SIDE EFFECT

Author note: Reader discretion advised. There will be a bit of violence and language in this chapter, including some f-bombs. Cartels are very liberal about their swear words and it'd feel it'd be like sacrilege on my part to not have any cartel members swear. You have been warned.

"It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence." -Mahatma Gandhi

Los Angeles, California (Earth, circa 2005. From 'Project Nadia')

Tom looks back over at Mike. "Anyway, enough of me. I want to know about this building that David blew up!"

Mike laughs as David gets a cocky grin, a rare thing from him.

David says "Well, some of the mission details the CIA wants to keep a secret, but let's just say that me and Mike were sent to Bulgaria to track down these...items that the CIA wanted removed."

Tom looks suspicious. "Items? Hopefully you don't mean people."

Mike shakes his head. "No, this wasn't another Actopan Incident. No one got fried."

Tom rolls his eyes. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me about that debacle..."

Belfast, Northern Ireland (Elysium)

On yet another cloudy, cold and gloomy late morning in Northern Ireland, a car pulls up to what looks like an average corner Irish pub on a busy street in downtown Belfast. To a normal person, this would be considered an occurrence not worth giving a second passing thought to.

But this is no ordinary Irish pub. You can tell that by the group of five burly looking Irishmen at the door that are being particularly wary of anyone walking near the entrance.

A further examination reveals there are actually no people walking in front of this pub. Yes, there's people walking along the sidewalk about 15 to 20 feet in front of them, but they all make it a point to cut a wide path around these men. It's as if they've all been let in on a secret that you shouldn't get too close to this place.

At the car, Tom Falk steps out of the rear passenger's side door. Sliding out behind him is Charlie O'Doyle, the lean red-headed member of Storm Crew. And stepping out of the front passenger's door is a man who appears middle-aged, but with a similar build and look to Charlie. This would be Charles "Chuckie" O'Doyle. Unlike his son Charlie, Chuckie seems to carry an ill-favored look about him, with his lip seemingly always curled up in a sneer.

Tom looks over at Chuckie, noting that his mood hasn't improved since they met before the car ride. "Are you going to be alright?"

In a VERY thick Irish accent, Chuckie growls "I'd be asking myself that if I were you, lad." Chuckie then looks over at Charlie, who's standing on Tom's right flank. "This was a bad idea, son."

Charlie, a little defensive, says "Nonsense. You know Owen. He doesn't think highly of Mexican cartels."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about bringing in a non-Irish into..."

Tom holds up his hand. "Wait a second, my grandmother Violet was mostly Irish. So what that I'm a German/Dutch/French/Irish mutt?"

"Your blood's not pure. But your heritage will still give you a fighting chance."

"The Irish part?"

"That...plus the fact you're not English."

Charlie lets out a couple chuckles at that. Tom gives him a funny look, causing Charlie to reply "Owen hates the English almost as much as the IRA. Centuries of bad blood between the Irish and the English. Owen believes in upholding that Irish tradition."

Tom turns back to Chuckie. "So I came to the wrong place for fish and chips and a cup o' tea, eh?"

Chuckie's scowl does not leave his face, nor does his glare. "If you're allowed inside, and if Owen likes you...and that's a BIG if...there may be a glass of ale and some lamb stew for ya if you're feeling peckish. Chef here makes a fine stew. Now, let's get on with it." Chuckie then looks back into the car at the driver. "Go on, we can make our own way from here." The driver cordially nods, then rolls up the window and drives off.

The three walk through the crowd of people into the void that exists between the crowd and the pub. Immediately, the men at the door stand straight up and eye the three with suspicious looks. This does not deter Chuckie, Charlie, and Tom from advancing.

When they get to about 5 feet from the door, one guy, a 6'5 brute of a man, holds out his arm to stop the men. Chuckie gives the big guy a sneer. "Peter Brennan, we're here to see Owen."

Peter starts examining Tom. As he does, he tells Chuckie "I know you, and I know your son. But who the bloody crap is this stocky piece of furniture here?"

Tom goes to speak, but gets a hand in his face from Chuckie for his troubles. Chuckie sternly tells him "I'll do the talking, boy." Chuckie then tells Peter "This here is a friend of the Elysian Council and friend of my son. He needs to talk to Owen."

Peter keeps examining Tom. "No bloody way is this man is Irish..."

Charlie, not Chuckie, points out "His grandmother was Irish. I know her well, she's got the red-head of an Irish lass. Got the temper of one too, let me tell you."

Peter looks back at Tom, still eyeing him sternly. "Hold your arms out, time for a patdown."

Tom doesn't immediately obey, suspicious over why Charlie and Chuckie aren't being asked.

Chuckie gives Tom a nudge. "Do as he says, it's mandatory for non-members."

Tom reluctantly stretches his arms out, but looks back at Chuckie. "How do they know you're not carrying something you shouldn't?"

As Peter starts patting Tom down, Chuckie flatly replies "Because it's part of the code for being a True Irishman. No weapons of any kind. Penalty for non-compliance is expulsion, with no exceptions. No one tests Owen on that, we know better."

Tom lets out a chuckle. "And I thought Mexican drug and gun cartels were strict."

Peter stops patting Tom down. "The hell you say about those wetback fooks?"

Tom cracks a smirk. "I have experience dealing with those...fooks."

Chuckie interjects. "Keep going, Peter."

Peter resumes patting Tom down, looking for contraband. He then asks "You came here to talk about cartels?"

Chuckie gives Peter a stiff kick in the leg, causing Peter to stop his patting and grab his leg after a shriek. Chuckie somehow manages to look more ornery. "Boy! You know the deal! Owen's business with us is his own, and our business with him is our own! Now quit the shite an' get your fooking business over with. Tired of hanging around like a buffoon!"

Now, to most people talking to him like that, Peter would have cracked a jaw with his hamhock hand. But he wouldn't do that to Chuckie. See, Chuckie has been a True Irishman for so long, he's actually considered a charter member, and you just don't go around clocking charter members without severe penalties. Plus, he did make it into Elysium for a reason, and that's because he's not a cutthroat like the IRA members that didn't make the Elysian cut.

Peter hastily finishes his patdown and stands back up to his feet. He nervously tells Tom "Alright, I'll go tell Owen you're here an' see if he wants to talk."

Chuckie shoos him towards the door. "Well, get on with it, you lump!"

Peter hastily runs back into the pub, leaving the other Irish brutes standing in wait.

Tom looks over at Chuckie, impressed at his control over the situation. Chuckie looks back at him and gives him a smirk, like he knew what he was doing all along. Chuckie then leans forward and whispers in Tom's ear "I was hoping that dumb bastard would be working the door. Easy pushover that one. Puts on a strong face, but has the spine, speed and brains of a snail."

A couple minutes pass. During this time, Tom exchanges curious glances with the other Irishmen at the door as well as takes a look around this old, historic part of Belfast. As far as he's concerned, he might as well be in the 1940s if it weren't for the modern cars going down the street.

Finally, Peter emerges. He tells Tom "Follow me." Peter turns and heads in, and Tom follows, flanked by Charlie and Chuckie.

When he steps in, Tom notices how dead the place is. It's laid out like your usual Irish pub, full of flags and other Irish motifs, wood décor, and isn't particularly well-lit. It's set up in a diamond shape, with the diamond-shaped bar in the middle, surrounded by seats at the bar as well as booths. There's a lonely and bored bartender toward the front, leaning on his side of the bar and watching a soccer game on the TV above the bar. He's paying Peter, Tom, Chuckie, and Charlie absolutely no mind whatsoever. And there's absolutely no one else inside the bar at this time, although it is early in the day.

Peter leads Tom and the O'Doyles to the left, around the bar, and towards the back, where a lone booth sits against the wall past the entrance to the kitchen area, where a man is already sitting. Tom takes note that the man looks young, around his late 20's or early 30s, which is his right to since you can change your age in Elysium or stop aging if you want. The man of average build is currently nursing a cup of coffee while reading a book and doesn't appear to be disturbed or distracted one bit.

Peter stands next to the man. "Mr. Schroeder, here is the man that seeks an audience with you."

Owen Schroeder looks up from his book at Tom with a curious look in his eye and a million dollar smile on his face. Owen is a very handsome man, with black hair, brown eyes, big Irish nose, and has a very confident way about him. He speaks, in a noticeable but not thick Irish accent, "Ah, you came. I've been expecting you."

Tom raises an eyebrow and lets his natural sarcasm flow. "Is that so? I hope we're not interrupting your busy day of book reading and coffee sipping!"

Peter flashes Tom a threatening look. "You mind your tongue around Owen!"

Owen holds up a dismissive hand. "Ah, Peter, I'm aware of this man's reputation. I believe he was being facetious. He means no harm..." Peter then eyes Tom. "...right?"

Tom starts chuckling, as if amused. "Yeah...it's clear to me that someone close to me has been telling stories." Tom turns to Charlie, who quickly shakes his head defensively.

Owen lets out a chuckle. "No offense to Charlie there, but we both have friends in higher places. Please, sit down." As Tom takes his seat across from Owen on the booth, Owen looks up to Peter. "Go to the bar and tell ol' Sheamus to get a pint of ale for my mutual friend here."

Tom interjects, which he realizes may be at his own peril given his relative unfamiliarity with Irish customs and generosity. "Oh, there's no need to bother Sheamus from his terribly exhausting duties watching the football game. Besides, it's a little early for Irish brew. I'll have what you're having in your coffee cup there if there's any available."

Owen gives Tom a nod and turns back to Peter. "You heard the man. There's a pot in the kitchen." Peter gives an obedient nod to Owen and scampers off.

Tom can't help but be a little impressed by Owen. Tom can already tell Owen is a cool customer that commands respect. He also thinks Owen would probably have a nice career as a salesman or a motivational speaker if this whole True Irish thing doesn't work out.

Charlie and Chuckie, meanwhile, pull up chairs to sit on next to the table.

Owen turns back to Tom and extends his hand for a handshake. Tom gives his hand a funny look. Owen doesn't change his expression or position of his hand. "I like to start off a conversation with a handshake. I find a handshake helps set the tone of a conversation."

Tom studies Owen for a bit, then extends his hand out and shakes Owen's hand firmly.

Owen studies the two hands clinched. "Firm...but not unfriendly. I can tell when a man makes a handshake like that that he's here for a purpose he feels I can help him with."

Tom lets go of Owen's hand. Before he can speak, Peter sticks his head out of the kitchen behind him. "Hey, do you want sugar or crème with your coffee, mister?"

Tom looks back at him, but before answering the question, turns back to Owen. "Why weren't Charlie and Chuckie offered a drink?"

Owen turns to the O'Doyle pair, then back at Tom. "Because, as True Irishmen, they have to ask. What's the saying, oh Charlie?"

Charlie, as if under a spell, replies "Ask and ye shall receive. Those are words we live by."

Owen nods. "Indeed. It is one of our laws as True Irishmen. True Irishmen are offered nothing without asking."

Taking it that Charlie and Chuckie are fine, Tom turns back to Peter. "Ask and ye shall receive, huh? Well, would it be too much to ask to get some Bailey's put in my coffee?"

"I thought you said it was early for alcohol."

Tom turns back and smirks. "Early for ale, yes. But, when it comes to me and coffee, it's never too early for Bailey's."

Owen nods agreeably and looks up at Peter. "Bailey's it is. Get on with it." Peter obediently goes back into the kitchen.

Tom leans back in his seat. "So, I had one question when I walked in this place, but now I have two."

Owen leans back himself to get comfortable. "You requested this audience, so you have my full attention. Ask what you like."

"How do you know about me? I bet it's who I'm thinking it is, since you say this person is from a higher place."

"It was Milo Rambaldi that dropped in the other day, saying you might be coming around. Are you aware of the True Irish's arrangement with the Elysian Council?"

"I was told there's some sort of working agreement based on the fact that the True Irish believes in peace. Maybe you can solve this riddle I have on how you've managed to get ex-IRA members to unite under such a peaceful pretense as well."

"That would be three questions then, I'm afraid."

"What are you, a genie?"

"You don't see a lamp nearby, do you?"

Tom smirks, enjoying the candor. "Well, I didn't ask the third inquiry in the form of a question, Alex Trebek."

Owen lets out a couple chuckles, apparently knowing the Jeopardy host. "Aye, true. Call it a request then."

Tom leans forward, wanting to steer the conversation back into the right direction. "Call it what you what. Now, what's the arrangement with the Elysian Council?"

Owen ponders for a bit, as if figuring out if he wants to give Tom the long or short story. He then raises his eyebrows quickly up and down. "A long time ago, I believe around 1954, I was approached by a cheerful man in a hood. He introduced himself as Alec..."

Tom finishes his sentence with some displeasure. "...Derevko."

Owen cracks his charming smirk. "You know this fella."

"Yeah, he's my great grandfather-in-law eight times removed. Or is it seven? Well, he's old anyway."

Owen sarcastically says "My condolences then."

"None needed. I hardly see the man." After he says that, Peter comes out with Tom's cup of coffee. Tom gives Peter a curt "Thanks" before taking a sip. He appears satisfied with the taste.

Owen continues, still smirking. "Good for you then. The man literally brings storm clouds wherever he goes. Back to I was saying...so he comes up to us, having heard that there was a 'gang' rising up in Belfast. I merely explained that we are a peaceful people, even though we have served...unsavory purposes in our lifetimes. But, as fortune would have it, we have acquired all the non-firearm munitions that the IRA has stored away over the years. Seems we have some loopholes in Elysium."

Tom curiously asks "What kind of loopholes?"

"We have acquired all of the explosives that the IRA uses. Some crude mortars or grenades, mind you, but mostly the explosive material that goes into making those weapons of death."

Tom cracks a devious smirk. "Is that so?"

Owen gives Tom a funny look. "This pleases you?"

Tom nods his head slowly and says nothing, leaving Owen to wonder about Tom a bit.

"Well, we have over 50 years of explosives stockpiled at the use of the Elysian Council's discretion. In exchange, we're allowed to remain as a club and under supervision of said explosives. But I must remind you, Tom, that I have a sneaking suspicion about the other reason you're here."

Tom takes a sip of coffee and nods in agreement. "Did Milo explain what I did in my lifetime?"

Owen nods. "Indeed he did. He said you were a man that struck fear into the hearts of Mexican cartel members. That's no easy task, since most of those savages have no fear."

Tom looks over at Charlie, recalling his conversation with him last night. "Charlie tells me you don't like Mexican cartels."

Owen's smile disappears from his face. "No I do not. You know my feelings on the IRA. But at least the IRA has something that resembles a soul."

"I fail to see how terrorists have souls with what they do, Irish or otherwise."

For the first time this meeting, Owen looks hostile. "It takes a soul in order to be able to fight for a purpose other than greed and guns. The IRA fights for Irish freedom. Those soulless Mexican wankers don't fight for freedom...hell, they don't even fight for the Almighty himself. You have to be capable of loving someone other than yourself to do that. Make no mistake, I take no pride in what the IRA does and how they go about doing it, but at least they do fight for a cause. But you ask me, I say cartel members are lower than fleas on a dog in my book."

Tom casually takes a drink of coffee and, after setting his cup down, says "Well, this is the part where I tell you that we have a group of over 50 cartel members that have snuck into Elysium from the realm of Hell. And they have to be dealt with. This is where you come in."

A look of surprise forms on Owen's face. "How is that possible?"

At this point, Tom fills Owen in on the whole story of how Arvin Sloane, the rest of The Nine, and the cartel army managed to sneak across a remote portal to Hell in the northeastern Siberian woods. He details the measures that have been taken since that have already sent Gordon Dean, Francisco Alvarado, Cesar Martinez, Julian Sark, and Mitch Hayes back to Hell, along with how Irina Derevko has apparently turned on the Nine and is helping bring Sloane, Elena Derevko, Kelly Peyton, and the cartel army down.

When Tom's done, Owen takes a long, pondering sip of his coffee. When he's done, he looks over at Charlie, having been told of Charlie's demise and return. He suddenly looks humbled and concerned. "Are you alright, Charlie?"

Charlie sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Never better, nothing to worry about here. Listen, if you agree to Tom's request for aid, I'd like to request that you let me and my father help out. And I'd like to pull the final trigger, if you get my drift."

Owen slowly turns over to Tom. "You want the True Irish's aid in handling these cartel men, huh?"

Tom nods, then pulls out a sheet of paper from his pants pocket. "This is my plan. Can you deliver your end of this tomorrow?" Tom then hands Owen the paper.

Owen leans back in the booth and studies the sheet of paper and its contents for a while.

Finally, he sets down the paper and looks up at Tom with a serious look on his face. "You're a madman."

Tom gives Owen a disconcerted look. "Which part?"

"The first part. You think you can get them to obey you?"

Tom leans forward and stares intently in Owen's eyes. "Those men were sent to Hell by me. They hate me more than anything. But they also fear me more than anything. If I wanted to, I could get them to sing the Song of Ireland...in perfect tune."

Owen allows a couple chuckles to come out. "I do admire your confidence."

"You don't need to worry about my end. Question is...are you in or out?"

Owen looks back down at the sheet, not immediately answering.

"Come on, Owen. I can't face them alone, and they threaten our peace here. Let's join together and exterminate some rats. It'll be fun. I'm sure your boys could use the action."

With that, Owen nods agreeably, smirks his handsome smirk and looks back up at Tom and extends his hand for a handshake. "We're in."

Actopan, Mexico (Earth, circa 1997)

Tom Falk and Mike Walcott are lying on their bellies on top of a plateau overlooking a factory of some sort quite a few hundred yards away. Tom's got his binoculars on, observing cars and hummers coming into the facility. Mike, meanwhile, has his hand on an earpiece, listening to an informant that he has bugged.

Tom and Mike are there overseeing a meeting between cartel leaders that's going on at the factory, which is a factory that makes plastic toys for kids...as well as black tar heroin for the adults. The steam and gas emitted from the factory looks so similar to the steam and gas emitted from a heroin processing plant that it has long operated beyond suspicion from the Mexican authorities.

So not only are Tom and Mike eavesdropping on the meet, they're also getting verification of the heroin being pumped out of the factory.

From behind them, Mitch Hayes emerges from a van, holding a radio in his right hand. At this point, Mitch was their team leader, but some serious questions have been raised about his conduct of late. They're details that Tom and Mike don't know about and only Mitch himself truly knows about.

Mitch has a gambling problem, and he's currently in six-figure debt to some men that are in that very factory.

Mitch walks up behind Tom and Mike. "Hey, I just got confirmation that Martinez, Hechevarria, and even Loco Ocho himself are in there."

Tom doesn't take his eyes away from his binoculars. "Good. What of the kids on the field trip?"

Mitch blankly replies "I wasn't aware of any kids."

"While you were in the van, a bus showed up with a bunch of kids. Looks like they're touring the factory and seeing where their toys are created."

"Well, that's on the other side of the factory. Our targets are on the far side."

Tom looks up at Mitch with a look of suspicion. "Mitch, what are you saying?"

An insistent Mitch replies "Look, we have our orders. That place is wired to blow...it won't affect the kids."

"Mitch! We can't risk it! Don't you know how much shit we've been under lately? They just shitcanned Eduardo Munoz a couple months ago! There's a giant freaking microscope on us and you want to trust the controlability of explosives? We can't risk losing our jobs over this! We'll wait it out!"

"There is no waiting it out! We have to strike now! Mike, where's your informant?"

Mike looks back at the factory and sees a man running out and waving his arms. Then, the man runs off.

Tom, from his binoculars, says "That's the guy. Mike?"

Mike puts his finger to the earbud on his ear. "He says everyone's in place. But the kids might be too close..."

Mitch asks "Might be? Or are?"

"Might be..."

Tom tries to be the voice of reason. "Look, we can get these guys another time! Forget it..."

Mitch shakes his head as he pulls out a hand-held detonator from his pocket. "Listen to me, we have orders, and these explosives are supposed to be concentrated. Let's get this done and let's go home."

"MITCH, WAIT!"

Too late. Mitch lifts up the protective cap and presses the button.

BOOOOOOOOM!

The far side of the factory goes up in an explosion. No mushroom cloud, but the concussion is enough to shake the ground Tom, Mike, and Mitch are on.

Tom gets up to his feet and grabs Mitch by the collar. "Dammit Mitch! What the hell have you done?"

Mitch stoically replies "My job." He then rips himself away from Tom and walks away to the van.

Turns out Mitch accomplished three things today: eliminated a heroin factory, killed leaders of cartels, and erased his six-figure gambling debt.

But, as he would learn a couple days later, he also succeeded in killing three kids and injuring a dozen others, as the blast wasn't exactly as concentrated as it should have been. This would be the final straw that sent Mitch into cubicle hell in Langley until Tom extracted him to join Storm Crew.

And this is the event that was known throughout the rest of Tom's days as "The Actopan Incident".

Tom would have no idea about Mitch's gambling debt. But the fact three kids died in the blast bothered him for some time.

Campeche, Mexico (Elysium, the next day)

He looks more like a tourist than a killer today. Tom's decked in a goofy fisherman's hat, tropical button-up shirt, and white cargo pants. He's also carrying an over-the-shoulder satchel with him, somewhat squinting as the first hint of sunrise is just now starting to show.

Oh, and he's got Little Justine with him. In fact, as he sneaks up to the sleeping gate guard in the jungle, Tom's clutching it firmly in his hands. He stops, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Then, he goes to that place in his mind that he always went to when he was on an Anti-Cartel mission. "Think like a cartel member. Be like a cartel member. Do like a cartel member." Those words were ingrained into his skull during his early days in the Anti-Cartel by Anti-Cartel Director, and later his attorney after he beat Julian Sark, Eduardo Munoz.

But Tom goes beyond being a cartel member during his psych-up period. "Think like Halcon Diablo. Be like Halcon Diablo. Do like Halcon Diablo." During the rampage that followed after Matt Aguero's demise, Tom had literally created this alter ego for himself. He stopped being Tom Falk, the overachieving country boy done good. He became Halcon Diablo, the scourge of Mexican cartels.

Tom opens his eyes and looks at the guard with a snarl. Is he Tom Falk or is he Halcon Diablo now?

That question is answered when he buries Little Justine into the head of the lone gate guard. The former Lobos Rabiosos gangster known as Alberto "Triple A" Alejandro Amezaga didn't even know what hit the back of his head.

The first step of his mission was complete. He scouted out the complex and found just about everyone, save for Triple A, was gathered around the back, some of them taking a swim in the pool. And not one of them heard the yelp that came from Amezaga's mouth when Tom buried an axe in his head. This is good, and it's also good that Amezaga is taken care of because he didn't want anyone sneaking behind him when he made his play on the rest of the cartel.

Amezaga's body disappears after Tom yanks the axe from the back of his head, sending him on his way to Purgatory. The next part is to make his way over to the large humvees and Jeeps that the cartel army currently has. This requires crossing the courtyard, which on Earth would be an issue. Instead, Tom spots an area he can hide at and just teleports there.

Now on the driver's side of a humvee, he pulls out a store-bought GPS tracking device. It's got a metallic end on it that you can stick within a wheel well to anonymously track someone. Tom got Owen to pay extra for the model that relays real-time tracking back to whatever computer he's got it tethered to. It wasn't cheap, but Owen didn't seem to mind paying for it. In fact, as Tom's conversation with Owen continued, Tom learned that Owen hates Mexican cartels more than he does.

Tom bends over next to the driver's side wheel well and attaches the device on the inside of the vehicle. He then goes along to the rest of the vehicles parked in a line and attaches tracking devices to them. He's not detected along the way, being aided by the lighting that comes with dusk as well as quick teleporting.

Now that the tracking devices are done, the gate guard killed, and the rest of the area scouted, it's time for the show to begin.

He closes his eyes and teleports to the roof, overlooking the pool area. He looks down upon the rest of the cartel members, just waiting for someone to spot him and his bloody chrome axe. It's clear this party of theirs has gone one the entire night, with some cartel members even passed out pool-side.

After about 10-15 seconds, none of the cartel members look up, all of them too absorbed in their own fun and vanity. Some are in the pool, others are kicking a soccer ball around, playing cards, or just chatting around the pool area. And others are sleeping and/or passed out.

Tom decides enough is enough. He shouts "Este cartel está bajo nueva dirección, con efecto inmediato!" ("This cartel is under new management, effective immediately!")

Whatever the cartel members were doing suddenly becomes irrelevant. Everyone turns their attention to him. The men that were outside of eyeshot all scamper to the pool area to get a look at the Devil himself and his shiny, blood-soaked axe.

Tom addresses the group again. "¿Quién coño es líder en este equipo lo siente?" ("Who the fuck is leading this sorry outfit?")

Jorge Campos, the gruff, ponytailed man who lost much of his leg to Tom long ago, addresses Tom from his near left. "Ese soy yo, usted loco hijo de puta!" ("That would be me, you crazy asshole!")

Tom forms a demented grin on his face. "Jorge! Encantado de verte de pie sobre sus dos pies otra vez!" ("Jorge! Nice to see you standing on your two feet again!")

"Así es, perra, y yo voy a usar estas dos metros para llegar allí y os matarán, Halcon Diablo!" ("That's right, bitch, and I'm going to use these two feet to come up there and kill you, Falcon Devil!")

"Usted no se va a hacer mierda. Esto se debe a que siempre ha sido todo boca y las bolas no. Usted siempre será conocido como perra inferior de Francisco." ("You're not going to do shit. You've always been all mouth and no balls. You'll always be known as Francisco's bottom bitch.") A "bottom bitch" is the prostitute that the pimp always reserves for himself, thus insinuating that Jorge was more than just the apple of Francisco Alvarado's eye. Insults like that are not taken kindly by cartel members, who abhor any insinuation of homosexuality.

Tom then turns to address the rest of the group. "Ahora todos me escucha. ¿Ves esto? Todos ustedes recuerdan mi amiga aquí? Poco Justine?" ("Now you all listen to me. You see this? You all remember my lady friend here? Little Justine?")

The rest of the group starts to stir. They indeed remember Tom's infamous axe. Many of them bear the scars that Little Justine inflicted on them still.

Tom continues, growling even more. "Usted tiene dos opciones. Uno, acepta mi oferta hostil de su cartel, y empezar a seguir mis órdenes. Dos ... mato a todos y cada uno de ustedes." ("You have two options. One, you accept my hostile takeover of your cartel, and you start following my orders. Two...I kill each and every one of you.")

Jorge fires "Mierda! Hay más de cincuenta de nosotros y uno de ustedes. Aún no eres tan peligroso. Y ninguno de nosotros va a seguir!" ("Bullshit! There's over fifty of us and one of you. Even you're not that dangerous. And none of us will ever follow you!")

"¿Es así?" ("Is that so?")

"Así es. Ahora, yo te voy a dar una última oportunidad para lárgate de aquí, o todos estaremos celerbating sobre su muerte muy lamentable ... y planeando cómo vamos a manejar el resto de su familia." ("It is. Now, I'm going to give you one last chance to get the fuck out of here, or we'll all be celerbating over your most unfortunate demise...and plotting how we're going to handle the rest of your family.")

Tom doesn't relent or back down. Instead, he starts scanning the crowd. "Es Javier Ortega aquí?" ("Is Javier Ortega here?")

From the right side, the large lug Javier Ortega speaks up. "Justo aquí, gusano!" ("Right here, maggot!")

Tom leans forward to look closer. He spots the scar running down the middle of Javier's forehead. Knowing that Javier knows English, he says "Wow, nice scar! I almost forgot how I killed you!"

Javier responds in English "The fuck you want?"

Tom looks around again. "You didn't happen to bring your brother Felix here, did you?"

Javier shakes his head, still scowling. "No way. That fucker's dead?"

Tom tilts his head confused. "I thought familia was everything to you people. You and Felix had a falling out?"

"I was exiled to Campeche because of him. He kicked me out of La Raza! My own brother! That's when the Lobos took me in and Felix became dead to me."

"Aww, how touching. So I take it you didn't bring him along for the ride."

"Hell no. I didn't even know he was dead."

"Oh yeah. Got a life sentence for murdering his 1 and a half year old son. Got shanked in prison a couple years ago."

"You see what I mean about him not giving a fuck about his family now?"

"Oh, but I get the feeling family means a lot to you..."

Another cartel member yells "Oye gilipollas, hablan español!" ("Hey asshole, speak Spanish!")

Tom gives the man a very menacing scowl. "Otra palabra de ti y te estrangularía con sus propias tripas antes de cortar la cabeza!" ("Another word from you and I'll strangle you with your own guts before I chop your head off!")

The cartel member shuts up, but doesn't appear pleased.

Tom turns back Javier and resumes speaking English. "I'm speaking English to you because what I'm about to say is something that's probably very personal and very near and dear to your heart. Now, Felix had a son that he killed. Well, it just so happens that I saw that kid this morning."

Javier, out of concern, asks "Really? How is the kid?" Another cartel member shoves Javier for almost being nice to Tom. Javier threatens to smack the smaller man.

Tom continues unimpeded and with an evil smirk on his face. "Oh, Emilio's doing just great. I saw him today, in fact. And the day before...and the day before that. And you know what he's starting to call me nowadays?"

"What?"

"Daddy."

At this point, Javier gets angry...very angry indeed. "THE FUCK YOU SAY?"

"I adopted Emilio a couple days ago. I'm now the father figure in his life. Your flesh and blood...is now my son."

With Javier breathing heavily out of anger, he tells Tom "I hope Emilio grows up to hate you and kill you...if we don't get to you first!"

"Nah. Emilio wouldn't harm a fly. Me and my wife are going to make sure he continues on the straight and narrow path."

Jorge shakes his head and starts laughing, understanding English just fine. "Realmente eres un pedazo de mierda. Eso es bajo ... incluso para ti." ("You really are a piece of shit. That's low...even for you.")

Tom smirks at Jorge. "Viniendo de ti, me lo tomaré como un cumplido!" ("Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment!")

Jorge confidently and not the least bit intimidated continues. "No nos van a conseguir que te siga. Usted puede también se dan por vencidos. Si te rindes, es posible que usted vive!" ("You're not going to get us to follow you. You may as well just give up. If you surrender, we may let you live!")

Tom waves a finger in front of him. "No, porque no tengo para tener éxito hoy en día. Si no me siguen, voy a volver y matar a uno de ustedes. Y luego voy a volver y matar a otro ... y otro ... y otro. Y no habrá absolutamente nada que pueda hacer al respecto, porque el momento en que te golpeó, me iré ..." ("No. Because I don't have to succeed today. If you don't follow me, I'll come back and kill one of you. And then I'll come back and kill another...and another...and another. And there won't be a damn thing you can do about it because the moment I hit you, I'll be gone...")

Suddenly, he feels the sensation of a knife being plunged into the back of his head. The stinging sensation of metal falling deeper into his skull, cutting through flesh, tendons, muscle, and bone. His body spasms when the knife comes into contact with his brain, causing him to drop his axe. His goofy hat also falls to the ground.

Tom did not notice the hand on his forehead. He did not notice his killer whisper into his ear "Mi nombre es Manuel Del Río. Y siempre será conocido como el hombre que mató a Halcon Diablo" ("My name is Manuel Del Rio. And I will forever be known as the man that killed Halcon Diablo.")

No, Tom was too busy feeling the sensation of dying. A thousand memories flash in his mind...memories of his mother Mary, his grandparents Edward and Violet, his brother Eddie, his sister Karen, his wife Nadia...and his children. Maria and his adopted child Emilio. Before the life goes out in him, he thinks about how he failed them.

Manuel removes the kitchen knife from the back of Tom's head. Tom lifelessly collapses in a heap at Manuel's feet, causing the cartel army to roar in elation and celebration.

Manuel kicks Tom's arm away, puts on foot up on the ledge, and flashes the bloody kitchen knife to the rest of the crowd, the instrument of his assassination.

Tom had gotten sloppy. He got so involved in his conversation with Jorge that he had no idea that Manuel had snuck up to the roof and snuck all the way up behind him.

The celebration continues, with Manuel paying no mind to Tom's body, which is out of sight to the rest of the cartel army.

Had he bothered to look down, he would have noticed there was something amiss. He would have noticed Tom's body wasn't disappearing. In fact, a closer look at the back of Tom's head reveals that Tom's not even bleeding.

And as a normal person would be taking a note of that, they'd be taking notice something going on with the cut on the back of his head.

They'd take notice that the cut was healing.

In a matter of two seconds from when he hit the ground, the cut would be closed, and the only evidence that anything had happened would be a line where the cut took place and removed some of his almost-buzzed blonde hair.

Tom's right arm twitches. Suddenly, he feels life again. That's his first thought. He's not dead. He's alive. His head really freaking hurts right now from where the knife went into the back of his head.

But he's not dead. No. But he is feeling something. He's angry.

Tom opens his eyes and spots the Little Justine axe sitting next to his right arm. He hears the cartel members celebrating his demise. He can hear his assassin cheering next to him.

He doesn't want to hear his assassin cheering no more.

Tom moves his arm to pick up the axe. He finds he's able to move around just fine and think just fine. He then puts his fisherman's hat back on his head as he gets to his knees.

Then, when he gets up to his feet, he hears the cartel stop cheering and start screaming out of fear. This confuses Manuel at first. He examines the crowd and sees most of the mob pointing behind him and shouting "¡Cuidado!" ("Look out!")

Manuel looks behind him. He would not have enough time for his brain to process why Tom was standing alive behind him.

That's because, by the time he turned around, Tom was swinging Little Justine at his head.

The axe connects with Manuel's forehead and slices right through the skull, taking about 80% of Manuel's brain with it. The severed part of Manuel's skull goes flying into the air, almost in slow motion to everyone present, like a frisbee sailing towards the pool area.

With the cartel members in the pool screaming, the top part of Manuel's head lands in the pool, causing brain chunks and blood to start to disperse in the pool.

Anyone that's in the pool gets out of the pool in record time.

As for Manuel himself, he finds his lifeless corpse leaning on Tom's left shoulder. With a dirty scowl on his face, Tom growls "Usted no mató a la mierda! ¡Fuera de mi maldito techo!" ("You didn't kill shit! Get off my goddamn roof!")

Tom then grabs Manuel's throat and chucks him off the roof. The cartel members below scatter as Manuel's body falls two stories and lands in a lifeless and messy thud on the brick below. After a couple seconds, Manuel's body disappears, along with the rest of his matter in the pool except for blood, which is always left behind in Elysium as a reminder of what just took place.

As Tom looks out at a group of cartel members once so confident and against him now trembling and screaming for their lives, Tom wonders just why the heck he didn't die. His head is throbbing, but he's otherwise perfectly fine.

Suddenly, as he sees some cartel members getting on their knees and praying for mercy, he realizes it can only be one thing.

The Tonic.

The Tonic, the drink that gave him temporary immortality when he pursued Sloane in his last 20 minutes of life, gave Tom the ability to heal almost instantly. It had to have been the Tonic, Tom thinks. Tom feels the back of his head and can't feel anything except a line where hair no longer exists. The cut is gone. The Tonic must have done its job. The healing effect of The Tonic must still be active inside of him. That's the only explanation he can think of.

And suddenly, just as he realizes it's The Tonic that saved him, he also realizes that Rambaldi MUST have known this about Tom for him to just barter his life with Mammon like he did.

And as he turns his attention to the frightened cartel members in hysteria, he realizes suddenly that he's got them wrapped around his finger now. Tom cannot die. Tom will kill. They know this, and because they know those two facts, they know they're no match for Tom.

Tom stands up on the ledge, feeling a new wave of total confidence. "SI ALGUNO DE USTEDES PIENSA ACERCA DE LA EJECUCIÓN, MEJOR QUE PIENSE DE NUEVO!" ("IF ANY OF YOU THINK ABOUT RUNNING, YOU BETTER THINK AGAIN!")

Some more cartel members fall to their knees and start praying. Tom forgot how religious cartel members can be. And now, their wailing and begging for mercy sounds like a desperate crescendo of terror.

And all Tom...or is it Halcon Diablo...can do is smile. It sinks in for Tom that he is the deadliest man in Elysium now. Everyone's supposed to be vulnerable to death in Elysium when brain activity ceases. But not Tom. Nothing can stop Tom Falk. Nothing. And that God-like feeling that Tom had when he was under the influence of The Tonic comes flooding right back, although it's not The Tonic that's causing this feeling. It's the feeling of absolute truth that he has every right to feel like God. Deep down, it's a feeling that scares him. But he can't show that fear to the frightened cartel members.

So Tom keeps up his new-found confidence. "Sí, usted pone su fe en Dios. pero el culo pertenece al Halcon Diablo!" ("Yeah, you put your faith in God. But your asses belong to the Falcon Devil!)

Tom gets the cartel's undivided attention. Jorge, who's fearful himself, asks ¿Qué nos haga?" ("What will you have us do?")

Tom replies "Como he dicho, los Rabiosos Lobos están bajo nueva dirección. Y ustedes van a venir a Actopan y cumplir con mis socios de negocios." ("Like I said, the Lobos Rabiosos are under new management. And you all are going to come to Actopan and meet my business partners.")

Jorge asks "¿Cuándo?" ("When?")

Tom pulls out a Garmin GPS system and tosses it to him. Jorge catches it and looks back up at Tom curiously. Tom tells Jorge "Usted debe seguir las instrucciones que vienen en que los GPS. Usted tomará hay atajos, no hay carreteras secundarias, y no se detendrá por nada, excepto por gas! Si tiene que ir a mear, empacar algunas botellas de mierda! Estás a mi encuentro en esa dirección en exactamente catorce horas de hoy. Si usted no cumple, voy a matarte. Si encuentro que no ir a la ruta que he designado para ti, te voy a matar. Si alguno de ustedes tratan de escapar, te encontraré y te mataré. ¿LO ENTIENDES?" ("You are to follow the directions on that GPS. You will take no shortcuts, no backroads, and you will not stop for anything except for gas! If you need to take a piss, pack some fucking bottles! You are to meet me at that address in exactly fourteen hours from now. If you do not comply, I will kill you. If I find you do not go the route I have designated for you, I will kill you. If any of you try to run away, I will find you and I will kill you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?")

Everyone either nods or shouts their approval. Some even start making for the vehicles.

Tom shouts "¡Espera! Una de las cosas más!" ("Hold on! One more thing!") Now, Tom knows the answer to the question he's about to ask, since Nadia informed him what Irina said about Kelly Peyton being missing. But he needs to confirm it since he doesn't quite trust Irina yet. As the rest of the cartel stops, Tom asks "¿Dónde está Kelly Peyton?" ("Where is Kelly Peyton?")

Jorge quickly says "Ella no está aquí! Perra dejó el otro día sin previo aviso!" ("She's not here! Bitch left the other day without notice!")

Tom points his axe at Jorge. "No me cortó la pierna otra vez! Será mejor que me está diciendo la verdad!" ("Don't make me cut off your leg again! You better be telling me the truth!")

Jorge holds up his hands and pleadingly says "Yo digo la verdad! Ella no está aquí!" ("I speak the truth! She's not here!")

"¿Dónde está?" ("Where is she?")

"Yo no sé! Lo juro por mi vida!" ("I don't know! I swear on my life!")

Tom lowers his axe. "Muy bien, muy bien. Nos vemos en Actopan. Si no lo hago ... cabezas vuelan como su amigo de Manuel." ("Alright, alright. See you all in Actopan. If I don't...heads will fly like your friend Manuel's.)

And with that, Tom closes his eyes and disappears, leaving the Cartel scrambling to make it to Actopan afraid for their lives if they don't make it.

Actopan, Mexico (Elysium, modern day)

As the sun sets in central Mexico, the cartel members, by some miracle, made it on time.

The members of the Lobos Rabiosos, 14 hours fresh from their hostile takeover by Tom Falk, have made it to the former toys and heroin factory in Actopan. After Mitch leveled half the building 15 years ago, the other half of the building was retrofitted, in a sense, to serve as a stand-alone toy factory. The space that the other half of the factory occupied is used as a parking lot.

The men pull up to the factory and scramble out of their vehicles. Jorge Campos, technically the highest ranking cartel member present since Tom's not with them, leads them inside the front doors of the building.

The entire group, 50-plus of them, make it through the empty newer lobby, built after the explosion, and through the metal double doors that lead into the factory area, which has no people, but the machinery that would go into toy production.

The first thing they see is Tom Falk, standing with his back turned to them in the middle of the factory.

Jorge starts slowly walking the group towards Tom. He decides to try to be friendly. "Orale!" (What's up?)

Tom does not respond. He does not even move.

"Hola? Lo logramos!" ("Hello? We made it!")

Still no response.

Jorge jogs up to Tom, the rest of the group following behind him. He gets to Tom, who has yet to flinch, and realizes the truth.

He's not Tom at all.

No, this mannequin has Tom's goofy beach shirt on and hat on its head, but it's most surely not Tom. Jorge walks to the front of the mannequin and spots a two-way radio hanging from its neck, with a note that says "Use this to talk to Tom." Jorge pulls the radio off the neck and clicks a butotn to talk. "Tomás, ¿dónde estás?" ("Tom, where are you?")

Outside the factory, a few hundred yards away, on top of a familiar plateau, Tom Falk sits on a beach chair. He's in a plain white shirt now to go along with a new pair of cargo pants. And he's surrounded by sitting Charlie and Chuckie O'Doyle, Owen Schroeder sitting next to him, and the rest of Storm Crew and 20 members of the True Irish. In one hand, Tom has a two-way radio of his own. On the other, he has a beer. Judging by the beer bottles littered around them, the drinking has long ago begun among the group.

After Jorge chimes in, Tom takes a swig from his bottle and grins. He looks over to Charlie and, not quite slurring yet but definitely buzzed, says "Hey, I think our new partners want to talk! Shall I oblige?"

Owen holds out his hand, looking buzzed himself. "Hang on a second."

A few seconds pass. The group hears Jorge nervously ask "¿Estás ahí? ¿Qué está pasando?" ("Are you there? What's going on?")

Tom starts laughing as he looks back at Owen. "I think he's starting to get antsy."

Owen's laughing himself. He wanted to let the cartel stew a bit. "Ok, talk to the wetback bastard."

Tom looks back down at the radio and clicks the talk button. "Welcome to Actopan, Jorge!" Jorge goes to say something in Spanish, but Tom cuts him off. "Oh, no no no. See, everyone in Elysium is trained to speak English. Seeing as you know English yourself, that's how we're going to communicate from here on out."

Jorge chimes back "Not everyone here will understand what we're talking about!"

Tom's smile shrinks a bit. "Then you can translate for them when we're done here, alright?"

"Alright! What are our orders?"

"Just sit tight, I'll get to that. First, I want to introduce you to your new business partners. Jorge, the rest of the Lobos Rabiosos, meet Owen Schroeder of the True Irish." Tom looks up at Owen and holds out the radio for him. "Say hi, Owen."

With a smirk, Owen talks into the radio "Greetings and salutations."

Jorge protests "We don't work with Irish assholes!"

Tom's smile disappears completely as he yanks the radio back to his face. "Hey! You don't have a choice in the matter! Now listen up, because Owen is going to read our new mission statement."

Tom holds out the radio for Owen to talk into again. "These words are borrowed from Irish Republican Army soldier Bobby Sands. I've altered some of the words to fit our purpose. 'There can never be peace in Elysium until the foreign, oppressive presence is removed, leaving all the Elysian people as a unit to control their own affairs and determine their own destinies as a sovereign people, free in mind and body, separate and distinct physically, culturally, and economically. In closing, our reward for today's actions will be the laughter of our children.'"

After a few seconds, a confused Jorge asks "What the fuck does that mean?"

At this point, Tom's devilish smirk returns. He turns over to Charlie, who has a control pad of some sort on his lap. He nods at Charlie, who nods in return as he places his finger above a button.

Tom pulls the radio back to his mouth and simply replies one single word:

"Boom."

And before Jorge could say anything more, Charlie hit the button.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!

The ensuing blast almost rocks Tom and the O'Doyles off their seats. Unlike Mitch's detonation of the place, this explosion causes a large mushroom cloud to form over the smoldering factory.

After Tom regains his senses, he observes the explosion for himself. Part of the reason he lured the Lobos to the factory is because he was inspired by the Pied Piper, who lured the rats to their death. He also saw blowing them all up as the most efficient, the least risky and a less barbaric way of eliminating a huge problem. But another reason he chose that Tom wanted to recreate the Actopan Incident. It bothered him for a while that kids died in that explosion and, by recreating it with people he never wanted to see again, he could help erase that memory.

But as he thinks, he sees the mushroom cloud still climbing in the sky. He looks over at Owen with some concern and asks "Hey, are you sure we're safe from debris here?"

Owen looks down at Tom. "What do you care? You can't die, after all."

"But you guys can!"

Owen shakes his head. "Nothing to worry about. Prevailing wind is going the other way. We've done this kind of thing before, you know?"

Tom shakes his head this time, in awe over the explosion. "Man, you weren't kidding when you said you had enough explosive to blow up the place five times over!"

Owen smirks. "Indeed. Pretty safe to say our wetback problem is taken care of, wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"

Charlie confidently nods. "Yes, Mission accomplished, boys!" The 20 other True Irish members in attendance all roar in victory. Owen just smiles at his happy followers, satisfied that they boys got to be back in action again. He knew the True Irish were getting bored in recent years, not just from the complaints of his people, but Owen himself was getting a bit restless. When Tom came along with this idea, and seeing as the Elysian Council would give authorization for this kind of mission, Owen was actually pleased to accept.

Tom looks down his radio, which is emitting nothing but loud static. He casually tosses the radio off the plateau and down for a long, long drop. And as the mushroom cloud subsides a bit, he starts laughing. He's laughing because the biggest threat to the lives of his family, a large cartel army, have been eliminated. He's also laughing because, for the first time in a long time, he feels like himself again. Not the reserved, friendly New Arrival helper who adopted pacifism. He feels like a hunter again.

Owen looks down at Tom and asks "Are you going to be alright, man?"

Tom looks up at Owen and stops laughing. "Oh yeah, I'm going to be great now! We all are going to be great now! We have nothing to fear anymore! Sloane, Elena, and Kelly by themselves are not near the threat of an entire cartel army! They have no allies anymore!"

Owen nods and looks back out at the destruction. "It would be nice if we knew where they were. We'd be more than happy to help take them out."

Suddenly, a thought occurs to Tom. He stands up and looks over at Owen. "How much more explosive do you have back in Belfast?"

Owen assuredly replies "Enough to blow 100 of those factories up proper. Why?"

Tom looks out at the destruction and smiles again. "Owen, there is a certain feeling a man gets when he goes from being the hunted to the hunter. You can't describe it. It's not euphoria, it's not self-confidence. It's something else entirely, and it's something I felt many times when I was in the Anti-Cartel." Tom looks back over at Chris Cooper, who was with Tom in the Anti-Cartel for years. "You know what I'm talking about, Chris."

Chris nods quickly. "Hell yeah, can't count the times we turned the tables on gangs like that! I forgot how fun this was!"

Tom looks back over at Owen. "I think it's time the tables stay turned against our enemies. I know Jack Bristow still has records on Sloane's properties. Irina Derevko may know where Elena and Kelly have hung out in the past. I think it's time that we send a message to those three."

Owen folds his arms, curious over what Tom's going to offer. "What are you proposing?"

"We send them the message that they will find no shelter here. It's time for scorched earth. If they won't come out, we'll burn them out."

END OF CHAPTER