2012 07 08 1

Sun July 8 2072

Somewhere in the Ute Desert, 60 miles out from Denver, a stealth modified GMC Bulldog with a full suite of detection gear barrels Eastward through the desert heat under cover of electronics. A T-Bird heading West pulls a 180 and lands by the van. The van pulls to a stop. The driver, unseen, hits a button and the backdoors unlock.

Fifteen bleary, thirsty, and sunbaked refugees tumble out. They are tired, hurt, and scared. Is this how everyone got out? Worst coyote ever.

A group of men in urban street clothes walk from the T-Bird. They are armed with silenced pistols and magic. They make the fifteen line up for inspection. Men, women, children. In a flurry of silenced pistol shots the men and children fall. Screams are silenced by an area effect spell. The women are injected with narcotics and led, shackled, back up the ramp. ''Nyet'', states the leader and shakes his large square head, pointing to a female ork. Down she goes in a hail of bullets. A fire, magical in nature, erupts around the bodies turning them to ash and scatters in the desert wind.

The GMC van guns the engine and hauls ass to CFS. The T-Bird soars into the air before Ute pilots bother checking this sector. The T-Bird glints in the sun, its Hammer and Sickle decal peeling in the wind as the traffickers fly towards Denver.

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