A manhunt

A/N: A shorter chapter this time, since I'm experiencing a little burnout.

30th September 2017

It was one of countless pitch-black nights in Liberia and seated before a single television was a group of young African men, dressed in sloppy civilian clothes bearing all manner of stains, tears and stitches. The television itself was an older model, a squat, boxy, ugly thing compared to sleeker modern models. The picture displayed was slightly hazy, and the sound gritting like sand.

And all eyes were glued to the young reporter live on screen.

"...On other news, there has been a report of a gunfight on Amos Avenue 2, at a warehouse stocked full of construction materials between two different gangs of warlords. No one knows truly who released them and their lackeys from prison, and police and government officials deny claims of corrupt dealings behind the scenes, while All Whig Minister of Economics, Aviel Mandebaum, says that if necessary, they will deploy the LAF to deal with these Warlords as they are likely to be armed and dangerous. This is Annie Togbah, reporting for Liberian News Network (LNN)."

The TV was switched off, and the one holding the remote chucked it aside as he slumped down in his chair, rubbing his face in fear.

"We're in it now, boys," He said, "That Aviel may be playing dumb, but she's likely deployed her own troops to deal with us all."

"But boss, why'd you think that's so?" Asked another man.

Alfred Geekor was one of many warlords recently freed from prison, and he was reeling from the brutal and violent crackdown done with shockingly consummate grace. Not long ago, he lost two squads' worth of goons to an ambush, all dropped like flies in mere seconds.

"Because of those fucking Israelis, what else!?" Alfred exploded, causing the other room occupants to reel in fear, "They've got better equipment and training, and know how to track us down! How long you think we got before we end up dead or something?"

"Then what do we do, boss?" Asked his aide Anthony.

"We get armed and ready to fight," Said Alfred, "They want a fight, we give them one!"

Even as his boys cheered though, Alfred felt a persistent sense of dread that never went away.

Because we're likely dead men walking.

The door to the room suddenly exploded inward, and before the others could react, with lightning reflexes and godly aim, the soldiers storming the room quickly put bullets into each and every one of the twenty people inside, Alfred included.

In thirty seconds flat, all of Alfred's gang was assassinated.

Standing over the corpses, Wakeyo then said into his radio, "Menelik-1 to Aviv-3, all ex-rays have been terminated, positive ID on Alfred Geekor."

"Roger that, Menelik-1, good work," Said Aviel, "Let's move on to the next one."

"Hopefully we'll finish by dinner," Said Wakeyo.

"Then you'd best make sure dinner's still warm, cause I'm not heating it up for you," Said Aviel jokingly.

And the troops shared a hearty laugh.

"Goddamnit!"

A crash was heard as a telephone was roughly picked up and tossed aside like garbage, followed by the slamming of a meaty hand on the table.

"That bitch has caused me enough trouble!" Said an African man in a white tuxedo, with a slightly portly figure, "I spent a fortune to bail out these warlords, and I've lost half a dozen warbands!"

"Calm down, Mr. Tomah, Sir," Said a well-dressed man, massive and intimidating with the burly figure to match, eyes as narrow as silts, "This is just a temporary setback. Remember that she hasn't deployed the police **** and relied primarily on the LAF to handle the warlords."

"Yes, that's right," Said Augustine, "I can use this in the next campaign speech, steer public opinion against her by claiming she is running a police state, planning a coup d'teat with how exclusively she's relying on the military. Thanks for the suggestion, Henry."

"I am happy to serve, Mr. Tomah," Said Henry.