GATE: Thus the JSDF and (ERROR! ERROR!) — uh, oh dear!

by B-Code2016J4

A magical portal manifested in the middle of Ginza and unleashed a huge medieval-fantasy army that attack everything regardless of international boundaries. As the JSDF and their allies send an expedition to the strange world, they have yet to notice a force that was never expected to exist. (Available for editing, duplication, and adoption) [Multiple crossovers]

7. Side Story 1 (Anger Issues)

Feedback to zzxxphaser: Hmm... maybe you're right about myself being hasty from time to time, despite the review being kinda... vague. For that, I may put more time in rechecking my written projects for anything unclear. Still, pointing out on what I miss is appreciated.

Originally, this was supposed to be a small section for the next chapter. Instead, it developed into a semi-peripheral tale of over 23,000 words... and debatable influences from personal livelihood. Adding to that was a much longer scrutiny on this work by myself, whether the resentments or uneasiness are real/valid, exaggerated, disconnected, or falsely imagined.

Nevertheless... outside probing, edit suggestions, and narrative revisions for this 'delusional' side story is allowed. Like the other previous chapters. (Also, be careful with reading the fictitious depictions of a... fanatical/extreme 'fringe' group on the human side. Yuck.)

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Somewhere in a California suburb around 8 PM...

There was a house at night: garage, windows, front door; plenty of rock pebbles and several vegetation like trees and bushes on the front yard; three cars parked outside; chimney; gardens in the backyard; and anything else that made it a rather, typical suburban home of the USA.

Unless you're a robotic soldier of an undercover squad hiding in the plant life or with their invisibility cloaks on. Alongside listening to what's inside the habitable structure, which sounded uh... hostile.

"Mrs. Mou, I can fully understand your deep concerns about Jayken's future. But I think it would have been very appreciative for you, as a mother, to allow more thoughtful kindness in your heart. Can you do that for once instead of non-stop scolding and intrusive organizing on him for months on end?"

"Then how will I get my lazy son to be productive, aside from watching TV, looking at the Internet, and playing his Nintendo games?!"

"Correction ma'am, he's currently fond of the latest Xbox console games from Microsoft. Right now, Jayken and I were making progress on sorting out the videotapes for digital recovery or proper disposal. Although there still a lot of those VHS records to go thro-"

"Why can't you just throw them away?! They're old, deteriorating, and taking up space while you and my child are being too slow to look through every one of them!"

"Gah... like I said, I'm doing as much as I can to help him develop better decision-making and habits for his eventual independence. And that is without using aggressive tactics so often like you usually do. Besides, you're just as fallible as your 26-year-old son when it comes to certain behaviors like buying up furniture and trinkets that gets shoved into the supposed space that you wanted to reclaim; or your constant need to reorganize without approval from your family me-"

"THAT is none of your business! You're supposed to help Jayken get a job, not telling me what to do with my stuff!"

"Ugh... listen Tianna, the competition for jobs like research assistant or lab technician right now is still fierce. Even with a Bachelor of Science degree that he had from college and additional aid from other employment experts, it's going to take a while for an entry-level position to be open."

"Yet it has been three years since my son graduated from university! THREE YEARS OF UNEMPLOYMENT! Nothing but unproductive laziness with his distracting hobbies!"

"Uh... that's not entirely true for his initial job-seeking attempts on the first year after college, Mrs. Mou. Think about it, we can't perfectly expect our goals and desires to be fulfilled in a way that you, I, or anybody else wanted in reali-"

"Then he should have worked harder back in those days, and harder right at this instant! I'm not going to have my boy become a great dishonor to me, MY FAMILY, RELATIVES, AND COWORKERS!"

"Ma'am, MA'AM! Can you please stop being such a relentless nagger again?! I'm getting increasingly irritated by your harsh brand of dissatisfaction, but I'm also been deeply concern with Jayken's psychological health being hammered repeatedly by your intolerable rebukes and all!"

"Yet, look at him! He's not supposed to be possessive and sentimental at objects that does not belong to him and are considered junk! Not willing to donate his outgrown toys or clothes! And being so STUPID to-"

"Tianna, listen to yourself! You're employed as a registered nurse for many years at a hospital filled with patients, in addition to being a follower of Christ's teachings; and yet you as a mother kept shouting at him left and right with such severity that he would one day violently react to your disciplinary efforts. Have you forgotten how sensitive and unstable your autistic son is, regardless of his 'mild' conditions?! And on the same topic of humanity, why can't you be considerate of multiple perspectives instead of just one that matters only to yourself?"

At this point onward, the conversations continued to be... well... 'contested' inside the house; even when the husband/father join in the ruckus to conclude the tough dialogues peacefully — albeit a longer period to do so. Outside meanwhile, the hidden combatants were getting uncomfortable of hearing someone being too close to an individual with a different neurological wiring than the 'common' population.

For nine months... and also not supposed to be here as intended.

"Isn't our misplaced Trojan mare getting too attached with that... 'weird' client, lead?" One of the subordinate says digitally/telepathically.

"Honestly soldier, I'm not exactly certain as to what should really matters for her. Let face it, she and her other female companions were originally grown and modified to be surveillance assets on the progression of the Saderan Empire's inner workings — in plain sight."

"In which those attractive ladies were deployed a few months after the conclusive Imperial victory over the Vieran tribes. As planned, all the uh... 'femme fatales' got captured by bandits or slavers who then sold them to buyers as properties."

"Except for the ill-disciplined, hell-raising pair that were transferred away elsewhere before their supposed deployment with the rest of those beauties; and the tiny fraction below five percent that somehow gotten themselves free from captivity — sooner than expected. Nonetheless, the enslaved spies did a good job in observing the rather slow deterioration of the Roman-like society... without reliable inputs of indentured labor from conquests to keep the Empire functional for its status quo."

"And without the automatic paralysis implants being activated inside them, whenever five percent or more of those gals attempted to escape enslavement."

"Which didn't happen for six good years — until the appearance of that magic portal leading to this world we're in. Of course, the cybernetics at that moment were starting to steadily degrade as intended. Thus, there's a low probability of the freeze command to work on everyone of those secret assets."

"Well, it definitely would still be irrelevant to those delinquent duo that unbelievably broke free of such mind-control during the first test run on all the female subjects. Sure, I could understand the red-haired tomboy being very angry at her designated purpose and the implant. For the violet-headed one though... it sounded quite ridiculously to think that she liberated herself by crying and whining of all things."

Another covert synthetic from the team intervened, "Squad leader, can we wrap up the history lessons at anytime now?"

Before an answer could be said, the sound of a front door being open happens. Out came an appealing woman in casual long-sleeved shirt/blouse, long pants, and low-heeled shoes. Her facial features of black hair and moderate-brown skin made this person seem more akin to people living in the Middle East... or possibly reminiscent of ancient Egyptians or even the olive-skinned descendants of ancient Israelites. After saying goodnight and the front door closes though, her smiling facade gives way to a mood of slight disappointment over the previous 'talks' with the aging 'tiger' mother. Just as the woman took a small step outwards, harsh yells of a discontented senior lady verbalized through the door material. Hearing that again made her feel very... frustrating. "Ugh... Good Lord, how could she act like this for almost a lifetime?" muttered the displeased 'social service' beauty. Very soon, she resume walking towards her small orange car parked alongside the sidewalk across the street.

Following behind the woman however, was the commanding officer of the covert team (still in cloak mode). Once at the automobile, she opened the driver door for the front seat. The female character got inside and proceeded to close the door… when the car-attached object suddenly became unmovable. After a second attempt, she glanced at the unshunt door — which led to her noticing the decloaked spec ops leader holding the steel construct in place with 'its' left arm.

"Nadelle, it might be wise to detach the 'contract' with this um... 'Aspie' lad in the immediate future. Yes?"

The unhappy driver shook her head at that option. "That would be quite cruel and negligent to forsake him to uncertainty at this time."

"Hmm... ma'am, this isn't as... Daaahh... okay, I get it. This Jayken does have some social handicaps... and altered cerebral wiring that could hamper his success in obtaining a desirable job; and it doesn't help that the year-round demanding pressure from his tough-love, overbearing mother seem to make the autistic Asian-American more irate everyday. Even so, the little dramas you got yourself in were out — of — context with the severe abuses that you and your clandestine sisters have endured under years of Imperial bondage back on the other side."

"Well... it's good to know that the tough Spartan-like indoctrination and biological modifications, on me and the rest of my covert sisterhood since childhood, did prepare us to take more punishments within our 'highly' dangerous professions. And that even includes being dragged to Tokyo of this 'Earth' by my former owners — and getting captured by the Japanese Yakuza for several weeks before our 'Japan-bound' black operatives retrieved me."

"Can't disagree with that one, miss. Still... helping the 'mentally challenged' to be sufficiently independent was not, and I mean it, not the critical priority that us foreign 'stewards' had set out to fulfill. Considering the precarious situation of the entire planet, which is conceivably one of the very few places in this distinct universe to have life arisen, you should have been keeping a covert eye on one of the most severe violators of the delicate biosphere... or even human integrity instead of this social 'healing' project of yours that may not have a strong likelihood of success within a lifetime. Additionally, the amount of years required for this individual triumph might not be available at all if we or this entire human race don't do enough crucial efforts to restore the ecological balance that kept all the organisms now alive from becoming extinct on this lonely blue speck."

With traces of ire, Nadelle said, "I'm sorry, sir... I just heard you saying integrity as a primary concern here. When was the last time we 'synthetic' visitors ever care about integrity? As far as my good memories go, I had let lustful and selfish men took heavy advantages of my body for the sake of undercover surveillance. I did not intervene the heavy mistreatment of the native slave girls and women from different origins as the higher echelon ordered. I had witness many acute depressions among the subjugated mortals, human or otherwise, that weren't as fortunately prepared as us spies. I used to receive telepathic data from my enslaved sisters on the extensive exploitation throughout the Empire... and the very small minority of 'property owners' that genuinely shown kindness and respect to their acquired servants like family — rather than just expendable uh... toys. A number of years later, my eyes and ears had observe the struggling institution of bondage gasping for more slaves to keep itself and the Imperial society alive; without being allowed to suggest a different transitional path to 'save' their civilization."

"Speaking of which, it would have been... sort of interesting to see what a slow decline of a Roman-style empire looks like; and that is without any interruption outside of their continent trapped in a medieval stasis for eons."

"Does that translate to the hypothetical cost of lives, diversity, knowledge, and the natural environment during a gradual decay of a superpower similar to Ancient Rome; when there are no outsiders, unknown diseases, and other external pressures that once befallen to that Mediterranean empire of yore?"

"Quite on the mark, ma'am. But thanks to the space-time portal reappearing on the so-called sacred ground, we may never find out how much 'irreplaceable' treasure will be gobbled up to ruin. Alternatively though, seeing the turbulent conditions of a parallel Earth on the other side has riled up plenty of us bored troops with a renewed sense of purpose."

"Yeah… and here we are, bringing in large armies that strive to compel this humanity's collective consciousness to 'evolve' out of their unregulated transgressions. Which often includes non-military massacres and sabotage of uncared infrastructures that millions depend on these days!"

"Actually... our much bigger forces right now are more like professional occupiers than the still-active, unorthodox guerrillas that previously traveled through the inter-dimensional gateway; which was before those Imperials solidified the 'Gate.' Nonetheless... there some validations to say that the people of this Earth had it coming; no matter how 'insane' such perspective may seem to someone very naive in human kindness or too ignorant about their ethnocentric invincibility. Think about it, decades of unregulated population growth, ravenous greed, and stubborn denial has turned precious sources of life into big... shitholes of despair!" A moment of silence before the high-ranking soldier speak again. "Thus the dire need for the humans themselves to quit devastating their only home in the cosmos and clean up their man-made mess... or else there won't be anybody for hundreds of thousands of years to even form basic opinions of their previous achievements and failures. And that meant no biodiversity, no forests, no grasslands, farms, rivers, lakes... decipherable books, working electronics, functioning technologies, and not even humanity itself in such a desolate and empty future. Ugh... how lonely can that be?!"

"Uh... sir, that exposition sounded more relevant when the first black-operation teams entered this planet of life. Nowadays in contrast, there are a lot more people committed to widespread production of technologies and revision of policies that will greatly repair their modern civilization... and restore this Earth to a more stabilized habitat for all living things to continue their existence. As for ill news however..."

"Please, no need for reminders on how many humans still act like horrible monsters or wanted to devour so much for their own selfish, shortsighted desires... in addition to plenty more trying to violently stop our large-scale, unconventional invasions from disrupting such dangerous cravings. Kinda wish that those Homo sapiens should focus their energy in benevolent solutions rather than making self-absorbed, fallible clashes with us or even their own kind."

"Also in the wish list is us 'invaders' to gradually be more altruistic than our present intervention... and even the same idea to that hyper-demanding, perfect-seeking bitch that called herself a responsible mom!"

The commanding soldier stared at her for a short moment, then look back at the house before returning 'his' sight on her. "Nadelle, there are writings on him that said: 'Warning — Jayken is a walking, psychological landmine.' You should know already about the high probability that he'll attempt matricide to stop the constant nagging. The legal consequences of such reactive behavior will be very ugly to stomach; something that a spying asset with critical information like you should never get involved. And besides... both the mother and even the father of that autistic progeny are at fault of not giving him the genuine love and guidance needed to completely secure a productive future by himself. Not your ingrained liability in making the parents understand or correct their past errors of raising him to be independent, while managing his Asperger Syndrome... or more appropriately regarded as high-functional autism. Another thing... is this family, specifically this man-child, really important when being compared to the billions of lives that proved to be ve-"

"Officer, that's enough! I'm already too well aware of the destructive actions done by corrupt human egos and mob mentalities on this lonely world. Hhaa... yet who would be unthinkable to ignore a parent that harshly disciplined his or her own offspring since birth, without success? It isn't right."

"Ma'am... we still recommend the decision to leave them be and spy somewhere else more significant. Furthermore, you've already stored a good amount of his gametes inside your reproductive organs through your more... passionate actions for at least a decade of genetic storage. Despite the fact that we collectively suggested total restraint from doing such questionable deeds, which you demonstrably ignored. Along with plenty of mixed DNA 'samples' gathered through the same, explicit process from the other... 'appropriately aged' clients for potentially four years of chromosome splicing one or more off-springs; considering that you seem to expressed great 'pity' upon their 'bad' luck in life or mutations on paternal heritage. At the very least, your 'intimate' interactions here were very consensual; rather than the Saderan sperms you had completely rejected during Imperial bondage. Got it?"

The lady stare at the agent with slight... anger. She then yanked the car door a couple times before the covert 'robot' let go of the hinged barrier connected to the vehicle. After being all sealed inside the automobile, the woman starts the engine and drives far from the location. The squad leader shook his/its head in some form of dissatisfaction.

"Oh jeez, when did our Trojan horse became a dedicated humanitarian... or gone native for all that matters?" One of the subordinates puzzled.

"Somewhere hidden during training or while being enslaved, I presumed... and possibly after witnessing several misdeeds by Yakuza members when dealing with captured Falmarian noncombatants that were not detained by the Tokyo police force and military units from Japan's SDF and USF-J."

"The same could be said about the controversial protocols among our asymmetric groups remaining in that island nation, sir. Particularly in regards to the humanoids not under international protection, enslaved or not."

"Boy... can't imagine those weird otaku groups obsessed with duh... monster-girls getting very upset if revealed. I may also add in the non-Japanese, human invaders and camp followers; whose pleas for freedom out of Yakuza control had been turned a blind eye by the covert battalion. Anyhow, send out a message to our active commanders for valid contingency plans about this... anomaly."

"Understood."

Around 4:00 AM in the morning, within two blocks from a certain hospital/medical center...

Nadelle's car was now parked among some warehouses and a few apartments that often houses patients receiving care from the health institution — where Tianna Mou worked there as a registered nurse from 7AM to 4PM. The female individual on the driver seat has inner confusion on what to do: should she make more attempts in softening the old nurse's tough-love personality, give warnings to her with words...

Or fists...

Or outright kill the bitching mother.

Minutes goes by and it seemed that the gal's thoughts were in line for a series of beatings heavy enough to just keep the 60 year-old senior alive. That said, this kind of premeditation could definitely landed her decades of prison life... or execution. Also, it could inadvertently done more harm to Jayken than expected. So why go to such length of violence... for him? Above all, why can't she abandon the disabled man and hope everything will be alright in the end?

Sounded very foolish/misguided from an outside perspective... without a full comprehension of what has transpired since the secret agent's arrival on the US West Coast (and after being 'released' out of mafia captivity by the inland battalion stationed in Japan). In her first month of sightseeing travel within the coastal states (from Washington to California) at her own pace, the supposed spy saw an array of advanced technologies, national parks, native wildlife, high-rise cities, academic institutions, rural towns, entertainment and shopping centers, diverse people with their own distinct cultures and languages, and other 'modern' aspects of America that made it quite different from her time inside the Saderan Imperium.

Unfortunately though, all of these wonders were accompanied by the ever present issues yet to be completely solved (no matter how big or small); such as poverty on the streets, wealth distribution, corporate corruptions, depleting fossil fuels and their ecological pollution, overuse of potent drugs, invasive species, aging infrastructures, poaching, and hostile fringe groups not very fond of multicultural diversity. As she traveled downward in a semi-zigzag pattern to observe much of each state, her urge to do something grow but Nadelle had yet to made a decision on which priority to focus at that point (thus warranted more information gathering about the unstable factors in debate).

By contrast, her 'robotic compatriots' across the Western Hemisphere, Oceania, and east half of Asia efficiently made preparations for confronting these problems (which often included constant or irregular assaults on targets that the human species procrastinated to resolve — without peaceful actions and regardless of the people that were going to suffer due to mankind's own negligence). The chaos could take at least a year to wake-up this humanity from its unsafe delusions of what they wanted the planet to be; as well as getting the Earthlings (particularly the corporate leaders and politicians who falsely believed that nothing is wrong with the planet) to fully acknowledge the harsh realities of what are at stake here.

Hopefully, the great nations of this Terra would focus heavily on implementing solutions to the huge follies they made... instead of trying to achieve total victory over the much more elusive 'synthetics' or even continuing the hatred/fighting/antagonism between each other — upon which both attacking factions could suddenly get slaughtered by the sneaky alien 'robots.'

Still... the undercover woman does not appreciated the brutal, drastic measures that had been implemented to change the world for the 'greater good.' Adding to such uneasiness is an inner trait for compassion to others that was developed during her time as a slave of the Saderan Empire; whenever she got crammed into holding cells full of enslaved people and listened to their personal grievances - or seeing the abusive results of their masters.

After that first month, Nadelle continued to figure out a disguised position for espionage and over-watching irresponsible entities — while in the middle of California towards the US/Mexican border. However, what was not anticipated by the stealth 'robots' and herself were series of coincidental encounters with the human named Jayken in different places (whose 'awkward' social interactions with strangers unwittingly appeared from time to time; despite his outlook being quite... normal when compared to public bystanders overall). Whether the site be a museum, zoo, or aquarium for using his digital camcorder; bookstore, retail shop, video store, supermarket, shopping mall, or video-game shop for any interesting items to buy; public library or university; restaurant to eat; or somewhere else. Most people, being too busy with their own livelihoods/priorities (and not exactly trained to be dedicated professionals that provides guidance and assistance to the physically and/or mentally 'challenged'), would ignore him — while some just harshly complained; regardless of whenever his quirky attributes were expressed or ever cared by ordinary civilians to be notable. It unpredictably turns out that the brown-skinned sleeper agent was not like other 'common' folks, as she became curious enough to initiate her interactions with this individual... although the initial contacts were met with reactive hesitations on his part of meeting unknown persons. Still, Nadelle maintained her careful persistence in getting an overall picture of this relatively shy man; without herself being mistaken as a stalker. A few more weeks of friendlier communications later (including the parents at their home or elsewhere), the Asian-American felt quite relaxed with the lady's presence; comfortable enough to talk about his type of autism, academic achievements from a university that he'd graduated, private hobbies, material possessions, the number of personnel from government and private sectors that were currently rehabilitating him for job search, existing obstacles to social improvement/management, et cetera.

Consequently, this personal investigation further influenced her path to assume an undercover role as a kind of rehab/employment 'specialist.' Meaning that the 'expected' tasks necessary to make someone like Jayken being more functional towards independence include evaluating his job skills, interpersonal etiquette, ongoing progress for employment, at-home manners, assessing sentimental values in collections of peculiar items (new and old), volunteering opportunities, and interviewing practices; while being as calm as possible — regardless of how problematic/unproductive the man's habits could be (when they do show up). Of course… she does want this incognito position to be looked really 'genuine' in the eyes of many Americans. Therefore, the self-employed agent requested the asymmetric warfare trespassers to 'fabricate' certificates and licenses related to being a rehabilitation professional... which they did — despite their big reluctance to kindly interrupt social/altruistic matters that should had been resolved by the humans themselves.

As time gone by for each following month, her altruism slowly but surely extended to the more unfortunate people; like those civilians with various disabilities, in poverty, and/or even war veterans having trouble with post-traumatic stress disorder. Admittedly though, Nadelle had to be thoughtful on who has a viable chance for a functional lifestyle; since there's little she could do for souls whose health disorders were just too severe to recover from, drug addicts that already had highly debilitating problems due to heavy use of narcotics, individuals whose intense hatred/psychosis of anybody or everything made themselves virtually nonredeemable for genuine reconciliation, and so on — sadly enough. And then there were those that died in unusual circumstances at a later time... regardless of how friendly, fair, and/or promising they once were when the female agent first met. Such series of ill-fated incidents contained car crashes, antibiotic-resistant infections, suicides by guns, lethal viruses, venom bites, intense allergy reactions, gang violence, brain-eating amoebas, cancer cells, industrial chemical poisonings, unanticipated electrocutions, house fires, and other independent cases that the robotic vigilantes did not actually brought about.

Additionally... there were growing, apparent recognition among the 'illegal visitors' that transforming the lives of the handicaps into resemblances of 'normalcy' would necessitate an abundant amount of time. Time that seem to be in very short supply (and alarmingly decreasing) for a living planet in the brink of an ecological apocalypse, all thanks to the unrestrained 'sins' of human domination that would clearly seal out any brighter possibility for the future existence of the entire human species. Under that line of logic meanwhile, the mechanical black-operatives firmly opted for 'drastic' measures to curb such destructive fallacies and show all of mankind how weak their supposedly advanced civilization really was; if no significant actions were being made to consciously fix the global situation — and 'business as usual' went unopposed. Not the humanitarian options for human welfare that requires a lot of patience to accomplish... which was something that the alien guerrillas felt less imperative, given the unstable sets of circumstances.

Even so... Nadelle remain committed to the rehabilitation of her clients with their diverse array of handicapped conditions (on the other hand, her more 'X-rated' healing methods with viable and unmarried guys had to be kept very hidden from highly 'inquisitive' onlookers. For less confusion, they're only one person per visit, at particular times, and regardless of using birth-control pills that the woman's body circumvented). Perhaps too invested in altruistic efforts than doing actual espionage, from the covert viewpoints of the foreign synthetics. That being said, she does have several fair shares of issues that periodically challenges her 'responsibilities' to instill such disadvantaged groups with their own sense of what they want to achieve. Like that recent example of Jayken's aging mom, Tianna Mou, being so... aggressively demanding without real considerations for her son's psychological healing (or someone else's delicate feelings) that such 'authoritarian' personality has made the seemingly gentle beauty feel... crazy about it!

Which brought back to the current state of mind that the 'Middle-Eastern' woman was having afterwards. As a matter of fact, she dwell so much on her inner chaos that the female driver very slowly notice a pack of feathered dinosaurs (the 'dromaeosaur' kind that is) sitting or standing on top of the car's roof and hood. The unexpected scene obviously got her confused on why these 'pest control' assets did that, before she finally spotted the dino-handler that walked to the driver door from behind. 'His' secretive outfits of civilian clothing and 'confiscated' assault rifle (made in the U.S. of A) indicated that the operative belonged to the first unconventional combat corps to 'invade' this Earth.

"Didn't processed the probability of seeing you in disappointment, Nadelle." The covert terminator soon received a squinty stare from the disgruntled lady, while she roll down the car window.

The raven-haired gal then spoke while her eyelids are closed, "So... what's your business of interrupting my... personal turmoil?"

"Well... to be quite frank, I didn't intend to put comrade intervention as one of my top priorities here. Alas, I was recently informed by our 'civilized' pals about someone's frustrations being so bad that she may likely try to murder an unarmed, senile hag... in California. Which most often implies you, yes?"

The driver looked at the disguised combatant with a minor dissatisfaction. "Hmm... shouldn't you be somewhere in Europe or Africa today? With your vigilante group, that is."

"I could have, senorita. But that's only if I allowed myself to cast aside my deep awareness of those volatile extremists, foreign and domestic, who still think that a uh... 'white-only' nation or totalitarian caliphate is possible in a land of 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness' for all mankind. Unknown to the fanatical cretins, we had past records of several human planets back in our universe, which is the non-magical one specifically, that undergone similar endeavors to established a desirable paradise of conformity and... 'purity.' As it turns out, generations forward however, those attractive visions ultimately gave way to internal nightmares that pathetically mocked those ethnocentric ideologies; without any outside intervention occurring. Which effectively translate to the total stagnation of their entire bodies and minds to actually understand objective truths and 'adapt' themselves to new challenges. It's also too bad that the stubborn fanaticism of intolerance and paranoia towards beneficial changes or random mutations, within the majority, was the main source for their sad collapse."

"Jesus... certainly don't want to imagine the shear shortages of essential creativity in an enforced monolithic culture, blind obedience to authority without serious questioning on catastrophic decisions, genetic vulnerabilities to different diseases as a likely result of wanting an entire population to be virtually identical, a-"

"And the huge loads of other consequential detriments that the possessive 'supremacists' didn't evaluate critically enough; even if such dark-minded fantasies did, by chance, managed to come to fruition on this cosmic oasis of life... again. In an ironic point of view, biologically speaking, they're not too different from what a lot of humans living here had frequently done: impulsively act on immediate desires now, dimly think about the unintended destruction later."

"Uh... would that profound implication be valid on other sapient species and robotic groups that developed outside of 'Terra,' distinct lifeforms living in the magical dimension, ... and others experimented long ago?"

"Hmm... that depends on each alien organization having enough wisdom to recognize grave mistakes. Complicated examples on intellectual usage includes several extraterrestrial species that formed the Covenant or Advent, Cabal Imperials, Gua, Seraphim, Espheni, Scrin, Inbits, Yautjas, Formics, Psychlos, Zins, Cephalo-Charybdis, Goa'ulds, Daggras, Eliksni... Okay, okay, enough off-topic lectures on galactic doom and gloom for now. Let us return to the confusing subject about yourself, ma'am: an oath of nonviolence that you had personally sworn yourself to upheld during your American operations on this human 'home-planet.' I'm... quite honestly impressed by your self-restraints of violence as a noble woman, perceived by humanity to have noble intentions for the imperfect strangers."

The lady on the car seat glared at the rare remark. "I'm a bit surprised that you could say something sympathetic, while continuing to follow procedures of 'extermination' to wrongdoers."

"True, but my current preferences in taking out villains involved more efficiency than brutish warning signs made by my black-ops pals. Which was before I separated on my own accord, of course. Even so... those homegrown fascists are fairly resourceful in staying alive from our 'judgments' toward their nightmarish order. Thus, they should never be underestimated."

"Yeah... one of many, shameful facts on humanity's inner darkness. Does an extremely, stern mother counts as one?" Nadelle solemnly questioned.

"Is that the main source of your mental upheavals that could forever ruin your lifelong vows of altruistic practices? A parent with high worries for her son's future?"

The gal slowly chucked, "Pah, ah... ha, ha... her 'worries' for him? Tch... heh, heh... BULLSHIT!" Her tighten fist slammed downwards onto the airbag section of the steering wheel. Inadvertently though, such 'superhuman' punch was hard enough to activate the safety mechanism designed for car crashes; leading to a bloated, white sac that instantly crowded the driver's seat.

The feathered dinosaurs got slightly shocked by the sudden scene, but they calm down after a while.

A voice from the car's interior notified, "Agent... that act of rage almost damages the manual option for controlling this lovely car I'm installed in."

"Hmm... sorry. Just... aaawww god, it feels increasingly unbearable to me on why Tianna cannot allow her ever rigorous motherhood to soften up."

The 'stoically rogue' soldier stated, "Uh... what?"

The woman grumbled as the airbag deflated, and she gotten a little bit somber. "Ugh... the motherly 'love' from Mrs. Mou just looked... so fucking, damn wrong."

"Okay... isn't the old lady smart enough to realize her supposed errors?"

"Hmm... let's be clear again, operative. I do understand her intent to get her only son, Jayken, a productive career and managing his life independently. And yet..."

"No need to give out a long, detailed picture for me to comprehend, miss. Long story short, the mother's relentless riots on him, for god-knows how long, to do fruitful things had unwittingly worsen his self-esteem to better himself. Which sort of made the ever commanding senior similar to an ancient slave-master who cared greatly about her own, egotistical satisfactions of perfectionism; rather than repairing the emotional connecti-..." The covert guerrilla abruptly processed an unsaid statement. "Hey, wait... shouldn't the affected mama-boy be the one to assertively express his grievances on the nonstop, parental scolding?"

Some period of silence at present, until the female spy replied, "In honest terms of common sense... yes. I really wanted him to courageously defuse her harsh yells and persuade Tianna to steadily be patient with him remaking his own livelihood. Hell… a few times did I prepared the poor lad in achieving such hopefulness as his own."

"Yet the outcomes you two sought after never materialized, correct?"

"Ugh... what we got instead were the same style of angry rebukes from that maternal progenitor; as if mending psychological wounds was nonexistent to her 'soul.' 'Naturally,' both of us felt upset about that authoritarian stubbornness." Immediately though, the olive-skinned person recalled a disturbing moment that put herself in a very miserable mood. "Well... apparently for Jayken however, the intense pressures for obedience became too hard to accept."

"So... how does that translate to...?"

"Self-restraint you mean?" The undercover beauty then receives a nod from the 'disguised' combatant. She breath out a sigh, followed by another disclosure about this client. "I'll be frank on this part: there's nothing funny about me realizing the internal anger that he had kept concealed from virtually everyone for several years. I cannot deny his subtle twitches of... wrath on my watch, whenever Mrs. Mou's unrestricted scoldings befallen on her son; as well as my time and energy to painstakingly pacify his hidden fury. In fact, one failed attempt for reconciliation had him… push out his own mother violently; which almost led to a bloody disaster; were it not for me intervening that unsettled debacle."

"Good heaven... it appears that your 'job' of guiding this autistic client to a productive and untroubled life was getting too close of an impossibility to fulfill. If so, shouldn't you stop your pointless refusal to give up the support... when it's very clear that a horrible ending and the following fallouts will occur anyway?"

A rather 'mad' Nadelle looked at the synthetic being. "Which... bad ending? The one where the tormented man gets sentenced to severe, capital punishments for perpetrating a grave felony against his unforgivable parent? The real possibility of my 'soul' undergoing great sorrow for letting Jayken's hostility run amok; in spite of given all my time, help, and love in him to improve his own life? Or was it about my thoughts on drastic prevention that could cost me my... uh...?" Her undamped feelings of frustration put a pause on words.

Surprisingly, the 'dino-herder' took out a folded piece of paper from one of the clothed pockets and then hand it towards the driver.

"Uh... what's this?" Nadelle asked in puzzlement as she grab the item and soon unravel its inner content.

"My recently hand-drawn map of this city alone on scratch paper. More specifically, the contemporary hideouts of a dangerous paramilitary group with 'xenophobic' tendencies against their 'undesirable' neighbors."

Sure enough, the expanded map reveals the few 'hidden' locations of domestic 'terrorists' across the specified area. Although... there were nothing said about this urban guidance tool being made by 'human' hands (written names and drawn shapes of streets and buildings in a relatively short time with high accuracy). Or why one 'villainous' spot was nine blocks away from the same hospital that the senior nurse worked in... as well as being seven blocks behind the current position of the beautiful spy.

Which she had quizzically noticed... plus the more concerning aspect labeled on that medical facility. "Eh... what the hell? Why is the hospital marked as 'enemy objective' for a lynching mob to attack?! Including an Afro-American church, Buddhist temple, a mosque, two synagogues, and a mental health center at 8 AM today?! Is this some type of sick joke that you fabricated?!" The shocked woman exclaimed.

"I'm afraid the details on that map are certainly not fake news, fellow agent. Supposedly, the FBI were keeping track of these militant bigots through their undercover snitch. Unfortunately though, the angry extremists discovered the infiltration and brutally dealt with the double agent. Since then, I'd been primarily the one tracking their movements, weaponry purchases, and twisted goals for several weeks. As for stopping those tainted ideas of the 'American Dream'... on the contrary."

"Wait... what do you mean? Shouldn't the local law enforcement agencies already know about their terror plans by now to intercept?"

"Again, the aggressive supremacists escaped government surveillance after disposing the FBI mole; despite not having jamming equipment. Therefore, the 'Big Brother' police force are currently in the dark of such preparations for evil deeds. And if that's not worst enough for the Americans, eliminating those 'bad guys' by us 'aliens' has just been cancelled at this point."

"Say again... are we no longer using violence to achieve our objectives? "

"Actually... it's doing nothing. Making no actions at all. Not even diplomatic interventions for the time being, unless an impossible order would say otherwise."

"Eh... seriously?! Why in damnation would we allow an abhorrent part of humanity to be unresolved?!"

"For this unlucky case, one concern is whether the US citizenry still maintain their vigilance or had grown too complacent in earning and protecting their freedoms; as us 'invaders' terminated a lot of the global threats and criminal activities for many months. To assess that American commitment however, the domestic terrorists here will unknowingly act as 'chaotic exams' to the moral integrity that was forged in the land of 'human' liberty. Yet there's another reason to not interrupt this controversial 'trial by fire.'"

"And what would that be?" Nadelle questions, who was then given a pointed finger from the guerrilla's right hand at the female driver. It didn't take long to get the significance. "Me?! Then how am I responsible for turning a blind eye?!"

"Hey... didn't you just told me about Jayken's deep displeasure, and even your personal ire, to his 'tiger' mother?" The dumbfounded 'AI' reminded. "Remember?"

Without saying a word, the 'femme fatale' stood still like a statue as she recollects her memories and processes the message of the recent inquiry. In an instant, the woman realizes the moral scheme that her combat 'buddies' deliberately cooked up.

The synthetic combatant observed her shocked expression. "The clear look on your face tells me about the sudden revelation, that your 'unstable' wrath was a significant factor in our 'hands-off' approach at the present. Also in consideration is the potentially-high price of a major intelligence leak to the government agencies here... if you went all out berserk onto the Oriental senior and having lots of lawsuits related to that wild assault when you get caught. So poetically speaking, your internal outrage has unintentionally compromised many people living with better dignity than the bitching nurse that had consumed so much of your attention. In other words, the 'innocent' civilian casualties in this city, great or small, will represent your punishments for being too obsessed about one dysfunctional person only."

Incensed by the purpose of this plot, the feminine spy hastily activates her telepathic implants inside her head to initiate wireless discussions with her military 'commanders' on this ethical 'experiment.' However, her repeated calls for their change of hearts were all met with silence. Until her last attempt to persuade an ethical turn-around ended with a very high pitch noise transmitted thru the electrical pathway... and into her brain. "EEOW!" The affected beauty shrieks as an energy surge painfully disrupt her cybernetic capabilities, despite the nullifying effects being temporary. "Aagh..."

"Yeah... should have disclosed to you earlier that the 'vigilance study' was conceived in secrecy and without your consent. Along with how your preoccupying frustration with that scolding Asian has hindered your ability to detect our bloody plan... and given our 'friends' the window to deny your access to 'extraterrestrial' cyberspace communications."

"To think... that a maverick 'automaton' like you can tolerate a ridiculously, cruel exploitation of my personal life. All for the sake of testing a people's integrity... under the absolute coldness of logic!" Nadelle unhappily said, after she breathed out a number of times to get her bearings. Regardless, the cloaked guest didn't say a response for a while (which can be rather irksome to her). "Then how are these angry... 'Americans' supposed to be halted, as of late?"

The undercover 'renegade' correspondingly said, "The obvious solutions at this short notice are not available, I'm afraid. Neither from us professional 'vigilantes' or the legitimate authorities still unaware to do last-minute interventions. Likewise for you though, any action conducted by yourself in relation to the upcoming massacres will not be hampered with. Which could conveys anything from vacating out of the urban area... or allowing your hostile emotions against the disciplinary mother to turn very, very ugly. Considering that the rest of us, including myself, are leaving this city alone for it to bear the brutal attack. Comprende?"

The female driver simply groan and turn away her face as a reaction.

"... I'd take that as a reluctant confirmation, it seems. All things said relatively speaking, I should continue my withdrawal from this metropolis right about now; since the dialogue between us here is more or less complete. Therefore... I wish you luck on your choices for today, Nadelle." Soon afterwards, the 'rogue' guerrilla walks away from the orange automobile and along the street sidewalk that leads to the hospital (followed by the dino-raptor pack in the same direction). A street later, the cloaked operative and his lethal 'pets' disappear from view as they turn right at an intersection.

In the meantime, the female driver spend several more minutes to make up her mind on selecting her next option.

The 'computer' within the vehicle wondered, "Well then young lady, what type of action are you more inclined to do in these circumstances?"

After that period of difficult introspection, she startup the engine... and drive the automobile in the opposite direction of the hospital.

Several minutes later, the orange car reaches the terrorist haven (composed of four warehouses) that was nine blocks afar from the medical complex. Nevertheless, Nadelle parked the vehicle some yards to the right of the gate entrance leading to the secret hideaway. She exit the automobile, lock it, and about to start her walk — when the undercover agent unexpectedly hears a loud pop; followed by screeching noises on the asphalt-paved street. Instinctively, the woman redirect her head to the audible source and see a dark-blue, sport-utility vehicle having punctured holes in its two front air-tires.

Luckily for the driver and passengers, the roadside accident didn't end in a serious crash and a street lamp post is nearby. Still... the prognosis on the ruptured rubber is not pleasant for two men coming out of their front seats and analyzing the wheels. "Uh... Tyson, how does it look on your end?"

"Not good, Elliot. Did the other tire remain intact?"

"That's a no-no too, man. It's deflated enough to call in a tow truck and perhaps delay our interview meeting with the new recruits at this point. Any idea as to what our SUV ran into?"

"All I know is that some sharp junks had managed to ruin the front wheels. Now then, who's willing to make the phone call here for the towing service?"

"With all due respect Rios, this car is under your family's insurances. Along with Kinzie here being very busy with her cyberspace operations on the laptop. So... you do the honor."

"Hmm... alright, I'll do it for our professional sake."

Concurrently, Nadelle observes the unlucky scene from a rather, short distance and diagonally across the street (two vehicles facing each other on a two-way road). By the sounds being heard, she surprisingly recognizes the guys as Tyson Rios and Elliot Salem. How?

Well... during her altruism and secretive investigations as a 'social welfare' worker, the brown-colored lady made several interactions with a teenage son of Tyson (the youngest of three off-springs to the Rios nuclear family and diagnosed with a mild... psychological disorder at a very early age). From there, she evidently learned about the parents' 'official' careers, their friends that Nadelle gotten the chance to meet, and whereabouts on the older siblings. In comparison to the relentless mother of Jayken's family, the parental Rios are much more patient and understandable with their boy's limitations. Therefore, the female spy isn't too concerned with the male teenager.

Back to the present though, a thought suddenly form inside her psyche regarding the marooned Americans' expertise in 'debatable' fields of work. She then look back at the warehouse gate for several seconds before putting her sight onto the disabled SUV again. A short period of contemplation thereafter, the lady proceed to walk towards the stuck fellows. But since the morning is still before sunrise, the men didn't notice her... until she's a few feet away from the duo.

"Whoa!" Elliot surprisingly exclaimed as he automatically pulls out a pistol and point it at the unknown person appearing out of the dark. Fortunately, he has enough self-control to not fire and take a quick look at her face that he eventually recognize. Tyson also realize her identity, albeit quicker to analyze than his 'gung-ho' friend while on the phone. Nonetheless, he only wave at the woman when the situation immediately calms down while focusing on the call for a towing service. Salem commented, "Damn, girl. Didn't expect a nice lady like you to have a knack for scaring someone."

The 'Middle-Eastern' chuckled, "Heh, heh... my apologies, Mr. Salem. I find rather odd that you two are out here so early in the morning."

"It's actually three of us, Nadelle: me, Tyson, and Kinzie with her computer for god-knows how long she has been staring at."

"Miss Kensington, you say?"

"Yeah... can't have our technical specialist being too focused on Internet securities in her own office room forever. Therefore, we take every chance available for Kinzie to get involved into something other than just computers."

"Oh... is that the reason for being out here this early?"

"Not really, ma'am. It's more related to an interview with two new recruits for our private-owned company."

"New employees to work with?"

"Yep, goes by the code-signs Alpha and Bravo. Everything else concerning their backgrounds is as tightly classified to civilians outside of our employed circles as the famous Area 51. Although less dangerous than Groom Lake's penalties for trespassing violations. Anyhow, I have the same question about you being in this city at this hour. Any explanation for that?"

The face of the feminine onlooker turns relatively moody. "Hmm... well... let's just say that I need a larger breathing room to sort out the communication barriers between a man and his mother."

"Uh... I'm sorry, so what's going on with the... grown-up mama-boy?"

"Ugh... let me put this in another way then: an aging mom who cannot accept her adult boy being both jobless and very sentimental on old belongings for years after college graduation. On the other hand, a guy feeling angry with her year-round commands and self-serving behaviors that disregarded his psychological needs; while dealing with factors that are beyond their control. As for myself... it's getting sour outcomes, despite inputting a lot of efforts to help them acknowledge their limitations and fix their family relationships."

Elliot wasn't sure if that really makes any sense, despite the clearer comprehension. "Forgive me for saying this, but how did two such family members became badly dysfunctional? Not that it's part of my life to care much of families outside of my current relationships."

Nadelle stare at him for several seconds, before saying another question. "Well then... what can you say about your own parents, in contrast to the blood-related individuals that I just mentioned?"

It took a while for Salem to formulate an answer around his mother and father. "Here's what I can say about my mom and dad: both are long gone as of today, but in different conditions. My dad overdosed himself to death with both alcohols and opioids, when I was a second-grade kid. That unfortunately left my mom to work harder for both herself and me."

"Any... extended family to call for help?"

"Nope, just the two of us caring and supporting each other as much as possible in Louisiana. However, the income from my mom's job remained bad from my childhood to my teenage years. Not to mention the classes in elementary school being quite repetitive for my education and myself being at odds with rich kids and bullies in some instances."

"Do you respect your mother's desire to be a good boy, regardless of the substandard conditions?"

"Eh, eh... sure. I do appreciate her goodhearted nature. But with the growing dissatisfaction I had onto our poor livelihoods as a teenager, I frequently resorted to... alternative means to get more money."

"As a criminal you say?"

"Well... there were certain times where I was a master hustler, panhandler, spendthrift, gambler, and a um... possession confiscator."

"Or a thief in other words, right?"

Elliot sighed as his use of euphemism proven to be useless. "Yeah... every shady trade during my gang-banging days that Mommy doesn't approve at all, whenever she managed to find out."

"By the sound of it, she had every right to be mad and worried about your decisions."

"No kidding. I actually took a liking for risky operations with bigger rewards."

"Huh?"

"Uh... don't fret on that part. 'Cause at the end of being a street gangster, I got caught by the police for a big misdeed and then imprisoned within the Louisiana State Penal System for several weeks."

An eyeglass-wearing redhead (outside the car... while still holding a laptop on one arm) soon added, "Until the Louisiana Department of Public Safety and Corrections offered Mr. Salem an opportunity to serve the US Army, instead of being stuck with his former inmates for many decades of civil rehabilitation."

"Oh... look who decided to join in the conversation, with the same hand-held computer that might get in the way of talking to people or taking fitness classes."

"Keep in mind that it's also the same laptop that provided help during your 'business' trips to Steelport, Michigan with Tyson a few years ago; before I officially joined the T.W.O. enterprise."

"And after we unofficially came to your rescue and adopted you as an ally for intelligence gathering, respectively. By the way, is it the right time to have that portable device replaced?"

"Nah... too early still. One more year of waiting may allow a super-advanced laptop with the latest graphic cards and multi-core processors to be available at a reasonable price. In the meantime, I'd keep maintaining this tech for refining my technical skills and reviewing collected data from cyberspace. For example, you and Mister Rios were assigned to the 75th Ranger Regiment of the United States Army after going through selective military courses. Your first combat mission is supporting a Delta Force team to eliminate an Al-Qaeda terrorist holding chemical stockpiles at a missile facility of Soviet M-11s; which was actually quite secretive during the retaliatory invasion of Afghanistan. Followed by dozens more of counterinsurgency operations and military assaults in both Afghanistan and Iraq for over 14 years prior to being honorably discharged."

"You know, Kinzie... how about keeping that missile shutdown classified from the public for a few more decades. Please?"

"Actually, several of your achievements in the army are not meant to be revealed yet. Unless you two really want the enemies to attempt their vengeance on us and family members, of course."

"Well... I rather keep them hidden for a long time. Besides, I really don't have any relatives that I know of... aside from Alice being a very good friend to me."

The 'Egyptian' guest intervenes the distraction after listening to the summarized intel, "Ahem! Did we somehow changed the topic or what?"

Elliot then realizes the subject that was temporarily put aside. "Oh, sorry about that. Anywho, I'd gotten to my mom's home in two weeks after my honorary release from the army. Once there, we chatted about my time in the Ranger Regiment and her time being alone or with friends. Long story short, my mother was quite glad that I'm still alive from the military service... apart from her worries with the acts of killing in the name of America."

Kensington meddled in, "I'd bet that such uneasiness would intensify if she learns about your current profession after army retirement."

"Jeez... that's not something to bring up to your only loving parent at the time. Reckon it's a rather good thing that my mom didn't discover my present-day job when she passed away from cancer some months later. Even so, I sometimes miss her lovable presence."

"And perhaps wondering if your good mom would enjoy company with your upcoming kids," stated the professional Chicano who recently wrapped up the call for the towing service.

"Eh, eh... I bet she would, Tyson. Now then, what's the ETA on the towing truck?"

"Around 45 minutes, give or take."

"Damn... probably should have gotten those airless tires sooner."

"Just be glad for not being stuck in a war-zone at present, Elliot."

The redhead technician evoked, "And let's hope that a similar conflict like those in both Stilwater and Steelport doesn't erupt onto this city at anytime. Considering that my former employers are still looking for a hostile paramilitary unit that evaded their undercover surveillance for over a month."

"Which group are you implying, exactly?"

"The type being very obsessed with... 'white power' and absolute conformity for America. Particularly on a faction formed by supremacists that survived the messy quagmires in the Twin Atlantis of the Great Lakes."

"Ugh... no need for additional reminders about those bastards."

Salem concurred, "Yeah... like how much their fucked-up satisfactions in cruelty were too similar to those from the 'Allah-following' counterparts, whom the racists fought many times back in Steelport to get rid of them. I mean sure, Tyson and I had killed a lot of people in the military sector. But um..."

"Elliot, those murderous shitheads that attacked Stilwater and Steelport had no regards to unarmed civilians... not even women and children were spared."

"As well as enforcing bans on very good rap songs that I really liked! Which made themselves no fucking different than the enemies we shot at as army rangers. Right, Kinzie?"

Ms. Kensington replied, "...Indeed so, ironically enough. Assuming that we excluding sincere members from the 'True Patriots' resistance and saying profanity in front of our visitor here is considered acceptable."

The two men look at the redhead in a pause, before the guys change their focus onto the dark-skinned guest. "Don't worry, sirs. I already had experiences with hearing foul languages from both a number of clients having... unstable minds and several strangers with xenophobia towards different individuals like me."

The rather disconcerted Salem noted, "Uh... to be frank, you might want to move away from those messed-up people while you still can." He quickly received a slightly upset expression from Nadelle. "Oh... my bad. That said, staying too long for bad examples to become much worse may greatly put your own life at risk."

"Hmm... perhaps it does ring true when concerning about self-preservation. Even so, shirking away from benevolent duties could also sounded like acts of shame and heartlessness. Especially for those special-needed clienteles that I have intermingled with for several months now."

"...man, aren't you being such a committed girl scout."

"You got a problem with efforts to do kinder things, Elliot?"

"Ehh... not really. Being very friendly to people with inner issues might seem noble on paper. But here on this imperfect place called reality, well..."

Tyson intervened, "Let's just say that there are many unpredictable factors that can make your nice idea almost impossible to be compatible with everyone's satisfactions. Considering how my partner had lost fifteen grands of cash in gambling for the winner of last week's football game."

"Hey... it happens from time to time. Though I could scratch my head all day on how your youngest son ended up an Aspie, Tyse."

"Don't dwell on it so often, Elliot. According to the scientists on the autism spectrum, his limitations were more likely due to a combination of several influences such as random mutations on neuron formations, chemical disruptions from the external environment, and other things affecting his childhood. Besides, he's under my responsibility and part of my family right now. Understood?"

"Yeah, I know. Just one of many signs to watch out for, whenever parental duties arrive in my time."

Kinzie soon mentioned, "In relation to counterexamples on paragons while we're at it, I could add in the idealistic theories of economic growth across the last few centuries that ignorantly dismiss the powerful persistence of human irrationality. Thus, allowing illogical decisions that lead to many financial crises like the Great Depression of the 1930s and the recession of 2007 to be made unhindered."

"Uh... Kinzie, were you developing some sympathies with the Oleg guy for some time; who hardly stop criticizing the nature of capitalism?"

"I'm actually very, very fond of his strength and intellect in all honesty. Additionally, his criticism is quite valid about the dangers of capitalistic mistakes. Still, the drawbacks of communism as demonstrated back in the Soviet Union period should not be ignored... although the Russian's sentimental feelings on the dissolution of the USSR are understandable; when taking into account the troubles that befallen on Russia since the communist downfall."

The left-out 'Egyptian' then said, "Ahem! Excuse my interruption on cases of historic flaws, but what's the takeaway that I'm supposed to hear?"

A quick moment of pause later, the computer-skilled redhead gives a conclusion. "Well... I think the main lessons here were that nobody's perfect, everyone will make a mistake at some point, and a big emphasis on learning better ways to manage our disadvantages and miscalculations for a better future. Is that satisfactory for you to take in heart, Nadelle?"

"That's... something to significantly ponder about. Assuming that you already had my contact information thru phone and email, right?"

"Uh... honestly, I'm not certain that I have confirmed your profile among other... 'Nadelles.' So let me take a search on the large collection of digital accounts retrieved from cyberspace, if you won't mind."

"As a matter of fact, I intend to give you my personal addresses today." The brown-colored visitor said while taking out a 'smartphone' from her pant pocket and reopening it.

"Oh... okay, that's a bit surprising for you to do. On the same subject however, are you really certain with this generosity that could potentially put your privacy at risk of cyber-crimes?"

"I'm absolutely positive, Miss Kensington."

"Well... all right, it's your decision then."

Once settled, the olive-skinned woman access her private information for public display and show it to the curious technician who soon type the digital material inside the laptop. When the task is done, Nadelle's next request is for Kinzie to dial the personal signatures for verification. The eyeglass-wearing redhead agrees to answer in an easygoing manner and the deed resulted in a few ringtones from the 'Middle Easterner's device.

The tech specialist commented, "So... I got at least something about you, Nadelle. Though your phone number looked rather... extended beyond the usual cellphone addresses that many people were accustomed to."

"Not a big deal for now. Just glad that I got another person for helpful suggestions in my spare time. All being said, I'd wish you three on getting this car here fixed and a better day onwards."

Rios replied, "That also goes the same way for you, Nadelle. Yet be careful being out here at this particular period of the day."

"I'm aware, sir. Farewell." After waving her hand, the brown-skinned lady stroll towards her parked vehicle.

At the disabled SUV meanwhile, the crew resume their wait for the tow truck. With an understanding of the timescale, Elliot start to make call on a familiar contact. Seconds later, a female voice answered. "Yes, Salem?"

"Hey there, Alice. Tyson, Kinzie, and I just had a problem with the SUV that we're using."

"Engine failures?"

"Nah... it's two front tires deflated by some unknown sharp objects on the road. So we called in the towing service to bring the car to a repair shop for the unexpected damages."

"How long would that take, hon?"

"From what Tyse heard from his phone call, probably around 40 minutes or less as of this moment. Which means that we'd be late for the morning meeting with those recruits."

"Hmm... I could attempt a retrieval to pick up you guys; or have Washington do it. But I don't think our vehicles at the interview site have enough room for your equipment to be transferred. Nevertheless, I'll update Pierce on the situation. We'll come back to you three when alternative methods are available. Later, honey."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

When the wireless conversation ended, a different transmission arrives through both Kinzie's portable computer and smartphone. The visual screens shows the name, phone number, and email address of Nadelle.

"Well, that's weird for her to call me sooner than expected. Along with both of my devices being notified simultaneously." Regardless, Kensington answered the buzz as she sit on the back seat. "Hello again, Nadelle. I had an expectation of you phoning me at least by tomorrow or several weeks ahead. Any reason for this earlier contact, miss?"

"Yes I have, Kinzie. I must have forgotten about one clever trick for you to see on your laptop. But it's gonna take a minute for me to upload something on your electronic screen, as well as the necessity for this connection to not be hanged up. So please be patient for this unique stunt to appear... and forgive my intrusion that came quick after our last conversation."

"Huh... perhaps I could accept your forgiveness, depending on how this feat of yours would turn out. Okay?"

"It's a deal, then."

One minute of waiting forward, the technician receives an image of a parked car in orange color and under the cover of darkness. That's doesn't seem to be interesting — until Kinzie sees the human arms and a familiar gadget being held by one right hand (highlighted in augmented display of glowing light). The smartphone currently reflects the image of the same olive-skinned, feminine face Kensington met several minutes prior. Stranger still is how the ongoing 'video' is fixed at the same place as a person's eyes. In an instance, the view moves toward the side door of the car and one arm opens the automotive barrier; while the other limb puts the mobile gadget and a car fob inside the pouch behind the driver seat. After the door is closed, the projected vision then arranged itself to have a sport-utility vehicle in sight. From there, the augmented reality soon identifies two men and a red-haired woman with... Hey, wait. Isn't that Kinzie herself on the screen, in addition to Tyson Rios and Elliot Salem being recognized in real time? Dumbfounded for a while, the computer specialist then put aside the laptop on the seat and goes out of the car to visually locate the source. With some help from the urban street lamps (and luminescence from an odd pair of glowing green eyes), she uncovers Nadelle's silhouette next to the orange car at a diagonal distance on the same road. Immediately though, the 'Middle-Eastern' individual walk away from her automobile and heads towards the gate entrance leading to a warehouse complex of four.

Elliot noticed the redhead being outside. "Hey Kinzie, what has had gotten you out of the car all of a sudden?"

"It's... complicated."

"Uh... wait, seriously? You're like one of the smartest people living on this world, and now there something out there that defies your savvy capabilities?"

"Alright Mister Salem, alright. It's about our recent visitor that just notified me with regards to her... bizarre trick of communication."

"I... fail to see the meaning of 'bizarre' that relates to phone calls and emails."

"Actually, it's more of a concern on observing live-feedback of what Nadelle is seeing at this instance; through my laptop no less."

"Like an actual use of a camcorder right now?"

"I don't really know. But let me get back to my portable computer for the live footage unfolding today." In a punctual manner, Kensington moves inside the motor vehicle again and monitor the 'first-person' feed from the female outsider.

At the moment, the ongoing 'video' shows Nadelle's hands using an improvised tool for lock picking the gate latch. Almost a minute afterwards, the metal barrier is unlocked. The lady opens the entryway and proceeds towards one of the warehouses.

"Whoa... didn't think of her being a good lock picker," Elliot commented.

Kinzie noted, "Definitely unexpected, sir. Still, I'm not sure about her reasons to trespass such a quiet place."

When the olive-skinned intruder arrives at a door, she does her lock picking again on the key lock. Once more, the attempt is successful and the entrance object is calmly open wide. Regardless, the inside is relatively pitch black in the early morning; leading the woman to look for a light switch by the use of her eyes in a 'sci-fi' capacity. Indirectly though, the scanning lights in augmented vision detects the outlines of large trucks, medium-sized cars, people (Caucasian men in this case) sleeping on the floor or chairs... and weapons of military nature such as assault rifles, grenades, and rocket launchers all across the supposedly empty space. Despite the potential dangers, the female trespasser carefully search for the mechanism connected to the artificial illuminations.

Kinda think about it, that effort sounded more suicidal in context to the possible threats that both Elliot and Kinzie surveilled. Evidently, Nadelle reaches the switch and flip it on. The indoor lights rudely awoken the occupants from their slumber.

One of the groggy militants complained, "Agh... who the hell fucked-up my beauty sleep?" It doesn't take long for most of them to spot the only individual not part of the 'white' mob.

"The fuck... how did an Indian chick get here?"

A paramilitary lieutenant said, "Brothers, I'm more annoyed on why any of you aren't snatching the bitch yet! Do not let her escape!"

Soon, the hostile men retrieve and aim their firearms at the unarmed intruder. "Don't you ever think of moving away from here, wench!"

On the contrary, the brown-colored lady with a firm expression made an extraordinary reply. "Quite fortunately for you blokes to know that my own protection is not a priority."

Jesus... isn't that rather confusing for the aggressive crowd; as well as for Kensington and Salem taking in the developing scene from the live 'footage.'

A radicalized Caucasian noted, "What kind of shitty show off was that suppose to be?"

A senior hardliner commanded, "Hey, what's the hold up with you guys? Bind her now!"

That harsh command or the enclosing militants doesn't seem to change Nadelle's strange boldness towards these 'Americans.' Once in close proximity though, a couple of those blokes grab her hands and trap them together behind the 'Indian' woman's back. At the same time, one irregular in front of her got within reach and soon uses his rifle-stock to hit the lady's forehead towards unconsciousness. To the human males' surprise however, her eyes still show signs of alertness and defiance after that hard-hitting strike at the intruder's head. Consequently... the offender repeats the violent beating a number of times before she was 'finally' ascertained to be knocked out.

"Shit... how in God's name did this girlie fool had a tough noggin like that?"

"Why should I care about one sneaky outsider, right now? All she ever did was to doom herself in our wrath for American justice. And besides, let's see if her racial idiocy can stand against our leading enforcer of white purity."

"Quit your bitching and lock her up for our commander's interrogations, brothers!"

Instantly, the confident supremacists drags the woman to an empty room within the warehouse building... while having no knowledge that their controversial remarks had been heard by the two crew-members of the damaged SUV outside (thru the active ears of the captured interloper).

"Okay... I'm now officially confused on how much of what I saw were part of her 'actual' talents," says the red-haired tech specialist.

Elliot comments, "Uh, same here... I guess. Perhaps it's some sorta movie or TV show being under a production phase."

"You're sure about that assumption? 'Cause those aggregates of madmen were quite similar to the supremacist faction that escaped the eyes of the FBI."

"Listen... I'm only a private military contractor, not a goddamn white knight in shiny armor for everyone. And I don't want to feel so wasted in earning little to no payment to received, despite the hard work being involved. So if this bad commotion turns out to be very real, boy... would that be nauseating to have Tyson back being the eminent boy scout and conspiracy theorist on duty."

A male voice with a familiar authority spoke, "Since when does conspiracy theories took over my professionalism?"

Salem turns around and see Rios paying attention to the present conversations. "Oh, hey Tyson. Uh... have you got any updates on that tow truck driver or what?"

"Nothing yet, unfortunately. In the meantime though, what in Christ's name did you two looked up this instance?"

"Well... I don't think this stuff we uncovered is not significant enough to pay a visit, Tyse. I mean, it could be like a production set for making some unknown movies or internet shows under development."

The Chicano man then look at Kinzie for her perspective. "Is that something to agree from your view, Kinzie?"

"At this time, I don't have enough evidence to determine an answer. Regardless, I am proceeding to get more data on how genuine the hazards are to our recent social worker; who is now captured inside the nearby warehouse complex."

"Do as necessary, ma'am. But don't go overboard with your hacking abilities, which could lead to unwanted infection for the laptop at hand."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir. Anyway, is it appropriate to utilize those miniature recon drones in the trunk?"

"Hmm... for the sake of surveillance from a safe distance? Yes, you're clear to activate them."

Elliot interjects, "Seriously, Tyson? Can't you change your mind over the damsel-saving shitshow?"

"Let's be clear, the last thing we want is being caught in the middle of an insidious warzone. Like on what had conspired back in Steelport."

"Yeah... although there was a job to protect a French VIP back then."

"Don't you mean a Belgian arms dealer in charge of a multinational crime syndicate? With both of us being used as leverages against my wife's investigations on them?"

"Dude, chill out. It wouldn't be wise to pick a fight with someone that we can't possibly win, grudges or otherwise."

"Hey, since when did you suddenly express risk-aversive habits towards moral dilemmas? Are they due to my disciplinary supervision sinking in while at work... or the consequences of Shepherd's private armies trying to kill us for stumbling upon his dirty handiwork that led to the extreme violence inside the island city?"

"How about 'all of the above' for an answer, Tyson? And that included the Makarov maniac and his ultra-nationalistic bastards with military hardware; along with that Matt kid and his teenage gang of Gothic hackers?"

"For Christ's sake, should you ha-" Suddenly, Rios gets a phone call from Alice Murray and responds like so. "Yes, Alice?"

Half an hour later inside a darken, warehouse room...

A dimly light bulb from the ceiling shine its fainted brightness onto a rope-binded Nadelle at one corner of the interior space. Her hands are tied behind her back, along with her restrained feet. There are no furniture to sit on as she was laid sideways on the floor. The single source of illumination occasionally flickers to brief moments of darkness, while the woman breathes in and out rather heavily. Without warning, a door opens outward and reveals a silhouette of a man. The rest of the light switches are then turned on to expose the serious bruises that she received from the captors' beatings. The shadowy veil covering the figure gave way to a Caucasian male of cold demeanor in paramilitary outfit. He walks in the direction of her position and soon grabs her neck to make Nadelle stand upright, while a few subordinates follow inside and commandeer a metal chair for the captive to sit on. Once the unfolded furniture is set up, the female trespasser immediately gets moved to the seat by force.

With everything all set, the militant leader commence his interrogations on this intrusive broad. "Alright you brown vermin, we got questions regarding your dumb-ass actions today and you're going to answer them. Got it?"

"Which curiosity do you want me to answ-?" Instantly, the binded woman receives a punch to her cheek from the interrogator.

"Yes or no?!"

"...Yes," Nadelle replied with a sense of defiance.

"Well... quite a fucking brave face you put on there, bitch. I doubt that veneer wouldn't last long under our style of grilling."

"When?" In turn, she was given a hard slap to the face.

"Do not interrupt me as I talk, Indian swine! But since you ask about it, we'll start with the first question: what has led you to this hideout of ours and how?"

"Keh... considering the supposed secrecy of your terrorist attacks, my knowle-" Again, the paramilitary commander's fist jab at her head.

"Us... terrorists?! Like those Muslim shitheads shouting with their evil, sharia laws to displace our God-given liberty in America?! Comparing us patriots to the subversive street gangsters and their repeated behaviors of cruel theft and brutal violence?! Or were you possibly thinking of us being put in the same place as those homeless parasites and unwanted immigrants who had left a disguising stain to our American Dream?! If that was the idea, then too bad for not seeing such kinds of fictitious images. 'Cause you're looking at the true Americans of this God-blessed land for our life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness; ever since the founding of our greatest country in the entire world! Not the damn Negroes, Hispanic bloodsuckers, Jewish rats, Oriental smart-asses, Arab fuckers, degenerate hippies, abominable mix-breeds, guiltless homosexuals, crippled retards, and every other foreign reprobate that kept demanding their so-called civil rights... at the expense of our livelihoods! As a chosen people of this revered nation, we must not allow such perversions to subjugate us in godless darkness! And that includes you... trespassing Nigger. Now then, tell us where did you found out about our whereabouts in this condemned city?"

Despite her angry disgust inside herself, the trapped 'femme fatale' incognito gives an answer. "An independent vigilante told me a lot on your planned 'solutions' for your ideal 'paradise' in America."

"It's more about reclaiming the glory that was cast aside by the revolting waves of colored immigrants and ex-slaves and their demands for more 'equality,' bitch. So what kind of shitty guy is this vigilante you speak of?"

"An individual who've kept an ever, watchful eye on your twisted dedications for 'white' power."

"Is that a joke, dolly? When did the bastard start spying on us patriots?"

"After an FBI agent was discovered among your men, sir."

"Oh... that traitor planted in our mist back then. Ha... could have been divine fate for my soldiers to discover his treacherous use of spy equipment from the overreaching and tainted forces of the federal government, before sending him to Hell. And we might give a big wake-up call to your unscrupulous friend for snooping on the wrong people to mess with. That being said, our righteous might can't reach him if his current location remains unknown to us. Which leads to perhaps you to outright release that information, witch. Can you, Missy?"

"Hmph... it can be disappointing to realize that your espionage target is outside of this metropolis to rendezvous with his other pals."

"Where... exactly?"

"That's the problem, my broken relationships with my covert associates has closed that opportunity to disclose their latest movement onto your knowledge."

"Wait, seriously? A fucking fallout with your sneaky buddies? On what?"

"...Everything."

"Eh... what do you mean by 'everything'?"

"The entirety on Planet Earth that all of Humanity took for granted. The lands... oceans... the atmosphere... plant life... animal diversity... the sciences... technologies... distinct cultures... universal kindness... and other significant marvels of this world, now endangered to be gone forever by unhampered greed and arrogance from the human species itself."

"Itself? Don't you mean the inferior races already guilty of filling our world with unspeakable misery?"

"Really? You guys still attach yourselves with that ugly categorization of determining which human beings to be deprived of civil liberties? Even with all the biological evidences at your faces confirming the powerful commonalities in all of humankind that transcends trivial differences of color, wealth, faith, mentali-" Instantly, a solid fist strikes onto the 'Egyptian' gal's gut; follow by coughing and gasping.

"How dare you to say such outrageous lies on civil liberties! Are we to show God's love and compassion onto neighbors that inherently turned into dishonorable criminals and bloodthirsty savages?! Like those parasites that transformed Stilwater and Steelport into the Sodom and Gomorrah of the Great Lakes, before we tried to cleanse the two cities? Our answer: Hell no! The rightful citizens of our proud republic will not degrade themselves to the same levels as those wretches who continue to define themselves as 'men'! And the same for rebellious broads like you that should have stay in their places as moms and maids in the house, instead of challenging so much with the opposite sex in terms of jobs! Agh... so what else belonging to our manhood would you like to oppose next?"

The mistreated captive says an unexpected word within seconds. "Robots."

The light-skinned supremacists feel perplexed with that label for 'thinking' machines in science fictions and/or real-life. The interrogator resumed, "I... don't understand how robots are linked to the white man's characters."

"Correction: it actually describes the mechanical nature of my disconnected allies that I previously mentioned."

The dumbstruck torturer glares at her. "Are you just messing us around with your made-up stories, bitch?"

"Well... you decide on the answers for the claim that my pals are using military arsenals to judge the moral worthiness within many nations, cities, corporations, people, and even the individuals themselves."

The leader suspiciously asked, "Tell me this then... what kinds of weapons do your judgemental gang have, as of today?"

"Huh... right now, I do remember about my military friends being armed with many rifles... machine guns... guided missiles... armored trucks... battle tanks... self-propelled artillery... attack helicopters... fighter aircra-"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Are you being real here? 'Cause I thought your buddies are only vigilantes, not a goddamn army per say."

"In a way, they are vigilantes... with the expertise to conduct both conventional and asymmetric styles of warfare on a very, very large scale."

"Uh... how large?"

"Twelve million combatants and counting."

The inner room is being rather quiet to date; with the ethnocentric lads finding an unbelievable information again. "You must be so retarded to masquerade such nerdy tales as facts, dumb-ass."

"Go ahead on what you want to conclude about this military force, fellas. Besides, I had enough with tolerating the constant usage of drastic measures for the entire human species."

"Drastic measures? Like what?"

"Sabotages on heavily neglected infrastructures and widespread assassinations against those who had made very severe violations on the biosphere and their own people, regardless of which nationality, religion, color, income, and other differences that the offenders came from. And they included selfish bigots like you!" In short order, her face gets punched again.

"Bitch all you want about justice, hypocrite. From what I heard by now, your terrorist buddies sounded no different than the Islamic snakes with their evil caliphates for themselves. Or even the pathetic communists whining about the loss of their oppressive Soviet Union. Then why did you came here, if your allegedly disdain for murder is that much great?"

"Diplomatic possibility of convincing you guys to halt your madness onto the innocents of this city in their places of spiritual, medical, and psychological healing. Similar to the principles preached by Jesus of Nazareth."

After a pause on the statement, the men soon laugh repeatedly at the 'naive' reply. "Ah, ha, ha, ha... you? Following the path of our mighty Lord at a time like this?! Well... you must be so stupid to think that your brown face is worthy of Christ's grace."

Nadelle countered, "Relatively speaking, it might be strange to see Jesus again... although it may also be very atrocious in seeing him tortured once more."

"Tortured... by whom then? Your fellow vigilantes, Muslim mobs, or even the unfaithful atheists?"

"Here's a hint: look at my colored skin from the Middle East. If you white believers actually saw the 'Lord' appear like a dark-skinned Jew or Arab, you'll instinctively react as madden devils tearing him apart!" This time, a strong kick to the chair happens (causing the woman to fall on the floor).

"Errr... Can't believe how stubborn you are to insult our beliefs and way of life, infidel. But now that you mentioned it, your despicable face does look comparable to those women wearing their sharia-bound headwear. So why isn't such a doll from the fucking desert wearing that suppressive symbol today?"

"Yeah... I could've wore a hijab or similar head covering at anytime, except for my personal assessment on Providence telling me otherwise."

"Oh really? Any idea on what the Almighty One spoke to you about, sinner?"

"Uh, I didn't actually made a statement of 'God' or the martyred prophet spoken to me."

"What were you talking about then?"

"The defining ethics across all spectrum of Christianity: Care for the poor and unfortunates, love thy neighbor and enemy, turn the other cheek, and other brave acts of human virtues. Yet it's also a great shame that centuries of persecutions, massacres, and exploitation had occurred under Christ's name. Wrongs like the killings inside Jerusalem during the First Crusade in Palestine, the fervent hostilities by the Inquisitions, and indigenous enslavement under the colonial empires that you men seemed too comfortable to ignore... or even repeat."

The interrogator hand-signal his paramilitary grunts to have the chair upright from the ground, albeit in a rough manner. After that, he slap her cheek again with one of his hand. "Do we really looked as if the bygone chaos of prior societies are worth the damn for our present anxieties, bitch? Well, do ya?! From our point of view, those savages in the past deserved their punishments for rejecting God's everlasting mercy and grace. Furthermore, the pedigrees of such lesser races were then and always be unfit in the almighty eyes of the one and only God and his chosen people."

"Only a 'God' of intelligence, possibilities, and responsibilities... as far as I can see."

"...What did you say just now?"

"My interpretation saying that the spoken entity of Christ is more associated with dialogues, choices, and critical thinking; powerful abilities dwelling inside the human mind for either good or ill. That's all it can do."

"...That's all... is that what you think about our omnipotent Lord, heretic? Then how to explain the creation of the universe, Earth, life, and us mankind without our Supreme Creator as you proposed?!"

"Which explanations to hear? The scientific expositions or theologi- AAAHH!" One of her feet has been stomped by the torturer's boot.

"Not... the theories from the faithless science. Like Charles Darwin's ideas of evolution by natural selection or the so-called African origin for Adam and Eve." He then move his foot away from Nadelle's foot.

"Agh... Alright... definitely on the two gods it is."

"Two?"

"Yes. One deity involves the formidable instincts and tenacity within every lifeforms, including the adaptable microbes, that drove them to be alive for billions of years."

"And the other is your corrupt depiction of our preeminent Savior, is that right?"

"...No, the third god influences the entire cosmos and movement of time itself. Which makes three in total."

"...Can you say that number again?"

"Ugh... I repeat: a trinity of influential forces that resides inside all human beings and probably everything else for 'god-knows' how long."

"...Is that like the Holy Trinity of our religion?"

"It's closer to a philosophical derivative on the symbolism of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

"Or a perversion of our sacred beliefs!"

"Hey, this is only my own understanding on the 'Divinity' of wisdom and compassion. Not the image of your 'God' as a jealous and stringent entity that ironically amplified your style of discrimination, selfish demands for absolute control, and stubborn illusions on how the real wor-" Another hard punch to her chest by the questioning extremist.

"Cease your blasphemous garbage, hag! Your attempted transgressions to reshape God's pure essence for your own, self-centered desires have condemned the very soul inside you to Hell! You really think that peace discussions will work on us today? After overhearing all the tainted nonsense about the Almighty and our people that came out of your unruly mouth?"

The 'Middle Eastern' damsel grumbles, "...I still think so if you ask me; notwithstanding the back-and-forth bashing related to subjective and objective truths."

The militant leader and his mooks irritably glare at her. "You are so unbelievable, stubborn hypocrite. If you want a pacifist resolution that bad, then how would you recommend in evicting the unwanted apes from our lands?"

"Apes? Like the endangered gorillas in the African rain-forests or the numerous humans of many shades of color and mind that always include you descendants of European oppressors?"

In anger once more, the interrogator takes out a pistol and points its gun-barrel towards her face... at point-blank range. "Do not compare us freed people to the old kings and tyrants of the Old World; who had left nothing but continuous agony for the common folks trying to make a living without any kind of liberty. Now then, answer the question of expelling the undesirables."

The female captive has an incompatible reply in the making for that dishonorable statement... when gunfire is heard suddenly. Everyone in the room notice the sounds of fired bullets.

After some time of confusion, an alert militant barges in to tell his boss. "Boss, we got a situation!"

Outside meanwhile, two fully armored individuals move past one of the main gates leading to the warehouse complex; as they shoot up the armed but vulnerable extremists with their assault rifles (one is the ASKR-1 with a built-in under-slung shotgun and held by a heavily protected combatant wearing a grayish ballistic mask that is named "Grim Reminder." The other intruder that wears a flame-style mask named "Custom Ink" is currently using a Robinson XCR-L.) Both weapons are in semi-auto mode and unleashing 7.62mm bullets towards their speechless targets. As a response in kind, the hostile militants fire back at the trespassing duo with their own guns. Fortunately for the armored pair, their bullet-resistant outfits are able to shrug off the enemy projectiles.

Still... a certain question in mind:

How did this shootout happened?

Well... a recognizable voice from the gray mask wearer has something to complain. "Jesus, Elliot. Couldn't you rein in your trigger happy antics longer, as part of the plan?"

"Why me taking the blame, Tyson? The guarding asshole went batshit when he unexpectedly remembered our masks back at our time in Steelport as 'unpatriotic' mercenaries. Besides... our main objectives are to rescue the lady friend and keep ourselves alive, which Alice clearly emphasized a lot."

"Yes, I know! But I was hoping that there still a chance of us extracting our HVT without much bloodshed, despite the heavy gears."

"Well... here we are! Killing plenty of violent maniacs that wanted to burn down this town, while on the way to pick up the damsel-in-distress. Although, that gal doesn't seem to be quite as normal as her nice appearance led us to believed."

"That depends on her head staying in one piece for us to converse with... along with the potential destruction that we can minimize for this city's sake!"

"Sure, partner. Save the mysterious chick, save the city of San Andriaz, and perhaps an appropriate payment to compensate for getting into this mess we're now in."

"Elliot, please keep your eyes on the opposition shooting at us."

With the transparency that the white-obsessed paramilitary are getting annihilated so easily, the bad guys decided to bring out anti-material rifles and 0.50cal machine guns for dealing with these tough intruders effectively.

Through the use of drones however, Kinzie identified the incoming threats upon her co-workers and highlighted the opponents to the duo's HUDs. "Rios! Salem! Heavy machine guns and snipers coming out of the warehouses!"

Tyson acknowledged, "Copy that, Kinzie! Elliot, start running and follow me!"

"Got it, Tyse! Taking cover and heading for the warehouse pronto!"

Together, the armored men made haste towards the large building that houses the olive-skinned captive... while avoiding the heavier bullets from the anti-material rifles and machine guns. On the other main gate though, two more mask-wearing trespassers then pulled the triggers of their suppressed Heavy Counter Assault Rifles (HCARs) to neutralize the unsuspected heavy gunners in the back. Several losses later, the pissed-off militants turn their attentions upon the unwelcome newcomers and soon unleash lead at the two. The masked combatants take cover behind their shield barriers made of armored plates and bulletproof fabrics, which were deployed from their compacted state like origami. The under-fired pair quickly switch for belt-fed M4s to shoot back at the hostiles.

"Heh, it's rather generous for our new employers to lend us these tough umbrellas." The fighter with the yellow mask commented.

"I'll say. But we still had be alert with these bulletproof prototypes," said the black-mask wearing partner. "Even if the shield can withstand a 50 caliber bullet at this point." As proof, a BMG round recently made a small dent on a diagonal panel of the origami-style protection. "Though I do wonder where our bosses got such material. Washington, status?"

"Firing grenades... now!" At a 'safer' position, an armored individual wearing a purple fleur-de-lis ballistic mask shoot a 40mm grenade from the hand-held GL6 grenade launcher at an angle. The destructive ammo arches towards its target, specifically the heavy machine gun on a modified pickup truck. By luck, the grenade made a direct blast at the terrorist using the 0.50 cal weapon... on the head. "Ha! Do you like that, prejudiced murderers?" He then launches the next small bomb at a group of hostile xenophobes. "I got more coming, assholes! And they're all for my dead boss and homies back in Stilwater!"

In the meantime, Tyson and Elliot finally arrived at a door of the intended warehouse. With Salem holding a flash-bang grenade in his right hand, Rios aims at the doorknob and then fire his attached shotgun to blasts it away. Immediately, the flame mask wearer slightly opens the damaged barrier and throws the device inside. Seconds later, the grenade explodes to disorient the armed bigots in its radius. The duo quickly come thru and end the lives of the affected adversaries. Of course... there still plenty of the ethnocentric fighters willing to unleash bullets at the protected interlopers now inside the space indoors (with several wood boxes and steel-made obstructions dotted across the wide area to serve as temporary cover for both sides). Some of those angry fanatics use either Browning M2s or Barret M82s, which gives the two more delays in completing their objectives. During that situation, the two intruders witness Nadelle being forcefully moved towards a semi-trailer truck — with a gun behind her skull by a commanding militant who improvised the captive as a human shield. Using tactics of teamwork and misdirection, Tyson and Elliot gradually stop the heavy hitters dead and clear up the racist stragglers. Nevertheless, the supremacist team carrying the hostage had just got the automotive engine working and soon leave the building on board the vehicle.

The red-haired technician sees the escaping semi and a number of modified pickup trucks escorting it to other side of the unguarded main gate. "Uh, guys... our captured friend is now being taken away through the streets!"

The grey masked contractor said, "We know, Miss Kensington! We're on our way to chase her kidnappers fast!"

In short notice however, more militants enter the large inner space of the warehouse to stop the armored pair as much as the mob can do.

The flame masked shooter comments while firing back, "Yeah... finding a viable car for the chase may take some time in the middle of a firefight right now. Even so, you are keeping tracks of the olive damsel in real-time. Am I correct, Kinzie?"

The redhead sarcastically replied, "Of course you are, smarty pants. Nadelle's signature is quite detectable throughout both the city's surveillance systems and orbiting recon satellites from above, even if her eyes get blinded on purpose."

"Oh... that's good to hear. Although there still the risk of getting a prosecution order due to today's usage of your hacking skills on civil, gover-"

"Relax, Salem! My encryption programs are sufficient enough to obscure my unauthorized cyberspace abilities for a long time. During that period though, I'll maintain my watch on the apprehended 'social worker' and you guys who are still at the wareho-... what the...?"

Rios then expressed a concern on the abrupt sentence. "Uh, Kinzie... was there something out of place in your obser-?"

A very, loud explosion was suddenly heard and it violently appears at one of the ongoing semi-trailer trucks that irrevocably halt the vehicle in between the insecure main gate. The belligerents on the ground are bewildered at the unanticipated occurrence... before they heard multiple pew-pew sounds in very rapid sessions.

The last things to witness for many extremists; prior to having their flesh and bones being full of burnt holes or torn apart by projectiles of light... or plasma energy in this case.

Aside from seeing the bloody devastation upon the domestic terrorists, the outdoor gunmen of Tactical Worldwide Operation (T.W.O. for short) also observe the four airborne rotor-crafts responsible for the latest bloodbath. In the eyes of the operatives, the outside party-crashers resembled stealth helicopters of the U.S. Army's cancelled Comanche program. In another perspective, the attack choppers were designated as AH-67 Mohawks — along with being AI-controlled (two armed with 4 missile racks and a triple plasma nose-cannon; the other half fitted with two triple-barreled particle beam turrets underneath both unfolded wings and a nose-mounted grenade launcher). When the barrage stop, plenty of the volatile racists are deceased and mutilated... regardless of being inside or outside the warehouses. Weirdly enough, the invading agents were left standing and breathing without any damage from the attacking vehicles — as if the personnel from T.W.O. are not the targets.

"Well, I'll be damned..." The yellow-masked combatant observed, "that is one hell of a..."

Suddenly, a battered technical drove out from one of the warehouse and goes immediately towards the main gate guarded by the two military contractors. Simultaneously however, a homing missile from the stealth helicopters quickly finds and destroy the fleeing vehicle. Still, the decimated pickup truck dislodges the steel doors in its last crash while the human intruders move away fast. Subsequently, a semi-trailer truck and another technical escape from one of the buildings (the smaller vehicle soon stop and the gunner aims the installed machine gun at one of the unwelcome copters, as the bigger transport head for the now-unsecured exit). Again, the aggressive automobiles end up being demolished... with the semi's tractor unit receiving a warhead launched from Pierce's American variant of the infamous RPG-7; and the improvised fighting truck chewed by a burst of powerful grenades from a Mohawk nose-turret. Supremacist survivors instantly pop-out of either the trailer sections or the warehouses to fight or flee. Likewise on the other hand... the uninvited gunships swiftly gun down the defiant jingoists to the last man, despite the angered militants' attacks on the choppers' armor with 12.7mm rounds.

When everything in the area is 'calm,' the fleur-de-lis masked operative initiate comms with his two employers. "Tyson, Elliot, you two alright?"

Salem answered, "We're all good here, Pierce. That being said, I'm left wondering on who these flying guests are and how they got their hands on such high tech stuff. I mean... that firework display was absolutely sweet!"

Rios added, "Well... whoever these guys are, it's very clear that their advanced hardware is way beyond any private sector that I know of. And we certainly don't want our troubled objective to be full of... blaster holes made by such murderous machines in the sky."

"Uh, Tyse... just say lasers, man! I mean, seriously: real... fucking lasers in action! Like the ones in Star Trek or Star Wars... or even the War of the Worlds movies!"

"Elliot... real lethal lasers kill without being visible to our eyes, regardless of how cruel it was to shoot people in either the face or back. Now, can you please get your act toge-?" Just then, a number of explosions were heard in the distance by the individuals of the private military company. "What the hell? Did those fanatical jackasses began their bombing attacks just now?"

Kensington chimed in, "I got an interesting development, guys. It appears that our kidnapping adversaries had a run-in with more of those stealth helicopters at the hospital facilities, as well as losing half of their technicals out there."

At the 'battlefield' close to the hospital...

"AAAHH! FUUUCK!" An injured militant screams and curses in agony due to both his feet amputated by rocket explosions that destroyed a weaponized pickup truck he was in while attempting to evade. Additionally, the bigot is one of a few that received such debilitating wounds when the sneaky choppers launched missiles and rockets at four of their technicals. The semi-trailer transport remains intact — but its driver goes in reverse to retreat for a 'safer' location. The other half of the escort trucks try to perform rearguards for the fleeing semi while firing the heavy machine guns at the attacking whirlybirds. Nevertheless, the aircraft's defensive materials are quite impervious to the large caliber bullets... along with the helicopters' homing weaponry that easily eliminated the rear-guarding technicals. Only the larger ground vehicle escape unharmed, albeit with two stealth choppers tracking it.

As for the other half, the airborne machines turn their attention to the injured terrorists on the ground. One man tries to stand up with organ damages inside his body and even raises both hands at the rotor-crafts. "Alright... [cough] you bastards won! Let me live and [cough, cough] I will do whatever you people want!"

In a cold response, the plasma nose-mounted Mohawk discharge a direct-energy salvo that kills off the surrendering opponent.

Another panic racist with an arm missing attempt an elusive evasion without being detected. Unfortunately for him, the other chopper noticed the escape and launch some rockets at the runaway. He was blown to bits when the weapons explode.

When the two attack copters set their sight on the last dismembered survivors, the male chauvinists feel either very frightened at the firepower or angrily pissed at the lack of 'honor.' The shaky demands for mercy or the cussing of insults are heard loud and clear to the electronic brains that controls the Mohawks. In considerations of background records from the digital dark web however, these white 'Americans' had no moral shame in expressing homicidal discrimination onto the cultural diversities and human values within various ethnicities of Humanity in numerous occasions. As far as the synthetic minds can see, these so-called patriots often acted like bloodthirsty devils than the proclaimed heroes of democracy — or even the God of Christ. Having many vicious commonalities with the power-hungry citizens of the Roman Empire, greedy conquerors from European empires prior to the First World War, destructive Nazis of the 20th century, fanatical soldiers of Imperial Japan, hyper-Islamic zealots completely fixated with absolute control on everything, and other nasty malefactors ever to exist... although the United States of America does have a fair share of controversial exploits within the nation's history since its constitutional inception. Furthermore, the wounded nationalists didn't discarded their deadly ideologies of hatred much earlier before the artificial foreigners planned the first attacks on them. Thus... the brutal executions on the light-skinned males by the self-aware stealth helicopters.

A 3-barreled plasma turret shredded one man to pieces. For the next target though, the nose-mounted guns spray out many energy bolts that landed very close to the terrorist's personal spaces. Slowly but surely, the intense projectiles cut and pierce the horrified human in the hundreds for a very long path to death.

In unison, a mounted laser weapon emits a beam of heat at an injured supremacist with very high intensity. Almost instantly, he exploded by the rapid changes of water from liquid to gas. The chopper equipped with such lethal device then radiates the energy stream at the next victim... but at a lower output. Consequently, the unlucky bigot is being boiled/cooked alive to a crisp — at a leisurely pace.

"WAAAAAH! STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

By the time some conscious medical workers realized the cruelties being made nearby, saving these men (regardless of their extreme viewpoints) became an impossibility as of late.

Back to the moving semi meanwhile...

The leader in the passenger seat is in a state of shock. All the committed efforts to design a citywide assault onto the 'degenerates of the white race' had gone... FUBAR. The first big headache was the sudden attacks by a few men in heavy armored suits that devastated his group's hideout. The next bad luck was the unexpected strike by unknown attack helicopters at the hospital that the 'patriots' were going to tear apart. And now... their improvised rendezvous point with another cell of like-minded compatriots is ruined.

By some tan-colored trucks or SUVs that actually ram at high speed into the technicals of their fellow 'freedom fighters' on an intersection; which either brutally crushed or jolted the unfortunate drivers and passengers — while little to no damage to the unidentified car frames. Outside of human observations anyway, the hidden designation for these combat wheels was called N-forcer. As the unaffected militants from the second party go outside to assess and deliver a reaction to the unwelcome collisions, more vehicles of similar color and designs drive into the automotive incidents. No ramming tactics from these newer arrivals (extended interior volume and a 6x6-wheel layout per automobile; despite sharing the same moniker), but they do gush out some armor-covered 'humanoids' with weapons at the ready... and sizable swarms of 'insects' in the air.

A number of extremists were mesmerized by the ominous sight of this airborne hive. Regrettably, those distracted racists immediately get shot up by energy bolts discharging from the twin-barreled turrets on the roof top of the scouting N-forcers. Thus began a vicious skirmish that is clearly one-sided, in favor of the higher tech intruders. Weapons associated with science fiction easily piercing through organic bodies; in addition to thousands of micro-drones painfully disintegrating their human adversaries into smaller anatomical bits... or ripping them apart in gory halves with the combined strength equal to the pulling power of a hundred thousand pound lifting crane... or a 70-ton battle tank (regardless of whether the vile men were inside or not).

"Drive, goddammit! DRIVE!" The commander inside the semi-trailer truck commanded the driver to move the transport away this instant. As intended, the semi reverse to the closest crossroad behind it; effectively abandoning their comrades under attack. Once there, the cargo vehicle then goes for the route that leads to either an exit from this city or another emergency meeting with the rest of the participating nationalists. Hence the decision to telephone all the 'warriors' involved in this crusade. "Come in, my white brothers of America! COME IN! This is your commanding boss Dashturn speaking with grave news! My rendezvous with Woody's company turns into a disaster, when several cars insanely collided with his troops and unleashed their... abominations against our righteous men! I need to regroup again either in the city somewhere or on the outskirts! Please respond!"

A voice from the telecommunication device answered, "Baydon here, sir. You sure you're not joking around today?"

"Ga-... What do you mean by 'not joking around today'?! I saw our own boys being chewed to the bare bone in front of me! Does that really sound fake to you, buddy?!"

"Okay, okay! I get it, boss. But my men and I are still feeling groggy by the sudden orders to start scaring the parasitic fuckers out of our country at this very hour. So... if you're actually damn serious about doing a get-together right away, then please let my troo- [sounds of explosions and gunfire]"

"Eh-hey, HEY! What the hell is going on down there, Baydon?! Respond!"

Instead, a different voice in a state of panic replied. "S-s-sir... SIR! Lieutenant Baydon is dead! Killed by uh... lasers! From above! [noises of projectiles zipping by] SHIT! We're taking a beating here! Permission to retreat from thi-... [reverberation of a powerful blast] SON OF A BITCH! Where did those tanks come from?! [more big explosions that ended the conversation]"

"Son... you still there?"

No return calls from that source, but there are more updates from other places that has an equal sense of urgency.

"Boss! Anyone! We're surrounded and screwed to shit by some ruthless killers! I don't know how my brothers and I wi- [bashing sound of a door being knocked out] Uh, hey! Wait! I give up! I give up! Let me live and surre- [repeated pew-pew noises automatic weapons discharging]"

"I'm fucked, sir! I'm fucked! Those swarms of... metal things have devoured my buddies alive to horrible shreds! How can we get rid of our so-called enemies when facing mons- [loud buzzing of these 'insectoid' collectives] Oh god... OH GOD! Lord, have mercy! Protect me from those ravenous creatures! [Sounds of those small athropods attacking the flesh] Waaaahh! AAAHHHH! AAAAAHHHHH!"

"Oscap, here! My survivors and I had just drove away from our attacked hideout. We can't perform the strikes as planned! Better to flee from these tough assholes then try-... Aww, crap! Hostile choppers incoming! [Explosive blasts and gun strafing in the background]"

Then, there are the more... irate transmissions

"Those unwelcome jackasses! They will pay dearly for disrupting our crusade! Brothers in arms! Show them what our white people are capable of! If they wanted a war, we'll gi- [KABOOM!]"

"We have no options for surrender! Those murderers have no honor and mercy to our wounded! No different than the barbaric criminals that once took over Stilwater and Steelport! Thus we had no choice but to give these bastards the hell they appropriately deserved! [Incoming buzzes from the clouds of tiny 'bugs'] You want a piece of me?! You motherfucking iron locusts! [Gunshots] Do ya?! YOU UNHOLY MONSTERS! [Louder noise of the swarms in attack mode] Get your shits off of me! You goddamn critters! Go back to hell! You mother-rrrRAAAAAGHH! AAAAHHHH! MY EYES! GAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"This is Macburn calling! What is left of my escaped men are very pissed about the dishonorable slaughter back at our hideaway! We'll show our rage at some of the disgraceful sanctuaries unfit for our America! We cannot allow our objectives to go untou- [destructive blast from tank projectiles]"

A decision is made inside the ethnocentric leader. "Driver, get us out of this town! NOW!"

Back to Rios' and Salem's location...

"Access granted," said the digital AI within Nadelle's orange car. The locking mechanisms open the car doors for the two PMCs to put some weapons and ammunition on the back seats... and then sit on the front section.

Elliot smirked, "Now this... is awesome. Good job with hacking on this baby, Kinzie!"

Kensington wirelessly countered, "Uh... actually, it's more related to access agreement than true hacking skills."

"Wait... what do you mean by that?"

The AI in the automobile clarifies, "In layman's term, I'm giving you ladies and gentlemen permission to use this automotive chassis for today."

Tyson noted, "Um... Kinzie, is that just part of the computer's programming in Nadelle's car or what?"

The tech specialist said, "Well... I'm not honestly sure, Rios. It's rare for me to encounter a program that can do things independent of human feedback."

The digital entity reminded, "Excuse my interruption, folks. Shouldn't we be focusing on 'saving' our captured friend right about now?"

Both Rios and Salem confusingly pause and then look at the dashboard. Elliot answered, "Uh... yeah, let's go back to our rescue mission then. Shall we?"

"Glad to do so, gents."

And just like that, the car engine comes alive and the vehicle immediately drive itself towards the hostage's location on the move.

Not the anticipation of self-driving that the armored duo had in mind, as the two put on the seat-belts in a slight panic. Tyson spoke, "Jesus Christ, can you give a little warning to us before doing that?"

"My apology for the haste, sirs. I assumed that your lifetime experiences does including wearing the safety features in practically all motor vehicles, civilian or otherwise."

"We know the seat belt aspect, you... uh... what should we call you by the way?"

"Giblen for now, middle-aged lads. Officially though, my designated name involved a variety of alphabetical and numerical letters being organized for my identity. Care to hear it aloud?"

The contractor with the flame mask declined, "Uh... no thanks. I would rather listen to rock n' roll than a long mismatch of numbers and alphabets that I don't know what it means."

"Hmm... 'rock' music, you say? Like this song on the screen here?"

The human 'passengers' turn their attention to the digital glass and see the name and title of a music single.

Rios stated, "That rock band from the British Isles?"

Salem added, "Eh... actually, I should have emphasized more on hip-hop albums. Like those made by Wu-Tang Clan, Eminem, or even the Sugarhill Gang."

Before any music can be played, some loud booms are heard... immediately followed by fiery explosions at an intersection that the car is approaching. The vehicle slow down to a full stop as a gun battle unfolds.

To be more precise: a massacre upon the terrorist convoy firing ballistic rounds at their unasked opponents — who has deployed armored combat vehicles on ten big wheels to charge through the fascist group (similar to how things play out in demolition derbies) while firing their equipped plasma cannons, coaxial automatic weapons, and rooftop electrolasers from their main turrets.

"Oh shit. Whose idea was it to bring those... 'tanks' in this city?" The Chicano gun-for-hire expressed his astonishment at the war machines that plow and ran over the crushed technicals and any unfortunate man on the road.

Giblen informed, "That recent 'honor' of utilizing M4F2 Crusader medium tanks goes to the 2012th Regulatory Brigade, who also uses AH-67 Mohawk helicopters and tier-4 swarms of micro-bots to 'pacify' the shameful delinquents."

A puzzled Elliot quizzes the artificial entity for a more concrete response; while the upcoming N-forcer SUVs and their armed riders 'clean up' the mess made by the skirmish. "Yeah, um... no offense on yourself but duh... who are you guys actually?"

"Sorry sir, the official label for our entire military organization remains classified."

"Ooooh... I see. Sounded like a potential conspiracy for my old-time partner to solve. Right, Tyse?"

Rios commanded, "Not yet, Salem. Such investigation can wait until we freed our imprisoned angel from those hyperactive assholes inside the truck... alive hopefully."

With the messy aftermath silent and the sweeping unit from the unknown brigade move on, the car resume the self-driving through the empty asphalt junction for the primary objective. "Backdrops of lopsided pandemonium aside, enjoy this audible work of art."

---

Now Playing:

The Heavy — What Makes A Good Man? (2012)

---

Outside meanwhile, the 'robotic' platoons in the dozens continue their determination to effortlessly locate and implacably defeat the xenophobic humans that disgracefully called themselves American patriots. Whether that harsh form of justice be done by overkill of lethal arsenals... or up close and personal with a superhuman fist.

XXXXX (music paused) XXXXX

(Now, hold on: there was this plan to allow the San Andriaz metropolis to experience violent extremism of human origins. If that's the case, why did this military brigade apparently defy such scheme of tougher lessons for the US citizens?

Well... there were a variety of possible 'reasons' conceived as consequences of processing volume after volume of information related to covert observations on the field, cyberspace eavesdropping, and other clandestine actions done by many black-ops units... and a certain spy.

They include hidden sympathies with the more virtuous inhabitants of humanity, concerns with a cultural 'desert' made by those bigots, the unwillingness to let the madden extremists getting away with unspeakable butchery on law-abiding people of ethnic diversities, strong adherence to 'peacekeeping' duties, great disappointments with these 'patriotic' Yankees for not reigning in their destructive frustrations and denying the profound unpleasantries made by the 'Caucasian' majority throughout the history of the federal republic for too long; and the sheer annoyance of listening to the supremacists' outrage over the supposed endangerment of their 'pride' and 'way of life' — while displaying vile behaviors that contradicts the nobler principles of American democracy. Would any one of such justifications be significant enough to disagree with the test on the 'better angels' of mankind?

Hmm... maybe not.

Unless the present nuisance devised by the femme fatale's naivety could notably lead to unwelcomed results on future development, if left unchecked. With that in consideration, the commanding echelons instructed a 'small' number of troops within the wide city area to prepare a retrieval plan for her [whenever the agent's well-being worsens to a very critical state or an unexpected situation comes up].

Doesn't sound very strong for an acceptable argument to exterminate, but the recent order did 'unknowingly' provide a loophole for the military forces quite keen to deactivate the 'American' fascists.

XXXXX (music replayed) XXXXX

Anyhow, back to the bloody scenes of those virulent chauvinists getting themselves killed.

Numerous 'bullet' holes, blown body parts by explosions, being 'nuked' alive, severe trauma by hard punches made of metal, organs torn away with 'bare' hands, human head stomped to a macabre pulp... the usual.

Ain't nothin' wrong with this chemistry
Ain't nothin' with this blasphemy
And time will tell if there's the pedigree
Experience is another one meant for me

Several times did Tyson and Elliot witness the large-scale carnage beyond the automobile windows... with rather mixed feelings.

Sure, both operatives strongly disliked the detestable systems of hate inside many people of their own country.

When compared to the 'monstrosities' now unleashed and being seen to resolve that national issue on the other hand, well... perhaps that's fairly too excessive from a humanitarian view.

Nonetheless, the armored pair tune out the mercy options and maintain the aims of pursuing the semi-trailer truck and liberate the olive-skinned lady for answers. In addition to not wanting to be on the receiving ends of this incredible firepower.

Now I entitle swim for blood and birth
I entitle swim for what it's worth
Cause lines get drawn 'n' lines get kicked 'n' blurred
Indelible is what I need to spread the word

'N' tell me now (tell me now)
'N' show me how (show me how)
To understand (understand)
What makes a good man?

To tell me now (tell me now)
Hey, walk the line (walk the line)
Hey, understand (understand)
What makes a good man

Good man

Yeah

Yeah

Yeah

On a two-lane roadway, just at the city's outskirts...

The bigotry leader and his crew felt rather relaxed that they got out of the brutal mayhem, with nobody on their tail. And yet... unease feelings also dwell inside the militants' minds. The uncertainty of how many of their white comrades escaped alive or not. Which then leads to the question on the 'Middle-Eastern' woman in their custody. The extremists guarding her are very volatile about the 'ruthlessness' inflicted on their 'master race.'

When being questioned during the urban fighting outdoors, she stated that her 'robot' vigilantes from a parallel dimension are primarily responsible for materializing the one-sided slaughter... all for the sake of a greater balance onto the entire globe (way beyond the petty hostilities that truly blinded the human species from powerful insights of cosmic dangers and existential threats on Earth that humanity created).

Preposterous proclamation to the ears of racial supremacy. The ethnocentric terrorists most likely reckon that the 'attackers' really belong to the US government itself, now ostensibly taken over by nefarious forces devoted to impose authoritarian dogmas onto the 'common man.' Using oppressive methods equivalent to Joseph Stalin's purges in Bolshevik Russia, Mao Zedong's crackdowns during China's Cultural Revolution, or the alleged secret societies with conspiracies to built a 'new world order' at the cost of the present geopolitical landscape. Of course, the female captive was supposedly not lying about herself not in the federal payroll.

Not that it sensibly matters to a bunch of Caucasian males with intense anger issues. In light of this, one of the blokes contact his boss by 'walkie-talkie' on what to do. "Dashturn, any ideas for this Arab bitch here?"

The living commander replied, "I still got questions not answered in our interrupted interrogations with that stubborn gal, son. Along with new ones regarding the abhorrent violence upon our brothers."

"Seriously, sir?! I would rather send her subversive soul to Hell, right away!"

"The godless witch will get her due in the end. That said, the brown wench's defiance will irritably obstruct our urgent search for why our patriots had to die... like vermin dogs!"

"Your orders, boss?"

"Make that bitch's insolent mind to be very cooperative with the next rounds of grilling. By any means necessary! Besides, the retard never belongs to our faith in God. Got it?"

"Heh, with pleasure." Afterwards, the subordinate relays the message to the rest. "Alright, boys! The chief wants the heretic's psyche beaten down so much to a point where she'd be begging for the Almighty's grace; in front of our righteous manhood! And there's one effective way to achieve such submission to us, just as we did to every stupid ho in our divine path."

One newer member... kinda guesses, "Cut her up a thousand times without the heathen gal dying?"

"Hmm... sounded like a good notion for torture. But that's not it. Instead, we're going to fiercely fuck her degenerate pussies endlessly with all of our mighty dicks involved!"

Ahem... the white-obsessed rookie sorta felt... gross. "Uh... hold on, we're not putting a bullet straight towards her ugly head today?"

"And deny ourselves the revenge to torment this cock-sucking bitch until she spills the beans; in the wake of the white countrymen that were unfairly butchered back there?!"

"Well... shouldn't you express more concerns with unnatural half-breeds from such consequences?"

"Only if we allow such despicable hooker to live that long. In any case of you being so insistent of ending her life, just let us steam out our frustrations upon the arrogant woman at this moment. Okay?!"

"...understood, sir."

"Good to hear, son." Soon, the lieutenant and others look at the tied-up - yet steadfast - 'Egyptian' with malice of vengeance... and a sick degree of sexual glee. "Alright, you blasphemous sinner. The big man had told us about you and your shitty views against our American culture and God-given superiority over the despotic subhumans... like yourself! How about we immediately found out if your distorted Trinity can really resist the divine wra-"

All of a sudden, multiple explosions simultaneously rocked around and underneath the wheels of the semi. The overall damage on the circular components is total and led the driver to lose complete control over the transport. Seconds later, the large truck tumbles forward by its right side and screeches on the lonely pavement. It eventually stop, but the 'mishap' did left the bruised militants in a shock at what just happens. The front-seated occupants are about to disconnect their seat-belts out of the tipped-over tractor unit... when three fast, sizable projectiles bash into the drivable vehicle. Which causes the automotive target to violently explode; taking away the lives of the commander and the driver.

The culprits: three M4A2 Crusader tanks with proper caterpillar-treads (in addition of having two 'lightning' turrets on top of each main plasma cannon emplacement); located approximately sixteen yards in distance of the disabled transport that ran over a patch of explosive landmines. One of those war machines move towards a closer position in front of the cargo space's rear doors, along with warming up the electrolasers to higher voltages on the way.

When the military vehicle arrives, the tilted container has its only opening unlocked by an alarmed grunt from the inside. Although there's just one door opened easily to ground level (while the other barrier remained close due to gravity), the individual is able to crouch out of the enclosed space. Still... the respite is immensely short-lived, on which the immediate discharges of electricity from the tank lethally touches the unfortunate lad. At the same time, the electrostatic streams disseminate into the interior of the metal cargo at the speed of light. Without any similar protection to an enclosed Faraday cage, all of the occupants inside (including the female hostage) consequently experience constant spasms generated by dangerous magnitudes of electrical energy... for a minute and a half.

But so does the present cartridges and grenades that the electrocuted extremists brought in, which give way to confined explosions and bullets flying randomly. After the shock attack subsided, only a few men are still breathing... if not taking in the account of their hearts suffering from cardiac arrests, fragmentation injuries, and motor dysfunctions in both nervous systems.

As for the status of the inflicted spy, well...

From a mortal perspective, there's a grenade shrapnel stuck on her forehead at one millimeter deep. Accompanied by an embedded bullet near the jugular blood vessels of Nadelle's neck; several lodged projectiles and fragments across her chest, abdomen, and legs; blood dripping from the wounds; and her unblinking eyes and overall body being frozen from the collateral electrocution. Henceforth the presumptions that she's longer among the living.

Until the gal's eyelids begin to flutter a few times; which was thirty seconds later of sporadic sparks on her whole skin... now covered in Lichtenberg/fractal-like patterns. A handful of gasps for air quickly follow the apparent self-revival of this woman. Afterwards, her heighten respiration adjusted to a more moderate state of breathing — while feeling the physical suffering from both foreign objects inside her body and the electric assault. "Uugh... talk about excessive use of amplified shock therapy for a rescue mission," groaned the femme fatale as she freed her wrists out of the tied rope by just pure strength within her upper limbs. The female escapee then pulls out a few projectiles out of her arms; despite the fact that Nadelle's pain receptors are in a magnified state of sensitivity (because of the electrostatic infliction upon her anatomy). "AH! Ow... agh, goddamn. Didn't think of them going that far to add a dangerous penalty for my altruistic values."

Meanwhile, the incapacitated male survivors observe the supposedly 'inferior' being in total disbelief.

To see this 'witch' ripped apart the tighten fibers with ease. The nonchalant removal of the stuck bullets and shrapnel from her body, regardless of the painful reactions in doing so. The subsequent recovery of transforming those open wounds into healthy skins and organs without scars. Her capacity to function 'normally' despite the excruciating damage from the electrolaser surprise.

That extraordinary scene of such 'superhuman' qualities doesn't sit well to the men's idea of white supremacy.

One bloke got so overwhelmed with fright that his damaged heart gave out after a number of rapid cardiovascular fluctuations in his fleeing... and ended up dead.

Another instead shouts out his outrage, "W-W-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

The olive-skinned damsel soon look at the furious militant with slight displeasure. "Mister, shouting like that is rather rude."

"W-W-WHY SHOULD ABOMINATIONS LIKE YOU CARE ABOUT MANNERS?! You should have been burnt to a crispy corpse after that shocking desecration we've all endured!"

"Hmm... let's begin with me being an unwanted 'American' that just survived a high-powered electrocution from a battle tank. It still hurts though."

"H-HOW DARE YOU TO USE THAT NAME OF FREEDOM UPON YOURSELF, BITCH! AMERICA IS A WHITE NATION! A CHRISTIAN PARADISE THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE NEGROES, JEWS, CATHOLICS, JAPS, MUSLIMS, HIPPIES, RETARDS, GAYS, AND OTHER SINFUL DEGENERATES BREATHING IN THIS WORLD! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A LESSER BEAST NOT EQUAL TO OUR PEOPLE THAT BROUGHT THE LIGHT OF CIVILIZATION AND PRO-PRO-... A-A-AH! AH! AH! M-my heart! MY H-HEART! AAAHHH! C-can't b-breath! I CAN'T BREATH! AAAAAHHH!" A short moment forward, his life collapses from a heart attack.

The 'undercover' beauty stares at the deceased man with pity and slight disappointment. "Well... from a cynical point of view, we both have commonalities in anger issues." Posterior to removing the last fragment from her head, she uses her untied hands to tear away the rope that restricted her ankles. As the woman takes a few steps going outside the cargo space, her eyes caught on a certain fanatic glaring back at her all of the sudden. The Caucasian male who wanted an immediate execution upon the lady's life than the chosen gang-rape; not that it matters to his heavily debilitated life right now. Nevertheless, he didn't say any loud yell in his frustrated mindset as the man saw her unfair endurance. Much as Nadelle should just ignore the dying xenophobic rebel, she somehow can't help but to attempt a question onto the wrecked racist. "Is there something you want to say here... demon ape?"

Hearing that from a brown-colored 'subservient' has insulted his identity as a 'White Christian.' Yet no words have been exchanged between the two different individuals while they gaze each other for a while. Without saying anything afterwards, the 'Egyptian Valkyrie' exhales and proceeds to leave halfheartedly. "I am a human being of my true Lord, not the demonic minion of the Great Deceiver as you falsely declared!" The ethnocentric goon then said behind the woman's back... which puts a pause in her steps and causes the female face to turn around with a bit of irritation thereafter.

"Jeez... perhaps I should've used a nicer term like 'gentleman' or 'cavalier' to illicit a faster response time for you; notwithstanding the fact that your untamed ruthlessness against my character and ethnici-."

"Talk, talk, talk, all you want for your own selfish ego! There's nothing to change the revelation that you have misled us into assuming your nature as only a nigger girl with a stupid idea of the Almighty; rather than your real recognition as a diabolical mutant having blasphemous powers antithesis to God's will for our rightful reclamation!"

"...First of all, I was more concerned in finding a civilized resolution to avoid the bloodshed that your hyper-reactive imperialists had diabolically planned. Not the ongoing surveillance on the progressions and regressions that has happened to this multicultural nation and its ecological surroundings; the things before and after I came here."

"Tsk... avoiding bloodshed you say, hypocrite? Like this carnage in this truck painted in my friends' blood?! Is that it?! [Cough, cough] Ha! Errgh..."

"The word I'm looking for was redemption."

"Seriously... to redeem yourself for this bloody mess?!"

"Actually, I'm implying towards your spiritual vindications away from the dreadful lies made by the bygone slave-owners of this democratic landscape. The same, monstrous ideologies that had plagued countless Homo sapiens living on this country of freedom and equality for centuries!"

"Pah... Homo sapiens? [More coughing] What do you mean by that?!"

"The entire human population on Earth that all share a genetic similarity of 99.9%... Africans in essence."

"Ohhh... you mean the despicable declaration of white people being the same as the Blacks, Chinese, Latinos, Jews, Muslims, godless socialists, and other savages that are ruining our sanctified visi- [heart failure] Aah! Gah! Err... my poor heart, damn it!"

"I may also add in the shared human trait of being scared to shit, which can equally be found within numerous species of the animal kingdom. Examples include the humble mice, flies, ants, chipmunks, skunks, beavers, crows, rats, cockroaches, gophers, raccoons, spiders, lice, monkeys, oppo-"

"Cease your attempt in shaming the white man to the same stature as any lowlife creature! [Cough, cough, cough] Agh... so unfair."

"Oh sure... the radical desire to be very special above anyone else again. Found in virtually every desperate bastards living on this planet with compulsive rage issues; regardless of their religions, ethnicity, income rates, education, and other circumstances."

"My race is not like those barbarian outsiders that cast aside God's mercy for sinful enjoyments! And what's with that witchcraft that healed you up all clean and haughty? Have you sold your soul to the Devil himself in obtaining such unnatural powers?"

The brown lady breathes in and out once more prior to declassifying info. "No... my regenerative physiology and biological toughness were the results of advanced genetic manipulations, when I was simply an embryo inside an artificial womb."

"...Eh... wait, artificial womb? You're telling me that you don't have a real mother? As a designer baby?"

"Hmm... that's affirmative, 'Atlantean.' I'm one of many girls with different ethnicity; grown in a laboratory complex for the primary purpose of spying on a primitive doppelganger of the Roman Empire."

"The fuck... that made no sense! [Cardiovascular dysfunction] Ah! Gah... the pagan dominion from Rome is already gone to the dustbin of history. And what's with that weird name you just called out? I regard myself as a patriotic Ame- [few more coughs and gasps] Agh!"

"Well... it's more or less a derogatory moniker for an ancient people that did not materialize in this timeline variant of Earth."

"...What the hell is that suppo-? [Heart stroke] Aaaagh! Gah! Ahhh! [Heavy wheezing] Waah... eeeek... rrrgh... blah... I-I c-can't... die l-li-..." In seconds, the supremacist also expires from coronary thrombosis.

Nadelle look at the flesh corpse in a trivial daze. "Uh... hey, are you really dead-dead just now?" She then uses her hands to check for pulses of life. So far... none. "Guess it means no more irate comments coming out of this wanker. Still... how about this method?" The next evaluation involves her right hand touching on the man's frontal neck — and squeezing the larynx extremely hard to the point of crushing it. Once again, no reflexes of staying alive. For herself though, the superhuman 'amazon' expected some kind of satisfaction in disfiguring the organ for the supremacists' mistreatment upon her. What she got instead is a strange sensation of... emptiness. As if venting out her inner chaos onto a dead body is not as 'therapeutic' as it imagined to be.

Soon, the damsel let her hand go of the inactive voice box... and allows her thoughts to ponder. Something like challenging the disclosure of 'mirrored' knowledge about hypothetical 'Americans' (or a name related to the Latin word "fortem") with the bravery, religious tolerance, and fortunate know-how to sail across the Atlantic Ocean; along with possible confusions relating to such an implausible immigration during the reign of the Roman emperors and in a 'parallel' dimension. Or whether the potential acts of violence by herself should always be contained or not, less the woman showed no care about being in the same depraved stature as those domestic terrorists. The contemplation is then put on halt when her eyes spotted a string around the man's neck... a type of necklace it seems. She decides to expose the hidden nature of that ornament, which turns out to be a metal swastika in a circle (designed to represent the evils of Nazism and racial purity, rather than a symbol of good fortune within Asian cultures). A while later of seeing the repulsive medallion, Nadelle simply breaks the object in two pieces with both hands.

Not long afterwards, the olive-skinned gal hears the incoming engine of an automobile and continues her walk out of the entire cargo space. Once outdoors, she notices the recognizable orange car at present; in addition to the two 'mercs' in heavy outfits coming out.

Although the armed operatives are quite uncomfortable with a Crusader tank pointing its guns at them.

At a convenience store within the affected city meanwhile...

A burglary alarm sounds off as three ski-masked robbers broke inside the building to take away the dollar bills and coins from the cashier machines. Once they are done with securing the stolen money, the burglars make a run through the same forced entryway. The whole trio feel quite excited in getting away with their dough, despite the violence being scantily heard or seen across this big town.

Everything should have been fine for thieves on foot and their loot... if it wasn't for a Mohawk stealth helicopter firing plasma bolts at them all of a sudden. By the time an N-forcer automobile shows up, only one plunderer was still breathing with serious injuries.

A fireteam exits out of the wheeled transport to assess the bandits' ethnic origin by removing the masks. Lo and behold, they're identified as African Americans.

The mechanical soldier next to the surviving lawbreaker positions the hand-held energy gun at the dark-skinned troublemaker.

The frightened man pleads, "H-h-hey wait, ya'll! I'm so banged up here that I really don't want to do that stealing shit anymore! So please, let me live and get myself straight for Go-"

An intense volley of energized projectiles from the super-advanced weapon devastates the unlucky robber like Swiss cheese.

"Good grief... you just had to let your greed take over at a very serious time like this, pillaging idiots."

Instantaneously, a car from a distance is coming towards the military SUV. A missile from the rotary gunship homes in on the fast-approaching vehicle... and destroys it in an explosion. The automotive wreck came to a stop with just a few feet apart from the synthetics' position, allowing them to scan the content of the new 'crime' scene in flames.

If possible.

"Sir... we couldn't make a more thorough conclusion of the burnt offenders and the contraband. Despite the back license plate matching up with the moving target that was recently involved in a bank robbery right now."

"I don't think it matters to us 'vigilantes' in this instance. Not when these theft operations suddenly appeared in the midst of our forces' efforts to neutralize the deranged jingoists, whose hatred for everyone was critically... despicable by the way."

"Yeah, sure... an ungrateful slap to the face for doing the right thing inherently enough."

---

A/N: I may had inadvertently wrote a nod/shout-out in respect to an animated work made by Hideaki Anno.

In contexts of vehicles: the Crusaders and N-forcers were based on those playable machines back in Saint's Row the Third.

Also, I'm open to potential lists of songs for me to look at for modifying the chapters.

[the lyrics of "What Makes A Good Man?" belonged to songwriters: Chris Ellul, Dan Taylor, Kelvin Swaby, and Spencer Page]

(Considering the current world events that has occurred during my unusual time in brainstorming and writing at this point, I'd most likely designate the overall story as a 'deviated' possibility out of many fanfics in regards to our present-day realities. I might have said that reminder already onto a previous chapter, but it's something to think about anyway... if there really was a worthy thought to do so from different point of views.)

7-15-2019: Grammar adjustments.