, or shins. Each of us chose our outfit based on what’s available to our rank and our chosen role on the squad. Even though we have the same tools and gear available as the other squads, we look distinct because of the way we wear our uniforms plus the patch of our squad that we wear on the shoulder of our shirts.

“Alright, boys,” Kurtis says. “These thieves are the definition of petty and amateurs. They robbed places that recognized their voices, left fingerprints, and tried to sell their plunder as soon as they could in various public flea markets and parks as unregistered vendors. God bless the idiotic for making this job easy for us.”

“Shouldn’t we let the locals handle this? They’re who I got this information from and only prevented them from pursuing because you want to handle this,” Max says.

“And I still want to handle this. We’re the police, Max. Dealing with lawbreakers is our job, not theirs. Do you have any bigger fish to fry that we can go after?”

“No, sir.”

“Then we’ll deal with the jewel thieves, and not let some vigilantes or men of honor take care of them.”

“Those men of honor are the reason why we have so many new toys to play with,” Cole points out.

“I know the rumors about the new president and vice president being connected to or members of the mafia, or family, as they like to say, and don’t care about that. He won the election fair and square, has good morals, and is an honest man, unlike many politicians, including the men and women he was up against.”

“He also limited the powers of the tax agency,” I say.

“If he doesn’t do anything else good during the presidency, that one thing made it all worth it,” Kurtis continues. “Back on topic, with how things are now because of our new president, we need to earn our keep as a squad, and as your squad leader, I refuse to let other squads and men of honor hog all the glory, no matter how small it may be. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Cole, Max, and I say.

“Damn right I am. Officer Xander.”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“You need more experience on the field, so I want you by my side on this. Max and Cole, go out to one of the other locations by yourselves and let us know if you see them.”

“Yes, sir,” Cole and Max say.

The squad moves out and gets into separate SUVs. At one of the flea markets, we ask around for the suspects and are immediately pointed toward them.

One of the civilians even says, “Get their asses, officers!”

Another says, “Lock’em up!”

A crowd follows us as we approach the three suspects, who look happy because of all the attention around them, and then lose their smiles the second they see us.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Kurtis says.

“…morning…officers…” one of the suspects mutters.

“I think you know why we’re here. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

The suspects suck in their lips, and I watch for the slightest hint of movement of them either going to run or reach for a hidden weapon. In a split second, the table and everything on it are flipped at us. Kurtis dodges and runs around the side to chase two of the suspects as if he knew it was coming. Meanwhile, the table hits me, and I fall.

“Get up and chase’em, newbie!” one of the people in the crowd says.

“I’m not a newbie,” I say under my breath, get up, and start sprinting toward the third suspect.

Kurtis and I use our squad radios to tell Cole and Max we're pursuing the suspects and to head down to where we are. Kurtis further radios the local stations to come to where we are to clean up the stolen goods, so that no one else takes them. The crowd clears as I chase the suspect I’m after, who continues to knock aside tables and throw stuff at me to slow me down, but this time, I react in time to not let anything slow me down.

“Stop running away, or I will tase you!” I say with my taser out and ready.

The suspect takes one look at me and starts to run faster. Wrong move. I pull the trigger of the taser, and the suspect goes down.

As I get on and start to cuff him, the suspect says, “Wait! You can have everything I stole! I was just stealing stuff to get by and take care of myself and my family!”

“Everyone says that,” I say.

“Come on, have a heart, man! I can’t go to jail! People are depending on me!”

“There are better ways to take care of your family without hurting others. How long you stay in jail will be decided in court. So far, you’re looking at five years minimum based on what I know.”

The suspect continues to struggle with me, so I threaten to tase him again. Not listening to me, I tase the suspect, much to the entertainment of the crowd, who cheer for me and mock him. Now cuffed, I go back to the police SUV and find Kurtis leading two suspects to the SUV. Max and Cole park their SUV as we’re meeting up and are disappointed that they missed the chase.

“Yeah, you can get these troublemakers into the SUV and take them in for processing. I’m not going to let them stink up my car,” Kurtis says.

Kurtis and I help Max and Cole get the suspects into their SUV, who all make excuses about taking care of their families, but we ignore them and slam the door in their face. Then, Kurtis and I watch Max and Cole drive away.

Kurtis pats my back and says, “You did well handling the one suspect by yourself, kid. You need to improve your reaction a bit, though. Anticipate their moves next time by thinking about what you would do in that situation.”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

Getting into our SUV, Kurtis continues talking to me, saying, “Is this what you expected being a cop would be, Xander?”

“Kind of. Why?”

“Most cops either want to live in an action movie, getting into high-speed car chases or intense shootouts, or just be lazy and collect tickets all day. What do you want to do in this job?”

“Serve God by doing whatever the job requires, both the mundane and the intense.”

“Good answer, Xander. It’s the same one I did when I first joined up, and it’s the same answer I have now. You may have a bright future ahead of you as an officer, if you do the same.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t always need to say that when it’s just us casually talking.”

“Yes…”

Back at the station, Max and Cole tell us that our squad got a nice bonus for both getting the suspects and their stolen goods at the flea market, but another squad is getting the credit for collecting the rest of their stolen goods from the house the suspects kept their excess stock in.

“Ah, that’s fine. I only care that they got caught, is all,” Kurtis says.

“Yeah. With that done, can Xander, Cole, and I finish our game? I got a score to settle with them,” Max says.

“No,” Kurtis says with a long pause before continuing, “You have a score to settle with them and me. Don’t think I forgot the time you put a whoopee cushion under my car seat.”

The four of us laugh and continue the game we were playing, a nice rest from the bit of excitement we had from a simple day’s work.

A collection of my latest short stories is out today!

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Ace Argentum joins a secret syndicate called the Hydra Roundtable and is put in a group with like-minded criminals, Kelly McGhee, Al Jarrett, and Suzuki Koyama. The people who join their syndicate do so to commit crimes in the shadows for the betterment of society, steal from those who steal from the innocent, and punish the guilty who aren't punished by law enforcement. Theirs is a group of vigilantes who will steal simple things such as cash to being sent to rout out a cult within the government, and finally to help steal the presidency of the United Chimaera States itself.

This collection includes: Thieves Stealing from Thieves, Virtue Among Thieves, and Redistributive Justice, along with Behind the Story trivia for each short story.

My latest book and last in the Casa Dell'Ambizione is out today!

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The presidency of the United Chimaera States is contested, with the Hydra Roundtable and Paradox Collective in fierce competition. Both factions leverage insider connections, underworld contacts, and supernatural support for an advantage. In the midst of this power struggle are four thieves from the Hydra Roundtable, who know they're on the right side and will steal and kill to seize the country and protect it from a cultish, evil syndicate.

Redistributive Justice: Chapter 4 – Less than Saints, Greater than Sinners

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

Redistributive Justice: Chapter 3 – Dirty Work for a Cleaner World

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.

Redistributive Justice: Chapter 2 – Purifying the Food Chain

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.

Redistributive Justice: Chapter 1 – To Steal a Country

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.