A thick dust storm was brewing in the desert as three dozen black SUVs traversed the terrain. Pavel and his convoy were a few minutes away from reaching their destination, the vast Opium fields of the Afghan heartlands.

Dmitri ordered the Bratva foot soldiers to remain vigilant as their vehicles slowed down and entered the village over a private radiofrequency.

Pavel observed the locals unperturbed by their presence, like the countless other times they’ve procured the illicit drugs in the past, and reassuringly said, “What did I tell you, Dmitri? You think too highly of the Afghan government. The area would have already been burned to the ground if Future Tech had known of our agreement with the local chief, but an oversight like this was just what we needed. The drug trade in Europe is vital to our brotherhood’s cash flow, so let’s finalize the deal and get the fuck out of this damned desert.”

Pavel assumed wrong, as Future Tech had recently gotten into skirting international laws using Kemp-Jacobs and its growing political influence to further mutual interests.

The Austin-based megacorp profiting off previously illicit Opium was on the table considering its many legitimate medical uses instead of destroying one of the most crucial aspects of the Afghan economy.

Naturally, Future Tech won’t leave its new partners hung to dry and actively prioritize the civilians’ safety, diligently working to grow top-quality Poppy for the international legal market.

The convoy arrived outside the chief’s compound, and Pavel noticed a few soldiers atop the high wall’s ramparts.

The SUVs surrounded the extensive and fortified home built using money earned from years of selling Opium to the Bratva.

Pavel’s men exited their vehicles after establishing an imposing U-shaped formation, a typical Bratva strategy of intimidation.

They assumed the soldiers atop the fortified walls were private military based on their high-end combat equipment, so Pavel walked up to the gate and arrogantly said, “I don’t care who hired your PMC outfit, but this is Bratva territory. Leave this area before my men destroy the gate and kill the lot of you.”

There was practically no military presence in the area, so Pavel concluded these guards were limited in number and had no backup close enough to make a difference in a firefight.

The Bratva footmen began brandishing various weapons to show the handful of soldiers they meant business.

Pavel soon realized their enemies weren’t private security forces as one of them clearly stated in Russian, “This is not your territory, but one managed under the law of Afghanistan. You have declared yourselves members of an international criminal organization and hold no authority in this region. Surrender your weapons without resistance, and all of you shall be granted a proper trial to assess your crimes in front of a jury. Violence will not be tolerated by the Afghan military, so choose your next move wisely.”

Pavel reacted with a chuckle and swept his view towards his grinning and laughing footmen waiting by their vehicles and replied, “You’re joking, right? There are more than one hundred of us and only three of you. You can’t possibly believe you have a chance against my small army.”

While the rest of the men were laughing their asses off, Dmitri kept silent, considered the options, and whispered, “Pavel, we don’t know how many of them are behind those walls. Stop antagonizing them and wasting time. We brought extra cash to bribe the border patrols, so let’s just pay these Afghan soldiers to leave for a few hours while we gather the Opium.”

Pavel’s pride blinded his judgment, and he angrily replied, “They’re not worth our money, only bullets. No one denies and threatens the Bratva without retaliation.”

Pavel impatiently walked away from the gate and towards the back of his armored SUV. He waited until everyone was in position behind cover and shouted, “You don’t fuck with the Bratva! Fire at will!”

The footmen aimed and fired at the Afghan soldiers atop the ramparts as ordered, creating a rain of bullets that caught one of the targets in the chest.

The negotiators immediately took cover as rifles, SMGs, and pistols peppered the upper section of the walls.

Luckily, the soldier survived the direct hit thanks to the level 4 armor plate protecting his chest and the vital organs within. He was quickly brought inside the house to be treated by a combat medic on stand-by and away from the fight.

The Bratva were clearly not messing around as they threw multiple explosive grenades to destroy the reinforced gate forcibly.

Every harvest, the farmers would gather and collect the Poppy pods and store them in a locked warehouse inside the compound, so Pavel deemed it necessary to break through the defenses and eliminate anyone standing in their way in procuring the sorely needed Opium supply.

Ramesh and the other Afghan soldiers prepared for the inevitable assault on the compound from within, using makeshift barricades.

Ramesh and his company had been training urban assaults the past few weeks, so they all understood the principles of adequately defending a hot zone. The noise coming from explosions and the cracking of rifles shooting was deafening, but the Hypervisor Helmets assisted in reducing noise loud enough to damage hearing.

The Bratva footmen entering the recently destroyed gate were in for a surprise as fifty fully armed Afghan soldiers were waiting for the perfect opportunity when the enemies grouped together in the chokepoint.

A heavy-gunner established his field of fire, a concept he learned from an FS veteran m249 SAW gunner who honed his craft during the Iraq War.

“Take cover!” one of the Bratva footmen shouted before large-caliber bullets entered multiple parts of his body, rendering a quick death.

His comrades were also unlucky as the chokepoint was too crowded to maneuver around properly. The men in the back heard the cracking of FA-416 rifles and LMGs and immediately thought twice about plunging into hell fire.

Pavel utterly misjudged the situation and shouted, “Back off and regroup behind the armored SUVs now! Let them come to us.”

The Afghan soldiers’ trained discipline from hundreds of hours working with Future Security and the US military stopped them from pursuing the enemy out in the open and instead maintained their fortified positions.

FS Spectre Ryder watched the battle unfold from a few hundred meters away, on top of a hill with a decent vantage point.

Future Security wouldn’t give the intruders a chance to escape in the SUVs, so Ryder ordered his operators to disable the vehicles preemptively.

Five of his men retrieved the new FA-338 Sniper Rifles from the extra equipment box their unit brought, including armor-piercing ammunition tipped with depleted Uranium procured from US nuclear stockpiles which were very expensive.

Each FS operator armed with an FA-338 went prone on the hill and began shooting at the SUVs’ engine blocks.

Pavel and Dmitri arrived behind a vehicle a few seconds before unknown enemies started peppering their supposedly indestructible vehicles and were surprised to find bullet holes forming on the SUV armor.

Depleted Uranium was heavy metal with high density, perfect for creating specialized projectiles meant to defeat traditional armor types.

The Bratva realized they were surrounded and heavily outgunned while taking fire from the fortified home and a distant hill with a clear shot of all of them.

Ryder decided against massacring the Bratva from afar, as it would be a waste of intelligence and political points with Interpol. Future Security worked for the Afghan government under contract but always considered Future Tech’s interests.

Dmitri understood the battle was a setup considering how easy it was to cross the border and make their way to the country’s heartland.

His brothers had no chance of winning the firefight and even less to escape now that their SUVs were toast and said, “Pavel, order the men to stand down, or else we’ll all die in this damned desert.”

Pavel looked pitiful while taking cover behind an SUV, assessed the situation, and angrily replied, “Fuck! It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Dmitri.”

Ammunition was raining down on the convoy while they discussed surrender and Dmitri asked, “Brother, do you want to be killed instead of imprisoned? Order the men to throw their weapons and concede defeat. I’m not sure if they’ll give us another chance.”

Pavel begrudgingly shouted, “God damn it! Everyone stop firing.”

He assumed they were only picking up Opium from a barely defended village and instead rolled up to what seemed to be a forward operating base full of soldiers.

Ramesh and the other Afghans noticed the lull in the firefight and cautiously moved up the ramparts to check what was happening.

Pavel swallowed his pride, walked up to the previously destroyed gate where more than a dozen of his Bratva brothers lay dead with guts and blood everywhere, and said, “Alright, we surrender but expect humane treatment.”

Pavel utilized his authority one last time to at least give his men reassurance of their fate.

The FS Spectre hailed the Afghan Commander over the Hypervisor NetServ comm link and said, “I think they’ve had enough. I’ll send over Farrukh and his AVs to round them up to reduce the risk of a double-cross.”

A group of FAV-1s arrived at the scene in less than a minute, and Pavel realized they were being played from the beginning.

Future Tech’s practically flying tanks had enough firepower to wipe out his Bratva convoy many times over, but their enemies chose to negotiate and maintain their lives. However, he brushed off the first opportunity to surrender.

—

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