Hells Bells

Blood Upon Esar

"Gory gory, what a hell of a way to die, he ain't enjoying the snow no more"

Originally written in 2022

November 8, 2025. US Bahamas. Off The Coast Of New Providence.

A spotlight shines over the still water looking through a strewn out wreck of an aircraft for survivors. A 2-engined aircraft didn't respond to calls for identification and started flying lower and lower on approach to the island. So the air force shot it down over security concerns, as the martial law upon the Caribbean possessions of the US has yet been lifted due to a terrorist attack on a pub frequented by service members. Only a week before. 

The light comes upon a body clinging on to a piece of wreckage. Upon pulling it out of the water a bag attached to the body spills open and spreads bricks of cocaine all over the deck. Two more bodies would be pulled out of the water but they wouldn't have the carriage the first one did. The lone coast guard cutter moves forward with wreckage bouncing off the hull going back to shore. An investigation revealed a connection to the downed flight and the newly invigorated, though waning, Colombian drug trade. So it was then closed and forgotten, If that was the only instance. 

As dawn emerged on the 8th, another 2-engined aircraft was forced to land when it sustained a hit from a pursuing jets 25mm after also ignoring calls. Upon searching the aircraft more Columbian blow was unearthed. The US government was now aware of a potential drug lord trying to use the Bahamas as a landing strip like it was in the 70s and 90s. Instead of launching an investigation into what crumbling cartel is trying this suicidal tactic, they passed it over to the very anti cartel Central American Federation. Who in the coming months would begin their crusade on the long awaiting problem plaguing each member.

November 17, 2025. Innerworld. Derkani Province. Grand Duchy Of Esar. Yensom Federation.

The cold snow surrounds Wyte with his senses fading. He pushes himself up onto his knees looking around him. The scene is chaotic with brutality unfolding itself in front of him. Fire billows into the sky from the vehicles of the assault force. To his side the osprey he was riding in is a twisted heap, with strewn about bodies from its passengers. 

Stinging emanates from his face, rubbing his cheeks feel wet. Pulling his hands away covered in blood, his left hand mangled beyond recognition. Gunshots ring out everywhere and deadly hand to hand combat unfolds in front of him. He sees an injured Russian getting beaten to death by a dazed recruit who is crying while he does it. The Russian's comrades emerge from the trees and gun the recruit down. One Russian stands out in front of Wyte, unaware of his presence. The commander looks around and grabs a hatchet off of a torn corpse. He stumbles to his feet and lunges at the blissful soldier. 

A struggle ensues with the Russian turning on his heel wrestling with the commander. The Russian squeezes off a few rounds, before his Ak is torn from his hands and the commander splits the kid's skull with the hatchet. The shots attract the attention of the kid's friends, who slowly approach the deranged American, laughing. They didn't laugh for long when Wyte grabbed the nearest person and bashed the Russian's helmet until his skull was split through. The Russians riddle him with bullets which backfires, when Wyte comes back to life behind them. This repeats until the last Russians give up and run off. Wyte flops back onto the ground exhausted and trying to comprehend events leading up to the current situation. Snow crunching behind him sets him back on the defensive. Standing down when he recognizes the person.

WYTE: You look worse for wear.

Wyte stands back up, staring his second in the eyes. Rishu stands there with blood covering her vest and her hair burnt.