A few minutes after the smoke cleared the sirens could already be heard. Gregory dropped the magazine in his pistol and released before returning the firearm to its holster. Several bodies lay strewn within the loading bays, they were unmistakably the Ménsanarez cartel. This particular clan had been attacking them periodically for the last few years, but each time they were swiftly dealt with. One of the men was still alive, clutching his hemorraging thigh. Gregory instructed one his men to sequester him until he could be dealt with later.

The police showed up, having been to the scene previously they knew the drill. Gregory would give them some bullshit story and they would report it, finding a handsome sum of money in their accounts later on. After their "investigation" concluded, Gregory went to his office.

The assailant was there, being treated by a healer. Gregory approached him and initated his compulsion, which worked beautifully considering this cartel wasn't Enchanted, although they occassionally had some working for them.

"Hables ingles?" Gregory inquired, his eyes emanating a faint purple glow.

"No, no puedo." The man responded, his tone dead and monotonous.

"Digame la razón por su ataque."

"Queríamos la caja seiscientotreinta-y-ocho. Lo tiene algo que el jefe lo quiere mucho. No sé que es, pero él dije que es muy importante."

Gregory wrote down the crate that the man said they were after, he gave it to his foreman who looked it up on the computer system.

"Uh sir, crate 638 doesn't have anything for us in it. Its one of our filler stock for the paperwork. It came in two nights ago off one of our San Salvador transports. I have no idea what's inside."

"Well, let's go loo-" before Gregory could finish his sentence, a capo ran into the office.

"Mr. Reinhart, the Wesley girl is gone. Someone took her." The panic in his voice was palpable.

Gregory slammed his fist on the desk, then spun around to the cartel man.

"DONDE ESTÁ LA MUCHACHA?" He yelled as he slammed the man back on the bed, flooding his mind with compulsion.

"No sé nada sobre una muchacha. El jefe no dije nada. Dijo todos quo yo sabé. Esta usted extrañando una muchacha señor?"

Gregory swore. He knew this man couldn't lie under compulsion. So that beg the question of who did take the girl.

"We'll worry about that later. First I want to see what's in this fucking crate. Keep tending his wounds, he'll be useful later."

They walked into the main warehouse, noticing that all the banditos had died within the immediate vicinity of that crate. It was certainly evident that's what they wanted. The crate wasn't very large, about 2 feet wide by a foot or so deep. The front said FRÁGIL in big bold letters. They popped it open with and revealed inside a small Mayan rain god statue, insulated with hay. Gregory examined the statue close, feeling along the edges. Sure enough, there was a misseam on the boat and after a few moments of manipulation the bottom came off of the statute. Inside the cavity was a hard-drive of all things, a 4 terabyte hard-drive. This thing had a lot of data on it. On the front of the metal encasement was an interesting insignia, monikered with Imperium on the bottom. This was certainly mysterious. Could definitely be worth something. He knew of a man in the slums, a quasi-clergy man of sorts, who was really good with this computer stuff.

"Okay, well that's odd. Anyway, Michael I need you to figure out where the hell Brianna Wesley went. We need her back in our custody now. Go, be quick."

After sending his lieutenant on an assignment, he made his leave, headed for Mr. Yie.

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