Tues April 10 2012

Tues April 10 2072 In the city of Bakersfield… Colonel Michael Minton of the California Guard, regional commander of the Cal-Free forces in the southern central valley and Mojave is seated behind his desk, sipping brandy. "Look, Jace. It's not that I'm working with the Japanese. It's that I'm preserving /my/ people. What's your old man done for us since the invasion? He's simply not recognizing the truth of things. We're being carved up, and either we carve out whats ours, or we're on someone elses plate." "It's an interesting perspective." Says Jace. "Do you really think that? That we have no hope, man? Is that really your bottom line?" The older colonel sits forward, watching Jace. "Yeah. I think it's the damn truth." "I'm sorry to hear that." Says Jace, shaking his head. He reaches up to touch his brow, two fingers stroking along a scar there. There is no sound - other than a slight tinkle of glass, then the thud of a small bullet hole appearing in Minton's forehead. "Damn sorry to hear that." From a half a click out, Jace's sniper starts to pack up his rig while his spotter polices the brass. "Sampson." Calls Jace over the radio. "We on target for IED?" "Yep. Down on Bakersfield and Farmington. It's all set." "Barker. Get the body, throw it in the truck. Roll out." "Affirmative, sir." Comes Barker's voice. Less than 5 minutes later, Colonel Jace Gill, Cal-Free special forces, has loaded Michael Minton's body in to the Humvee and the truck is headed off down the road with a no-name PFC as the driver. It will be three minutes beyond when the Humvee will find an IED imbedded in the road - detonated by remote. Perfectly placed, it destroys the lightly armored vehicle with a single blast. If not for advanced DNA and forensics, they might never have been able to confirm that Michael Minton had been in the vehicle. Certainly, only a few people whisper about the cranial damage. But those people do find their way to Shadowland. In the media, it's GOLDRUSH! that takes credit for the kill. A screed decrying collaborators and holding him accountable for the crimes of his men. Across southern California things start to unravel, as the tenuous lines of loyalty that Minton maintained all fray and snap. What had been a marginally professional force disintegrates into localized militias.