Black Vault has Fallen - “Bury it!”
Itacua, central Bolivia
I’d just dropped off Elcira Paz at Pantoja Village’s rebel-run field hospital when Polat Bakkar said, “Sorry to interrupt the afterparty, but there’s something I need you to see.”
I turned to Bakkat, looking a little confused at first, but then I nodded. After telling Paz I’d be right back, I followed Bakkar into the safehouse at the center of town. He led me into a small study next to an even smaller kitchen area, where he had a laptop sitting on a table.
He motioned for me to sit down, and I did, before looking at the laptop. Next to the laptop was a photo showing a man wearing a black baseball cap, white T-shirt and an armored vest with Santa Blanca patches adorning both his vest and his baseball cap. There was just one problem: the man was white.
“What do we have here?” I asked.
“A couple of Reyhan’s guys were doing reconnaissance on behalf of the Kataris 26 rebels. They accidentally recorded a video of this guy leading a raid alongside the Santa Blanca Cartel.” Bakkat said, pointing to the photo. “Looks like Sandoval wasn’t the only traitor who turned on his country.”
He then hit PLAY on the media player. I found myself looking at drone footage of a group of Santa Blanca goons dismounting from a Santa Blanca helicopter that had landed outside a hotel in Barvechos City.
Leading them was the man in the photograph. Except the video showed the man wearing a small goatee, while the photograph showed the man with a clean shaven face.
A second helicopter carrying Santa Blanca reinforcements as well as extra muscle from La Unidad landed on the rooftop of the hotel. The instant the chopper touched the roof, the reinforcing team hopped off the bench.
I recognized the tactic immediately: they were trying to work the target from the top down.
“Breacher up,” White T-shirt said on his radio. Pulling out a shotgun, he shot the hinges off the front door of the hotel, then kicked it down. The men poured in, guns blazing as men, women and children screamed bloody murder.
The next few minutes consisted of sporadic bursts of gunfire from who knew how many guards.
“The target is in room number four,” said a Santa Blanca guy on the radio. “Our intel says they haven’t relocated since yesterday.”
“Roger,” One Santa Blanca goon replied. “Stand by for breach.”
There was the sound of rapid footfalls as the drone inched closer to the hotel. Then I caught a glimpse of White T-Shirt advancing down the hall.
“Breaching now,” A guy said off-screen. I heard shotgun blasts, and then the sound of a door being kicked open.
“Breaching, breaching!” One of the Unidad goons barked as the joint Santa Blanca-Unidad team advanced.
“Clear! I don’t see the t-!” His words suddenly devolved into agonizing screams as I heard something sharp and metallic biting into his body, followed by the sound of bones breaking.
“Shit! Booby trap!” One of the Unidad soldiers screamed. “Clear out! Clear out-!”
He was cut off by a series of explosions in rapid succession, followed by a panicked voice shouting, “Man down! Man down!”
At first, I had no idea what was going on. Then I saw the broken windows, the flames and the smoke, and the answer hit me as soon as the question entered my head: Someone had booby trapped the room.
They’d done a good job too. The cacophony of explosions told me that whoever the target was, they had planned ahead and utilized multiple traps, coordinating the detonations just right to wipe out as many people as possible.
Whoever this man or woman was, they were really good.
Suddenly, there was a staccato burst of gunfire as a voice roared, “¡Muerte a Santa Blanca!”
“Contact! Bad guy in the doorway to the left!” White T-shirt roared as the joint cartel-UNIDAD team opened up on the intruder.
“You have enemy contacts coming towards you from the rear of the corridor outside!” The tech guy was hollering. “Perryman, get the hell out of there!”
Perryman. Must be a last name. What’s the guy’s first name?
The entire room was suddenly filled with agonizing screams in both Spanish and English.
One guy screamed, “AAAA! Aaa, I can't move! Where are my feet, help me, somebody!”
One of the Unidad survivors added, “¡Debe haber dos pelotones de ellos!” There must be two platoons of them!
That last line left me staring at the video in disbelief. Some guy lures a joint team of SB and Unidad gunmen to a hotel, and then sends two platoons worth of guards to wipe out as many people as possible.
Okay, this guy is a legend!
And then I saw the familiar red-green military fatigues mixed in with civilian clothes that I’d seen during the attack on Tuna Dink and things began to make more sense.
Someone was helping the red-green goons murder as many Santa Blanca and Unidad guys as possible, while an American national was aiding Santa Blanca.
Regarding the traitor’s identity, all I heard was a last name: Perryman.
At least it confirmed one thing: Sandoval wasn’t the only traitor to turn on his country. The only issue now was, who was Perryman and what would motivate him to turn on his country?
And who was in charge of the guys in the red-green outfits? He or she certainly wasn’t in league with the rebels, since these guys shot at Tuna Dink, and then at me when I tried to rescue her from their clutches.
“Looks like you’ve got quite the watch party.” Startled, I whirled around in time to see Cole Walker staring at the laptop in disbelief. He pointed at the video as the gunmen in red-green uniforms swarmed the room and said, “Were those the people who shot at you while you were trying to save that journalist chick?”
I nodded.
Walker nodded in return. “That checks out. My team ran into them while we were helping the rebels with a supply run, nearly blowing up the supply chopper we were trying to steal.”
Josiah Hill walked in from behind Walker. “We ended up capturing one of them and questioned them about their operations. The guy was only able to tell us a few things: for one thing, they have backing from Russia, an Ultranationalist organization called Raven’s Rock. They also mentioned something called the Black Vault.”
I went pale. “Funny. Last night, I just listened to an audio file that mentioned a guy named ‘Barkov.’ Barkov wants the Black Vault too, claimed it contains some nasty secrets about a war he started with a country called Urzikstan that he doesn’t want people finding out.”
The entire room went silent. Hill and Walker looked at each other.
Then Walker said something that sent chills through the rest of us: “I think our next step is clear: we need to get our hands on that Black Vault.”
Hill stepped forward. “He’s right, Jock. If Barkov is this scared of what the Vault says about him, it’s imperative that we get our hands on it.”
“Why? You aren’t thinking of destroying it, are you?” Bakkar asked.
Hill and Walker looked at each other. Then Walker said, “Not yet. Not until after we find out what’s inside it that’s gotten Barkov so squirrelly.”
Story contributors: 1. Myself 2. u/Agente_Paura 3. u/Gloopgang 4. u/International-Mark44 5. u/Calm_Selection_5764
Itacua, central Bolivia
I’d just dropped off Elcira Paz at Pantoja Village’s rebel-run field hospital when Polat Bakkar said, “Sorry to interrupt the afterparty, but there’s something I need you to see.”
I turned to Bakkat, looking a little confused at first, but then I nodded. After telling Paz I’d be right back, I followed Bakkar into the safehouse at the center of town. He led me into a small study next to an even smaller kitchen area, where he had a laptop sitting on a table.
He motioned for me to sit down, and I did, before looking at the laptop. Next to the laptop was a photo showing a man wearing a black baseball cap, white T-shirt and an armored vest with Santa Blanca patches adorning both his vest and his baseball cap. There was just one problem: the man was white.
“What do we have here?” I asked.
“A couple of Reyhan’s guys were doing reconnaissance on behalf of the Kataris 26 rebels. They accidentally recorded a video of this guy leading a raid alongside the Santa Blanca Cartel.” Bakkat said, pointing to the photo. “Looks like Sandoval wasn’t the only traitor who turned on his country.”
He then hit PLAY on the media player. I found myself looking at drone footage of a group of Santa Blanca goons dismounting from a Santa Blanca helicopter that had landed outside a hotel in Barvechos City.
Leading them was the man in the photograph. Except the video showed the man wearing a small goatee, while the photograph showed the man with a clean shaven face.
A second helicopter carrying Santa Blanca reinforcements as well as extra muscle from La Unidad landed on the rooftop of the hotel. The instant the chopper touched the roof, the reinforcing team hopped off the bench.
I recognized the tactic immediately: they were trying to work the target from the top down.
“Breacher up,” White T-shirt said on his radio. Pulling out a shotgun, he shot the hinges off the front door of the hotel, then kicked it down. The men poured in, guns blazing as men, women and children screamed bloody murder.
The next few minutes consisted of sporadic bursts of gunfire from who knew how many guards.
“The target is in room number four,” said a Santa Blanca guy on the radio. “Our intel says they haven’t relocated since yesterday.”
“Roger,” One Santa Blanca goon replied. “Stand by for breach.”
There was the sound of rapid footfalls as the drone inched closer to the hotel. Then I caught a glimpse of White T-Shirt advancing down the hall.
“Breaching now,” A guy said off-screen. I heard shotgun blasts, and then the sound of a door being kicked open.
“Breaching, breaching!” One of the Unidad goons barked as the joint Santa Blanca-Unidad team advanced.
“Clear! I don’t see the t-!” His words suddenly devolved into agonizing screams as I heard something sharp and metallic biting into his body, followed by the sound of bones breaking.
“Shit! Booby trap!” One of the Unidad soldiers screamed. “Clear out! Clear out-!”
He was cut off by a series of explosions in rapid succession, followed by a panicked voice shouting, “Man down! Man down!”
At first, I had no idea what was going on. Then I saw the broken windows, the flames and the smoke, and the answer hit me as soon as the question entered my head: Someone had booby trapped the room.
They’d done a good job too. The cacophony of explosions told me that whoever the target was, they had planned ahead and utilized multiple traps, coordinating the detonations just right to wipe out as many people as possible.
Whoever this man or woman was, they were really good.
Suddenly, there was a staccato burst of gunfire as a voice roared, “¡Muerte a Santa Blanca!”
“Contact! Bad guy in the doorway to the left!” White T-shirt roared as the joint cartel-UNIDAD team opened up on the intruder.
“You have enemy contacts coming towards you from the rear of the corridor outside!” The tech guy was hollering. “Perryman, get the hell out of there!”
Perryman. Must be a last name. What’s the guy’s first name?
The entire room was suddenly filled with agonizing screams in both Spanish and English.
One guy screamed, “AAAA! Aaa, I can't move! Where are my feet, help me, somebody!”
One of the Unidad survivors added, “¡Debe haber dos pelotones de ellos!” There must be two platoons of them!
That last line left me staring at the video in disbelief. Some guy lures a joint team of SB and Unidad gunmen to a hotel, and then sends two platoons worth of guards to wipe out as many people as possible.
Okay, this guy is a legend!
And then I saw the familiar red-green military fatigues mixed in with civilian clothes that I’d seen during the attack on Tuna Dink and things began to make more sense.
Someone was helping the red-green goons murder as many Santa Blanca and Unidad guys as possible, while an American national was aiding Santa Blanca.
Regarding the traitor’s identity, all I heard was a last name: Perryman.
At least it confirmed one thing: Sandoval wasn’t the only traitor to turn on his country. The only issue now was, who was Perryman and what would motivate him to turn on his country?
And who was in charge of the guys in the red-green outfits? He or she certainly wasn’t in league with the rebels, since these guys shot at Tuna Dink, and then at me when I tried to rescue her from their clutches.
“Looks like you’ve got quite the watch party.” Startled, I whirled around in time to see Cole Walker staring at the laptop in disbelief. He pointed at the video as the gunmen in red-green uniforms swarmed the room and said, “Were those the people who shot at you while you were trying to save that journalist chick?”
I nodded.
Walker nodded in return. “That checks out. My team ran into them while we were helping the rebels with a supply run, nearly blowing up the supply chopper we were trying to steal.”
Josiah Hill walked in from behind Walker. “We ended up capturing one of them and questioned them about their operations. The guy was only able to tell us a few things: for one thing, they have backing from Russia, an Ultranationalist organization called Raven’s Rock. They also mentioned something called the Black Vault.”
I went pale. “Funny. Last night, I just listened to an audio file that mentioned a guy named ‘Barkov.’ Barkov wants the Black Vault too, claimed it contains some nasty secrets about a war he started with a country called Urzikstan that he doesn’t want people finding out.”
The entire room went silent. Hill and Walker looked at each other.
Then Walker said something that sent chills through the rest of us: “I think our next step is clear: we need to get our hands on that Black Vault.”
Hill stepped forward. “He’s right, Jock. If Barkov is this scared of what the Vault says about him, it’s imperative that we get our hands on it.”
“Why? You aren’t thinking of destroying it, are you?” Bakkar asked.
Hill and Walker looked at each other. Then Walker said, “Not yet. Not until after we find out what’s inside it that’s gotten Barkov so squirrelly.”
Story contributors: 1. Myself 2. u/Agente_Paura 3. u/Gloopgang 4. u/International-Mark44 5. u/Calm_Selection_5764