A Young Girl’s Outer Heaven

04

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Commissioned by Sneakydevil.

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“Gentlemen. Visha.”

“Colonel!” the others snapped to attention.

“At ease.” I nodded to the members of the kampfgruppe as I walked into the ad-hoc briefing room in the wing we had been loaned in the governor’s villa as part of our agreement to keep a permanent presence on-site. Visha was at my side a moment later, taking my coffee cup and allowing me to lay out the map the governor had provided. Weiss, helpful man that he was, helped me spread it across the table and weigh it down, without me having to stretch and failing to reach.

“I know I promised you all a nice, long vacation here in Brasa. White sand beaches, sparkling blue waters,” I paused and grinned as I added, “lovely senoritas.” The men catcalled, laughing and cheering, and I let them have a moment to get it out of their system. It always helped to break the tension before an operation, after all. Eventually, I held up a hand and motioned for them to tone it down. “Unfortunately, I must be that boss. The one who calls you in from your vacation to work overnight.”

Pulling my telescoping pointer from my pocket, I tapped the map—specifically, the northwestern most island on Bellum’s coast. “This is Colina. Creatively named ‘Hill’ in Ispagna.” The island measured 4.9 miles long from its furthest points and 2.1 miles wide at its widest. For the most part, it was covered in dense trees, aside from a few farms, some ponds, a town in the middle, and our targets.

“And these,” I moved the pointer to the southern tip, then up to a flat area on the northwestern coast, “are our targets. On the northern end of the island, an old castle. A leftover from Ispagna’s colonial days. Intelligence says it’s still intact and has been turned into a stronghold for the communists, and some modifications made to the structure. They’re using it to mark ships coming and going from Bellum and those that aren’t on their list of approved naval traffic have been mysteriously coming under attack by pirates after leaving—if their cargo is worth taking. On the southern end is a much newer structure—an older garrison that was abandoned when they built a new one inland. This houses the bulk of the commie forces on the island. Visha, if you would?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded, and a moment later, projected an illusion from her computation orb—photos taken during our aerial reconnaissance. There were lots of high quality photos of both structures, along with the other points of interest on the island. Most importantly however, were the photos of their equipment.

Stepping closer to the pictures, Capt. Ahrens hummed. “Six BA-10 armored cars, two T-34 medium tanks, three PB-4 amphibious units, two NI-1’s, and a BA-64. Colonel, those are new. We were only just seeing them deployed on the front.”

“I’m aware, captain,” I nodded. “It means they’re getting shipments from the motherland.”

“I’m more worried about the artillery,” Capt. Maybert spoke up, pointing out the artillery pieces in question, lined up in neat rows and ready for deployment. “Twelve 76mm divisional guns and four 122mm guns. It may be commie trash, but this represents a lot of firepower.”

“That’s a lot of gear for a little island, colonel,” Grantz mused. “Why do they have so much?”

“The governor informed me that they’ve been receiving more shipments from the south, recently—by river. It could be that they plan to make a move on Bellum openly. At least, that is his theory, and I happen to agree. Colina is not the only base nearby, just the one we’re interested in today. Sao Domingos to the southeast has been captured by the commies, and Santa Maria to the east is owned by the Green Family cartel. The first is on the Guama River—meaning they have a straight shot up the river right to us. It’s also right on one of the two roads that lead through Brasa to Sao Paolo, the other being the road that goes through Santa Maria. If they were halfway competent…”

I paused and chuckled, “I know, we’ve never accused the communists of competence. However, if we assume a minimum level of strategic acumen beyond human wave tactics, then both Sao Domingos and Santa Maria are good points to take over if they want to cut off our land trade and have easy access to us from the river and from land. A competent commander would be planning a three-way pincer move. By land, from the east. By the river from the south. And from the island by boat, from the north. You could secure everything of importance in Bellum in a night, if you did it right.”

“It’s a good plan. And completely outside the norm for the communists,” Weiss pointed out. “But that could just be down to the local leadership not being as incompetent as what we’re used to seeing from the eastern front.”

“They do like to convert locals to their ends,” Visha murmured, a frown on her pretty face as she considered the map. Looking up, she asked, “But that sounds like a problem for another day. What are your orders, colonel?”

“Oh, that’s simple. I want that island. Strategically, it’s valuable, given its placement on the river, with ready made fortifications to the north and south. There’s a lot of land there and the governor is fine with giving us the island as a whole, so long as we don’t evict the citizens already there or interfere in their day to day lives. It’s somewhere we can construct permanent housing for our own civilians. Not to mention a dry dock for the Ingrid. Colina is going to be our new home for the immediate future. The deal is done. We just need to do a little pest removal and a few renovations before we claim ownership. To that end, we will be conducting a night raid. A joint operation between the Salamander Kampfgruppe and the marines of the Ingrid. The governor has secured us a boat for our non-mage troops to use, but I’m sending a half company from the 203rd as backup and for communication, as we’ll be leaving half a company with the governor. They will approach from the east side of the island, then circle around the northern tip to land here,” I pointed to an area a mile up the beach from the fortress, “where they will then advance through cover to take the fortress.”

Pointing to the garrison, I continued, “As for the rest of our aerial mages, I’m afraid we’ll be doing the lion’s share of the work. We’ll ascend to 5000 above the target and wait. When the marine team is in place, we’ll drop in and engage the enemy in a surprise assault. I want to try to take things as quickly and quietly as possible, without destroying either structure. I would also like prisoners, especially high value targets—officers, radio operators, and the like, but don’t put yourselves in danger to take them. Third company will secure the armored vehicles—we don’t want some overachiever trying to get into a tank and blow us all up. Second company will secure the perimeter and then work their way in from the outside. First company will descend directly into the center of the villa and sweep and clear in teams—you all know your roles by now.”

“Yes, ma’am!” my men answered back, and I grinned.

“Good. We’ll begin the operation at 0100. Try to get some sleep before then. Dismissed.”

I waited for them to leave before heading to the temporary quarters I was sharing with Visha, where I piled into bed to take my own advice. Visha entered a moment later and turned out the light, before flopping down on her own bed. She was out in minutes, somehow.

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The wind whipped at my hair as I looked down at the enemy garrison. There were a few lights still shining—exterior lights on the entrances and the guard stations, and a fire burned down almost to coals in the center of the garrison villa. My combined night vision and sniping formula allowed me to see the guards moving about and I was disappointed, but not surprised.

Sloppy. As expected of commies, but still. Take some pride in your work!

Shaking my head in disgust, I checked the mission timer. We were at just over an hour on the clock. Keying up, I ordered, “Ground team, report.”

“Moving into position now, colonel. ETA five minutes,” Grantz reported.

“Understood.” Shutting off the broadcast, I ordered, “Final ready check!”

I checked my submachine gun and backup magazines, made sure a round was chambered, and made sure my grenades were ready just in case. Unfortunately, this was not the very nice SMG I had confiscated from an enemy soldier, a few years ago. It worked just fine however, so I had no complaints. Around me, the others did likewise and quiet calls of “Ready!” sounded off.

Seven minutes later, Grantz called back. “In position, colonel. Awaiting orders.”

“Wait thirty seconds, then go. 203rd, on me!”

With that, I began a rapid descent, the others quickly moving into their assault positions. Wind whipped at my flight uniform and hair and I grinned as my heart pounded at the excitement. At some point, I had become as much of a battle maniac as my men, it seemed.

Fifty feet above the ground, we flipped around feet down and hit the brakes, everyone breaking off to their jobs. Visha and I came down inside the center courtyard along with the rest of the first company, weapons up and sweeping the interior for enemies. Finding none, we hit the ground and made our way to the doors leading in. Visha stacked up on the other side of the door and I held up a hand, counting down from three, before throwing the door open and diving for the floor, spooling up a flight formula as I launched myself down the hall, going low while Visha followed, going high—the two of us a well-oiled machine working in perfect synchronicity as we found the first door, touched down, stacked up again, and cleared it.

First contact came not from us, but from deeper in the facility as someone opened fire. A moment later, shouts sounded as the garrison woke up, a hornet’s nest kicked over. I ignored it—Visha and I were hunting big game, dealing with the rest of the garrison was what my men were for.

We stacked up on another door and Visha tried to open it, only to find it locked. She signaled me and I nodded. Another three count and she put her foot in the door, going high as I dove in after her. I counted two men on the right, armed with rifles pointed at the door.

“Contact!” Gunfire sounded and splashed off our shields. Visha’s SMG answered with two quick bursts to the left as I opened up on the other two.

“Clear!” the blonde announced a moment later, and I echoed her.

We moved on, deeper into the facility and up a set of stairs. “This looks much more promising,” I murmured as the hallways and floor changed. Where before, they were plain and utilitarian, these were decorated lavishly with thick red carpet, paintings, and statues—especially towards the end of the hall. Typical of communists, really. The wealth finds its way to the top, where the corruption is greatest—food, money, and luxuries going to those in power while the troops got bread and beet soup if they were lucky.

We cleared several rooms empty of men—offices, a large conference room, and other rooms I didn’t bother cataloging—before coming to the end of the hall. We breached the door to find a fat, naked man with a machine gun and huddled behind a desk on the left, and two naked local girls cowering behind the bed on the right. The MG opened up and I dove, zipping across the floor as he singled out Visha. That was his mistake, as I tackled the man in the chest with enough force to crack ribs and launch us both into the wall behind him, and knocked the big gun to the floor.

Pulling back my SMG, I butt stroked him in the jaw and face—three quick slams of the butt of my gun to disorient him before using my superior strength to get him on the ground and hogtie him. “Prisoner secure!”

“These are civilians, colonel,” Visha called.

“Alright, we’ll escort them outside in a moment.” Listening for a moment, I didn’t hear anymore gunfire. Keying up, I called, “All companies, report.”

“First company, building secure. Tending to wounded prisoners. No casualties on our end.”

“Second company, objective complete. Perimeter secure. No casualties.”

“Third company, targets secure. No casualties.”

“Fourth company, objective secure. We’ve got prisoners and we’re fine here.”

I took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief as Visha laughed quietly nearby. “Alright. Fourth company, leave a platoon of aerial mages and our ground forces there to hold the fortress and bring your prisoners down here. Have someone take stock of what they’ve got up there—weapons, ammunition, water, food, equipment. Send the marines to get the boat and then wait. We may need them to run some supplies back from the city. First company, find somewhere to secure those prisoners and begin preliminary interrogation. Third company, sweep the garrison, begin cleanup and cataloging of equipment and supplies. Company leaders, report upstairs in the garrison to the briefing room in an hour.”

I received a series of confirmations before turning to Visha. “Alright, get them out of here. Put them somewhere secure, but they aren’t to leave until we’ve had a chance to question them. Politely. I suspect they’re just prostitutes, but they may know something.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Visha nodded, before directing the girls to get dressed. I waited and half paid attention to them as I watched my prisoner. After a few moments, Visha frowned as they finished pulling on their clothes. “There are three dresses. Is someone else here…?”

“No, miss!” one of the girls shook her head.

Curious, Visha picked up the dress and held it open. She snorted. “Colonel,” she called, sounding one part amused, one part disgusted.

I looked over, to see her holding a dress that would easily fit all four girls in the room with room to spare. My mind filled in the rest of the blanks and I shuddered. Glaring at Visha for showing me that horror, who giggled in response, I jerked my finger at the door. Visha gently led the two girls from the room, after allowing them to collect the rest of their things.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I grabbed the chair that went with the desk and pulled it in front of the fat man, before kicking him in the side to roll him over. I pulled a face as the man’s cock flopped around and took a moment to gather his dress and throw it over his nakedness. Sitting down on the chair and pointing my SMG at his face, I stared down at him.

“Let us begin the interrogation. We’ll start with the basics. I am Col. Tanya von Degurechaff, leader of,” I paused briefly on our name, realizing I couldn’t tell him who we actually were. That from the moment we left, we were no longer the Salamander Kampfgruppe and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. “…this private military force. What is your name, rank, and the purpose of your men for being here?”

The man on the ground spat at me, only for it to hit my shield and roll down it, making his eyes go wide. “I’m not telling you anything, mage! Swine! Filth! We put your kind in the gulag for a reason! No one man should wield power over his fellow man as you do!”

“Is that so? That is a shame. I had hoped to speak like two sane, rational, civil human beings, but I suppose expecting sanity, rationality, or especially civility from a communist zealot is asking too much.” Pausing, I corrected myself. “Ah, sorry, ‘communist zealot’ is redundant. That’s fine, though,” I murmured, giving him my most innocent smile. For some reason, he paled and began to shake. Reaching for my belt, I drew my combat knife. I leaned into the Imperial accent as I informed him, “We have ways of making you talk…”

He eyed the blade for just a moment before his mouth opened and he began to squeal like the communist pig he was. “I-igor! Igor Zelenskii! I, I am no one! Just a mid-level bureaucrat, a zampolit—a, how you say, political officer! Sent from Moskva to help manage things in the north of Brasa!”

“You mean to take Bellum.”

“…Da.”

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“…And that’s where we stand on supplies from this raid,” Lt. Koenig reported.

I nodded from where I sat at the head of the table, a grin on my face. Fuel, ammunition, weapons, vehicles, comms equipment, food, and most importantly: money. Ninety thousand reals. After conversion, that’s about eighteen thousand Imperial marks, give or take. Here, it’s enough to keep us going for a few months.

I couldn’t be happier with the results of this raid. There was just one problem…

It’s too much. Far too much for a little outpost. It looks like they really are planning something larger soon. Especially with those artillery pieces. We’ll have to act first, then. Do what we do best. Attack, destroy the enemy then move on to the next objective before they expect us to. I’ll need to organize recon flights for every commie stronghold in the area and take them out before they get word of what’s happened here.

“That’s excellent news. We’ll conduct thorough prisoner interrogations over the next week and gather all the actionable intel we can. Do any of the prisoners stand out after the initial questioning?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Weiss nodded. “A radio operator, a translator, and a mechanic and maintenance crew.”

“Nice, nice,” I hummed. “Did they seem like the usual commies, or…?”

“They’re all locals and didn’t seem like die hard communists.”

“Good. Question them a bit more, then offer them jobs. Out of curiosity, what languages did the translator speak?”

“Ispagna, Quechua, Guarani, Aymara, and Russy.”

“Why would they need to speak Russy?” Grantz wondered aloud.

Weiss had an answer for that. “He said they were using it as a simple cipher so the locals didn’t understand what they were talking about if they were listening to their communications and so that they could communicate with the leaders in Sao Paolo for comrade Zelenskii.”

“Alright then. We’ll need to start planning for more operations against the communists to clear the surrounding areas. I want a comms network set up immediately between the garrison, fort, governor’s villa, and the Ingrid. Get that sorted, make sure the prisoners are secured and set a watch, then get some sleep everyone. Tomorrow, we’ll start digging in. Procure local supplies and workers and begin renovation of the garrison. I want our people moved out of the governor’s villa as soon as possible. We’ll split the ground forces between the garrison and the fortress and leave them here to supervise the work for now. Dismissed.”

We left the room and Visha and I flew back to the governor’s villa for the night. After a quick shower, I went to bed to try to preserve my sleep schedule.

Only a few hours later, Visha woke me up with coffee and breakfast, and the local newspaper. After the usual checks, I sat down at the desk in the corner and dug in. “Inform the governor that I’d like to meet with him to go over last night’s raid, captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve already laid out your clothes for the day. I went with the summer uniform. Can I get you anything else before I go?”

“No, that’s it. Thank you, Visha.”

“Of course,” she sent me a smile, before heading out.

I took my time eating my breakfast, enjoying my coffee, and reading the local paper to get a feel for things. It didn’t take long at all to suss out that the newspaper was just as corrupt as everything else. Also, apparently a commie mouthpiece, given that it was extolling the virtues of communism.

Going to have to go have a ‘chat’ with whoever runs this rag.

I finished eating and cleaned up, then got dressed. Visha returned just in time to collect my dishes and run them off, and I thanked her for breakfast before making my way to the governor’s office. Heading inside, I found him looking over a printed report of some kind.

“Ah, Col. Degurechaff, good morning,” he greeted with a smile.

“You as well, governor Vasquez.” I sat down and crossed one leg over my knee. “Problem?”

He sighed. “Communique from a friend in Rio de Janeiro. The state military have evacuated and the communists have taken the capital. He is requesting aid to take back the capital but I cannot do anything from here.”

I clicked my tongue. “Not good.”

“No. It is an unfortunate state of affairs.” Folding the communique, he placed it on the desk. “So tell me, how did your operation go last night?”

“Very well indeed. We claimed the island with no casualties on our side, minimal loss of life on the part of the enemy, and no destruction to either stronghold. We’re interrogating the prisoners now and will begin renovations to make them both livable today. Hopefully, we’ll have our people out of your hair by the end of the month.”

“Your people are no bother,” he shook his head. “How much do I owe you for this action?”

“I’ll work up an invoice later today.” I would have to ask Visha where my typewriter got off to, but I would get it done. “I have some concerns, however.”

“Yes?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Some observations, really,” I admitted. “The island was well-equipped. Very well-equipped. Too much so, for what it is. They had a fair deal of artillery on hand as well. Enough to level every important target in the city in a matter of minutes. This alone would lead me to believe that they were planning something big. Some kind of action to take the city. However, we captured a little Russy pig who squealed for me the moment he suspected things weren’t going his way, who confirmed it. He was sent from the south to capture Bellum, because it’s the northernmost port for Brasa.”

Vasquez frowned for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I can see why they would. If they hold enough ports and enough roads, then they can strangle the rest of the country into giving them what they want. Cut off trade until the president capitulates.”

“At which point, he’ll make some speech about how he’s sorry it’s come to this and how Brasa needs to move forward under the new communist regime, before sailing into the sunset to be anywhere but here if he has any sense.”

“Unfortunately, as you know, my hands are tied, officially.” Meeting my eyes, the older man leaned back in his chair and grinned. “It would be such a shame if something unfortunate were to happen to our communist comrades.”

“Yes. A shame,” I leered. Projecting an illusion of the latest map we had over the table, updated with the information I had gotten from comrade Zelenskii and the paperwork in his quarters and office. “As it turns out, our Russy piggy managed to get out something useful, between his squealing and begging for his life. An idea of the number of troops in Sao Domingos and their equipment. Also confirmation that they’re working with the cartel in Santa Maria and planning to pincer Bellum some time next month. Locations for towns they’re using as staging areas closer to Bellum for some of their equipment.”

Glaring at the map, Vasquez said, “Whatever the cost. I want every one of those camps taken out. Every village they’re using liberated. Retake Sao Domingos from these fucking communist swine.”

“Even if we take out Sao Domingos, it’s not going to matter much if they still have Santa Maria. Attacking the commies, the ‘revolutionaries,’ we’re fighting their proxies—assuming they still believe that they’re in charge and haven’t realized that the Russy Federation is the one really pulling the strings. The moment we take Santa Maria, we’ll have declared war on Familia del Verde. They’re going to strike back, and they’ll use their government assets to do it. The police are going to be against us. It may escalate. And while you might tell your men to stand down, your president could send reinforcements.”

“Then I’ll need you to handle Senor Igual. However you see fit.”

“I do love those words,” I murmured.

“While you’re at it, if there’s anything you can do about those damned Carniceros, I’ll be happy to pay. Say… a bounty on their heads. A reward for every one your men kill. If you can find and shut down their human trafficking operations and recover the people who were kidnapped, we would be grateful.”

“I’ll let the men know and we’ll start hunting. I’m going to need to start recruiting troops soon, though.”

A thoughtful look came over the governor’s face, before it morphed into a sly smile. “I happen to know some men who would love a chance to actually do something about the problems plaguing this country. I’ll ask them how they feel about joining up with someone willing to get their hands dirty. Give me a few days and I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Very well, governor. In that case, I think that’s everything on my end. If that’s all, I need to talk to my men and go pay some people a visit.”

We said our goodbyes and I left, keying up on the magical shortwave. “Weiss, gather the first company. Meet me at the dock.”

“Roger that.”

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“Captain Fischer sends his regards,” the tall, blonde form of Cmdr. Fuchs greeted me as I landed outside the Ingrid’s berth.

“Any word on getting a job for the Ingrid?”

“Yes, ma’am. There’s a group of ships bound for the Caribbean leaving in two days. San Juan, Santo Domingo, Kingston, Havana, Miami, and New Orleans.”

“Two days? How long is the trip expected to take?”

“Two months, round trip.”

I winced. If I was doing my math right, that was over four thousand miles. “We need a plane.”

“So procure one. I’m sure you can find one locally. If not, then you could get one from the US.”

Considering it for a moment, I nodded. “I’ll give it some thought. I’d like to check in back home. Maybe ship something if possible…”

“I’ll ask around and see what I can learn, before we have to go.”

I needed some way to get in touch with Ugar. To find out what was going on back in Germany and perhaps arrange for the families of my men to be sent over by passenger liners—that way, we wouldn’t have to make the trip ourselves. It would save weeks worth of travel if they could, and it would be a huge morale boost for the men. Also… if Ugar could discretely send more volunteers over, especially aerial mages, that would bolster our numbers and allow us to do more. But I would happily take competent people of any branch.

A few moments later, Weiss and the first company radioed their approach. I bid Cmdr. Fuchs good day and lifted off, meeting the others and heading towards the mayor’s office.

“What’s the objective, colonel?”

“We’re going to go have a polite conversation with the mayor. If he cooperates, we’re going to let him keep running the show. If not, then we’ll take him into custody and hand things over to the next in line, and the next, and the next until someone does what we tell them or we have to hand it over to the governor.”

We touched down outside the mayor’s office and made our way in. Everyone between us and the stairs took one look at our group of heavily armed soldiers and found they had somewhere else to be. Following the signs, we made our way up to the office we needed to go to and Weiss got the door for me. Stepping into the office, I frowned at what we found there.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony Montana, I mean Juan Igual demanded from the other side of his desk. Below the desk, I spotted a pair of hose-clad feet that, given the way they were turned, couldn’t possibly belong to senor Igual unless his legs were broken and twisted completely around. On top of the desk was a paper wrapped block the size of a brick, and the esteemed mayor’s nose was covered with a white, powdery residue.

Yes, he met my expectations almost to a ‘T.’ The only thing missing was— Senor Igual reached into a drawer at the side of his desk and stood up with a submachine gun in his hands, which he leveled at us. And, to her credit, the prostitute or secretary working on his knob kept herself on task as she rose with him.

“AHH!” With a yell, the mayor opened fire on us.

He might as well be throwing spitballs for all that thing is going to do, I mused as we let him blow his load to no effect as his rounds splashed off our shields, some of them ricocheting around the room. Without mana evening the scales, it would take a lot more firepower than he had available to take down even a mediocre, barely trained aerial mage—and unfortunately for him, my men were the best of the best.

When the weapon clicked dry, I reached up and wiggled a finger in my ringing ear. “If you’re quite done?”

The mayor looked down at his gun, then back up to us. With a disgusted sigh, he dropped the gun, grabbed the woman’s head, and flopped back into his seat. “What the fuck do you want?”

“We’re here to inform you of the impending regime change. You can work for us now… or you can share the same punishment as the communists and cartels you work for. Which is to say, you will be lined up against a wall with the rest and shot, then thrown in mass grave. Your second in command will either work with us or face the same fate, and so on and so forth, until we find someone who will cooperate. So your choices are simple. You can choose to continue to sit here and snort cocaine and get afternoon blowjobs from prostitutes, while ignoring all orders from your previous masters. Alternately, you can choose to transfer to another field and enter into an exciting new career as fertilizer. Make your choice now.”

“You know, senorita… Having you give me orders with that tone, with that look of disgust on your angelic face… It excites me!”

My eye twitched. I was halfway across the room with my sidearm drawn before the others could react. Yanking the man out of his cushy leather chair and knocking the girl aside, I shoved him face first down onto the desk and buried the muzzle of my Luger in his ear. “I like to consider myself a reasonable, even-tempered person, senor Igual. But I will not stand for that sort of disrespect. Now, make your choice or I will make it for you.”

“Alright! Alright! Fine! Whatever you say, senora!”

Frowning, I looked down to the woman on the ground. “And you? Who are you?”

“His secretary,” she answered quietly, flexing her jaw as she glared at the man. “His married secretary, but today, he tells me that if I don’t service him, the police will arrest my Miguel! You shouldn’t believe a word he says. He will just call the Familia as soon as you leave, and then they will send lots of men from Santa Maria!”

“Shut your mouth, whore! I—ah!” Igual yelped as I pulled the Luger back and smacked him above the ear with the butt.

“Who can run this circus of a city effectively, miss…?”

“Maria Cortes. And I can. I already do, really. You think this cocaine-addled idiot gets anything done? No!” She spat on his leg and pulled herself up from the ground. “He and his deputy mayor are both useless.”

“And how would you go about fixing the police? They’re completely corrupt.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “They are all hired gangsters. Thugs. I will speak with the old chief of police and have him gather up the old police force. If you would be willing to help, then they could take back the city from the corrupt police.”

I looked to Weiss, who nodded. “I like her,” I grinned.

“What? No! You can’t! We had a deal!” Igual yelled. I jerked him to his feet and buried the pistol in his back, before turning him towards the men and shoving him forward. Two of my men caught him by the arms, while a third grabbed his pants from around his ankles and jerked them up.

“Lock him up with the others.” Turning back to Maria, I grinned. “Now, let’s talk business…”