NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: just setting the scene

ic: February 16th, 2256; New Haven, Torturous Chamber

"Fire."

Joshua Livani of the Browned Leaves ran out into the street in front of his squad, catching the National Guard patrol by surprise. A sonic rocket struck the Phantom tank, illuminating the cold night, and showing the bodies of countless camouflaged men. Screams of mutilated men pierced through the gunfire, and a crossfire of phasers and lasers made a nice lightshow. The Guards were at a disadvantage before they were even attacked, however. The remaining 6 eventually surrendered.

"Men, line 'em up." Livani hated the National Guard, and would show them no mercy, ever. The 20 gangsters quickly pressed the soldiers against the wall, and got ready.

"Shoulder your weapons." the grunts followed the order. "Cock." resounding clicks sounded. One of the soldiers screamed and tried to run.

"Kill 'em" The 6 men were lit up by the full auto fire.


Midtown, New Haven

Explosions sounded all over, and fire came from the north-west end of town. Captain Walker of the National Guard looked towards the glare, and turned away.

"What is it, Captain?" a new private ran into his room.

"Goddamn Leaves. They won't stop. Those men up there aren't coming back here to the armory tonight, son." He sighed. "Anything else you wanted?"

"Oh, yes sir. There's someone here to see you."

"Send him in." the private walked out, and returned with a black-clad gangster.

"What the hell!" Walker picked up his rifle and pointed it at the man. "Who are you?"

"You don't need my name. All you need to know is that my leaders want a deal."

"What?"

"You give us the armory, and we don't kill you and your men."

"What makes you think I believe your word?"

"Hey, we may be some badass slaughtering gangsters, but we keep our word."

"I will never give the armory up!"

"Suit yourself." the man quickly reached into his belt and before Walker could react stabbed the captain. The private leveled his gun off at him but the gangster was too quick, pulling out his obsolete Desert Eagle and shooting the soldier.

He got on his radio. "Room secured, come down."

A chopper's blade soon was heard overhead, and gangsters started rappelling into the armory. Now it was just a cleanup job...

"Blat swy Kolnfyzz ofk swy Wylysep,
Blat swy Xolxoleof ofk swy Qoldalk,
Blat swy Eddfyzz ofk swy Zepnfyzz, Ail Dalk hlasyps iz.
Za es ez." Archelaus kissed the silver eye pendant, bowed his head and stood. At a noise from the doorway, he looked over his shoulder.
"Sirrah. The Browned Leaves are active today. A UAV caught them ambushing a tank and a xozsolk National Guard patrol." He frowned, as if saying the word brought a bad taste to his mouth. Archelaus nodded, still clutching the pendant.
"Agressive, aren't they? I should hope they do not force our hand. Any other news?"
"We are also recieving eye witness of reports of armed men rappeling into the Armoury in the center of Midtown."
"From a credible source?"
"A Flagellant."
"Very well. Dispatch a UAV, put it's feed through to my screen."
"Sir." The lieutenant nodded and walked away at a hurried pace. Archelaus sat down on a pale blue couch and clicked his fingers. A moniter emerged from the ceiling. On it was a an overhead view of the city, seen from one of the UAV's the Order had at its disposal. It suddenly stopped, and a red box appeared on the display, marking the armoury. The UAV's camera zoomed in, watching the events below.

"Boss? Boss are you up here?" *A rather gaunt looking man, wearing an eye patch over his left eye looked up from a pile of white powder* "What do you want? I'm...busy up here" "Boss, those brown leaf dudes just like, took over a whole fucking armory. It was pretty awesome. Should we like...do something?" *He shook his head, and picked up a cell phone, quickly dialing a number* "Hello? This wouldn't happen to be a Mr. Joshua Livani would it? Well, my little henchman here has informed me of your rather swift taking of an armory. Seeing as my little group is sadly underfunded in the weapon department, i was wondering if i could have some of those sweet weapons you have procured?"

The Don was in his private fortress in the center of Little Italy. The place had been a under social lock down as the local Italian residents began to huddle to the Mafia for protection. The police had long ago been bought off and in some cases whacked off to the point they were almost no existent in Little Italy.

Don Aldo Maranzino looked upon his neighborhoods from the bullet resistant windows of his tower. The place was hard cobbled compared to the days before the Leaves had run their reign of terror upon the city of New Haven.

The aged Mafia Don sat upon his seat and buzzed up his consigliere Carmine Maranzino to his private office at the top of the tower. The Maranzino leadership had not left their tower like fortress in years trying to avoid the possibility of assassination from the many rival factions in New Haven. The Maranzinos had a least two hundred made members guarding this place at one time equipped with some of the most advanced weaponry the mafia could afford.

Carmine Maranzino entered the room and bowed before his Don and brother and kissed his hand in a sign of respect.

Don Aldo addressed his younger brother solemnly, “Consigliere, Times are hard for our people. The rival gangs and organizations seek to exploit and expand and we don’t have the power to stop them like in the good old days. I believe the time has come for us to acquire allies in this matter. I believe we can find them in the slums and maybe the local players in Chinatown…”

Carmine nodded to his brother and said, “I will send Bruno and Luigi to talk to these groups and see if a deal can be arranged between our two different groups.”

The Don smiled and added, “I also want you to deal with the Police Chief of Little Italy. The little rat has been trying to get more protection money out of us and he can’t even see that his time as king of Little Italy is over…”

Carmine smiled and said, “I will send Lono to remove this rock from our shoe…”

The Don waved his Consigliere away and turned his chair to watch the night time movements of his part of the city…

*********************************************************

Bruno got into a Black Sedan and headed up towards Chinatown, It was obvious to all the locals that he was an outsider in their society. He had Italian mafia written all over him with his black sunglasses and his gold rings on his finger. He was definitely not muscle because he came alone into foreign territory with no heavy weaponry. He only carried one molecular Disintegrator pistol and a beam garrote. He kept driving until he saw a group of local hoods on the corner and drove up to them and offered the Don’s proposal…


**********************************************************

Luigi was a skinny rat faced hoodlum that became a made guy in desperate times. He headed down to the slums of New Haven with the goal of recruiting the local gangs in that area for additional muscle and supply and to just plan help in case the Leaves decided to turn the city into a battle zone.

He was driving a grey caddy with shinny golden rims. He was definitely out of place but this had not deterred him as a he pulled up to a group of addicts on a local street corner and inquired with a small wad of cash where the local suppliers were located in this part of the City…


*****************************************************

Lono pulled up to the Police Chief’s home on the outskirts of Little Italy. Police Chief Gordon had been a very crooked cop since his early days but now the Chief had gotten greedy since the Mafia had lost much influence and power with the rise of the newer drug lords.

Lono was in his Black Sedan and parked on the street across from Chief Gordon’s house. The Italian hitman promptly pulled out a beam garrote and put a mask over his head. He quietly left his car and used the cover of the night to climb the fence into the backyard.

He then opened the back window that lead into the Kitchen and promptly walked up the stairs to Chief Gordon’s bedroom. The Chief heard the noise and got up from his bed and tried to get his gun. He was to late as the beam garrote promptly went around his neck and started to burn his skin along his throat.

Lono pulled and twisted to make sure the Chief’s arteries were severed before leaving the area. The cops would find him in the afternoon with his throat slashed by one of the mob’s traditional weapons. It was also to leave a message to other greedy officials in the Don’s payroll…

Downtown Haven. Perhapse the most dangerous place for a mobster, gangster or public servant to set foot in.

Every street for several kilometers had a watcher or assosiate of the Darkscales mob lurking somwhere and if the mob didn't like someone, they had better stay away from downtown, its a damn certanty they wouldn't leave it again.

Right now that theory was about to be tested as a small patrol of national guard had got lost on the outskirts of Darkscale teritory. They'd been trying for several minuits to get directions back to mid-town, but had recived nothing but frightened looks from citizens who were practicly running by.

Now the men watched as a dragona no older than 17 walked around a corner some way away and, upon seeing them, threw back his head and yelled "whedab terning, vi irlym confna" before walking swiftly back the way he had came.

Imediatly the atmospere in the street changed. Every one started to hurry about their business, desperate to get inside. Shop owners quickly packed up their wares and closed their shutters and everything was silent. Exept... The guards couldn't be sure but was that a screeching on the wind? What ever it was, it was getting louder and fast.

A minuit after the Dragona had shouted out the street was empty and the guards could see the source of the screeching. An old Bugatti Veyron (old by the thread standards) screeming towards them, smoke billowing from its black chasis as it's tires ate up the road.

In a flash of motion an arrow flashed from a building, going straight thrugh the helmet of a guardsman, 2 swords flashed from an allyway and into the heads of 2 more guardsmen and another way crushed by a large black scaled Dragona landing on top of him.

As the Dragona landed the car pulled up and its blacked out window rolled down to reveal a family member.
"Bring him" he spat as the other members steped from their hiding places and got in after straping the remaining guard onto the roof of the car and drove off, back to their HQ.

The Don's private fortress, Little Italy
At the main entrance to the fortress an old limo rolled up slowly, lines of Drag-hur eteched into the chasis. The ocupant grined as he looks at the fortres she'd been dispatched to Quaint she thaught as the tinted windows shifted to their normal transparency and she beconed to the nearest Maffia member, flashing her gleaming white teeth .

Little Italy………

The heart of La Cosa Nostra beats in this section of the city and the Limo was seen long before it pulled up to the fortress thanks to the Don’s huge network of associates, spies, and the local family friend here or there. The Maranzinos could easily figure out were this Limo was heading since it was heading to the center of Little Italy and the most important and perhaps dangerous place was Don Maranzino's tower fortress that dominated the rest of the large buildings in the area..

The Italian residents began to stayed clear of the Limo and only the true Mafiosi and their hired muscle could be seen on several street corners brandishing weapons from primitive AK-47’s to the more modern Rapid Fire Pulse Rifles that had recently been used in several mafia related massacres in the last couple of years.

The Limo upon heading towards the large walled complex was greeted by a small time enforcer named Dino as he came up to the smiling woman in the Limo. His Capo Johnny Bartolucchi however, was more prepared in case of betrayal and ordered the guards on the wall to aim their Pulse Rifles at the Limo. If anything happened to Dino the occupants of the Limo would be riddled with enough energy pulse bolts to explode the car and leave a large crater in the street….

Dino came smiling and said, “What brings you to the residence of our esteemed employer?”

The black scaled woman spoke in her soft Russo-esq accent, in a proud and comanding voice, staring Dino straight in the eye as she said
"I have a gift for him... Rather, the farther does. And the farther likes to know his gifts are recived."
A slight dark tone enveloped her last few words and a warning twinkle flashed briefly through her eyes.

*Once the shriveled addicts saw the cash, their glassed over eyes lit up* "Yeah, yeah, he's over there. Follow me" *The tallest one led him to a run down looking warehouse, 2 armed men standing outside* "This guy is here to see the boss man. And he looks like he's from a loaded gang to" *The guards stepped aside. The tall addict lead him through the warehouse, stepping over sleeping gang members, strung out users, and few angry looking homeless guys who lived there. Finally, he lead him upstairs* "Mr. Xavier, Sir, some guy is here to see you. I think he's from another gang" *He adjusted his eye patch, looking Luigi over carefully* "Very well. Now leave us be." "Yes boss. Oh, boss, he gave me some money..." *He tossed him a bag full of pills and powder, the man tossing him the money* "Thanks sir" "Now then, what can i do for you my good sir?"

Harborside

"C'mon, c'mon, put your backs in it, you slugs!" Zeck hissed as he watched his crew unloading one of the speedboats, lugging large crates marked with the text 'Medical Supplies' down the large sewer pipe. The Blackbloods had turned off the pipe's usual flow of waste, which would eventually lead to some pretty smelly results uptown. Not that the stench wasn't already horrid here, but hey, money wouldn't stink. And Zeck would make a fine stack of dough once the drugs made it on the streets.

"Shut it you idiot or they'll here us" *Two ragged looking slum types were hiding near the harbor, one of them holding a rather large weapon* "If the boss finds out we took this thing, He'll kill us" "Yeah, but when he hears what we did with it, he'll promote us. Maybe even let us start dealing for him, instead of just being foot soldiers" "Fine, load it up, and aim for that boat" *The weapon was a rather old looking RPG launcher* "Aim carefully. We only got one missile for this thing" *He took aim and let the shell fly. It smacked straight into the boat...but didn't explode* "Oh shit. You fucktard, the thing was a dud!"

"What the hell...?", one of the Blackbloods uttered in surprise when he saw the unexploded RPG round stuck in the floor of the speedboat. "Grenade!" he yelled out, and the men hit the deck, both in the ships and at the mouth of the sewer pipe.

"It's a dud!" another man yelled out, picking up his homemade flail. "Someone's shooting at us!"

"Not for long", Zeck snarled. "Release Froggy."

Rene "Froggy" Beauville had once been an upper-crust young man of French descent. Now, after heavy use of Nimb and other performance-enhancing drugs, the lean, leather-clad man was little more than a beast. His chains were released, and his handlers threw a pair of hand scythes on the ground before him. The wild-eyed man-beast snarled and picked up the scythes, staring at Zeck.

"Hunt", the boss snarled and Froggy howled with bestial glee, running with the scythes in hand outside the sewer pipe. He sniffed the air and giggled maniacally, starting to jump from pipe to pipe, skittering in the night.

He had caught the scent...

"Now that wasn't very nice" A voice said from the shadows behind the men, another blackscaled dragona walking out of the shadows casualy "You seem to have stumbled on my little plan. I don't like people muscleing in on my schemes, shame really. For you that is..." he clicked his fingers and 3 more dragona with similar scales steped from the shadows, smg style disrupters in both hands.

"Now that wasn't very nice" A voice said from the shadows behind the men, another blackscaled dragona walking out of the shadows casualy "You seem to have stumbled on my little plan. I don't like people muscleing in on my schemes, shame really. For you that is..." he clicked his fingers and 3 more dragona with similar scales steped from the shadows, smg style disrupters in both hands.

OOC:Are you talking to my dudes?

OOC:Are you talking to my dudes? OOC: Yep

*They both threw their hands in the air* "Have mercy. We're just a couple of expendable street soldiers. We won't come back. Cross our hearts" "And hope to die"

"A wish easily granted." The dragona clicked his fingers again and the four melted back into the shadows as the lunaitc french man aproached.

"This is all your fault Diego! You just had to steal that thing. Lets go fuck with those guys at the harbor. What could go wrong?!" "Shut up. He doesn't look so tough" *He very confidently strode up to the scythe wielding beast and punched him as hard as he could in the chest...quickly crying out in pain* "God, what are you made of? Steel?

"Over there. Speedboat near the sewers. Looks like a drug smuggling op."
"Who operates on Harbourside?"
"Mostly Blackbloods. Junky fucks." The two men, clad all in black with balaclavas covering their faces, passed a pair of binoculars between themselves as they spoke.
"Looks pretty calm. Wait, look. Two guys, there. Lugging something. Weapons fired. Looks like an old-style frag RPG." The two waited a second.
"Well, what happened?"
"Grenades a dud."
"You kiddin' me?"
"No, they fucked up big time."
"I'll say."
"Those Blackbloods are up to something... Shit!"
"What?!"
"Check it out, that big ass guy."
"Heh. They picked the wrong people to shoot a stone at."
"True that. However..."
"Beware the mutant. And that guy is one hell of a mutant." The two crawled to the edge of the roof they were on, one of them mounting his railgun on the ledge.
"Got a bead..."
"Fire when ready."
A second passed, then with a flash of blue light the railgun spat out a round at the creature, followed up by a burst from the other mans pulse rifle.

"I say, nice shot." The same voice from the shadows sounded behind the templars "Fancy pea shooter you got there..."

(Void, who did you shoot? Froggy or Zeck?)

(Void, who did you shoot? Froggy or Zeck?)

(Froggy. Sorry, should have made that clearer.)

('sokay, we're just getting started ;) )

Froggy giggled maniacally, his eyes little more than small pin-pricks of black in the middle of feverish, drug-fueled yellow. He moved swiftly, the drugs giving him superior agility and speed, the scythes cutting as one, trying to shred the man before him in long shreds.

He did not even feel the ammo of the railgun pierce his skull, let alone the pulse that shredded its way into his ribcage. He was dead, by all accounts he should be dead, but the Nimb- and steroid-fueled matter of goo that used to be his brain did not quite get the message yet. He giggled and blood spat out of his mouth as he turned his scythes in his hands and threw them up, trying to hook the man before him by his balls.

The shot had not, however, gone unnoticed by Zeck, who watched his prime pit beast get a headshot.

"Fuck", he muttered as he put his binoculars down. "A pair of Gung Hos... But that shot was a pulse blast. Artie, get the drugs outta here! And get me a hunting party."

"Yer gonna go after 'em?" Artie, Zeck's bootlick with a nervously twitching eye and a penchant for flashy clothing - tonight a purple and yellow zootsuit with his collection of knives stashed in the jacket - asked incredulously.

"Those bastards shot Froggy. I'm gonna carve them a pair of new brownholes for that", Zeck muttered as he signaled the speedboats to leave, the crates of drugs disappearing into the sewers.

(Oh shoot... shall I change my post, Amerigan? I just wanted to show how messed-up Froggy was ^_^ )

"I say, nice shot." The same voice from the shadows sounded behind the templars "Fancy pea shooter you got there..."
"More than a pea-shooter, scale face." The two didn't even turn, but the sniper frowned. "That things still alive. Tom, concentrate fire on that beast. It can't have much of a brain left, so aim for the legs." He swivled the gun to look at the speedboats starting to move away. He pulled back the bolt of the railgun, slid in another 5 rounds and opened fire on the boats. His teammate fired off his rifle in bursts at Froggy's legs.

(Oh shoot... shall I change my post, Amerigan? I just wanted to show how messed-up Froggy was ^_^ )

OOC: Nah. Its funner than what i did to them

"Oh you boys are no fun" The dragona pulled out a cmicly large remote controle and pushed a big red buton. A few seconds passed and then a large puff of green smoke erupted in one of the boats.
"Joker gas, or close enough atleast... Some of those old comic books really did have a sense of humour fit of a mobster..."

The beast was simply a maniac. Despite having its legs shot off and bleeding profusely, it did not stop, not even to scream. It just fell on top of the man it had skewered by the family jewels, and continued to hack him into shreds, screams turning into terrifying gurgling and then silence. Finally the beast's brain goo got the message: it was dead. And without a whimper, Froggy fell down into the pile of ripped flesh, blood and guts, and breathed his last.

"The beast is dead. Lovely work." The two slung their weapons over their backs and started away, heading back towards the HQ.

The movement of the two Order members did not go unnoticed. In the silence of the night, they were being followed by drug-laced eyes, with the beat of an adrenaline-fueled heart and sweaty palms that gripped the shafts of maces, knives, clubs and hammers. They were being stalked, the silent hunters waiting for them to make a mistake. Perhaps they would try and cut time off from their walk down the city, and take a short-cut through the narrow, canyon-like streets of the old town, or perhaps they had cars waiting for them...

The movement of the two Order members did not go unnoticed. In the silence of the night, they were being followed by drug-laced eyes, with the beat of an adrenaline-fueled heart and sweaty palms that gripped the shafts of maces, knives, clubs and hammers. They were being stalked, the silent hunters waiting for them to make a mistake. Perhaps they would try and cut time off from their walk down the city, and take a short-cut through the narrow, canyon-like streets of the old town, or perhaps they had cars waiting for them...

The two made their way back carefully, cutting through alleyways and over roofs as they headed back to their safehouse. Suddenly, the sniper who was leading the escape held out an arm.
"Look." He pointed to a street down the way, which was crawling with national guards. "That isn't good. That's blocking our route."
"Can we take 'em?"
"I doubt it. Not without an airstrike."
"Right. So whats the plan then?" The sniper thought for a moment.
"We head through Old Town. We should be able to lose any pursuers there anyway."
"And if those junkie fucks are waiting for us?"
"Then we put some rounds between their bloodshot eyes. Sound good?"
"Hell yeah. Let's move." The two headed off the roof, moving towards the Old Town to skirt around the sizeable patrol.

Zeck grinned to himself when one of his scouts returned and told where the two shooters were headed. Old Town. A few quick barks were issued, and the hunting party made its way ahead of the Order stooges through the city's sewers - a terrain that the Blackbloods knew well.

Zeck assumed that his prey would try to make it through Old Town as fast as possible, which would mean going through the Gauntlet, as Murphy Street was better known: a narrow corridor of a street, the buildings on either side little more than empty skeletons of New Haven's heydays. It was a dangerous route, many good fights had taken place there, but it was also the quickest and surest way to get out of the maze-like Old Town in no time.

The two reached the edge of old town and halted, standing on an adjecent roof top. The sniper sighed and took out a pair of binoculars, checking through the streets he could see.
"What I can see is clear. Too many corners in the place."
"No matter. You still have yours?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Least then we'll go out with honor."
The two clambered down from the roofs and unslung their weapons, the sniper taking out his sidearm pistol, then began to slowly pace through the maze of small streets.

The Gauntlet was quiet. Well, at least as quiet as any place in a bustling metropolis like New Haven could be. The cry of police sirens were distant echoes, as was the sounds of the traffic, only the gleam of neon lights and holograms lighting the otherwise bleak environment.

As the two Order members made their way through the street, Zeck peered at them with his binoculars.

"Get them alive", he whispered to his twitching second, retreating back to the shadows. "I want to make them pay for what they did to Froggy."

The second picked up his mallet and struck one of the empty pipes in the room - hard. The rusted metal dented and a heavy, deep gong reverberated through the Gauntlet.

Then, all hell broke loose. From the shadows and side alleys appeared Blackbloods, armed to the teeth with maces, hammers, knives, some even carrying electroflails and vibroknives. It was as if the night was regurgitating some of the least likeable elements of New Haven onto the streets, the Blackbloods howling with steroid-driven glee as they rushed the two men from all sides. Heavy chains lashed out, trying to hit the Order's weapons from their hands.

*From a rather safe distance away, two gung ho members watched the ensuing battle though a pair of binoculars* "Get the boss on the horn. Yo mister Steelgood, these two order guys are about to get sliced and diced something bad. Should we help them?" *He pondered for a moment* "No. Wait till they're dead. Then try and make peace with the blackbloods. Make sure to tell them those two idiots weren't even official members. Just street junkies" "You got it boss man sir"

The Gauntlet was quiet. Well, at least as quiet as any place in a bustling metropolis like New Haven could be. The cry of police sirens were distant echoes, as was the sounds of the traffic, only the gleam of neon lights and holograms lighting the otherwise bleak environment.

As the two Order members made their way through the street, Zeck peered at them with his binoculars.

"Get them alive", he whispered to his twitching second, retreating back to the shadows. "I want to make them pay for what they did to Froggy."

The second picked up his mallet and struck one of the empty pipes in the room - hard. The rusted metal dented and a heavy, deep gong reverberated through the Gauntlet.

Then, all hell broke loose. From the shadows and side alleys appeared Blackbloods, armed to the teeth with maces, hammers, knives, some even carrying electroflails and vibroknives. It was as if the night was regurgitating some of the least likeable elements of New Haven onto the streets, the Blackbloods howling with steroid-driven glee as they rushed the two men from all sides. Heavy chains lashed out, trying to hit the Order's weapons from their hands.

The two men immediately opened fire, their rifles lighting up the dark street as they loosed off their clips. The sniper rolled out of the path of on oncoming flail and smashed the man on the back of the head, the other man likewise smashing the butt of his rifle into the mans face before firing a burst into his forehead. The two attempted to run, but finding their path blocked off by Blackbloods, stood back to back, attempting to fend off the junkies. Suddenly, the sniper roared an order.
"Nedd swy efbekyd!" The other man returned the shout and both reached for small cylendrical objects attached to their belts. Both went to press the red button on top of them. However, the sniper was smashed in the chest by a mace and sent flying unconcious into a wall. Seconds after, the bomb strapped to the other mans chest, wired to the detonator, exploded, sending fire and sharpnel throughout the packed street.

Back at the HQ, the explosion caused a loud screech in the control room, which caught the attention of the Ordinator. He grimaced and barked an order to a lieutenant, who bowed and ran off to do his duty. Seconds later, a UAV took off from the safehouse and headed for the site. In its wake trailed a man in a black powersuit, head bowed and hands clasped, slowly but deliberately following the path of the UAV.

*The two gung hos both dropped their beers at the sight of the explosions* "Wow. Sucks to be those two. Should we still go down there?" *The other one scanned the area, it was filled with a few dead blackbloods, and the living ones probably didn't want to talk* "Eh...lets just tell the boss that they didn't feel like talking. Now toss me another brew"

Your average Blackblood was none too bright: a muscle-bound berserker who enjoyed the feel of bone and flesh turning into bloody pulp in his hands. It was those who still enjoyed the benefit of having a clear brain that oversaw this heaving mass of barely-contained sea of violence.

Zeck was one of them. And he had to call off his men before they would dismember the man whose chest had just turned into a crispy cavity. The Order would not take kindly this loss, and they had best clear out. The dead were dragged and carried to sewers, the Order stooges stripped of their guns and ammo. The surviving sniper was stripped down to his underwear, Zeck paranoid about some homing device this guy might had, before he was carried in chains into the sewers below.

Before the last of the Blackbloods retreated into the sewers, he set up a small package on the ground. Unfortunately for him, Zeck's second was already anxious to get away, and he pressed the remote detonator too soon.

The man who had carried the package got to see the home-made thermal bomb blow up - up-close and personal. Of course the heat wave alone stripped the flesh from his bones and cindered his skeleton, but it was still a sight for sore eyes as the Gauntlet was purged by fire.

The UAV arrived in time to see the firebomb detonate, relaying the feed to HQ.
"These men have killed brothers." Archelaus frowned, speaking to the Flagellant (http://bestgamewallpapers.com/files/command-conquer-3/the-black-hand.jpg) over a secure comm link. "Not only have they forced him to take his own life in defense of the Order, but they have taken one of our brothers hostage, most likely to torture or otherwise inconvience him. They have even burnt the body of the fallen one." The flagellant grimaced under his helmet, face scarred and holy symbols carved into his flesh. "You are to be the instrument of Kal's will. Fell the infidels and take their skulls to add to His throne."
"It will be." The only words any flagellant ever spoke, in their raspy, strangulated voice. A faint chatter of code came onto the comm, relayed from the UAV drone. The flagellant picked up pace, heading for the explosions. A few minutes later, he arrived silently behind the two Gung Hos. He picked them both up by the collars and turned them round to face him. He stared at them for a moment, face unreadable through the helmet, then growled.
"You are not my quarry. Why do you watch the death of my kinsman with such blaisé disregard?" Malice crept into his voice as he neared the end of his sentence.

Just outside New Haven:

"Brothers and sisters," began Templeton, "at our last meeting it was agreed that I would preside over this meeting, so if there is no further objections, I will call this meeting to order." Saying this, he sat down in a steel chair while a young lady, Jesse, stood up to address the audience, "Comrades, I would like to announce that our medicine distribution campaign has been a success. As a result of our efforts, 3000 of New Haven's poorest children have been able to keep current with their inoculations. However, the Black Leaves have been a bit of a problem as of late as they have intimidated many of the people in the community. This has been great obstacle in our literacy campaigns, and some members of that organization have taken control of some of our rec centers. I ask all Vigilantes, what actions shall we take to prevent this from happening again?" As she said this, a hand went up. She recognized the elderly man, Samson, and he made the following motion: Due to recent incidents involving the Black Leaves which have diminished our capacity to serve the community, I move that we deploy our militia forces to the Black Leaves bases of operations so as to eliminate the threat they pose to our volunteers.
Templeton asked all in favor to raise their hands, and it was unanimous that action be taken against the Black Leaves.

"We could help with that" a voice said from somewhere near Jesses left ear as a tall, leather clad dragona flickered into visablity, about 25 more doing so at stratigec positions, heavy assault rifles and a minigun were seen cradeled in their arms.
"The farther sends his regards, and children, to present you with a token of his apreciation."

"Really, well, let me introduce myself," began Templeton, "I am Templeton, an assault team coordinator for The Vigilantes. And what is your name, may I ask? Also, what are your intentions concerning your group's assistance in taking out the Black Leaves?"

*They stared at him, trying not to piss themselves in fear* "Well, we were just here on a break, having a few beers. We didn't expect to see a good mauling. Plus, we are just two regular dudes. Those blackbloods would have torn us to so many pieces, you'd need a magnifying glass to find what was left of us" "Plus, those guys are scary" "Shut up Mike" "No, you shut up" "Do i have to pistol whip your dumb ass again?!"

"My name is not important Templeton, but if you should seek to strike at the black leaves, we will happily help. Infact the farther has" the dragonja checked his watch for a second "Just hit a blackleaves shipment with some joker gas... he does so like that stuff..."

ooc: sorry for not posting.

ic: Brother Zaboushky(the man who stabbed the captain) and his men moved into the Armory, kicking down the doors where the Guardsmen slept and shooting the groggy men. Casualties were low, as usual, and the Browned Leaf grunts outside were covering their superior allies in the building.
It was a quick job. 34 Guardsmen holding out in the main corridor where the weapons were stored had surrendered, and were being transported to "The Converter", a building where untold methods were used to convert enemy agents. The gangsters had secured the building, and moved towards windows to prevent it being recaptured until reinforcements came. But it seemed people had noticed.

"Sir!" one gangster asked. "We have a UAV above us, and its not ours!"

"Can you identify it?" asked Zaboushky.

"It looks like...I think it could be an Order unit, sir!"

"Don't fire on it. The Order is neutral to us, and could be a possible ally." He then turned towards his techies, on the armory computer system trying to deactivate the turrets and other defenses. "Hey, you, can you hack into the video feed of the Order UAV above us?"

The spectacled man snorted. "Can I hack into it?"

"Shut up, you geek, and get to work, or I'll send you to our Investigators.

The man gulped. "I'll get on it right now." He got on his laptop, pulling out its antenna, and tapped on the keys. "Done. Do you want to give them live feed?"

"Yes. Give it to me." Zaboushky took the laptop and looked straight at its webcam, adressing whoever was on it.

"Order members, this is Brother Zaboushky of the Black Leaves. I speak for the leadership of the BL. We wish for a favorable gang alliance between us in this anarchic fight. We can reward you greatly, because as you can see we have captured the National Guard armory, and your faction needs some weapons and heavy support. I thank you for allowing us the courtesy of this beautiful feed on this wonderful aircraft."

* *They stared at him, trying not to piss themselves in fear* "Well, we were just here on a break, having a few beers. We didn't expect to see a good mauling. Plus, we are just two regular dudes. Those blackbloods would have torn us to so many pieces, you'd need a magnifying glass to find what was left of us" "Plus, those guys are scary" "Shut up Mike" "No, you shut up" "Do i have to pistol whip your dumb ass again?!"

"You are lucky I have a task from the Master." He dropped the two, then proceeded to walk away. "In other circumstances I would have your skulls." He jumped down from the roof, his armor absorbing the shock of the landing, then made his way to the sewers, staying in the shadows.


"Order members, this is Brother Zaboushky of the Black Leaves. I speak for the leadership of the BL. We wish for a favorable gang alliance between us in this anarchic fight. We can reward you greatly, because as you can see we have captured the National Guard armory, and your faction needs some weapons and heavy support. I thank you for allowing us the courtesy of this beautiful feed on this wonderful aircraft."

After a few seconds, the UAV (http://media.comicvine.com/uploads/0/3119/433181-250px_sith_probe_droid_negtd_1__large.jpg) descended to face level with Zaboushky, and a small holographic protector turned on. Archaelus, or at least the holographic representation of him, bowed.
"There are perhaps better ways to request mutal assistance than by hijacking another factions vehicle, but manners are not really important in such times, are they? I am Ordinator Archaelus of the Order. Your proposal is... interesting. Access to the armory would indeed be a favorable boon. What would you ask of us in return?"

A splash of tepid water brought the captive Order member back to his senses. Unfortunately, those very same senses were immediately assaulted by the dank smell of sewage, sweat and blood as a tall, Mohawked Blackblood stood over him.

"Wakey wakey, meat", the man growled, kicking the man on the ground. He had been stripped naked, save for his loincloth, and apparently scanned for any subdermal weapons or transponders. He was lying on the floor of a dank cage, his arms chained behind his back.

"You and your companion sure know how to piss people off", a new voice broke in. Zeck, a tall, musclebound man of African origins, looked at the 'meat' on the floor, his fingers tapping the pommel of a large mallet. "Do you have any kind of idea how much work went down the drain when you fuckers killed Froggy? Do you, pencil dick?"

A splash of tepid water brought the captive Order member back to his senses. Unfortunately, those very same senses were immediately assaulted by the dank smell of sewage, sweat and blood as a tall, Mohawked Blackblood stood over him.

"Wakey wakey, meat", the man growled, kicking the man on the ground. He had been stripped naked, save for his loincloth, and apparently scanned for any subdermal weapons or transponders. He was lying on the floor of a dank cage, his arms chained behind his back.

"You and your companion sure know how to piss people off", a new voice broke in. Zeck, a tall, musclebound man of African origins, looked at the 'meat' on the floor, his fingers tapping the pommel of a large mallet. "Do you have any kind of idea how much work went down the drain when you fuckers killed Froggy? Do you, pencil dick?"

The man grinned and sat upright agaisnt the cage. The man was thin, but obviously physically strong. He also bore a large number of scars, ranging from an eye carved into his chest to common knife and bullet wounds.
"Less work that it'll take to piece your corpse back together, you mutant loving mongrol son of a bitch. Of all the junkie bastards in this city, I get the one with homoerotic machoistic tendancies. Just my luck."

"More lucky than you think, meat. You'd have an ass carved wide as a docking bay if you'd been caught by some of the more... unsavoury lot", Zeck snarled, clearly undaunted by the man's bravado. "I'd tell Joey here to cut your tongue out for that, but I have something better in store for you."

"You see, Froggy was not just one of my best fighters. He was also my pit beasts. I'm sure you know that, don't ya, holy boy? You've probably gambled when your commander's not looking."

"More lucky than you think, meat. You'd have an ass carved wide as a docking bay if you'd been caught by some of the more... unsavoury lot", Zeck snarled, clearly undaunted by the man's bravado. "I'd tell Joey here to cut your tongue out for that, but I have something better in store for you."

"You see, Froggy was not just one of my best fighters. He was also my pit beasts. I'm sure you know that, don't ya, holy boy? You've probably gambled when your commander's not looking."

"We gamble with our lives and honor, not paper and metal backed up with promises of wealth." He chuckled to himself. "Something you bastards have never known, I'd guess. Also, you haven't really thought this through. The Order looks after it's members. And they have a habit of returning their lost sheep and, uh, skinning the wolves."

"Your prime concern should be surviving, meat", Zeck said, waving the man's threats off.

"Joey, burn his scars away and throw him into the pit", he continued and turned away. The Mohawked Blackblood grinned and grabbed a smoldering marking iron, pressing the man on his knees.