| Colonel Hastings stopped outside the briefing trailer. He
took a second to adjust the gray combat fatigues and black beret
that were the daily uniform for the men of Black Horse
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Security. He had opted not to
wear his body armor and helmet since his mercenary command had
finished its current contract and he expected no danger. The
assembled officers rose to attention as the colonel entered. "At
ease," he commanded as he moved to the front center of the room.
The screen behind him showed a map of the greater Stratford
metroplex.
"Gentlemen, three years ago, a
man named Blake convinced the five largest gangs in Stratford to
join forces. Calling themselves the Alliance, they have become a
formidable force of organized crime. Rather than deal with the
major syndicates, they have moved their base of operations to
nearby Crescent City.
The local law officers
attempted to stop them at first, but they were out manned and
outgunned. The surviving officers are either too scared to
fightor
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| are on the take.
The Alliance runs the town as they see fit. A coalition of the
city fathers, local businesses, and citizens, has put up the
money to hire us to clean them out. In front of you is an intel
report on the gangs and their leaders. Familiarize yourself with
them and have your units ready for operations no later than 1200
hours on 13 APR 2002. Any questions?" He looked around the room.
His officers showed nothing but grim |
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determination. They
would not fail. "Then return to your units." The men rose and
saluted as the colonel exited.
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Blake stood over the bloodied,
nearly unconscious, man. Two of the members of the
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Black
Hand gang were keeping the
man from falling out of the chair. Warchylde, the Black Hand
leader, stood nearby, blood showing on the studs of his black
gauntlet-style gloves. "What are you planning," Blake asked
quietly.
"N-nothing," the man stammered. A blow from
Warchylde followed close behind the man's answer.
"You have become more bold in your defiance
of us. You must be planning something." Silence was the man's
only response. A nod from Blake and a flurry of blows landed,
knocking the man from the gangers' grasp. The man
broke.
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| "M-mercenaries. B-black Horse
Security has been hired to clean you out." The man smiled before
a punch from the gang leader knocked him unconscious.
"Assemble a war council," Blake ordered. "It
seems we have a situation. And get rid of
him."
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