Chapter 108: Diogo

We decide to make our way boldly into the heart of the city. No subterfuge, no stealthy takeover. I've never been one to hide and I'm not about to start now. Though weak physically, I feel the rush of power as I make my way through each checkpoint, gathering people as I go. Soldiers and police abandon their positions as they follow the Warlord they've sworn allegiance to. Few are loyal to the usurper, though enough that he has been notified of our imminent arrival.
They run ahead to inform Cruz of what's heading his way, determined to reach HQ before we arrive. He can attempt to fortify the building, to hide from my wrath. It won't work, I'll take him and his followers and show them the justice of disloyalty.
A body hurtles toward us out of the rainy darkness. Stryker lifts his weapon to shoot them down, but I hold a hand up, staying him. I look at him strangely. He's never been trigger happy, not until he sees the face of his victim. What's changed?
A woman steps out of the darkness. Milla Cruz. The usurper's wife.
She steps nervously toward me and stops a few feet away. I take in her tear-streaked face, the hood that covers her blond curls, the darkness of her clothes, disguising her body. She left her home tonight seeking me. I know what she'll say, the life she'll beg for. Sadly, though I'll accept her offer, her sacrifice doesn't matter.
"Please," she says tremulously. "I don't want him hurt."
"I know you don't."
"I'll go with you," she begs. "Use me to get him to surrender peacefully. He's a hard man, but he'll do anything to keep me safe. I promise, we'll cooperate if you let him live."
I nod toward Stryker who takes her arm. "Keep her safe behind the lines, cover her if anyone shoots at us. Bring her forward when it's time."
"Thank you, thank you so much, Commander," she cries gratefully as Stryker pulls her to the back of our group, out of harm's way.
We continue moving, advancing our way from checkpoint to checkpoint, picking up more people along the way. We only stop when we face the checkpoint leading into Sector Two where HQ, the police station and other key buildings lie. The guard at the gate looks at me as though seeing a ghost, his eyes travelling to the people at my side and my back. Men and women, elite and poor, military and civilian, have banded together to retake our city.
The guard opens the gate, steps to the side and says, "Welcome back, Commander Fuentes."
"Fall in, soldier," I say as I pass him. He joins the forces at my back and together we make our way to HQ, the home of my elite military. The building housing my enemy.
We encounter minimal resistance at the front doors. Men either join us or abandon their posts. Only a few are foolish enough to take us on, pointing their rifles and sidearms, wasting precious bullets before they're cut down by our weapons. Angry frustration wells within me at the pointless waste of good men. Cruz has built a small following. He's cultivated my men, probably over the course of years, ensuring their loyalty not just to me, but also to him. Now they are put in a no-win situation. Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of time to convince them to turn back to my side. Nor would I, even if there was time. I can't have men at my back whose first loyalty can be corrupted. Their deaths are preferable.
Once we've cleared the door, I instruct the civilians to stay in the lobby while my men fan out, methodically searching the building for the usurper Warlord who is about to become deposed. "Stryker, you're with me. Bring his wife."
Milla sobs softly between us as we move through the building. There's the possibility that he fled when news of our imminent takeover reached him. He has to know that he doesn't stand a chance against me, or anyone loyal to me. Cruz was a good man, a good soldier, but without an army at his back he is just one man.
"The war room," I growl, hunching my shoulders, trying to keep my body as low as possible in case anyone manages to get off a stray shot. The lack of noise in the building tells me our counter-coup is meeting almost no resistance.
We round the last corner, and shove the door open to the war room. Bullets fly through, whizzing past us. Stryker picks Milla up and lunges to the side, while I hit the wall on the other side. Bullets continue to slam into the wall opposite.
They stop and movements from within the room indicate he's reloading his weapon. "Surrender, Jorje. You're surrounded, the building has been taken back. You have no moves left."
"Then I'll fucking die," he yells. "You're not making an example out of me."
I look to Stryker and nod my head.
"We have your wife," he snarls. "Stop shooting unless you want to put a hole in ‘er."
"Fuck you!" Cruz yells back, his voice muffled by the thick wooden table. He must've tipped it on its side so he could use it for cover. He can reach over to shoot at us, but our bullets won't penetrate the thick wood. "Milla is somewhere safe where you can't get at her."
"You're wrong," I shout back. "If you want her to stay safe, you will surrender."
"You're lying!" Fear for his wife penetrates his tone.
I look to Milla. "Talk to him, convince him to lay down arms."
She shakes her head frantically, her eyes wide on my face. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!" she hisses, appalled.
I didn't promise her anything, just agreed to use her as a talking point for her husband. Splitting hairs aside, using her this way doesn't sit well. Still, it should prove to be the method that sheds the least blood. In the short term. I need Cruz to surrender, to come out alive. We'll deal with the rest later.
I nod toward Stryker. "Show him."
Stryker shoves her into the doorway, his hand still on her arm. She shrieks and cringes back before Cruz can let fly another round of bullets.
"Milla!" he bellows. "Milla, talk to me, tell me you're okay!"
Stryker gives her another shake and she lets out a squeak before taking her hands off her head and saying, "I-I'm okay, Jorje."
Silence for a moment, then, "You swear not to hurt her if I come out?"
"You have my word."
The clatter of a rifle hitting the floor heralds his surrender. I glance around the door cautiously in case he has another weapon. He stands slowly, his hands behind his head. He looks rough. His cheeks are hollowed, almost as gaunt as mine had become after a three-week coma. His clothes hang on him, the shadow of a beard now graces his usually clean-shaven face, and he looks like he hasn't showered in a while.
"You can have your city back." His voice sounds defeated, but almost relieved too. "I couldn't force the loyalty that you somehow managed to wrest from them when you took over."
"Loyalty should be earned," I say, stepping into the doorway and advancing into the room. "Did you learn nothing from the rebellion, the people whose loyalty I hadn't earned? You can't demand fealty, not when you give nothing in return. Turn around."
He turns, fingers lace together at the back of his head. I pull the handcuffs off his belt and bring one arm down at a time, cuffing his wrists behind his back. When I finish, Stryker allows Milla to join her husband. She clings to him, sobbing softly against his chest, her fingers clutching his arms.
"Th-they said if I came with them, you'd be alright." She sniffles and swipes at her face with a sleeve. "They can't hurt you, they won't."
My eyes meet Cruz's. His are faded to grim acceptance. We both know she's wrong. Not only can we hurt her husband, but we must. The man who tried to wrest power from my regime cannot be allowed to live. It would encourage others to foster hope that the mantle of Warlord can be taken from me. There could be more threats to my leadership. This will be the first and last attempt at my position. With his execution I will make it known throughout my territory that my power is unquestionable.
Cruz knows this, knows he won't survive longer than I need him alive to use as a prop as I finish reclaiming my city.
"Take care of her?" he asks, the strength that had been in his voice now replaced by begging.
This is a man in love with his wife, willing to give up his pride to ensure her safety. A year ago, I would have scoffed at his weakness, killed him more brutally. I probably would have killed his wife too. I don't owe either of them anything. The love of my wife has taught me that there is no end in what I'm willing to sacrifice for her. I would also sacrifice pride to ensure her safety, especially if I was facing certain death.
"She will be taken care of," I assure him, then nod toward Stryker, asking him without words to take the usurper from my presence. "Interrogate him thoroughly, find out if he was behind the rebel leaks. He could've been sowing discontent in an effort to weaken the city for his coup attempt."
"Commander." Stryker takes Cruz in a hard hold and pulls him out the door, a sobbing Milla hanging off her husband.
I look around the room, my war room. It's a mess of papers, broken and overturned furniture and blood. At least one person died in here. Probably one of my own soldiers, refusing to promise loyalty to Cruz. Exhaustion hits me hard as I wonder who I've lost and who I'll have to sacrifice. It will take days, if not weeks, to discern truth from lies as I sort my loyal supporters from the weak-willed men who followed where they shouldn't have.
More than twenty years ago I took this city in a bloody battle. I will take it again, spilling blood to prove that it belongs to me once more. I will not tolerate disloyalty. Not from my own soldiers, not from the citizens and not from the rebels. I will remind this city who it belongs to. This Sanctuary belongs to the Warlord and will be mine until the day I die.