NationStates Jolt Archive

El Nicaragüense-Hondureño Frontera

Juan L. Hernandez looked down at the overpass of the highway connecting the two nations. It was pitch dark, the birds were around his cliff as he was hiding with his M40A1 looking threw the scope at the operation being undergone at the highway. Sixteen men dressed in all black were setting up their explosives on the highway above.

Hernandez looked at them, they were all specifically organized, four explosives charges on each pillar would be more than enough to topple the building. The plan of the FLN was to cut Nicaragua off from the rest of the "country" and set-up a government, this operation would take years, but eventually such an action would be done, as the heart of those who served in the FLN were beating for one reason, the liberation of the great country of Nicaragua.

Bam, a massive explosion echoed threwout the area, the grey mist covered everything as the sixteen operatives fell back into the darkness. Cars had been ripped apart in the explosion, others had the unlucky position of being on the section of the bridge that was collapsing, thus forcing them into a deadly collision with many random objects around them. This wasn't the only danger, however, sharpnel from a car had made its way all the way to Hernandez, and he was four hundred meters away on a raised plateau. But despite his surpise he had a job, he opened fired indescrimentely at those crossing into Honduras. His orders were to fire at any Nicaraguan going to jobs in another country, that was something that would not be allowed, and he also would be the cover for the sixteen men making their way back to the base, his death was expected, most of all by himself.

The explosions that ripped through the Chinandega - Honduras Bridge were big enough to cause significant damage to the bridge, collapsing a whole section of it into the ravine below. The bridge was less than two miles southeast of El Limón, a decently sized municipal center with a few thousand people living there. The explosion was both seen and heard from there and the small police force immediately sprang into action. All eight of the deputies and the sheriff around the municipal center and out on the highway, particularly looking for speeders, rushed to the scene, lights and sirens blaring. Fire trucks and ambulances were dispatched too, both from El Limón and Somotillo, which was three and a half miles southeast of the bridge. Somotillo was a much larger city, with a populace of over five thousand and a more sizeable police and rescue force. They responded as well as the cloud of smoke rose over the horizon and the radios came alive from the police officers and fire fighters coming from El Limón.

The regional 911 Emergency Center was immediately inundated with phone calls as well as drivers slammed on their brakes or saw the explosion in their rearview mirror, the latter of them thanking their lucky stars they were alive. Many sped ahead while few others pulled over onto the side of the road and looked at the rising cloud of smoke, the roar of the explosion still traveling over the plains at over seven hundred and forty miles per hour. It would travel for miles while the cloud hung high over the air for quite some time. Cars in the ravine had been torn to shreds and set ablaze from the explosion, their occupants mostly dead inside. Cars behind the explosion were definitely showered with shrapnel and debris and the ones closest to the explosion were heavily damaged, many of their occupants injured as well but the blast radius wasn't tremendously large due to the location of the placed explosives. Before the police arrived, they suspected what had really happened, given the sound and the nature of the emergency calls, many of whom stated simply that there was an explosion. They didn't know yet that it was terrorism. It could have been a collision involving a fuel tanker or natural gas tanker, both of which could collapse the bridge. Every other year, emergency forces in the area went through various scenarios for disaster emergencies that ranged from downed airliners to bridge collisions and collapses involving fuel tankers or trucks carrying other hazardous materials, such as dynamite or volatile chemicals.

For the policemen and firemen responding to the scene from both ends of the bridge at speeds far exceeding eighty miles per hour, this was the day that never comes. The first officer on scene was a patrol deputy who had been on the highway a mile north looking for speeders and when he arrived on scene he immediately drew his gun, the sound of gunshots telling him that this was no accident. Using the door of his car to hide, he grabbed the radio and immediately keyed up the microphone and shouted into it, "El diputado Alvarez en la escena en el puente. ¡Hemos conseguido cañonazos! ¡Yo no puedo ver al tirador pero ellos son tiros de fusil! ¡Solicite respaldo y cuidado inmediatos a todos bomberos y médicos! ¡Solicite respaldo inmediato en la escena!" [Deputy Alvarez on scene at the bridge. We've got gunshots! I can't see the shooter but they're rifle shots! Request immediate backup and caution to all firefighters and EMTs! Request immediate backup on scene!]

Hernandez saw the people trying to get away, but as soon he also saw workers coming from both sections. "Bastard traitors." he thought to himself as he saw that Nicaraguan were being used as "governmental" auxiliary for a nation that wasn't even theirs. "Fucking disgusting." This time he said aloud, but where he was up in the cliffs camouflage wasn't really of the utmost necessity, the barrel of his gun was a civilian camouflage that matched well, and despite his clothing not being of the utmost visibility it still matched that of the cliff. But all these things were trivial, it came down to the man and his gun.

Hernandez was a man that loved hunting the wildlife of the nation, he saw it as an escape, almost like a drug, except with the experience he had gained hunting dear he could use to free his country, and this is what he loved most about it at this one moment. So he looked down the sigh, the magnification making a shot on an officer just exiting his car possible, he used the bolt to inject a new cartridge into the chamber, held his breath, and fired, the bullet would have an eighty percent chance of hitting the target, but he paid no head to this, since he was sure of his capabilities. He looked away from his scope for a moment to give a rough view of the current happening, an emergency vehicle, he though to himself. He again looked down the site of his weapon, ramming another round into the chamber, and fired off a single shot at the two wheels on the left side of the vehicle, the chances at these smaller targets would be from sixty to seventy.

Meanwhile the operatives had already made their getaway, their regular looking cars blended into the traffic perfectly, most of them had even switched out of their uniforms, but they still had one sad regret... Hernandez. They all viewed him with a reverence that of a priest, he also stood for the independence, but he wasn't one just for talk, as his actions this day would prove. But they all had to make sacrifices, and no doubt that most of the men had already accepted the fact that they would most-likely meet a fate equivalent to Hernandez, but they would be damn proud martyrs for their nation.

Hernandez continued to fire at the wheels of the emergency vehicles, all though it should be noted that he took no additional shots to civilians after this, or that of the actual emergency workers, and fired at officers or those that were garbed in a uniform manner that would be threatening to him. He had fired off eighteen good shots since the time of the emergency vehicle, all with around sixty to eighty percent chance of hitting their targets, but he stopped for just a moment, hiding back behind the cliff and took out his name tag and the picture of his dead family, kissed it, dropped a tear, put them back into their compartments and went back up to continue firing.

The gunshots continued to echo as the tires on the deputies cruiser were shot out, leaving his vehicle immobilized. Irregardless, he was on the opposite side and that meant he was safe from the bullets and since his arrival, the civilians had become less of a target. His radio call had immediately alerted the fire trucks, ambulances, and other patrol cars and they all stayed back while the deputy sat, helplessly pinned down from the rifleman, whom he still had yet to identify. The next closest man was the sheriff of El Limón, who happened to be approaching from the north rather than the west, giving him a much different view of the area than his pinned deputy. As he neared the scene, he could see the muzzle flashes from the rifleman. They were hard to see at first but it was the tell tale sign of a gunshot and each bright flash gave away the position of the rifleman and the sheriff immediately radioed this throughout the police waves. The fire trucks and ambulances wouldn't get anywhere within a mile of the scene now that a sniper had been identified at the scene and that it was blatantly obvious that this was some sort of terrorist act.

As it was, the police officers were on their own. The nearest SWAT unit was too far away to arrive on scene in time to do anything as they were based out of Managua, almost eighty miles away. The sheriff picked up the radio as he brought his car to a halt, almost a thousand yards from the scene and immediately turned his car so that he could use it as a shield. "Hemos conseguido a un francotirador en la cima de la arista, al noreste. Yo sólo puedo ver disparo destellos nada más. ¿Quién lleva un rifle? " [We've got a sniper on the top of the ridge, to the northeast. I can only see shot flashes nothing else. Who's carrying a rifle?] The radio chatter came back immediately with three deputies who had rifles. Because it was rather rural in the area, the biggest threat wasn't necessarily crime but rabid animals and the police officers all carried some sort of heavy weapon in the trunks of their cars. The sherrif and the pinned deputy happened to have twelve gauge shotguns while the three deputies who responded had personal hunting rifles, which turned out to be a single Model 70 Extreme Weather SS .270-caliber, bolt-action rifle and a pair of .308 caliber rifles. Unfortunately, from their side of the bridge, they wouldn't be able to get the gunman and he was out of their effective range.

The sherrif had a plan and he went to action, ordering is men with the rifles to take defensive positions, using their vehicles as shields, and to fire at teh source of the muzzle blasts. The policemen on the other side; however, could move into a position and come up from behind the gunman. The deputies from El Limón went to action and began firing their rifles in a slow, rhymic pace, their sights or scopes lined up on the muzzle blasts. Their shots would still hit the area around the gunman but because they couldn't get a perfect fix on his position they would be falling inaccurately around him. Skilled marksman in their own right, the deputies were not snipers; although, they had all served in the Imperial Layartebian Military during the latter years of the Conquests, as per conscription laws. The men did their best while four deputies, armed with a pair of twelve gauge shotguns and their pistols, came towards the gunman from the rear, being as quiet as possible. They had made sure their vests were secure before they proceeded towards the gunman and they knew that they could take a few hits before their vests were useless but they banked on taking none. Their Level IIIA vests could were adequated named "Second Chance" and were equipped with an IMPAC S.T. hard-armor plate that gave them the ability to stop most pistol rounds not supported by the vest itself as well as a twelve gauge slug moving at sixteen hundred feet per second.

Hernandez saw that they had figured his position and maintained that he had to move, but he wanted to keep them on their edge. So he took off one of his boots and his watch. He wasn't sure if the contraption would work, but placed the watch on the lip of the boot, allowing the glass to reflect it, if he had luck, the wind would knock it back and forth, or, at the very least it would provide a distraction for a bit. He slowly moved over to the right, perhaps another sixteen meters, oblivious to any movement behind, but if they made any moves that were a bit noisy he would likely turn on them and a bloody fight would ensue.

But this wasn't his focus, he had hoped that the changed position would give him a better shot, and it did open him up for one of the riflemen, but this meant that he too could be seen by the riflemen, but his gun was already loaded so he placed his sights on the man and fired, if the man had saw him in time perhaps both of them would be killed, or maybe if the bastard was lucky enough Hernandez would uncharacteristically miss, and the returning bullet would end the martyrs life. But as said before, death was not something he though of in a fearing mood.

Unknown whether a return bullet was already on its way to end him he looked down at the police officers pinned behind the car, perhaps he angle would give him more room to hit them, and so he pressed on the trigger, if there was a bullet coming towards him it would decide the fate of the man, if he could get a clear shot, that was behind the vehicle. And this would bring the defining moment for the FLN, or perhaps more realistically, their first martyr, and this man deserved that title more than anyone.

The movement of the sniper was seen by the deputies below. They had zeroed in on the location of the muzzle blasts so when the sniper began to move, he gave away his position. The deputies continued to fire towards him but now that he was on the move, he was even more out of their league. They continued to pepper bullets near him to keep him on his toes but they weren't hitting him just yet. When the sniper returned fire, he had hit a mark and one of the deputies, who happened to be zeroing in on him with his .308 rifle got caught hard in the shoulder by the 7.62x51mm round, which knocked him back, onto the ground. "¡Coño!" He yelled out as he dropped his rifle and crawled to the side of the car, below the engine and keyed up the radio on his chest. "¡Mierda! ¡Soy golpeado!" [Shit! I'm hit!] The sheriff cursed underneath his breath, wondering where the police officers were on the other side of the ravine. They were moving towards the sniper's original position, split up in teams of two, to approach from the left and from the right. They had muted their radios for the time being, knowing that they were going to be entering a dangerous area and they didn't want to give away their positions just yet. Instead, the Somotillo sheriff, who led that charge, had told the El Limón sheriff that when he broke squelch three times, he was to order his men to cease fire because he was about to strike.

They were getting close, the gunshot noise from the sniper was more than just an echo. It was loud and they were ready to move in and find out if this man was ready to die or if he would surrender. They were going to try to coerce him to surrender first but if he resisted, they would fire and kill him They hoped that, surrounded, the man sniper would give up and be taken into custody but they couldn't know that until it was time to go. Finally, a few minutes later, after carefully creeping into position, the Somotillo sheriff broke squelch, three times. He would wait ten seconds and then he and his other three deputies would pounce, weapons at the ready, rounds loaded and ready to go.

Hernandez felt a weird tinge at the back of his neck, like something was near or someone was talking about him, but he had a mission, so he continued firing at the enemy snipers, but he mentally remembered where his pistol was, underneath his shirt, it was a Colt. 19. But this was a second thought as he fired again the man trying to crawl away, the peppering rounds continued to bother him, but oddly the bullets quickly became closer, and he was starting to realize his death was on his front step.

However, Hernandez noticed that from the last time he backed away, the contraption he left behind didn't work, the bullets became wider and wider, so for another time he moved another four meters to his right, popping up once again to fire at another rifleman that came into view, at this range he was still well within his rifle's capabilities, but he felt a tint of wind, so he had to pull back to re-adjust his sights, and their he laid, at this moment trying to figure out the wind speed around him accurately.

"¡CONGELE!" [FREEZE!] The Somotillo sherrif shouted as he and his men came around and eyed the sniper. The sherrif and his partner were less than twenty feet away from the gunman and about twenty-five feet behind him were the other two deputies. The sniper was now staring at the business end of two, twelve-gauge, pump-action shotguns and a pair of M120A4 Equinox Eclipse .40SW pistols. The police officers had him lined up and if he chose to move the wrong way, they could light him up without a second thought. At such a close range, a single shotgun blast or a few rounds from the sidearms would kill be hard pressed to miss and the police officers weren't required to requalify with their weapons once every eight months for no reason. "¡Usted es rodeado! ¡Deje caer el arma! ¡Ponga las manos en la cabeza! ¡Ahora! ¡Lentamente!" [You are surrounded! Drop the weapon! Put your hands on your head! Now! Slowly!] He yelled at the sniper, all five of them definitely tense.

Hernandez laughed hard, as he dropped his rifle, "So you traitors how does it feel to fight against your own nation your own fucking pride, your own family. You're all old enough to remember the time when Nicaragua was a standing nation, not under anyone's hold, not a piece of a fucking province, we were our own, a nation with problems, I admit, but we had identity." He put his hands behind his head and continued to try and speak to his fellow Nicaraguans, "Can you honestly tell me you can kiss your children and wife and mother knowing that you're helping keeping them suppressed. I can see that from your choice to join enforcement that you aren't a complete traitor, a complete cold hearted beast. You must have some heart because you're trying to help, despite the government, but don't you see? They will use you against your own people, perhaps your own family. If you think this future, under an EMPIRE that isn't even of our own nationality, will care for your children, like a government that is lead by your people. Look the wars were hard, that's true, and at the time was for the unification, but looking on what has happened now, it's something that I will always regret for the rest of my life.

"¡Asno sangano! Engánchese las manos y móntese las rodillas. ¡Ralentice! ¡El movimiento y consigue una bala en el pecho!" [Quiet jackass! Interlock your hands and get on your knees. Slow! Move and get a bullet in your chest!] The sherrif said as the deputies behind the sniper kept their weapons on him. He was talking to them about something none of them were too into hearing. They had been alive when the Empire had rolled into Nicaragua and they watched the bloody fight that ensued. The sherrif had been in his late twenties at the time and had served with the military of Nicaragua but even he saw it as a fruitless endeavor to fight against the Empire back then and joined the post-Layartebian forces and eventually became a police officer. His deputies had joined the military of the Empire after Nicaragua fell but they were younger than the sherrif. They listened to his nonsense but paid it little mind. He was a madman who had shot and injured one of their brothers and they wanted him dead but the sherrif wanted him alive. The Empire was an authoritarian state but justice was served there.

Hernandez realized something in his mind, this could be the break the FLN was waiting for, he smirked slightly at his own genius, not a conceded man, but he created self-confidence when he deserved it, and this was an idea worth a smile. He followed the commands, his pistol still within gripping range, but he would not go for it this time. "I surrender," He said with a bit of a laugh, "I have a Colt tucked under my shirt." He said, these cops would unknowingly help the FLN, in a way that the orginization itself wouldn't even realize until it was already a large force that not even the super-suppressive Layartebian government could stop.

Cautiously, the deputies put the sniper under arrest and watched as the scene ended before them. They were still cautious and kept a sharp eye on the surroundings as investigators and emergency workers combed the scene. The final toll left twenty-two people killed, fourteen more in critical condition, and an additional eleven wounded, mostly from the bomb blasts. The deputy who had been shot would go on to survive but he would have loss considerable mobility in his affected shoulder and arm. Where it would go from there was entirely up to the sniper. Federal investigators from the Domestic Justice Agency would come in and find out just what was what and if they felt that he was something more than a loner psycho, they would turn him over to the more intensive counter-terrorism teams of the DJA and, possibly, even more "intensive" teams.

[OOC: Warping to the DJA investigators holding him. Is that cool? Will edit post if not agreeable. P.S. I'm probably not going to type much, just showing you I haven't forgetten. ;)]

Hernandez sat his hands and feet were still cuffed due to a rough cop. He had seen many of the savage, if not effective ways the Ladies [Layartreb nick name] reacted to criminals. However, this is not to say he was a fan of the harsh treatment given to his people, but if such were to happen to a Hondureño, he would see it as treatment to fine for their kind. It was a distorted racist view he had been brought up with, being born on the border. So he sat in his chains, seemingly and actually unaffected by his bondagement. "Hello." He opened up with an eerie grin, giving it an odd twist of distorted intelligence and insanity, it was amusing to make fun of in the least, but he had a larger plan, even having the capability to throw away his life on a whim, he grasped this opportune quickly, as it would further the goals of the FLN.