Justice Or Vengeance? (2)

Bazel was still sitting in the very same seat that he had first plopped down in upon entering the Principal's office. He was idly spinning a pen in his hand, wondering when what he requested would be delivered.

With an opening of the door behind him, one of the principles assistants came walking in with a stack of documents for Bazel to peruse.

"Here is all the information on those who came into conflict with Lily Vasa, as well as all the infractions that each had accrued due to said conflicts. I was told that these are only the recorded ones, and when you are ready you can meet with the homeroom teacher to find out the rest."

With those words said, the aide walked out of the room as quick as he could. Perhaps he had heard the conversation from earlier, or perhaps the principle had warned him the stakes that were at hand. It mattered little to Bazel, however, as he simply opened the documents and perused them one by one with a speed that only someone of his caliber could have.

"Looks like a group of them after all, but this one in particular has the most offenses even in this highly watered down version of events. Zaira Mcgrath, the one who gave the job to Lily and the chief offender most likely. This girl could also possibly have connections to whatever organized crime group did the dirty work" mused Bazel as he went through her entire profile.

Upon finishing he stood up and exited the room, notifying the aid who was waiting outside to lead him to where the homeroom teacher would be.

----

"So, John Schmitz is it? You are the homeroom teacher?" asked Bazel, looking closely at the man in front of him.

Unassuming as the man in front of him was, middle aged and clearly balding, he still felt that there was something off about him.

"Yes Sir, that is who I am..." said Schmitz, who was constantly glancing around with a very defensive body posture.

"I believe you have been informed, we can always work things out in regards to this current case. I just want the criminals behind bars and the chief offender charged, so there is no need to be so worried hmmm? Unless, there is something else on your mind?"

Schmitz clearly reacted, sweat forming on his brow and his legs starting to shake.

"He is weak and easily pressured. Another piece to this puzzle" thought Bazel as he recalled a few of the interrogation techniques he had learned over the years.

"Mr. Schmitz, how is your family life? Is there a Mrs. Schmitz, any kids?"

"Just one kid that I adopted, he is 16 years old now. Good kid he is, he goes to a small private school not too far from here..." explained Schitmz.

"A private school? Why not here, you work here after all. Surely you would trust an environment that you created yourself more than some other place, unless of course there is some reason as to why you would choose to do such a thing?" probed Bazel.

Eyeing the reactions of the teacher across from him carefully, he noted which words provoked any type of visible reaction while moving down the line of thinking connected to such words.

"Perhaps this is part of the reason as to why you are so nervous in the first place, as well as why I am here in the first place. Tell me Mr. Schmitz, are you under any kind of threat? I could arrange for protection for you, as a favor to the one who can help me with my own problem of course. I would hurry though, just us meeting is bound to raise some questions whenever it is discovered...."

Schmitz was practically hyperventilating at this point, his face red and his entire body trembling. He looked like he was about to pass out for a moment, causing Bazel to preemptively dial for medical aid just in case, but then Schmitz changed completely.

A tired look took hold on his face, as he deflated completely in his chair.

"My son is currently staying in an over the weekend study hall with the school. He is safe there, I chose it because its run by a military veteran that hires his old combat buddies as teachers. They wouldn't dare to cause trouble there...but if you want my full cooperation you need to pick him up now and guarantee his safety. Please" said Schmitz in almost a whisper.

Sighing at how this case was looking to be more and more convoluted, Bazel wrote down the address that he was given and called his friend Neto once more.

Having finished the call, Bazel rubbed his temples while congratulating his past self on not going into detective work.

-----

"Another deployment? At this rate the captain will be sending half of the forces under his jurisdiction" complained a man wearing an all too familiar blue uniform.

"Aye, but it's apparently all related to one major case that got reported to him directly not too long ago. He is even getting directly involved in this case, letting his lieutenant deal with all his other duties haha" explained another member of the police force.

"Whatever, grunts like us just do as we are told I suppose...ah we are here. Let's hurry and grab the kid, it's almost lunch time."

With that said the two police officers stepped out of their car, checking their equipment out of habit, and walked over to the police car that had followed them here.

"Sir, we are ready to retrieve the protection target" said both the officers, as they saluted the man who stepped out of the police car.

He was markedly different than the two who had addressed him, a man of tanned skin and many scars on his face...it was clear that he had been through a lot of fights in his life.

"Nin-, my subordinates" started the man, speaking in Spanish for a moment before correcting himself.

" I will lead, be ready for anything. I just got some information from the Captain, it looks like we may be dealing with more than just some petty group of criminals who just started to get their feet wet in the murky waters of the underground. Let's go" said the man in a gruff voice.

"Yes Sergeant Loera!" replied the two officers with a salute, following closely behind.

The three men entered the private school for a short while, before leaving with a young man who was slightly confused but otherwise calm.

Arriving back at their parked cars, the Sergeant opened the back door and let the boy in. Closing the door he went to the other side to sit in the driver's seat when suddenly a man popped out from under the car with a gun drawn on the Sergeant.

Looking around him, he noticed his two officers were also in a similar situation whereas each was quickly and easily detained.

"Cht, inútil. Useless" muttered the Sargent as he cast a disapproving look towards his two underlings before turning around and staring at the man who had drawn the gun on him face to face.

Pulling out a cigar and lighting it, he popped it in his mouth and asked:

"Well Irlandés, what do you think you are doing?"

The man with the gun, who until just a moment ago had a neutral expression on his face raised a brow at the behavior of a man he had just captured.

"Irish? How did you know" asked the man, an extremely subtle accent could be heard but it may as well have not been there.

"I didn't, I just guessed. I could perhaps identify the true members by their looks or speaking habits, but such a low ranking member like you...el mismo aspecto, you all look the same. So, any last words?"

The man with the gun just laughed, his voice full of confidence.

"Are you still asleep? Make a move and you're dead, this is no toy" said the man, pushing the gun into Loera's chest.

"We got word that some people were sticking their noses where it doesn't belong, so we made to check all of our assets in the area. Looks like we were correct, huh, three blue bellies turned up just in time" said the man, a malicious expression on his face.

"I have heard your last words" said Loera, taking one last puff of his cigar before throwing it to the ground.

The moment it hit the floor, spilling its ashes onto the pavement, three gunshots rang out so close to one another that they almost sounded like one large one.

Three heads were penetrated, followed by three small spurts of blood, which was followed by three corpses hitting the floor.

Loera looked at the corpse of the man below him, with a completely neutral expression.

"You are not worthy off nine days of prayer, not even one."

He then stamped out the cigar that was on the ground and got into his car.

Ignoring the shocked face of the young man in the back seat, he grabbed his radio and called in an ambulance. He then opened his own personal phone, dialing a number and speaking the moment the line connected.

"Capo, it's the Irish. They are sending out a disposable force to check on their assets in the area, send word where it needs to go and reinforcements where they are needed"

"Joaquín Guzmán Loera, how many times do I have to tell you to not call me that! We are clean now, remember? Agh whatever, thanks for the information."

Loera was already hanging up the phone the moment he finished his sentence, barely hearing the retort from his boss before starting up his car.

He heaved a sigh before muttering,

"Looks like a war is on our hands"