Chapter 30

 

THIRTY

The old Chevy pickup shot dirt and gravel from its tires as it sped down the old logging road. Trigger uncomfortably held onto the door as the Lieutenant rounded a corner and sped towards a paved road.

 

After finding Fick earlier in the evening, Trigger was forced into showering and changing into ‘more suitable attire’ as the Lieutenant put it, forcing him into an ill-fitting flannel and jeans combination, as well as a pair of boots that unlike the rest of his cloths, fit him.

“Ya know, it’s good you didn’t keep up with your grooming standards while you were in that bed” Fick shouted over the sound of the wind rushing in through the open windows in the cab. “It’ll be easier to sell you to the locals as a deserter.” He continued.

“What do you mean deserter?” Trigger asked.

“The town we’re going to. No one there actually wants to be there; they just end up there. Plenty of deserters, thugs, and the like all congregating in one town.” Fick explained.

“Charming, This place got a name?”

“Depends on who you ask. On our maps from the ISAF days, it says Gioiello Verde, Eruseans called it Arbes Verts, locals call it Bep Dia Nguc. Don’t bother asking me what any of them mean because I’m not the linguistics expert.” Fick explained, jerking the truck onto the main road.

“So, what do you call it?” Trigger shouted.

Fick thought for a moment. “Dunno. Team before us dubbed it Roanapur, but that name never really stuck with us. Couldn’t ever figure out why they settled on that name. Guess it never actually came up.”

“Where we going exactly anyways?”

“Rest of the guys are at a bar with your Buddy. It’s a nice place, good atmosphere and cheap drinks. Most importantly its also one of the places we get most of our facts on the ground.” Fick elaborated.

 

Trigger nodded. HUMINT as the briefers generally referred to it, was the art of getting details that wouldn’t be strictly on paper or in a computer database. It was an old tactic that had garnered treasure troves of results. It was sources on the ground that allowed for the Usean liberation of San Salvacion. It had been HUMINT as well that had aided Trigger over Tyler Island to foil an Erusean Radical plan to arm the Arsenal Bird. While he personally never understood some of his Officer school classmates reasonings for tracking into the Intel field, he respected the results their work provided to the mission.

 

As Fick sped down the highway, he was fiddling with the dial on the old radio in the dashboard. Breaking the noise of static was stations playing Mariachi, a local folk music and occasionally older rock songs that Trigger could recognize the words to. Eventually, the younger officer settled on a station playing classical music and left it there as they entered the outskirts of the town.

 

Despite its vast wealth of resources, the Chopinburg region had long languished out of the eye of the States that administered it. Prior to the landfall of the Ulysses fragments the rule of law had only a loose grip on the region. The Establishment of Istas Fortress to the East of the region had been a step towards stabilization, however with the onslaught of the Erusean Military, any progress made had been lost with the ISAF retreat. Over fifteen years later and the lush jungle was still a hot bed for all sorts of illegal mining, deforestation and what was rumored to be weapons development, out from the watchful eye of any Government agency.

 

Fick pulled into a parking lot right as the streetlights were turning on.

 

It was a smaller brick building, the outside had once been painted a bright yellow, however the paint had long faded to a muted shade and had fallen off entirely in places exposing the brick and mortar below. Above the door, painted in faded red lettering read Rula Bula. The interior of the bar wasn’t in much better shape than the exterior Trigger noticed as he entered behind Fick. Tables that had looked mended time and again, splintered wood adorning some booths, the leather upholstery cracking and failing on many of the chairs. The walls were adorned with multiple battle flags, Some Trigger recognized like the Erusean, Bulgurdarestian, ISAF and North Point, while others were unfamiliar.

 

Awaiting them at the bar was Bandog, He waived Fick and Trigger over motioning for them to sit.

“I knew you’d make the right choice Trigger.” Bandog said as he took a sip from his drink.

“Well, its not like you gave me much of a choice.” Trigger said sardonically.

“You could have always walked away. But I felt I knew you well enough to know your not that much of a coward.” Bandog explained.

“What if I did?” Trigger asked.

Fick answered “Well, then we would have dumped your ass on a street corner in Axel Bay. From what Bandog explained to me, you’re a SERE grad, you should be able to figure out a chic city like that well enough.”

“oh… how comforting.” Trigger replied.

“You really look like you need a drink Trigger. Order what you want, its on me tonight.” Bandog invited.

“Uhh, no thanks. I don’t drink.” Trigger dismissed. “Your loss, he’s never offered to buy our drinks” Fick said, as he hailed down the bartender.

 

Trigger sighed “Exactly how much about me do these guys know? The guy I talked to last night knew my name, I was a Pilot and at least he seemed to know how I ended up at McKnight.” Trigger asked.

Fick once again interjected “Yeah exactly How exactly did you end up there? You were in pretty rough shape.”

Trigger looked over his shoulder. “It was five to one, I got four.” Trigger replied.

“An everyday Andy Tanner aren’t you?” Bandog said sarcastically. “Truthfully, I gave Morgan a bit more information than I gave the rest.” Bandog explained.

“Why was that?” Fick asked.

“He asked nicely.” Bandog replied bluntly.

 

Trigger held up both of his hands. “Hey, Focus!” He pointed at Fick. “What exactly, do you know about me? What has He shared?” Trigger asked, pointing a thumb at Bandog.

“Uhh, your callsign is Trigger, you’re a pilot, and you’re an Osean Major. That’s pretty much the end of what I know.” Fick answered.

“Well, that keeps it straight then. How much do they need to know exactly about me?” Trigger asked, turning to Bandog.

“Whatever you think is relevant really. But word to the wise, these guys have done enough work in the dark that they see everything, I’d suggest keeping your bullshit down to a minimum.” Bandog instructed.

“Noted.” Trigger said, taking a sip of water. “Where’s the rest of the Marines you said we’re going to be here?” Trigger asked.

Fick turned around on his stool and leaned his back to the bar. He pointed at a far booth where two men we’re sitting.

One man was older, Trigger’s guess was he was Asian, wearing a button up shirt and slacks. Across from him sat another man, a ginger in an Aloha shirt and jeans. “That’s Zhao, our Specialist for these kinds of places, and Kyle’s the one across from him.”

“I thought your branch loved their use of ranks.” Trigger quipped.

“Not here at least. Our cover is that we’re one of the freelance security outfits here. No ranks while out in the field.” Fick noted.

“So is Zhao and Kyle a code name or?”

Fick snorted. “I wish. Since we’re more direct than Espionage, we don’t get cool stuff like code names. Just guns and a pretty sizable budget to pay off the right people to let us use them.”

 

The Bar door swung open, the first man Trigger recognized instantly, Hernandez. Following behind him was a man with short, cropped hair wearing a polo shirt that wasn’t tucked in and tactical pants, and behind him was a younger blond man wearing sport coat and slacks with a buttoned-up shirt. The three seemed to be discussing something amongst themselves as they approached the bar.

Hernandez seeing Trigger grinned and shook his hand. “Hey, look who finally found their way out of the room! Yo Adams, wheres my 20 bucks!” he shouted as he shook Trigger’s hand. The younger blond man scowled, as he fished out his wallet. “I don’t get it, what?” Trigger asked confused.

Hernandez took the bill from the other man and started to explain “Well you see, After sunshine-“ the medic pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the silent third man who took a seat next to Fick “-Over there had a talk with you this morning. We all started a betting pool on how long you would hide in your room until you figured out the door was unlocked. I guess in our few weeks together I had the unfair advantage.”

“Yeah, you did! I was sure it would take a week!” yelled the blond man as he took a seat at the bar.

“Oh, Sorry to disappoint.” Trigger said sheepishly.

Fick once again interjected “Well Trigger, I see you’re already acquainted with Doc, this man here is Morgan, you two talked last night, and the man to his right is Adams.” Fick introduced.

The man with short, cropped hair, Morgan, gave a half hearted waive, and Adams, the blond man, nodded to Trigger.

 

Fick turned to Morgan. “Where’s Dennings and Haver?”

“Back at the Compound. Haver wanted to go over the details of the op tomorrow again in the shoot house.” Morgan relayed. Fick nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to Trigger. “We have two more guys but, Yeah, the full welcome party will have to wait.”

“I understand.” Trigger said unsure of his new acquaintances. He turned his attention back to Bandog.

 

“So, what’s step one in the hiring process for this job?” Trigger asked.

 

“You’ll need to be brought up to speed on basic combat indoc. I’ve seen your pistol quals and frankly I’m far from impressed. Given the circumstances I’ve given that a week, plus you have a few weeks of Physical training since you’ve been in bed this entire time. Once I figure out the airplane situation, we’ll get you read in on that, and then from there you go to work.” Bandog laid out.

 

“Seems simple enough…” Trigger’s voice trailed off. “The thing that bugs me is, Why are we out here anyways? What does Osea have to gain by being in this shithole?” Trigger asked.

 

“The Marines here help keep an equilibrium. Theres three main factions in this region. Yuke Mafia, Sapinish Cartel and the local crime lords. The Marines here do the dirty work that Osea can’t be seen doing to make sure one of these groups doesn’t get too out of hand.” Bandog explained.

“You can think of us as gardeners. When one stem gets too long, we prune it.” Fick elaborated.

 

“And I’m guessing with the movement of weapons, the Saipanish Cartel is getting too out of hand?” Trigger asked.

 

Fick snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”

 

Trigger thought for a moment “What happens if you prune too much and get a power vacuum?” Trigger asked.

 

Fick shrugged. “Equilibrium will occur eventually. The Yukes have learned to not fuck with us so they will stay in their lane. Local crime lords may try something, but the Yukes will likely step in to keep the peace. With any luck another rival gang will be able to seamlessly fill that void, or if nothing else, those attempting to usurp the spot will be too preoccupied in killing each other that it won’t be our problem.”

 

“So Bandog, where do you fall into all of this?” Trigger inquired.

“Them detonating a bunch of WMD’s in my backyard and under my nose is a slap in my face. I can’t let an insult like that stand.” Bandog replied bluntly.

“I’ll drink to that!” Fick interjected, downing a shot.

 

The night slowly continued as Trigger was introduced to the other Osean Marines. The mood within the bar was light and jovial, despite the increasingly rough looking clientele that started to fill out the booths and tables.

 

Trigger watched a small fight between two patrons. From his observation, one man had spilled the others drink and after an exchange or words, it had escalated to fists being thrown. Despite the commotion of the two men fighting however, the rest of the bar took little notice, and it was only until the Barkeep had barked at the men to take it outside did anyone aside from Trigger look up from their glasses.

 

“Certainly, has an interesting atmosphere.” Trigger said to Bandog. “I wouldn’t have expected someone as adverse to fighting as you to hang out here.”

Bandog gave Trigger a sideways glance “What makes you think I’m against fighting?”

“Well for one, you were always out of even our longest radar ranges.” Trigger replied.

“One, that’s the job of an AWACS, two, you convicts couldn’t be trusted to not try to shoot me down and run. Hell, they weren’t even sure you wouldn’t have done that with McKinsey that last mission you and Count were on. Not that I would blame you, he wasn’t a cargo worth protecting.”

“Ok, True, but aren’t you concerned this place might get, you know? Out of hand?” Trigger asked.

“Look. You see those men out there?” Bandog said, waiving his finger across the dining area of the bar.

“They’re some of the scariest motherfuckers you have ever met, and most of them are from the three main powers in the area. This place is neutral territory, and they know it. Its generally only the stupid fucks that try to cause an actual problem. And even then Bao over there-“ Bandog pointed to the bartender “Keeps a loaded Colt Monitor underneath the bar for the few problems that arise. Twenty rounds of thirty-aught-six that can punch through just about any body armor on the market at five hundred rounds per minute. Trust me Trigger, this is one of the few ‘safe’ places in the city.”

 

 By Trigger’s guess, it was either extremely late or early in the morning when the crowds started thinning out. He sat around a table playing cards with Adams, Morgan, Fick and Bandog. The smoke from Morgan and Kyles cigarettes filled the air around the table.

 

Suddenly the doors flew open. Trigger swung around to see three men, one with an AK rifle, another with a handgun and the lead man carrying a knife.

“xuong dat chet tiet!”  shouted the point man of the group.

the few patrons that we’re inside paid little mind to the armed intruders and went back to their business.

“I Said, Get on the fucking ground!” Shouted the leader again, His compatriot with the rifle fired a burst into the ceiling.

Morgans eyes raised up from his cards annoyed. “How many.” He asked.

Fick, keeping his eyes on his cards replied swiftly “three, jackass with a rifle is in the corner, knife guy closing as about thirty feet, and another with a pistol but It doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing and he has his back towards us.”

“Why do I have to do it again?” Morgan complained.

“Its your turn. I fold.” Kyle Replied, laying down his cards.

 

Morgan sighed, letting out a thick cloud of smoke, he gently put his cigarette down. Trigger watched as the scene played out in slow motion.

In one swift movement, Morgan got up from his chair, from the rear of his waist he pulled out a small handgun. Firing three shots in rapid succession the man with the AK crumpled to the floor. Blood sprayed the wall behind him.

 

The Knife man paused for a split second and started running towards Morgan.

 

Without flinching, Morgan turned and engaged the man, with two shots into the mans chest he fell to the floor gasping.

 

The Third man had finally turned around and started to raise his handgun. Another three shots sent the man crumpling to a heap, blood oozed from the wounds in his chest and forehead.

Morgan exhaled, dropped his spent magazine to the floor, reloaded with a fresh magazine, closed the side and retreated to cover by the doorway. The Knife man had begun to crawl, wheezing as his lungs filled with blood.

 

Within a second, a fourth man burst into the bar, Trigger couldn’t tell what he was carrying, but the man had shouted something briefly before he fired a spray of machinegun fire into the ceiling. Morgan raised his handgun and fired one round, hitting the fourth attacker in the back of the head, he fell forward dead instantly.

 

Morgan paused, took another breath, and disappeared outside of the bar.

 

Triggers ears were ringing. He thought he was no stranger to watching people get killed after the events of the previous few weeks. But seeing the surgical brutality unfold before him. Trigger was unsure. He felt a tapping on his shoulder, it was Bandog. “So, are you going to hold, raise, or fold?” He asked.

Trigger shook his head and turned his attention back to his cards. He could even focus on the hand he had. “Fold” he said in a trembling voice. The knife attacker started to moan in pain and pleaded when Morgan returned.

 

Morgan knelt down next to the dying man. “Ban la mot thang ngu chet tiet phai khong” He hissed to the man.

“Lam on guip toi!” the man pleaded, blood leaking from his mouth.

Morgan stood up with a look of disgust “Tu lo lay than.” He said, raising the handgun to the mans head and firing a single shot.

 

Trigger watched in horror as Morgan nonchalantly holstered the handgun and walked to the bar. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and slammed them on the bar.

“For the damages.” He shouted to the Bartender, who nodded in acknowledgement.

 

Morgan took his seat back at the table, picked up his cigarette and scowled when he looked at his hand.

 

“Fuck. I fold.” He said taking a drag from his cigarette.

 

Bandog smiled widely as he laid down his cards. Trigger could see a full set of cards in the same suit. A, K, Q, J, 10.

 

Seeing this the other Marines swore under their breath.

 

“Damn and I thought Count was the con artist.” Trigger remarked.