Vaccinated - A Continuation

[Ro20316]

47 minutes ago, mmvmgo2011 said:

He's not undercover... his feelings for Jake just conflict with his obligations as a Hermano, and he chooses Jake.

He's risking a lot - he's outed himself as a Hermano to Brad and Scott, and if the Hermanos find out he's crossing them...

This part about Diego it's so well done. It must be difficult for someone in law to go undercover and then seeing what you can achieve is so much more than the your real job in  does.

He chose power, he chose dominance, he chose a  better life. It's  dangerous and crazy but he wants it that way but he needs to be carefull if anotehr Hermano sees him crossing them. It's over for him.

 

I cant stop thinking when miguel met Diego in prison that was such a nice job on their part and now when both have changes done to them they are sure gonna have a pretty wild session  

[ploder4]

Both had secrets they hid... 

Brad - special ops consultant 

Diego - Hermanos 

I don't think either of them will be fucking each other over anytime soon.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SEVENTY-FOUR~~

Police and prosecutors need a good working relationship to maximise the chances that a perp is put away, that each case runs smoothly.

Smith and the 18th precinct had never had a great relationship, but ever since Jake’s arrest - and Smith’s hard on for his case - the relationship had deteriorated, such that it was now almost unworkable. And it didn’t just affect Smith. Other prosecutors, working with or under Smith, were affected too and they weren’t shy in letting Smith know it. His inbox was full of complaints from coworkers.

Smith was in a bad mood this morning. He’d had no sleep, that fucker Assad didn’t send a CSU team until 7am. And, they took their sweet time. Probably to find nothing, he thought. He finally stumbled into the office at around 1pm, cranky and tired.

He logged in and opened his email. He was wading through the complaints in his inbox, in between the endless reports of new crimes, when a sharp knock rapped on his door. Before he could respond, his boss stuck his head in, his face dark and angry, “Smith. My office, five minutes.” And then he was gone. Smith swore under his breath, the last thing he needed today was dealing with Joseph.

***

Brad’s plan was solid, thought Diego. And smart. It would get the Hermanos away from Scott, and allow them to safely take them all out.

“And you’re sure you can snap the restraints?”

Brad snorted, “Yes, I’m sure. Plastic zip ties, metal handcuffs, makes no difference.” Brad held out his hands, wrists close together, for Diego to snap his handcuffs around his thick wrists. Even the thick, tough fabric of Brad’s commando outfit could not hide the massive bulk of his arms; his forearms bigger, thicker than some men’s legs.

Diego closed the handcuffs, and pointed his shotgun at Brad, motioning for Brad to lead the way.

As they walked out from behind the thick brush, Diego whistled, long and loud. The piercing sound made it through the din of the motorbikes and through the thick padding of the remaining Hermanos’ helmets. It also made its way faintly into the mangled cabin of the original Hermanos’ vehicle, prompting them to wonder what was going on.

The riders circled their bikes around, sliding to a halt about 20m (~22yds) in front of where Brad was walking at Diego’s gunpoint. They shut off their bikes, the sudden silence deafening.

“Nice work, ese. He didn’t put up much of a fight by the looks?”

“l circled around while he was distracted planning to attack you and Lucio.”

“He killed Marco,” Andrés spat, “Stopped him dead in his tracks, dead before he hit the ground. He’s a strong fucker.”

Diego smirked, “Doesn’t matter how strong he is when he’s staring down the barrel of a shotgun.”

“You know, I can hear you pricks,” said Brad. Diego pushed the barrel of the shotgun between Brad’s massive shoulder blades, growling, “Shut your fucking mouth, nobody’s talking to you.”

“We should just kill him. We don’t need him. Orders are for the kid, not superman here.”

“No, not yet. He might still be useful. I know the kid, I’m sure I can convince him to come out peacefully but, if not, superman here will no doubt be useful. You two keep an eye on our hulking friend here.”

They both looked sceptical, “If you say so, ese.”

Diego’s look could kill, “I do. Are you questioning my orders?”

Andrés blanched, “Of course not, ese.”

For a split second, he considered breaking ranks, speaking up and, if necessary, becoming violent. ‘If necessary,’ hah… almost everything with the Hermanos involved violence and threats. Whether you were their target, or you were in their ranks, it was how they kept everyone in line. Fear and intimidation.

Not that he disagreed with his superior Diego - the hulk could still be useful, especially if the kid remained recalcitrant. But if he could pull off a win here and remove a higher ranking member, he was sure to advance up the ranks, improve his standing. And who would know? Lucio? He’d advance along with him, so he’d probably be just as likely to go for it too.

But he had to be careful, the Hermanos weren’t stupid, and they had eyes and ears everywhere. Hermanos’ clean up crews were no doubt already on the way. They’d dispose of the bodies and other evidence, and analyse what happened, how and why they were killed and how they could improve on future missions. It was standard operating procedure, allowing them to constantly improve their tactics, and increase their killing efficiency and brutality.

If he was going to make a move, he needed to make sure the investigation did not - could not - lead back to him and any of his actions.

***

Joseph Woods was the Chief Crown Prosecutor. His role was to support and manage the Senior Crown Prosecutors, and he took on only the most egregious cases - the serial killers, the terrorists, those involving the most twisted criminals. As you can imagine, he wasn’t one to fuck with.

Smith knocked on his door. “Enter.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Sit down, Smith.” Smith sat opposite Woods at the large, opulent desk.

“What’s going on with you and the eighteenth?”

Smith’s face darkened. That fucking faggot coconut! “I don’t know what Assad has been te–”

“Not Assad. Your colleagues. I’ve been fielding more and more complaints about the eighteenth, and they all say it has something to do with you.”

“It’s not me. It’s Assad. He has it in for m–”

“Cut the bullshit, Smith. You’ve got a problem with the eighteenth, and you need to fix it. It’s affecting cases.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do. I can’t–”

“I expect you to do your job. Be an effective senior prosecutor. If you can’t do that, then maybe you need to step aside. Let someone else take over.”

What? Was he being fired? Fuck!

“Come on Woods, you can’t pin it all on me.”

“It’s not me that’s pinning it on you, it’s your colleagues. They all say that they started having problems with the eighteenth ever since your singular obsession with this Robertson case.”

Surprise, surprise. The fucking fag Assad had the hots for Robertson and was fucking him over, piling the pressure on so he’d drop the case.

“Joseph, the tail doesn’t wag the dog. Assad thinks Robertson is innocent and–”

“I don’t give a fuck. Just fix it. Fast. Now get out, I’m busy. I don’t have time to babysit my senior staff.”

***

Smith grumbled the whole way back to his office. Fucking Assad! He would have to bring forward the Robertson trial now. As he sat back down at his desk he began planning to bring forward the case, and hatching a plan to get back at the coconut fucker making things difficult for him. It was about time he learned his place.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SEVENTY-FIVE~~

Diego put the shotgun back into the holder strapped to his back, the barrel pointing down into the holder. The gun looked like a toy against his massive, broad back. His traps, taller than the stock, hid the weapon from view altogether from the front. His erection had subsided, and he adjusted himself as he walked over to where Scott was holed up, leaving Brad guarded by the two remaining motorbike-riding Hermanos.

As he walked, he called out, “Scott? It’s Diego. Come on out buddy.”

Silence. He continued walking closer. “Scott, come on, mate, it’s safe for you to come out now. The cavalry - me - has arrived.”

Still nothing. He continued walking closer. He was about 50m (~55yds) from the car, now.

“That’s far enough!” Scott’s voice was tense, you could hear the anxiety, the stress, but his voice was also remarkably strong, clear.

Diego ignored the warning, continued walking towards the vehicle and Scott’s location. “Come on, Scott. I’m a cop, here to help you, rescue you.”

“Fuck you! Help me? Like your colleagues helped me? Helped my Uncle?” The venom in his voice was real, vicious. “It’s because of you fucks that I’m even in this position to begin with.”

Diego nearly swore. He slowed his approach, but did not stop. “Scott, a couple of bad apples and you think we’re all rotten?” The irony of what he was saying was not lost on him. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, to your Uncle, believe me.”

“I said that’s far enough. Don’t make me shoot you.”

Diego stopped, only about 10m (~11yds) from the vehicle, now. From his vantage point, he could not see Scott, but he also could not see the muzzle of any weapon, either. Still, he stopped moving forward. He looked back to the Hermanos and Brad, who hadn’t moved, about 150m (~164yds) away now.

He lowered his voice, barely above a whisper, “Scott, I really am sorry. I love your Uncle. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, or anyone he loves and cares for.”

No response. He wasn’t sure if Scott had heard him or not, but he dared not raise his voice any louder. If the Hermanos heard, then their plan would be in jeopardy, and he’d probably be the first one to die.

***

Something odd was going on, thought Renato and Felix, still trapped in their vehicle, with no mobile signal.

They heard the faint whistle, then the sound of the motorbikes fading away and stopping altogether. Then, a few minutes later, someone that sounded remarkably like Diego - but with a much deeper, huskier voice - was calling out to Scott, trying to encourage him to come out of hiding.

Was that Diego? Other than the pitch, the timbre sounded exactly like him, the inflections, the very slight accent. And whoever it was said they were a cop - so all the clues fit.

But, then, Diego - if it was Diego - whispered something that rocked their world, shocked them. It barely registered in the vehicle, had they really just heard that?

They were both bottom rungs on the Hermano totem pole, young, relatively new recruits, selected as first-line enforcers due to their intimidating size and strength. But Diego - he was a leader, one of the highest ranking Hermanos. The fact that such a high ranking Hermano was a cop was a real coup - something all Hermanos were proud of.

Sure, they had cops on their payroll, even some that were full-fledged Hermanos like Diego, but none were even close to Diego’s position, his influence and power. For him to betray the Hermanos, to go against a direct order. They had to do something! At the very least get word back to their handlers about his betrayal. His treachery. At best, capture and torture him, recording a confession, which would improve their standing far more than just reporting what they’d heard.

They looked at one another, and redoubled their efforts to escape, to at least open up a large enough gap that they could report on their findings, call for immediate reinforcements.

***

“You’re not going to survive this, you know,” Brad said, taunting the two Hermanos guarding him.

Lucio stood a bit farther away from him, pointing a handgun at the centre of Brad’s body. Brad still wore the “bulletproof” vest, but he didn’t want to test its “proof” capabilities at such short range, or Lucio's ability to aim for other parts of him, like his head.

Andrés stood closer to him, but on the other side of him, so there was no opportunity for Brad to use him as a shield against any potential shot from Lucio. He needed to shift positions.

He turned to face them, Lucio to his right, off a ways, Andrés to his left, invading his personal space, almost standing on top of him.

“Move another muscle, and I’ll blow your head off, puto!”

He turned toward Lucio, his back to Andrés. “Relax, mate, you’re the one with the gun, not me.” That wasn’t true, of course, Brad had a surprising number of weapons secreted about his body, but they didn’t need to know that.

“I said, don’t move!”

Twitchy fucker, thought Brad. He reevaluated his initial plan. Whilst he was trying to plan his own escape, he worried about Scott and Diego. He didn’t fully trust Diego - though he believed him when he said he loved Jake, would that be enough to betray his Hermano brothers, risk his own life?

***

Andrés stood close to the hulk, on the opposite side of Lucio.

As he turned to face Lucio, Andrés decided it was now or never, really. If he was going to make his move, cement his rising star within the Hermanos, there was no better time.

He used the massive bulk of the hulking commando - his huge back, broad and thick, able to hide him completely from Lucio’s view - to hide the knife he pulled from the sheath in his boot. It had to be a knife, he’d decided, they could trace bullets, use ballistics to determine it was his gun, his bullet. Besides, a gunshot was loud, it would alert Diego, give him time to react, to stop him. He wasn’t planning to die today.

[Ro20316]

That clifhanger was just mean!

All those hermanos going after them need to die and even more now that the ones trapped recognized Diego's voice.

Things are getting wild in there.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SEVENTY-SIX~~

Normally, Andrés would just slit the throat or plunge the knife directly into the heart, both quick, efficient deaths.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Normally he’d just blast a hole in them with a gun. But he was where he was and had to work around the limitations. For now, at least, it was a quiet knife strike.

The throat was out - that would expose him, what he was doing, before it was done. And the massive hulk was wearing a bulletproof vest, making it hard to reach his heart. He didn’t think he could get the knife to cleanly pierce through the layers of kevlar and other materials before the hulk noticed. And he was a strong fucker, he didn’t want to have to grapple with him. He didn’t think he’d win. No, scratch that - he KNEW he couldn’t win such a contest.

His alternative, he decided, was to pierce a kidney. It was a rear entry wound, so it would hide what he was doing until it was too late. And the kidneys had so much blood flowing through them, he would bleed out internally almost as quickly as if he’d pierced the heart.

The vest was long enough to prevent a direct strike to the kidneys, but if he pierced below the edge of the vest and angled upward, it would achieve the same effect.

He lined up the tip of the large knife with the edge of the vest, angling it upward at about 45 degrees. He grabbed the hilt with both hands and thrust in and up with all his might, putting his entire weight behind the strike, smiling as he felt the blade effortlessly pierce through the heavy, tough fabric of the commando outfit.

***

Brad felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his right, rear lumbar area, below his kidney. Instinctively, his muscles flexed and contracted, powerful mounds of flesh rising up and separating, muscles swelling as they flexed harder. The pain increased.

***

HE finished his workout, feeling ultra-pumped, energised, on top of the world. HE’d amped himself up part way through after Mark’s encouragement, and HE was loving it.

“YOU’ve amped YOURSELF up, haven’t YOU?”

HE blushed. “Yeah.”

“I can tell. YOU already look different. YOU’re carrying YOURSELF differently. Full of confidence… and arousal.”

The bulge in HIS workout shorts twitched as HIS cock reacted to Mark’s words. HE leapt into his arms, grinding HIS erection into Mark’s powerful abs, as HE kissed him, deeply, passionately. Mark’s own cock began responding, as HE suggested they continue at home.

***

The cell lock clicked, and the door slid open. “Lockdown’s over inmates. Yard time.” It was Ignacio.

“That was quick. What happened?” Jake asked. He’d expected lockdown to continue for at least another day after his talk with Miguel.

“That’s need to know, inma–”

“Yes, I need to know,” Jake’s glare spoke volumes.

“Galloway has been arrested. His pass was used to enter the cell at around the established time of death.”

Jake nearly swore, though he wisely kept quiet, maintained a poker face. He didn’t like Galloway, of course, but he shouldn’t be going down for murder. That wasn’t right.

“Fucking Galloway!” swore Miguel, “That puto killed one of our own.” He certainly knew how to put it on, thought Jake.

“He claims he lost the pass, some time between visiting your cell and when it was used to open Enrique’s cell. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”

“Me? Of course not!” Fuck, Miguel, Jake thought. He was trying to get out of here, not be embroiled in a murder investigation.

“Don’t look at me, ese.”

Jake needed to think carefully. How could he help Galloway - an innocent man - avoid going away for murder, whilst not exposing himself or Miguel?

***

Assad’s computer dinged, and a new message appeared in the electronic warrant system. No way!, he thought, his groin tingling with anticipated arousal.

He groaned as he read, his cock hardening to diamond, a squirt of pre pumping out as he reached the end of the report. By the time he opened the attached arrest warrant, his cock was pouring pre, and he was desperate to finish himself off. Where was Diego when you needed him? he thought. Though he probably shouldn’t have, the thought of Diego, together with what he’d just read was enough to send him past the point of no return. He was glad he had a change of uniform at work. As he headed to the showers to clean himself up, his cock was a mast in his pants, ready to go again, a huge grin on his face.

***

Something was wrong. He frowned, sweat beading on his forehead, as much from sudden stress and anxiety as from the exertion he was putting in to plunge the blade home.

He nearly dropped the knife and ran as the hulk’s body transformed before his eyes. As the tip of the blade sliced through the fabric and pierced through skin and subcutaneous fat, his entire back flexed and mounded up with muscle, lats flaring out, the Christmas tree formed by his serratus posterior inferior and thoracolumbar fascia visible even through the fabric, his erector spinae bulging up. The commando outfit creaked and groaned as his back continued to grow, continued to swell as his muscles contracted harder, blood pumping into them hardening them into mounds of granite, formed of steel cord muscle fibres.

He tried to push harder on the hilt of the knife, to no avail. As the tip of the knife hit the skin, it easily pierced through, along with the thin layer of subcutaneous fat, but when it struck muscle, the tip got stuck on the thick, dense fibres. As the muscles flexed and contracted, the fibres swelled and became even denser, enveloping the knife tip, preventing Andrés from pushing it in any further and from pulling it out. He wasn’t strong enough to pierce through the ultra-dense, ultra-hard muscle. He panicked.

***

Brad realised that the fucker behind him was trying to stab him, just as the fucker’s phone dinged. A beat later, a beep from the phone of the fucker holding the gun. More beeps could be heard faintly from the phones of the fallen Hermanos and, finally, Diego’s phone.

“Don’t try anything, puto.” Lucio stepped back as he pulled out his phone, his gaze darting between the screen and Brad, shock registering on his face. He slowly lowered the weapon. “You’re free to go, puto. The kid too.”

Not so fast, thought Brad, the annoying sting of the tip of a knife in his back flaring his anger.

[Ro20316]

While Brad might not have Jake or HIS' sperm ability he has transformed himself into a man of PURE muscle and that help him here. His muscles being strong and hard enough to stop the blade from piercing him to damaged.

They finally got teh eord out but it is too late in some part. Scott has lost his mother and there  is still so much to tell... 

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SEVENTY-SEVEN~~

Lucio blanched as he noticed the tip of the knife still embedded in Brad’s back, a look of shock on his face. “What did you do, ese?” His shock soon subsided, and he raised his weapon, pointing it at Andrés, calling out to Diego as he did so. He needed to make certain he was not implicated in Andrés disobedience, not brought down with him.

Diego ran over, fury on his face. “My orders were clear. Yet you chose to disobey those orders…”

“No, please, ese, I didn’t mean to disobey you, I–” his voice cracked. He dropped to his knees before Diego, begging, pleading. “Please, Diego.”

“Please? You should have thought of the consequences. And you couldn’t even go through with your pathetic plan?”

“He–, I–…” he didn’t know how to explain, what to say.

“If you were trying to kill him, at least get it right. Like this.” Before Brad could register what Diego was saying, he’d grabbed the hilt of the knife, his forearms flexing and swelling with his white-knuckled grip, and he pushed the knife into him, up to the hilt. Diego’s entire upper body swelled as his muscles pumped up with the effort needed to push the knife through Brad’s thick, dense muscle. Brad was not invincible - this was not a superhero comic - but his muscle density did make it extremely difficult to push the knife in. Diego needed every ounce of his new-found, considerable strength to push the knife all the way in.

Diego’s arousal spiked as his muscles pumped, as the knife dug into Brad’s body, Diego’s cock hardened. Brad groaned and dropped to the ground, the pain making him see stars. Lucio gaped, Andrés looked confused. Diego groaned, releasing the knife and adjusting his bulge as he turned to Andrés. “It’s good that you’re on your knees, begging. You better hope I enjoy your cock sucking.”

“N-, no. I’m straight, I don’t–”

“No? NO?!” Diego grabbed the back of Andrés neck and brought his face to his bulge, grinding his face against his package. “You better remember your place, ese. Who you’re dealing with.”

Brad was nearly unconscious, the pain increasing. “Why?” he managed to ask, hoarsely.

Diego laughed, “Why? Because I love Jake. Want him all to myself. With you out of the picture, he’ll need a new best friend. Best friend with benefits. Me. It was just such a pity that I didn’t get here in time to save you, that the Hermanos here killed you before I could get to you.”

Lucio and Andrés both looked shocked, which Diego did not fail to notice. “Don’t worry, you killed him before the new orders came through. You won’t have any blowback. Well, Andrés you still need to be punished for your disobedience…”

Andrés reached for Diego’s belt, hands shaking uncontrollably. He had no doubt his life depended on his non-existent cock sucking skills.

***

Brad knew he shouldn’t have trusted Diego. How can you trust someone that’s a leader of one of the most ruthless, brutal criminal organisations?

As he slowly faded into unconsciousness, he was thankful for his foresight. The commando suit he was wearing included vitals monitoring, and an emergency beacon and locator. As he faded into blackness, he was reassured that a helicopter almost as black as the darkness enveloping him was surely on its way, carrying the finest field medics and most sophisticated equipment - a flying operating theatre. If they couldn’t save him, he was beyond saving.

***

Scott itched to stick his head over the edge of the car, to see what was going on. He heard someone call out to Diego, and then he ran off. They were too far away from Scott to make out what they were saying, to try to piece together what was happening.

Where was Brad? he thought. He stayed put, waiting for Brad’s okay before coming out.

***

Andrés, unsurprisingly, was shit at giving blowjobs. Diego pulled him off his cock, and kicked him backwards. “Shoot him,” he said to Lucio.

“Sir?”

“You heard me! He disobeyed my orders. The punishment for disobedience is clear.”

Lucio stepped over to his Hermano brother, hesitating.

The shotgun blast was loud, ringing out across the flat countryside. Lucio’s body, now mostly lacking a head, dropped. Andrés wet himself, a dark stain spreading down his pants.

“Please, ese! I’m sorry.”

Diego reconsidered. But not in a way that would soothe Andrés, quite the opposite. He didn’t deserve a quick, easy death. And though he wouldn’t serve as a deterrent to others - there’d by no one left to report on his death - Diego felt it important to uphold the rules. Besides, he’d enjoy it.

***

“He’s fading fast, Sir!” reported the pilot, even as he pushed the helo to its limits, and beyond.

“How much longer?”

“10 minutes, Sir.”

“Can you push any more out of her?”

“We’re already at 110%, but I’ll see what I can do.”

He prepped the mobile operating table, checked their stock of transfusion blood, and gave a quick pep talk to his small team of two assistants. It was a helicopter, after all - space was at a premium. He wasn’t going to have to report Brad’s death to his superiors. He WASN’T.

***

Curiosity was nearly killing Scott. He’d heard a loud boom earlier, and now, he could hear someone crying, sobbing, begging. They seemed to be begging Diego.

For the first time in a while, Scott felt some hope. Diego had a prisoner! They must be close to defeat.

***

Diego cuffed him to the mangled wreck of the Hermanos’ car, having removed them from Brad. He was barely conscious, his face and body bruised and battered from the brutal bashing. Andrés continued to beg and plead for his life, but Diego ignored him.

He reached into the engine bay, and pulled some hoses free, oil and fuel spilling out.

“What are you doing? No! PLEASE!”

The two Hermanos trapped inside were also yelling, now.

Diego pulled a lighter from his pocket, and threw it into the oil and fuel pooling beneath the vehicle. Almost instantly, thick black smoke rose up, the entire engine bay soon alight in a huge conflagration.

He walked back to his cruiser, the screams began before he was even half-way there.

***

Scott coughed, thick black smoke choking him and making his eyes water. He heard screams that soon faded. What was going on?

Diego appeared around the side of the vehicle. He looked like he had been crying, “Scott! I’m so sorry. They got Brad! Come on, we need to get out of here.”

Brad? No! Scott felt numb. He stood up and gave his weapon to Diego, following him back to his cruiser. Diego transferred the cache of weapons from Brad’s car to the cruiser, and they soon sped off, leaving a scene of carnage and devastation in their wake.

[Ro20316]

Diego had to kill the hermanos. He had blown his cover with rthem saying he loved Jake and was doing this or that for him and that's a NO for the gang code. He needed to have no witnesses.

Brad is a man to fear.. There is a whole team coming to his aid. 

Assad has recieved something im sure is for Smith. Smith wont know what hit him.

That little interlude with HIM was cute. Will Mark be the one to turn him into a beast?

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SEVENTY-EIGHT~~

He sat in the jury pool, bored out of his brain. Why didn’t he make some excuse to get out of jury duty? Worse, he was horny, his testosterone levels peaking from his recent pin. He cased the pool, but it was slim pickings. There was no one that piqued his interest.

“Sir, you’ve been selected for the potential jury pool in an assault and attempted murder trial. Follow me please.”

Assault? Attempted murder? At least that would kill his boner.

He lined up with about twenty other potentials and they were led into the empty courtroom. A judge was sitting at the bench - he looked about 100 - and two lawyers.

“Welcome. You’re all potential jurors, but each side is able to object, where you will return to the main pool. You’ve been given details of the parties involved. Does anyone have any reason why they shouldn’t be on the jury?” Silence. “When asked, would you please stand, state your age and occupation.”

They started at the other end of the group. Interesting. He’d only ever seen US-based legal shows, where they use voire dire - a process of jury selection that involves examination of each potential juror. Here, the lawyers apparently didn’t have any option to question potential jurors, all they had to go on was the juror’s age, occupation and what they looked like.

It was his turn. “23. Personal trainer.”

Smith cursed inwardly. Personal trainer? He didn’t look like a personal trainer, his body hidden by a baggy hoodie and jeans. He didn’t have any more objections available. A young, fit, personal trainer. He’d probably identify with Robertson, feel a bond. Fuck. He really bombed on the jury pool. Maybe Parkes would object.

“No objection.”

“Thank you, sir, you may be seated. Next.”

No such luck. Fuck.

***

He was juror number five. As he filed in with the other jurors, he surveyed the room. His eyes were instantly drawn to the Defendant. Holy shit he was HOT! And he looked massive, filling out the suit in all the right places. Extra wide shoulders, broad chest, upper arms stretching the sleeves to the limit. So much for a boner-killing case.

He was glad he wore baggy pants, giving his swelling cock room, and disguising his rig, not drawing attention to himself.

***

“All Rise! The Honourable Justice Attenborough presiding in the case of R v Robertson.”

“Andrew Parkes for the Defendant, Your Honour. Ready for trial.”

“Dale Smith for the Crown. Ready for trial.”

Smith had managed to bring forward the trial, his main witnesses the two cops that interrogated the nephew and the brother. He’d try to avoid calling the nephew if he could.

Jake was wearing a dark, tailored suit, which accentuated his broad shoulders, massive chest, sleeve-stretching arms and small waist, tight pants showing the sweep of his quads and wrapping around his bulge perfectly. He’s a hot fucker, thought Smith. He’d have his work cut out for him convincing the jury that the hot stud appearing before them was really a dangerous, thuggish brute.

“Opening statements. Mr Smith?”

“Thank you, Your Honour. If it pleases the Court, this is a simple case, a case of a thuggish brute of a man, using his strength, his overwhelming musculature to brutally bash a victim to within an inch of his life. Worse still, the primary victim? His own brother, and he was so enraged, in such a frenzy, perhaps brought on by abuse of steroi–”

“Objection! Your Honour, there is nothing in the Crown’s materials about any steroids, and certainly no evidence before the Court.”

“Sustained. Mr Smith, tone it down.”

“Apologies, Your Honour, members of the jury. He was in such an enraged frenzy that he also attacked his own beloved nephew, also hospitalising him. The Crown will prove - beyond all reasonable doubt - the elements of the crimes for which he is charged.”

Smith sat back down. “Mr Parkes?”

“Thank you, Your Honour. If it pleases the Court, this IS a simple case. A case where the Defendant used force to defend anoth–”

“Objection! Your Honour, there’s no basis for the assertions of my learned friend.”

“Whether the Defendant was defending another is a question of fact for the jury.”

“There is no evidence before the Court that can sustain such an assertion of fact, Your Honour.”

“Sustained. Mr Parkes, keep on track.”

Smith smiled, his bulge twitching as his arousal increased. Robertson was going down.

***

A roid rage case? He was DEFINITELY interested now. Maybe this jury duty thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

The second helo wasn’t far behind the medevac. Brad hadn’t requested any other support team, but with the trigger of the medevac, those monitoring decided to send out more support.

“Support 1 to Med 1 - do you see that smoke? Looks like that’s where we’re headed.”

“Affirmative. It’s a carnage shit show. You boys have some clean up to do. Titan is onboard, critical but stable.”

“Roger.”

***

Scott was still in shock. Brad… was dead? No, it couldn’t be.

“You okay, kiddo?” Diego asked.

“Brad!” He choked back a sob, a lump stuck in his throat. “Wha– What happened?”

“There were just too many of them. Before he realised, he was stabbed in the back.” He nearly smiled at the double meaning, but kept up the charade. The kid couldn’t know what happened. It would ruin his plans. As Scott’s saviour he’d be Jake’s hero. Jake would do anything to thank him. His dick swelled as he imagined the ways Jake would thank him. Over and over, again and again.

***

“The place is crawling with military.”

“No, I don’t know. We don’t have anyone embedded?”

“Pity. Would be good to know what’s going on. Where they came from.” The Hermanos may have tentacles spread far and wide, but they didn’t seem to have infiltrated this branch of the military, at least not at a level that would give them useful intel.

“They’ve taken everything, scrubbed everything clean. The bodies, the bikes, the vehicles. If we didn’t know better, it looks like nothing happened here.”

“His location is unknown. Presumably he has the kid, but he hasn’t checked in yet.”

“Understood, ese. Pulling back.”

He signalled to his crew, and they turned back the way they came. No clean up necessary. He frowned. The Hermanos didn’t like leaving loose ends. The military having possession of their fallen brothers, their phones, vehicles, trackers… that definitely counted as loose ends.

***

“Mr Smith, call your first witness.”

“The Crown calls Officer Cosgrove.”

The courtroom door opened, and Officer Cosgrove walked in, pausing at the entrance and bowing as was tradition. Smith frowned when he saw Assad follow him in, sitting in the public gallery after pausing and bowing himself. What was he doing here?

Cosgrove took his seat in the witness box and was sworn in.

“Officer Cosgrove, you interviewed one of the victims, a Scott Robertson, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you took his statement, witnessed the affidavit based on the victim’s testimony?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Can you summarise the testimony?”

“Objection! The witness himself should be the one speaking to his testimony.”

“Sustained.” Fucking Parkes, thought Smith. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of the kid, hoping he wouldn’t need him at all, or at worst, later in the trial. No matter, he could work around it.