Wolokai142 Posted March 29, 2025 Report Posted March 29, 2025 (edited) WARNING: Reading material may be unsettling to some readers. "......I don't really like to talk about this." "But....I suppose it's only fair that you two understand why what happened that night...happened, before I'm gone one day." "There's not going to be any good reason as to 'why' because...well people are people, and evil is evil. If it helps bring you closure though...then ok." It was December 2nd, 1993, I was 20 at the time. I was engaged to your mother, Annabelle at that point but...with the rough business in Colombia, we decided to wait until the upset involving Pablo Escobar was done before we put down roots and decided on having you two. I was there when they got him you know, Pablo. Man had escaped from his own personal built prison and was on the run before Search Bloc finally got him. It was a pretty exciting way to start my career as a Texas Ranger, getting to see the end of the Medellín Cartel. I didn't get to see much of the action as I joined up in the tail end of the whole ordeal and was mostly there to collect paperwork and evidence that tied the Cartel back to several leads back in Texas concerning the drug trade that was cropping up. I suppose getting to be a part of history was pretty neat but...in my naivety I did not realize the dire, far reaching consequences that were about to blow up in everyone's faces as a result of Escobar's death. Pablo's empire crumbling created a power vacuum with the power of a black hole, and everyone was rushing in to get a piece of the pie like some mad, psychotic gold rush. Connections, leftover drugs, guns, the whole kit-and-kaboodle. Call it a sour turn of bad luck I guess, because one of these dirtbags managed to get ahold of some significant piece of infrastructure that opened the door into Texas for him. Warehouses, a good deal of them, deep in the heart of Texas that carried all kinds of heavy shit. Weapons, kilos of coke, the works. It was the perfect foundation to launch a new business avenue in the illegal underworld and spread roots quick and spread em' deep. The dirtbag? Bastard by the name of Marino Martinez. The Martinez Cartel would become the core focus of my work in the Garland Texas Rangers, a twenty year slog that piled a lot of good deputies into thin pine boxes and left a lot of kids strung out on fucked up product. Caused quite a massive gash in the skin of our state that was bleeding out our innocence and pouring opioid in the wounds. Annabelle was a trooper about it though. Any moment I could've caught a bullet from an ambush in the streets...every waking breath precious in a constant bid for survival. You two had already been born before we had lived back in Texas for a year after Colombia, so it meant laying as low as possible for the entirety of the time I was working. We couldn't just up and run like we used to because of how young ya'll were, so we had to take extra precautions to make sure our family was safe. Now...for eleven years I worked and worked and worked...sometimes with more scars, sometimes falling asleep at the kitchen table with reheated dinner only half-eaten on the plate before me from how exhausted I was. For a 28 year old, I sure felt ancient with the ache in my bones. It was worth it though. Slowly but surely, inch by inch...we were gaining ground. Arrests, investigations, stockpiles and assets seized. We chipped at them where we could, and the complacency of the nature of the hits was doing them in. A small pile of guns here and there wasn't too bad...but eleven years of small piles adding up and...well, that's one big fucking haul isn't it? We were gaining more and more traction by the day...until a late autumn morning in the November of 2002. I had begged...BEGGED, the Sheriff to stay his hand. We had uncovered potentially a major deal preparing to go down at a festival dinner between Marino Martinez and several of his higher-end business partners. Our C.I. indicated that the talks were likely to include plans on opening up an entirely new front across the border into Nevada, to inch their way towards Vegas. At least 3 of these executives in attendance were all from linked cases across the entire SIB department, and for all of them to be meeting in the exact same place with Marino himself? It was, a MASSIVE situation. This op had the potential to completely be the Achilles heel to the entire Martinez Cartel if done properly...but an utter disaster if handled poorly. And that, is what I begged and pleaded to the Sheriff. Don't, send in Special Enforcement. If SED breached the exterior on a raid bust, the amount of heat that'd it would generate would be way too big to contain. There was a significant amount of muscle packed into that place, way more than I knew the C.I. or the projections predicted. If a firefight broke out, the amount of casualties itself was bound to be horrendous, but the potential leads, witnesses, and other critical evidence tucked away in there would be killed, burned, and lost. The Shock-And-Awe hard stop wasn't going to work, because I bet you my entire career five times over the second any Operator hit that threshold, they were gonna be burning files in trash cans 3 stories up in the mansion. But I knew it was futile the moment I got called into the Sheriff's office, and the CO of SED was there waiting for me. "Captain Derringer," I remember he told me...in that tone I oh-so fucking hated. I knew the Sheriff had my side in this but the Mayor of Garland wasn't having it anymore. He saw an opportunity to put this shit to rest in one fell swoop and he wasn't going to let such an opportunity pass us by. I had to swallow my anger and the bile as the CO explained the action plan for how the raid was going to go...and if I wanted any part of it, I more or less had to march in behind them like a good little dog and keep quiet. When the day of the raid came, well....it's probably no surprise as to what happened is it? A complete fucking bust. 6 Deputies and 3 operators killed, a good majority of their muscle, scores of wounded and a shit-load of civilians caught in the crossfire. We did recover some evidence which...sure would lead to some convictions. Wasn't gonna be enough to bag Marino though...and worst of all? Among the casualties was his wife, Josephina Martinez. It didn't take a genius to know how that was gonna turn out. The reason I was spared I had heard years later was because I was one of the only people trying desperately to not include the civilians in the attack...Marino offered me that mercy. Everyone else? It turned sour, and south...real fast. A good number of cops died from that bust...but once blood was paid for in blood, Marino went back to business as usual. His son however...did not share that same sentiment. Diego Martinez was an abhorrent piece of shit. A young pistol of a boy, barely twenty years of age, this fucking child had the arrogance of your typical fucking loser sucking on the silver spoon of his father. The type to say "Do you know who my dad is?" as his get-outta-jail-free card played more times than I could count. Worst part about it is...he was a raging psychopath. A complete daddy's boy with no humanity or care for the weight of a human life. Someone who could pull a trigger as easily as he plucked the wings off of butterflies without a care or thought to the world. He'd be after us for awhile, my unit specifically. Our guys were the ones who managed to pull the intel that lead to the operation that killed his mother so...naturally we were at the top of his shit list. And in the summer of 2005...fate reared it's ugly head. I was on my way home when I got the call. A shrill, panicked scream tore through my phone so loud I nearly slammed my head into my side window trying to rear away from the noise. She shrieked my name with such a force I thought she was getting mauled by some animal, the way she spat out hysterics and heaving screaming. "Deborah?!" I shouted into the phone "Deborah what's happening!? Calm down! Deborah ca- DEBORAH!" I shouted into my phone, trying to discern some manner of english amongst her shrill cries...but it was when she mentioned her husband Alex that my blood ran cold. I cut the wheel hard left, flicking on my sirens and U-ing it right there at the intersection, gunning it south with as much speed as I could. "Dispatch," I remember barking into my handheld radio, Deborah's cries still somewhat audible from my phone that I had dropped into the passenger seat. "Captain Derringer, Cliff. Start of watch under assigned designation, get me a unit and SIB team on priority code, ambulance in tow." I listed the address and was advised to wait for backup but...by the time units got there to support me it'd be too late. If it wasn't already that is. With one hand on the wheel, I drew my Colt Python and checked the cylinder, all 6 rounds of .357 grade justice ready to go. I didn't think I was gonna have time to get to my shotgun so...the revolver would have to do. I rounded the corner and to this day I wonder if I had heard her before I saw her, or vice versa. Deborah was on her knees in her front yard, covered in what I assumed was blood as I cut the wheel right and drove up onto the side walk and tore into her neighbors yard, parking it right in the middle of the yard and sliding out of my truck with my iron firm in my hand and my radio in the other. I took a careful stance and approached with caution, Deborah reaching out to me in a sobbing panic. Her eyes were wide, manic, and clearly there was no logic or sense in her eyes. She had flown the coop, a broken mess of a woman soaked in what I...really, really hoped wasn't Alex's blood but... I called into my radio softly that I was making entry and clipped the radio to my belt, making my entry into the partially open front door and into the house. "TEXAS RANGER!!!" I roared into the house, sweeping wide to the left with my iron at a ready angle. I moved slowly, carefully, Deborah's cries from outside muffled through the walls as the sounds of a shower running further in reached my ears about the same time the smell did. "Oh no..." I remember breathing, relaxing my arms as I moved towards the bathroom. When I opened the door, I felt my chest tighten and a firm weight pressing on my lungs. David Martinez had this thing about brutalizing folks but...this one was a whole new level of low. Alex's cold, pale face stared forward, mouth agape and eyes vacant and glazed. I slowly holstered my pistol, pulling my Stetson off the top of my head and sighing. Cutting his head off...pretty standard as far as the Cartel was concerned. Mounting his head over the shower head to have it rain on his unsuspecting wife? Yeah...I'm not usually a guy to get squeamish but...that one really got me. They had carted Deborah off about five minutes after my backup arrived, the crime scene tape and the CSI's having gone in and started their sweeps. I answered all the questions, brought the SIB on scene up to speed on Alex's involvement in the David Martinez case, and was now quietly walking the house as the investigators canvased the bathroom. I meandered into the kitchen, passing around near the counter and running a hand through my hair. Alex was a good guy...had a few beers with him, our wives were friends, and he was an overall jokester. I always felt a pang in my heart when a deputy lost their life in this business but when it came to guys like Alex...the loss was all that much worse. I shot a glance slightly to my left as I headed towards their kitchen table but stopped cold. I slowly backed up, looking over the counter at this slightly scrunched up, wrinkled magazine for gardening laying their on the wooden surface. The gals would often talk about their gardening strides over some lemonade while we held a BBQ a few Sundays here and there. To the point where Annabelle offered Deborah one of her magazines to borrow with an article on tomatoes she thought she'd be interested in. A magazine with our address on it. I tore out of the house faster than lightning and ran over a mailbox tearing out of the yard with my truck. The distance to the house was only a 10 minute or so drive, but it was the longest drive of my life. I saw the smoke before I saw the house, my heart hammering as I turned the corner into the driveway up towards the house. Flames billowed out of the upper floor's window, black smoke churning into the sky as I got out of my truck and bolted up the laneway. "ANNABELLE!" I cried, rushing up to the front door. As I neared it, a tiny set of voices cried out to my left from the hedge line, and turning my head that's where you two were...hiding in the bushes just as we taught you to do when trouble came. I rushed to the both of you, smoke-streaked and red-faced but alive. You managed through your sobs to get through to me that your mother was still inside, so with a quick , barking order to stay in the bushes and wait for me, I quickly bolted towards the door. I tried the handle and felt the wooden surface, feeling no heat as I took a step back then and hurled a boot forward, slamming the door open. Smoke billowed out, searing my eyes and throat as I rushed inside, coughing loudly. Fire licked at the walls and a good chunk of the floor, the living room completely lost as the ceiling had collapsed in over it. I took a few steps through, passing the forward staircase when I saw her. She was buried under a pile of wood that had fallen from the collapsing ceiling, a free arm reaching towards me. I dove to her side, trying to get the beam up off of her and straining as she weakly batted my thigh and wheezed "Cliff...!" prompting me to stop. "Girls...upst-stairs...!" a loud cough choking out of her lungs. "No, no they're outside! They made it outside into the hedge!" I looked over the wood covering her trying to pull any piece I could off, trying to do 'something' when I felt her hand gently reach out to take mine. "Clifford..." she breathed, her lips curling into a gentle smile as she mustered as much strength as she could to squeeze my hand. "No, Anna!" I growled, pulling a heavy board off of the top of her "There's not much to get off you, just give me a second! Gotta find something to use for levera-" but my words died in my throat. She knew, before I even made it into the house...that's why she wanted me to get you two girls first. I managed to get the crisped plywood that was covering her midsection off of her when I saw it. She was punctured in numerous places, run through with various pieces of wood that she had either fallen on or fell on her...having fallen through the floor from the fire. Even if I did manage to get her dislodged...moving her would've killed her. With the amount of blood she had lost already and the fire encroaching quickly... "Anna..." I wheezed, the smoke burning my throat as I shook my head slowly. It was the first time she'd ever seen me cry, my tears flowing freely as she weakly made to put a hand on my cheek to which I held to my skin tightly. "N-no more..." she said weakly, the orange starting to circle its away around us as she tried to drag her fingers across my cheek to pull me closer, her eyes slowly closing. She didn't waste any more words on telling me what was already known...that she loved me, loved you...that she would always be with us and to take care of you two. No, in her final moments she used the last of her strength to give me one final order, one last request. "Avenge...us...." I watched as God took her into his arms, lifting her away from the misery and leaving me to turn and desperately crawl for safety, the fire spilling over the floor down and threatening to swallow me whole if I didn't move my ass. From there I wish I could've given you more detail but...to be honest even I'm not sure myself of what happened in the hours following that moment. I don't remember collecting you two and driving you down to The Sheriff's Station, or grabbing several maps and pieces of recon work we had over Marino Martinez's safehouse just west of Garland, nor do I remember completely ignoring every single person at the station, ignored all the questions and the looks and just...everything. Because then I did something that I never thought I'd ever do in that moment. Something that went against my every principle. You remember your grandfather, the stories I told you about him. Principle was everything, it was THE lesson he had instilled upon me that I followed to that day. "Without principle Cliff," he'd tell me "There's nothing to separate us from the animals. Morals and the soul are all that divide us from the animal kingdom." But those teachings did not reach me that day. It couldn't stop me, probably wouldn't have stopped anyone else either...which is why I did what I did. The one regret I've ever had in my life. ...I went rogue. Though by technicality I was now operating outside the "Morally questionable" grounds of the system, I doubt there was anyone who was going to hold issue with what I was about to do. Cards on the table, someone needed to do something, and now... Vengeance for those lost, initiative to prevent more from joining Alex and my wife. It had to be done. Marino Martinez was holed up with his son and several of his affiliates downtown, in a cul-de-sac at the back end on the south side. One way into the housing area, and one way back. In using the maps I pulled already from the evidence board, getting to the neighborhood wasn't all that hard. But getting out alive was going to be different. Interestingly enough...Marino was there to greet me as I approached from down the street, my face and clothes caked with soot and ash, and no sign of his son. But of course...there was still plenty of his security about. In hindsight...I shouldn't have done as I did that day. My focus should have been on you two, in keeping level headed and not go running off to risk turning you two into orphans. But this logic didn't work for me , as it wouldn't for anyone...and as I stepped out onto the ground from my truck, did the reality of sentiment only then hit me. But through either a cruel twist of fate or maybe even God himself...Marino showed me mercy once again. He had heard from his son what he had done that day, and seeing as how I tried to prevent (although indirectly) the death of his own wife...mine was taken from me on purpose by Diego. A debt was incurred then, on the day his own wife died. As I tried to do for Marino...he would try to do for me, And it was Diego himself who would appear behind his father, myself peering around him to behold my quarry. A glock was tucked into his front waistband as he walked about behind his father, sneering as he said "What's wrong Ranger man? Come to arrest me!??! Go ahead and try man, you don't go NO warrants on me bro!" "No Diego..." I said, shaking my head "This ain't about warrants or principle now....this is about you coming with me quietly, to face the consequences of you actions. That being said, you can go two ways...Dead, or Alive." In looking towards his father, Marino turned away from his son, heading towards the side of the street on the far side as if to observe. "Father...!" He called out "Why don't we just kill this clown and be rid of him??" "Because..." Marino countered with a soft growl "The Ranger is right...actions have consequences...and it's clear to me that someone needs to finally learn that distinction...you've gone too far for too long, and that is quite a saying coming from me. No more. You've dug your own grave...only you can take responsibility for it and lay within it." It was then that Diego slowly looked at me, the weight of what was happening finally sinking in. His father would not protect him because like me, he was a widow too...and the principle of that alone Marino knew if he killed one of us, he'd have to kill a significant amount more to cover it up. So naturally...for Marino at least, this was the only way. There was only about 40 feet between us when Diego snorted loudly, spiting a glob of saliva out onto the ground and inching his hand up to draw his weapon. But when the time did finally come...well, Diego's gun hadn't come free of the cloth before the first bullet echoed out of my revolver and straight through his shoulder. He stumbled, once...twice, but after he tried to swing his other arm forward to get his pistol from the opposite side of his own, the other 5 in my chambers would make short work of him. I fanned the hammer of my weapon with the side of my palm so hard my skin tore, oiling the chrome of my pistol and splashing flecks of blood across the dirt and my clothes at random. But by the time his body hit the ground, I was already quietly getting back into my truck and drive away. No more words needed to be exchanged between myself and Marino...his own time would come. The Sheriff didn't ask me anything of the specifics some few months later after the incident, after seeing and visiting Annabelle's grave. No...there'd be plenty of time to get back at the Martinez Cartel in the years to follow...the following 8 to be exact. With a dead wife and son however, it wouldn't be too long before Marino would follow in his son's footsteps and join him in the grave. And that...is exactly what happened in June of 2013. I was eating dinner with you two girls when I got the call that Marino had been killed in a Special Enforcement raid to secure his property and several key assets. At long last, after 20 years...the nightmare was over. I announced my retirement then, for July of 2013. By then you two were twenty years old each and prepping for college, watching you guys work through your applications and studying, and for the next 7 years I got to watch you two graduate, get married, and bring my grandchildren into the world. I had grown accustomed to the quiet life I suppose, but my hands always felt so idle, so empty. I filled my empty hands and empty gaps of time with model airplane building and such, but still I felt the urge to do more. Perhaps it was a blessing then...that you Cassidy, seeing how bored I was with all my hand wringing, handed me that flier and notice for the Los Santos County Sherriff's Department. You were tired of watching me waste away in the garage, knowing full well that if your mother was here to see me in this current state...she'd have my ass. So...what the hell, right? In summer of 2020 I booked a one way flight to San Andreas and in June I was accepted into the academy by Tyrone Balakay and became a Deputy Sheriff Trainee. And the rest...they say is history, right? ~~~ "So go ahead, put in all your little IA's. Sit there and act stupid and surprised." "Give me every excuse you have. 'Oh, I'm a criminal, I've killed plenty of your deputies, orphaned children, widowed spouses, tore sons and daughters from their parents. but I have rights!'" "You want to continue and live playing and acting out this stupid fucking charade that somehow you're fucking innocent and you deserve kindness and respect and courtesy." "Well fuck you." "Fuck you, and everyone like you. You and all your stupid little friends." "Because of people like you, I've had mothers and fathers scream at me because I could give no good reason as to why their children aren't coming home because you decided to kill them over a speeding ticket." "You tore Vespucci Canal to pieces, and sent 40 people to their deaths over something as stupid as a piece of leather." "Because of people like you, my wife is dead." "And hilariously, for all the shitty, fucked up things you people do, you cry and whine and bitch like I'M the one with the attitude problem, like my anger is unwarranted." "You better brace yourself then, because to this point I've been lenient to you." "No more." "No longer." "Prepare yourself, because It's about time you people learn the most fundamentally important lesson a human being can learn:" "Actions have consequences." Edited March 29, 2025 by Wolokai142 8 2 2 1 1 Quote
