Juarez, Mexico
In the city's industrial section, there was an abandoned fertilizer processing plant. In the basement of the plant, locked behind a double dead bolted door, Frank Castle sat on a cot and cleaned a .45 caliber pistol. Three of the basement walls were covered in weapons. Pistols, knives, grenades, assault rifles, shotguns, a sniper rifle, a rocket launcher, and even a flame thrower.
The remaining wall was covered in intel. An organization tree of the Juarez Cartel with mugshots of the surveillance photos of the members in action, their schedules and job inside the organization. Frank reassembled the pistol, leaving the clip out. He aimed at two low level rungs on the organizational chart, his index finger inside the trigger guard.
"Felipe Sanchez, Roberto Martinez..."
CLICK! CLICK!
He aimed at a higher rung.
"Manuel Ortega..."
CLICK!
Then the whole second highest row
"Ramon Vasquez, Martin Cabrerra, Carlos Fring..."
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
Standing, Frank walked to the picture at the top and placed the barrel of his gun on the picture's face.
"Don Diego Eladio..."
CLICK!
His gesture done, Frank slid the full loaded clip into his pistol before putting it in his hip holster. He slid on his skull-painted body armor, slung an M4 on his shoulder, clipped grenades to his belt, and headed out. There was work to be done.
*****
Drug Enforcement Administration
El Paso Field Office
King Faraday looked over the gruesome photos on the table in front of him. They were pictures of dead bodies laying in the Mexican desert. Most of the bodies were burnt and charred. Those that weren't were covered in blood and bullet holes.
Faraday looked up from the pictures and at the man with the coffee cup standing across the table from him. The two men were inside a conference room. Files and pictures were pinned on the walls and dry erase boards across the room.
"This looks like Castle's handiwork. No survivors, right?"
"Not a one," the man said with a shake of his head. "From what the lab said about the truck wreckage, there was some serious weight in dope being hauled up here from central Mexico. We believe it was their bi-monthly shipment of weed and coke to run across the border. This Castle guy set fire to about two hundred million dollars worth of product."
"He's getting their attention," Faraday said, looking towards the organizational chart on the wall. The chart was filled with mugshots of the surveillance photos of the members in action, their schedules and job inside the organization.
"He's trying to piss Eladio off. Force him to make a mistake. It's a smart play. What can you tell me about Eladio, Agent Perkins?"
"I assumed you were briefed on that, Agent Faraday," Perkins said with an arched eyebrow.
"Reading a file in DC is one thing, getting the impressions of a field agent is another. So, humor me."
"Well, in case you didn't know, Eladio was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Mexican Army. He commanded a special unit, Los Lobos Blancos. The White Wolves. About ten years ago, Eladio retired and used his military and government contacts to get into the drug game. When he took over the Juarez Cartel, he installed a lot of his former special forces soldiers in key positions. Most of them are dead are in jail now, save for his closest advisers, Ramon Vasquez and Carlos Fring."
While Perkins talked, Faraday looked back at the photos of the attack from yesterday. Castle was outnumbered, heavily. Castle beating the odds was something that Faraday was used to seeing, but this seemed different. These people were ready for a straight on raid, but he got the jump on them... how?
"How did Castle ambush them?"
"Come again?"
"There's no way Castle didn't fight these guys head on. He's good, but not that good. He ambushed them... how did he know when and where to strike?"
"He's killed nearly a dozen of the cartel's men in a week and a half. Maybe he interrogated one first?"
"Maybe...," Faraday said. His eyes glanced down at the coffee cup in Perkins' hand. It had the Marine Corps logo stamped on it.
"Perkins, let's take a drive."
*****
Eladio Compound
Don Eladio was in front of his pool with the half dozen men who acted as his most important lieutenants. Their mood was somber as they watched their boss pace in front of him.
<Two hundred million,> he said in Spanish. <Not pesos, but dollars. Two hundred million dollars gone up in ****ing smoke!>
Eladio growled and kicked a lounge chair. The chair flipped and splashed into the pool. <This son of a ***** can kill as many men as he wants, I can always get more men. But money, product? He burns those, he burns my reputation! The rest of the cartels think I am some fool who cannot control his own territory! It makes me look weak!>
Breathing heavily and panting, Eladio started to compose himself. He looked at the men in front of him with a neutral face, all hints of rage and anger were gone. <Ramon?>
<Yes,> the oldest of the lieutenants asked.
<Go inside. Get me my pistol and treat my whip.>
Ramon nodded and hurried inside. The rest of the lieutenants watched their boss with slightly nervous looks.
<Story time,> Eladio said. <When I was little, my favorite show was a western called Rawhide. I loved that show, the theme song as well. Everyone knows the theme song. I loved the show so much, when I got wealthy I bought the same whip they used in the song.>
Ramon came out the house with a tray. On the tray was a coiled up leather whip, a bowl of salt, and a pistol. Eladio nodded at Ramon and looked at the rest of his men.
<Oscar, Jorge...,> Eladio said, pointing at the two men. They looked at each other and then slowly nodded. <Bring Angel up here.>
The two men grabbed their fellow lieutenant and escorted him up to Eladio. Eladio nodded and the two men stripped Angel's shirt off. While they stripped Angel, Ramon brought the tray Eladio. Eladio picked up the whip and smiled as he looked it over.
<I practiced with this whip morning, noon, and night. I haven't practiced as much as I should, but I figured I can get some work in. Oscar, Jorge?>
The two men drug Angel away, about ten feet away from Eladio. They held on to his shoulders and turned Angel around so his back was to Eladio.
<First,> Eladio said with a smile. <Some music. Let's sing the theme to Rawhide.>
Ramon began to whistle the music of the Rawhide them as Eladio sung in English.
"Rolling, rolling, rolling, through the streams are swollen, keep them doggies rolling, Rawhide!!!"
Eladio twirled the whip over his head. The whip whistled as it cut through the air. "Move em' on, head 'em up, head 'em up move 'em out, Rawhide! YA!!!"
The whip cracked through the air, the leather missed Oscar and Jorge but it cut into Angel's back. The man cried out in pain, his knees buckled, but he stayed on his feet courtesy of Jorge and Oscar.
"RAWHIDE!!!"
Eladio cracked the whip again, slicing through the meat on Angel's back with the whip. "YA!" He screamed, cutting another chunk of Angel's flesh from his back.
"Cut 'em out, ride 'em in, ride 'em in, cut 'em out! RAWHIDE!"
Another crack of the whip, and a loud scream from Angel. His back was covered in blood and bruises. "RAWHIDE!" Eladio screamed again, taking another crack with the whip.
Ten minutes later, Angel was sobbing on his knees, his back a bloody and swollen mess. Eladio put the whip back on the tray and grabbed the bowl of salt and gun. He clamly walked over to Angel and proceeded to dump the salt all over his back. Angel cried out, screaming and bucking against Oscar and Jorge's grips. He begged for mercy in Spanish, but was cut short as Eladio shot him in the head with the pistol. Angel's dead body fell to the ground, his body spasming from the last motor impulses his brain gave off as it died.
<That was a lesson,> he said to the group. <You are all replaceable, but the product is not. Find this ***hole, Castle, and bring him to me. Either he dies the way Angel did, or you all do. Understood?>
Everyone nodded slowly, too scared to speak. Eladio looked around and smiled.
<Move 'em out, little doggies! Rawhide!>