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For 35yrs the border between the Human Empire and Gorgonzola Empire as remained mostly peaceful. The citizens for the Human Empire of this border region are loyal to the last man, woman, and child to the Empire. It was on one of these worlds that gave birth to a legend. The world of Apollo 6 is one of the harshest worlds within the Empire. One so harsh that only it could claim to be the birth world of James J. Owens, the most feared of Death Dealers. A world that is even now poised to give birth to a new legendary warrior. One who shall be baptized in the blood of the Empire’s enemies. Robert Wolff youngest great grandchild of James Owens’ sister Cecilia Owens.

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Chapter 11
Xiomen Row, Goulcrest, Apollo 6; 17:35 Day 11 of occupation

I still cannot believe that of all the places an abandoned warehouse on Xiomen Row was chosen for this meeting. Then I really shouldn’t be surprised. All of Xiomen Row was natural territory for all of the street gangs of Goulcrest. Of the twenty-two major gangs the leaders for eighteen had already arrived. I’m sure that if we held this meeting anywhere else there would have been at least six fights already. As I took a pull off my cigarette and exhaled the smoke, I mumbled to myself. “At least the fracking truce is holding for now.”

“What was that Rob?” Father Mike asked quietly.

“Just commenting on the truce, Father. Hoping like hell that it holds.” I answered honestly. “I’m not too sure about this plan of yours.”

“I agree with Gunner, Father. We’re talking about organizing street gangs that are normally at each other’s throats.” Blackjack grunted.

“Time for a history lesson you two. Back during the Third World War in the early part of twenty-first century the United States of America was invaded for only the second time in its history. There were two invading armies one from the east the other from the west. During the first two months those armies made great strides in capturing huge swaths of territory. Then during week nine of their invasion those armies found they had a major problem. There was a portion of the inner-city populations that they couldn’t subdue. No matter how hard they tried.” Father Mike jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the gathered gang leaders. “They were faced with well-armed, very determined, municipal gorilla forces that had plagued the finest police forces in the history of any nation.”

“I get it now. Why not use the one group of miscreants that even the bravest of cops think twice about fracking with. If my guess is wrong please correct me Father Mike. Between all twenty-two gangs there’s around six-fifty to seven hundred full members and another fifteen-hundred affiliated members. For a total force of around twenty-one hundred hardcore gangsters. Gangsters that know every back alley, side street, abandoned warehouse, and every other hiddie hole in this city.” I couldn’t help myself as I chuckled. “This is too good to be true. Here I’ve been trying to figure out where I was going to find recruits for a resistance force, and they’ve been right here in front of nose all along.”

“Yo! Padre when’s we’s gonna kick off this little powwow of yours?” asked the one shithead that knew was going to cause problems. Dwayne Rockman leader and number one hitter for the 24th Street Cardinal Pillagers. “We’s got places to be, and Wizard to sling.”

“For once in your worthless life shut your fracking hole Dwayne.” I snarled. When he was about to say something when Father Mike stepped in.

“Knock it off both of you. Dwayne sit down and shut up. Wolf quite trying to pick a fight with those who don’t know any better.” He ordered as he pointed to both of us. I just smirked as my name was whispered around the gathering. Father Mike continued to walk into the center of the room. He stood there and slowly turned in a circle. “That’s right people. The Ripper of Whitechapel has come home.”

“Bullshit, Father Mike. I’ve known Rob the Ripper Wolff for close to ten years.” Said the one person that I hoped would show up. The leader for the meanest sons-of-bitches in all of Goulcrest city, the Demon Pistols, Dominic Lloyd. I hide my smile behind my hand as I took a drag off my cigarette. Dominic pointed at me and snarled. “That punk ain’t the Ripper.”

“You always were a hardheaded asshole, Spider. It took me beating the shit out of your sorry ass three times to get you to leave the orphanage kids alone. The last time I broke you nose and knocked out your two front teeth.” I jumped of the crate that I was sitting on and crushed out my cigarette on the floor. I popped my knuckles then rolled my shoulders and neck. “Want go for a fourth time, buddy boy?”

“I got fifty on Spider.” Yelled the leader of the Backer Street Bombers.

“Four to one that Spider guts him in two minutes.” Jumping Jimmy Jackson from the Northern Outlaws yelled as he jumped of his crate.

“I’ll take that action for a c-note.” Bad Breath Beth leader for the only all-female gang, the Women Of The Night.

“Knock it off! Especially you Robert. You will all remember the truce!” Father Mike yelled as he gave me a friendly smile and knowing wink. “Dominic if you want to try your old dance partner do so at some other time. Just understand one thing. It’s not a normal man you face, but a fully trained Death Dealer.”

Those last two words put a bone deep chill in the atmosphere. Beth put words to everyone’s thoughts. “Hold on here, Father Mike. You telling us that trained gorilla you brought to this sit down is a Death Dealer? Come on old man. Everyone knows that the Death Dealers were wiped out on the first day of the war.”

“Those aren’t the only Death Dealers in the Empire, Beth. At last count there was over serval million Death Dealers among the Empyreal Military. That doesn’t count the ones who are retired now. A lot of us do reach retirement and go on to have careers in the civilian world.” Father Mike explained for the gathered gang leaders. He turned to look over at me. “And every year there are younger and better trained individuals joining their ranks. Some of them come from right here on Apollo six. Even this very city’s streets. The last of which came from my orphanage.”

“I still ain’t buying it, Father Mike. That joker looks nothing like Ripper.” Spider grunted as he pulled out a box of Super 8 cigars. As he placed the unlit cigar in his mouth, his second in command, T-bone reached out to lite it for him. Not thinking I snap lite my lighter and tossed it across the room. Spider grabbed it out of the air of reflex. As he lite his cigar Spider eyed me then looked down at the lighter’s case as he closed it. There on the side was a gold dagger. He looked up at me then asked in disbelief. “Ripper?”

“I told you the smell of those things will get you in trouble one of these days.” I chuckled and caught my lighter as he threw it back to me. “You ready to listen?”

“You got the floor Ripper. Any of these mooks gives you shit. They answer to the Pistols.” Spider snorted and took a drag off his cigar.

“Why should we listen to the Demon Pistols?” Jumping Jimmy demanded. “Death Dealer or not. He left your gang. Why ain’t you putting the beat down on this rat?”

“Because, Ripper was never a member of the Demon Pistols or any gang, Jimmy. You North end gangs never had to deal with him. Those of us from the Whitechapel have dealt with him. He sent more than a few of us to the hospital for crossing into the DMZ. That goes for the Demon Pistols, the Grey Vipers, the Emerald Dwarves, the Raven Skulls, and the Sapphire Devils. None of us fracked with him, and none of us wanted him in our gang.” Sherman Grant leader of the Grey Vipers told the Northern Outlaw with more than a little heat. “You want to try Ripper be my guest. He was one mean mother fracker before he became a Death Dealer. Now I’m beating he’ll just kill your punk ass and be done with it.”

“I won’t kill someone for being a dumbass Tank. I’ll just send his to the ER with several broken bones and dislocated joints.” I chuckled then looked over at the Outlaws leader. “But in his case. I’ll make an exception.”

When Jumping Jimmy started to make a move toward me I fire one of my antipersonnel lasers into the floor at his feet. Everyone in the room froze. “That was a warning. The next time. I’ll be removing your balls, Jimmy. Understand something here people. Death Dealers do not make threats. We carryout promises.”

“Chill Ripper. No need to go breaking the truce.” Beth smirked. “Like Spider said you got the floor. So, talk already.”

“For the last few days, each one of your gangs have been hitting the Brownshirt checkpoints, supply, and troop convoys, as they come through your individual territories. You’ve had moderate success in harassing them and the Cheeseheads. The problem is the Cheeseheads are going to figure out that you’re not working together. That you’re only defending your own territories. When that happens, they’re going to come down on you like ton of shit.” I paused and lit a cigarette. “I’ve only been back in town a few days and I’ve already figure this out. I admire your respect of each other’s territory during this occupation. You could have all turned on each other like rabid dogs. Instead, you have an unspoken truce in place. The same truce that brought most of you here tonight.”

“Ain’t no profit in fracking over the other gangs right now. Besides, this is our turf. Nobody is going to take that away from us.” Dale Winters of the Eastend Gamblers grunted. “Not without a fight.”

“And that’s how they’re going to take you down. One gang at a time. If you’re only worried about your own territory the Cheeseheads will pick you apart. They’ll drop two companies of Stormtroopers with Infantry support APS units into the heart of your territory and work their way out. Killing every color flying soldier in your outfits. If you want to survive this war. You’re going to have to work together. Not just in your own territories but in each other’s.” I held up my hand to stop the bitching before it started. “It’s either that or die one at a time.”

“What’re you talking about Ripper?” Spider asked for the rest.

“Neighboring gangs working together in their respected territories. I mean think about it. The Brownshirts are expecting the hatred you have for each other to keep you divided. They would never expect Northern Outlaws working with Steel Vipers or Stone Bears. There’s two main highways running through those territories. How about the Backer Street Bombers, the Twenty-fourth Street Raiders and the Tenth street Tens taking down two convoys at the same time. I don’t even want to think of the unholy terror that the Whitechapel gangs could unleash if they worked together.” As I laid out my argument I could see the wheels turning. “Think and talk about it among yourselves. Make up your own minds. I’ll be waiting over here with the lady and Father Mike. Call us when you’ve made up your mind.”

“Yeah Ripper. If we decide to go with your plan. What are you bringing to the party?” Spider asked with a grin.

“Three things. An Intelligence Expert, training in how to hit the Cheeseheads where it hurts and live.” I answered as I turned to join Father Mike and Blackjack.

“You said three things. What’s the third, Ripper?” Spider called out.

“The wrath of a highly trained, totally pissed off, Death Dealer sniper armed with the most advanced sniper rifle in the universe. One who knows every back alley, side street, dead end, and sniper’s nest in the city.” I looked back at Spider and T-bone then snarled. “A sniper with a thirst for revenge and a planet full of moving hard targets to use to vent that rage.”

“Yo, Spider was Ripper always like that? Full blown hard ass.” One of the other gang leaders asked as I joined Blackjack and Father Mike.

“Boon dog trust me on this. That was Ripper being polite. If he wanted to be a hard ass, he would have come at you with a knife.” T-bone answered for his boss. “The gangs in the Points got a saying about the man. He’ll shoot in your ass just to see if the gun was loaded. Nobody screws with the Sky Reach Orphanage because of him.”

“And the locals are cool with him being a lone wolf on their turf? You got to be kidding me, bro. No gang would allow that. I know we wouldn’t.” Boon dog said. “He would either join us or get his ass capped.”

“Of the twenty-two gangs in Goulcrest the meanest five are centered in Whitechapel. Five gangs sent their best hitters. Ripper put all five in the morg. That’s how he got his street name. He ghosted everybody we sent after him and sent back their index fingers as a warning to the rest of the gang.” Spider explained coldly. “He earned his name in a way that no banger ever could, Boon dog. The cops never couldn’t pin those hits on him. When they finally did get him, he is such a badass the judge bounced his ass off planet. Ripper is a one-man crew that was untouchable.”

“Then how did they finally catch him? I mean if he was such a badass like you say. Then there was no way he would have screwed up enough to get busted.” The gang leader grunted as he gave me the eye.

“You want to know how much of a badass, hardcore, gangster, Ripper is I’ll tell you. He would boost a delivery trunk at noon. Unload its cargo by three and be sitting down having a beer with the cops who were investigating the boosted truck that night. The man is so cool under pressure he’s a damn glacier.” Spider chuckled. “The only reason he ever went before the Hatchet was because he beat the shit out of a crocked cop.”

“Damn, that’s being a real Original Gangster. Why did you guys leave him alone after he capped your hitters? I know that a few cut off fingers wouldn’t have scared you guys.” The gang leader chuckled. “Not that it wouldn’t make me think twice.”

“A few reasons. First he was always respectful to the Whitechapel gangs. Whatever he boosted he always gave an even cut to all five gangs. Second he never dropped dimes on the guys that fracked the pooch in his territory to the coppers. If he had a problem with one of our guys he would come to us and give us a chance to handle the problem in house. Third he always kept a low profile. He made sure to keep his game under the cops’ radar. He never gave the coppers reason to look towards us. Lastly the only time he ever butted heads with us directly was when one of our guys fracked with Sky Reach Orphanage. Then all bets were off. We figured out really quick it was better to take care of the offending asshole first before he found out.” T-bone chuckled at the look of shock that crossed the faces of the gather gang leaders. “There was only ever one individual that crossed Ripper and lived to talk about it. That’s Spider. The only reason why is they respect each other and always set rules before going at each other.”

“Damn. No wonder he’s a Death Dealer. The man’s a super OG.” Boon dog grunted then looked around. “Where’s the rest of the Whitechapel’ gangs, Spider?”

“I’m here on their behalf. We parlayed and decided that it was better to send one rep for all five gangs. I got elected because the Demon Pistols control the most territory. If I had known that I was meeting with the new and improved Ripper. I would have let someone else come in my place.” Spider answered honestly.

“Why do I get the feeling that you two are friends or something?” The gang leader said as he gave the hairy eye once more.

“We’re not. I surprised he didn’t take my fracking head off when I walked in.” Spider answered honestly. “Truce or no truce. I piss off Ripper again. You all are carrying my body out of here. Pass the word Jack-Jack. We do what he says. End of story. Ripper is the one gangster that scares the shit out of all the Whitechapel gangs when he gets this way.”

“And what way is that?” Jack-Jack asked.

“Pissed off at the fracking world.” T-Bone almost shivered as he looked over at me with the others. “Only this time it’s a hundred times worse.”

“Why?” Jack-Jack asked for the other gang leaders. “What’s deferent?”

“This time he’s armed with real training and firepower.” Spider answered in a whispered tone. “He left here the badest OG in all of Whitechapel and came back a Death Dealer on a mission. Ripper is going to bring death and destruction to the Cheeseheads. We either help him or get the frack out of his way.”

“What if we don’t?” Asked Beth as she and Jumping Jimmy joined them.

“Then make your peace with your maker.” Spider told them both. “Because that man is going to kill whoever gets in his way.”

“He can try.” Jack-jack snarled then turned white as an antipersonnel fired. Burning a hole between his feet at over 50feet.

“That was your only warning Jack-Jack. You get your boys in line or face me.” I snarled as I turned away from Father Mike and Blackjack. “Unlike the Cheeseheads. I actually know where you fracking live. Taking you out will be nothing more than a warmup for what I’ll do to the Cheeseheads. Get this through your heads now. I came here to get you frackers to hang together or hang separately. Make no mistake. Working together you have half a chance of living to see the end of the war. Working on your own, your families will bury your asses.”

“Chill Ripper. If the others don’t want to follow your led, frack ‘em. The gangs of Whitechapel have your back.” Spider said as he stepped forward.

“The Northside will back your play Ripper.” Wyatt Kayhill for the northside gangs.

“Same here. The Eastend is behind you.” Beth answered for those gangs.

“The Southside is not going to be left out of this little dance. Count us in.” Steve Still called out for the southern gangs.

All that was left were the gangs from the Westend of Goulcrest. I could tell that the deciding gang leader would be Jack-Jack. “Well, punk. What’s it going to be?”

“We’ll play your game Death Dealer.” Jack-Jack snarled. “But the second this war is over your ass is mine.”

“You know something. Why wait. I got done what I wanted to. You think you can take me bring it on. I won’t even use a weapon. I’m sure you got your Ka-Bar on you. Go ahead and pull it. I won’t stop you.” I stepped into the center of the room. “But the second you do understand something boy. I’m going to shove that fracking knife so far up your ass. You’ll need a team of proctologists to get it out.”

“Jack-Jack don’t get stupid. Ripper could have done that before he left Apollo. He’s a Death Dealer now. That makes him ten to twenty times deadlier.” Spider said as he stepped out of the way. “But understand something, you pull that blade, and no one, I mean no one, will help the Crimson Knives or any of the Westend gangs.”

The knife that suddenly stuck out the front of Jack-Jack’s neck caught everyone by surprise. The person using that knife didn’t surprise me. “This shithead doesn’t speak for the Crimson Knives, Spider. Jack-Jack has been getting out of hand. The gang voted to replace him if he got stupid.”

“You their new leader Toto?” Spider asked the young man quickly.

“Nope. Just the executioner for that piece of shit.” Toto said as he sheathed his Ka-Bar. “Little Will is our new leader, but I can vouch for him. Jack-Jack may not have heard about the Ripper of Whitechapel, but I have. As have the rest of the Westend gangs. We’ll play his game, his way. When and how he wants it done.”

“Glade see that not all the members of Goulcrest’s gangs are fools.” Blackjack chuckled as she stepped up beside me. “What’s our next move Ripper?”

“I put a four-oh-eight round through the head of Grand General Zorn.” I snarled and popped my knuckles. “Time to put the fear of god in these assholes.”

“God has nothing to do with this, Robert. This is Goulcrest, The City of Ebony. A city that is filled with more ghosts that any city on Earth Prime.” Father Mike corrected me as he put his hand on my shoulder. “And the deadliest of her ghosts has returned. To wreak an unholy vengeance on those who would oppress her citizens.”

Camp Falcon, Lineberry, Eastern Rat Steppes; 16:30 Day 18 of occupation

Iceman looked out over the small freshwater lake. When he had led the team into the camp he did so for two reasons. The first was simple. The abandoned summer camp made the perfect place for the remaining members of the Fallen Angles to get some well-deserved and much needed rest. The second reason was they needed a base to operate from. That had been the original plan. That all changed last night.

He had spent Rimfire and Jukebox into Lineberry to find the local resistance leaders yesterday. Only Rimfire made it back alive from the mission. They were jumped by a roving patrol of Brownshirts 7miles outside of Lineberry. Not even the bio-armor of a Second-Generation Death Dealer can stand up to a high-power pulse rifle set to maximum. Jukebox died earlier this afternoon from a hole through the center of his torso. Not even Tigger the team’s medic could save his life. Rimfire had carried his body from the site of the firefight all the way back to the camp. They buried Jukebox just after sunrise deep in the woods surrounding the abandoned camp.

“Damn it, Gunner. Where the frack are you?” Iceman bitched to himself.

“You can’t keep beating yourself up over that shit, Iceman. We all knew the score the second we entered the drop capsules. Gunner could have refused, just like the rest of us. He climbed in, strapped down, close the lid, and let his ass get fired out the tube. He knew his chances. Just like Jukebox knew the chances of getting caught by coming back after sundown. That was his mistake, not yours.” Rimfire said as he approached the team leader form behind. “It was also my mistake. I should have argued to lay low until morning.”

“He made the call, Rimfire. He pay the price.” Iceman sighed. “But I’m the one that made the decision to send you two. I knew that Jukebox was bucking to take command. I should have sent someone else with you and held him back for a one-on-one.”

“Who could you send? Tigger was needed here to help Snow with the setup for the coms uplink. You and Free runner had maintenance to pull on the FAVs. That left just me and Jukebox for the meet and greet with the locals. Sure, if Gunner was here, he could have gone in my place. Hell, he could have gone on his own.” Rimfire snorted then sighed. “But he ain’t here. He’s spread over three quarters of acer of an ice and snow cover glacier.”

“What about those reports you brought back of a lone sniper raising hell in the Goulcrest region? You and I both know to raise that kind of a shit storm takes a sniper who is trained to operate on their own. We know that Spector is on the other side of the damned continent with the rest of the Black Saints. That leaves just two other Death Dealers that can operate like that on this rock.” Iceman stated honestly. “You and Gunner. Your ass has been with us this enter time, and we haven’t been anywhere near Goulcrest. That leaves only two options.”

“Either a member of the forty-third survived the initial attack.” Rimfire said.

“Which we know is highly unlikely.” Iceman pointed out.

“Then the meanest son-of-a-bitch on our team survived the drop and made his way home.” Rimfire grunted as he realized that CAWO-1 Robert Wolff was alive and raising hell with the Cheeseheads. “If he has why hasn’t Gunner contacted us?”

“There are only two reasons that I can think of Rimfire. First Gunner is using his knowledge of the local population and area to raise his own resistance. Second he is waging a one-man war of revenge.” Iceman chuckled. “Either of which is good for us in the long run.”

“How so?” Rimfire asked in confusion.

“Because the more hell he raises in the capital. The more troops the Cheeseheads will have to pull troops back to secure the capital. No matter what else happens they can’t let the capital become a focal point for the resistance. That report about the sniper attack on Camp Rampage has all the earmarks of Gunner’s twisted thinking. Target the APS pilots with SABO rounds, then switch ammo to HEAT rounds and start blowing shit up. Classic Gunner tactics right down to the targets.” Iceman chuckled as he thought about their friend.

“Yeah. Gunner would pull something like that. For more than one reason.” Rimfire chuckled as he thought about the man they called Gunner. “The only problem is that report said some gangbanger called Ripper is responsible for those sniper attacks. That doesn’t jive with what we know about Gunner.”

“I’m not so sure about that Rimfire. I mean think about it. Really think about how much we know about Gunner. We know he’s from Apollo six. We know that his hometown is Goulcrest. We know that he’s connected to the Owens Clan and the Royal Family somehow. We know that he’s a jail or military enlistment. After that we know jack-shit about Wolff. Whenever one of us ever asked him about his past he always avoided the question entirely or make some smartass comment.” Iceman pointed out with depressing honesty. “The life story of Robert Wolff is one of those X-Files, wrapped in a cover-up and deep-fried in paranoid conspiracy! I won’t put it past him to actually be this hardcore gangbanger called Ripper.”

“That leaves us with a problem. If it is him do we make the run to Goulcrest or do we continue with our operations here?” Rimfire asked with real curiosity.

“It all depends on what Gunner does next. If he follows doctrine his next move will be organizing the local resistance. If he does that we’ll start hearing reports of increased attacks on convoys and supply depots. If he can’t do that he’ll target someone high up in the Cheesehead military chain of command. It’s the last one that has me worried. If he hooks up with the rest of Blackjack’s cell all bets are off.” Iceman listed for the team’s acting sniper.

“Why are you worried about him and Blackjack working together boss man? Wouldn’t him working with pros be better than working on his own or civilians?” Rimfire asked in total confusion over this last option.

“Because he won’t be the one in charge. The Emperor’s Hand don’t follow the normal rules of engagement. They take unnecessary risks to nail high value targets. They think and act like spies. Not SpecOps troopers.” Iceman sighed. “They’ll use Gunner like a disposable one-shot holdout pistol. Just to nail so low-level political flunky with no real impact on the occupation.”

“Then what’s our play Iceman?” Rimfire really wanted to know what the team’s next move would be. Because it if was left up him. They would be heading for Goulcrest.

“This is one of those times we wait and see while continuing with our own mission. For now, anyway.” Iceman looked towards the cabin they were using. “Has Snow gotten the communications uplink working yet?”

“Been up for the last two hours. That’s why I’m here actually. Snow sent me out to find you and Free runner. Snow’s been able to hack into the Cheesehead Intel network. You’re not going to believe the shit he’s already pulled off their network.” Rimfire explained as he led their team leader back to the cabin.

The second they entered cabin Snow shouted at the top of his lungs in surprise. “Holy shit! Get the boss Tigger! We got hot intel! Gunner is alive!”

“I’m here Snow.” Iceman said as he entered the cabin.

“He’s alive Iceman! He made it down! No one else could have pulled off that shoot!” Snow’s excitement was barely contained as he shouted the good news.

“Hold on here Snow. First what are you talking about? We’re kind of in the dark here.” Iceman looked over at Tigger. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Damn it! I told you he’s alive! He actually pulled it off. He made it down alive!” Snow exclaimed as he danced around the room like a drunken sailor on shore leave.

“He said something about hot intel and Gunner being alive. That’s all I got boss.” Tigger answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Snow I need for you to take a deep breath and start from the beginning.” Iceman ordered the team’s Com-Sec specialist.

“It’s Gunner! He’s alive! He made it down in one piece!” This time Snow’s excitement over what he found on the uplink spread to the rest of the team. It took Iceman ten minutes to regain control of his team. Not that he wasn’t just as excited over the news of their teammate.

“Okay take it from the top, Snow. Tell us everything.” He ordered once order was restored to his normally very professional teammates.

“Once Tigger and I got the uplink established with one of the Cheesehead Intel satellites I started digging through their reports on sabotage and ambushes. Just like they trained us to do. I kept coming across reports of these uncoordinated attacks on convoys by local gangs. Then suddenly two days ago those attacks changed. Whole convoys were being taken down in coordinated attacks by multiple gangs. Not just in the inner-city areas but attacks on the mag-rails, the airport, and several other points of interest around the city. Places where the Cheeseheads and their collaborators liked to gather. Attacks that until now had been uncoordinated. Each gang doing their own thing. I figured that there was something to these attacks and went digging further. Going over the changes in those attacks. That’s when I found the reports on sniper attacks. Boss these attacks stood out from the rest.” As Snow was going over what he had learned Tigger was going over the files he had discovered.

“Damn boss. Whoever is coordinating these attacks now, really knows their shit. Frack some of these attacks are straight out of Gunner’s playbook.” Tigger gasped. “Oh hell! This last attack has to have been planned by him. It’s the same one he used to frack up our final test scores. He is alive! Only Gunner has that kind of twisted fracked up thinking.”

“It’s more than just that Tigger. Read the reports on sniper attacks. Every last one a four-oh-eight round. Sniper nests over fifteen hundred meters away. Never the same position twice. Extremely high skill shots aimed at achieving disproportional results. Minimum ammunition expenditure, maximum chaos. The kind of shit that Gunner lived for in training. But it’s the last sniper report that you need to read. I know of only one man alive or dead that could make that shot. Combat Arms Warrant Office Robert Wolff of the Fallen Angles.” Snow shouted at the top of his lungs. “Our street rat from Goulcrest is ALIVE!”

“He’s right boss. I got the report right here. The shot was tracked back to the twelfth floor of a high-rise twenty-seven-hundred meters away. The target was Grand General Zorn in front of the Goulcrest Occupation Headquarters. It was a clean head shot through and through with a four-oh-eight SABO round. The only thing that doesn’t track as this being done by Gunner is what they found at each one of the sniper nests.” Tigger said as she turned around in the chair. “Did Gunner ever leave a signature at his nests in training?”

“I don’t know. I was never his spotter.” Iceman answered honestly before turning to the one member of the team that would know the answer. “What about it Rimfire?”

“There was this thing he used to do with his combat knife. He would scratch or carve WR on something near the nest. He did this at every nest we ever setup. I asked him about it once. He said it was just his way of remembering who he was.” Rimfire answered after a few moment of thought. “Why?”

“Because the Cheeseheads have been finding those initials tagged at every nest. Not to mention at the location for every attack for the last two days. It’s like the gangs are trying to make all of these attacks belong to just one person.” Tigger answered as she turned back to the screen of the uplink. She pulled up the file pictures that the Cheeseheads had taken of the sniper nests and ambush sites. There in living color was the spray-painted initials at every site. She turned and looked up at Rimfire. “Is this what Gunner drew?”

“That’s it. That’s what he always drew or craved. If we hadn’t already tagged him with Gunner and Spector been taken. I was going to suggest Winter Reaper or something along those lines.” Rimfire chuckled. “He really was remembering his roots.”

“What are you talking about Rimfire?” Snow asked quickly.

“Some of the reports I brought back from Lineberry were about a gangbanger from Goulcrest. They’re not just any gangbanger either. This guy is some kind of super OG banger. A real hardcore gangster. He earned the street name Whitechapel Ripper. Then one day out of nowhere this gangbanger just up and disappears off the face of Apollo six. Only to reappear in Goulcrest eight days ago. Supposedly he is the one to organize the gangs.” Rimfire explained.

“How accurate is that intel Rimfire?” Snow asked. As Free runner walked in.

“What intel? And why are you four so damned excited? The war over already?” She asked with a smile that belied her pain over Jukebox’s death.

“Gunner is a live and raising hell in Goulcrest.” Tigger told the only other female on the team. Free runner looked at the fisty redhead elf in disbelief. She then looked to Iceman, Rimfire, and Snow.

“Is she telling me the truth? This isn’t a joke? Gunner is really alive?”

“According to the reports Rimfire brought back and the Intel that Snow pulled off the Cheesehead Intel Server. Warrant Officer Robert Wolff is alive and raising unholy hell in the city of his birth. The only question now is do we go help him.” Iceman told her before looking at the rest of the team. “Not that he needs it. The man is already building a legend of his own that will rival Death’s, his Daughter’s, the Joker’s, and the Silver eyed Witch.”

“Why do you say that boss?” Tigger asked for them.

“Look at the number of sniper kills the Cheeseheads are crediting to this Ripper guy. I don’t know of any sniper that has sixty-eight kills in fifteen days. That’s more than four confirmed kills per-day. Not to mention the equipment damage. That lone will make Gunner, or I should say Ripper, a legend among the sniper community. At this rate he’s going to join the ranks of legendary snipers from history in no time. I’m talking about people like Adelbert Waldron, Vasily Zaytsev, Erwin König, Chris Kyle, Norman Hathcock, Simo Häyhä, James J. Owens, and James Bailey.” Iceman chuckled as he listed just a few of the greatest snipers in history.

“Do you really think so, boss. We all know that Gunner is one hell of a sniper. The best in his class.” Rimfire couldn’t help but point out the obvious for his team leader. “But do you really believe he’s on that level?”

“I do. There’s something about Gunner that defies explanation. There’s this fire about him when he’s backed into a corner. He is more than just a simple warrior. He’s a warrior with few equals. Robert Wolff is also a born leader and if those reports are even halfway accurate. Has organized the meanest groups of civilians on all of Apollo six.” Iceman chuckled. “Robert Wolff is Death Dealer among Death Dealers. With few equals. We are his teammates and trained in the same manner, but the truth is we are nothing more than shadows compared to him.”

“What exactly are you talking about Iceman?” Snow asked in confusion. “Gunner is a Death Dealer like the rest of us.”

“Think about it Snow. He’s doing something that extremely few Death Dealers have ever done.” Iceman slowly explained for his teammates. “He’s operating on his home planet. Those streets are his backyard. The street gangs are his playmates. The local cops are his guardians. The man has the homefield advantage in so many ways. That I can’t even begin to name them all.”

“Okay we can see that Iceman. That still doesn’t explain why Gunner hasn’t contacted us. Even with his training he’s still just one Death Dealer.” Tigger grunted.

“Tigger of all of us on this team. Who is the meanest son of a bitch that you know?” Iceman asked her with a nasty smile. “Who is the only member of this team who dared to look at the odds and said screw it? Remember what he said about being a One when you explained it for him? Don’t you get it yet? Warrant Officer Wolff has been beating the odds for so long. That the Grim Reaper has resorted to using loaded dice in the vain hope of collecting his soul.”

“Iceman do you really think Gunner is this Whitechapel Ripper?” Rimfire asked.

“Oh yeah. If there is one person in this universe that can be both our Gunner and this Whitechapel Ripper. It can only Combat Arms Warrant Officer Robert Wolff. The Street Rat from Goulcrest. The meanest, rudest, crudest, socially unacceptable, politically incorrect, hard drinking, hard fighting, son-of-bitch that has won their Imperial Blacks in the last one-hundred-years.” Iceman chuckled. “I doubt that even First High Lord of the Death Dealers Commander JJ Owens could surpass our Gunner for being the supreme asshole of assholes.”

Deerfield Forest, Apollo 6, 09:45 Day 18 of occupation
Adventure Scouts Troop 872, Howling Wolf Campgrounds

Scout Master Jacob Tanner looked at the young man standing next to the campfire. The fact that he was even here spoke volumes. Jacob looked at the seven girls and nine boys siting around the fire. They were up here earning their wilderness survival and hunting badges. Each member of his troop were armed with either bows or rifles depending on their preference. He had already warned his kids to not point a weapon at the Death Dealer. He knew they would be dead before they could even pull the trigger or lose the arrow.

In his younger years Jacob was a member of the Apollo 6, PDF 4th Light Infantry Division. The division was often called the Flintlock Mountaineer Division because of their training. Unlike most Infantry divisions the 4th trained in unconventional mountain warfare. Yet as hard as they trained no Mountaineer ever matched a Death Dealer in unconventional mountain warfare. Then again, no standard unit could match a Special Operations Death Dealer in unconventional warfare. These men and women are killers with no equals.

“Okay Sergeant, you have my attention. What do you want?” Jacob demanded.

“I understand that your troop has been hitting the Cheesehead supply convoys, sir.” The Death Dealer started off with bluntly. “You need to stop.”

“Sorry, Sergeant. That’s not going to happen. Until the Cheeseheads leave; me and my troop will hit them when and where we can. No one is going to tell us what to do.” Jacob snarled then spat on the ground. “Especially someone who works with that worthless piece of shit, Dale Winthrop.”

“Dale Winthrop is dead.” The Death Dealer stated bluntly. “My CO killed him in front of the other Resistance leaders.”

“I hope the bastard died screaming then. Still, it doesn’t change things here. Each one of these kids lost their parents when the bastards gassed Creeville four days ago. To paraphrase the words of a great prophet. We will kill until no Cheesehead breaths Apollo six air. Get in our way and we’ll end you as well.” Jacob almost snarled until he saw the CQC blades deployed by the Death Dealer. “So, do you plan on killing me and these children as well to stop us?”

“Look buddy I’m not here to fight with you.” The Death Dealer retracted his blades and sighed. “Let’s start over. You can call me Spector.”

“Alright Spector. Jacob Tanner, Adventure Scout Troop eight-seven-two Master and former member of the Apollo PDF’s Flintlock Mountaineers. We good?” Jacob asked.

“We’re good Mr. Tanner. As I said I was sent here by my boss to talk sense to you. You need to stop the attacks on the convoys.” Spector slowly explained his reason for being in their camp again.

“Like I said. We will kill until no Cheesehead breathes Apollo six air.” Jacob repeated then sighed. “You wouldn’t understand, Spector. You’re not from here.”

“That is where you’re wrong sir.” Spector said as he took a seat on a nearby rock. “I may not have grown up on Apollo six, but I did grown up on New Lancaster.”

“That’s over in the tri-corner sector.” Jacob grunted as he too sat down on a rock near the firepit. “Yah you would understand our point of view.”

“Listen I know that you and these kids want revenge for your families. Sure, you have had some success. Yet if you keep going after the convoys the way you have, you’ll end up getting yourselves killed.” Spector sighed as he could tell that his words weren’t getting through to the gathered teenagers. “Haven’t you noticed the escorting gun trucks? The Cheeseheads are placing one gun truck for very ten supply transports now. You’ve been lucky so far. The Cheeseheads are no longer letting their supply transports travel alone. Besides the gun trucks they’re sending escort flights of attack helos with each convoy now. No matter how good your luck is, it is going to run out.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? Just let them kill our families and do nothing? I would rather die killing a few Cheeseheads than let that happen.” One of the teenage girls almost yelled. She held up a Martian Firearms .308 caliber Challenger Long-rifle. The bolt action hunting rifle had a range of 1250 meters. It was deathly accurate in those 1250 meters. Only military grade sniper rifles were more accurate. Spector eyed the weapon with true professional jealousy. That’s when he spotted the hash marks carved into the stock.

“That is a lot of hate there kid. You keep holding onto it, it’ll burn you up.” He felt he needed to point out the path the girl was on.

“It keeps me warm.” She said as she ran her hand over the twenty-seven marks. “There is one for every Cheesehead I’ve killed with this rifle.”

“Kid do yourself a favor. Quite keeping count. Trust me on this.” Spector said as he stood up and walked over to stand in front of her. He placed his hand over the hash marks. “In time you won’t need the marks to remember the number of people you’ve killed. You’ll see their faces in your sleep.”

“Sounds like you speak from hard won experience Spector.” Jacob sagely asked as he took the rifle from the girl. “Tammera I told to end this.”

“Yah, you did. I ignored you.” The girl Tammera snapped as she snatched back her rifle. Tammera stood up and got in Jacob’s face. “You can do whatever this Death Dealer wants Mr. Tanner but I’m going to keep killing Cheeseheads. Even if it’s on my own. You forget I already know how to live off the land. Been doing that sense I was old enough to walk on my own.”

“Okay kid I’ll make a deal with you. If you can outshoot me with that rifle, I’ll get out of your hair. If, however I outshoot you then you quite until I can train your ass how to fight and stay alive.” Spector knew that he had the girl beat without even trying. The only person who had ever outshoot him was Gunner. He could see the fire in the girl’s eyes blaze to life at being able to shoot against a Military Sniper and show him up.

“Tammera give it up.” Tanner said quickly wanting to save his charge the humiliation at the hands of this killer. “Trust me when I say that you’re outclassed.”

“What do mean Mr. Tanner? I can outshoot everybody here.” She sneered. “Even you.”

“Tammera, let me give you some honest truth about Death Dealer Special Operations troops. They can all act as snipers even with their assault rifles. Spector here is carrying a Hellsing Arms M-seventy-one Sniper’s rifle. That weapon can reach out to over two kilometers and place five rounds inside a six-inch circle.” Jacob then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “That is in untrained hands like yours, Tammera. He’s been trained to use that beast.”

“Fine. I won’t take him up on the challenge.” She snarled then looked Spector in the eye. “You said something about training us to fight and survive. What did you mean by that sir?”

“Simple. You kids are going to still keep killing Cheeseheads despite what the boss wants. We both know that. All’s that will get you is a bunch of people pissed off at you or dead.” Spector chuckled. “However, if you come back with me to our base. Let me and my team train you. You’ll get your chance to really hurt the Cheeseheads.”

Spector had already figured out that Tammera was the real leader of this Scout Troop. Jacob Tanner may have been the one to teach the others how to survive but it was Tammera who organized them into a fighting force. She was the one he needed to win over to his idea. He could already see the wheels turning in the girl’s eyes. She knew that being trained by a Death Dealer had its advantages. Tammera spit into her right hand and held it out. “Deal.”

After about an hour of hiking through the woods Tammera moved up to walk beside the Death Dealer. She kept eyeing the man’s rifle. Finally, she could hold the question back any longer. “Can that weapon really reach out to over two kilometers and place five rounds inside a three-inch circle?”

“Young lady with a Hellsing Arms M-seventy-one sniper’s rifle even you can do something that easy. I can reach out to twenty-six-hundred meters placing four out of five in a three-inch circle. My counterpart with the other team, Rimfire can do the same. We’re nowhere near the level of being a sniper. We underwent the same training as snipers, but with all of our hard-work the best we ever scored was as spotters. Snipers are on another level entirely kid.” Spector pointed down at Tammera’s rifle stalk. “No matter where they go, or how many bodies they stack up. Most don’t keep a physical count of their kills. Those that do use a sniper’s braid.”

“What’s a sniper’s braid?” Tammera asked.

Spector’s answer was to hold out a two lengths of paracord. They were braided in such a way that there was only 27 knots. “There’s one knot for every kill.”

“Looks like we’re even on the body count.” Tammera smirked as she looked at the braided cords. “I guess you’re not as good as you thought.”

“What makes you think this one’s mine? I made that one for you. Quite carving on that sweet little lady of yours. Show her the respect she’s earned.” Spector smirked as he pulled a second cord from his pocket. The four cords were the same length with more than twice the knots. “This one is mine.”

-----tbc-----