ELN-FARC | Watch it all burn

[Der_Strix]

Private
All Dialogue is in Spanish, Translated to English unless specified otherwise

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"Fucking hell, when are they gonna get here?"

"Shut the fuck up and wait, it's not even 5 pm yet."

The two Colombians walked around the supposed camp, covered with dirt and mud. It had rained an hour ago, giving way to the smells of the Earth. Underneath that familiar aroma is something putrid, however, the smell that only flies and maggots are happy to experience. Their lifeless comrades are at their final resting place, from dust to dust.

"It's not the waiting I'm concerned about."

"Yeah, you're not the only one with a nose around here."

Their prayer would be heard when far in the distance, the sounds of rubber grind against dirt and stone. The two grunts would raise their Ak-47s, their fingers trembling near the trigger. The old rusty pickup truck would flash its headlights twice, signaling the men to stand down.

"Is that them?"

"Must be."

"Comrade-commissar! They are here."

​

An old man, along with three other men would be approaching the two guards. More men from behind would arrive, clearly wearing the iconic red and black armbands of the ELN. The old man would look at the incoming truck, his eyes locked at the man behind the wheel.


"Sir, if we continue with this Operation, there could be hundreds more dead. We haven't heard from Carlos in weeks, and I suggest we pull back."

"Nonsense... Pulling back when we've got the upper hand? I know we've never really dealt with the so-called FARC, but it is worth a shot."


The truck stops, a young man with a cigar would exit out of the truck, the damp mud giving way for his dark boots. He puffs before moving towards the group of men in front of him. He smiles before extending his hand.


"Mr. Celestino, it is an honor to finally meet you."

"Likewise, is the FARC willing to negotiate an official alliance with the ELN?"


He laughs before replying.


"I wouldn't be in this fucking shithole of a jungle if they didn't. The name is Varela, I was told that the ELN was willing to... sacrifice a few men for the cause?"

"I've sacrificed more than enough, Valera. The ELN will not waste more unnecessary blood."

"Well, Celestino, if the men we are facing have guns then you obviously would have some blood that will be shed. You should know more than I do, after all, you fought all those years ago didn't you?"

"Yes, Valera, and you should watch your tongue."


Almost like clockwork, the rest of the ELN members would raise their guns at the two men. The wind howls as small droplets of rain would begin to fall.


"Fucking hell, let's all just calm down will we?"


It almost seems as if time stood still.


"Listen, listen, alright? We will help the ELN break those men out of prison, problem is that they're in the heart of the fucking Government."


The men would slowly lower their rifles. The rain begins to fall.


"So that's why we need a diversion."

"And what kind of diversion is that?"

"Embassies, Celestino, Embassies. Cause enough of a stir, the Government would be forced to save face. The FARC would dive in, break those ELN members out, and we run."

"Seems like a good enough plan."

"Exactly, and well, with our numbers and your connections in Bogotá, we can make it work."

"Wait hold on, who's gonna be dealing with the Embassies?"

"And that would be the ELN, Celestino."

"This is bullshit, that would be unacceptable Valera! The ELN will not shed blood for a fucking suicide mission."

"Well, I suppose you would say that."


Sounds of tires would soon fill the air. Two more trucks would arrive, with men pouring out of the backs carrying their stolen weapons. The two groups would find themselves at an impasse, a stand-off if you may.


"Took you long enough. Look, you don't really have much of a choice Mr. Celestino. We know where your family is, hell, they're here to see papa."


Two armed men would bring two masked children out of the back of one of the trucks. Their jeans and t-shirts were soiled by the dirt and mud. The rain was now pouring.


"Papa?! Mama?! W-where are we?"

"Don't you dare touch them! I'm here hija, hijo, Papa's here."

"Not just yet, Celestino... Might I say these are mighty fine children you have here."


Valera would pull out a pistol and aim it at the back of the small girl's head, her whole body trembling at the sounds of the cold rain pittering and pattering around her, and the immense fear she feels at the cold lump of metal she feels behind her.


"Do it, Celestino. Besides, the FARC is doing you a favor, you get your prisoners, we get ours, we can regroup and forget all of this even happened."


Minutes pass without a word said.


"You have my word."

"Fine."

"Pleasure dealing with you."


Valera would reholster his pistol, before giving a nod to his fellow men. He would then go back to his truck, puffing away as he does so. Celestino would be confused, albeit a little enraged.


"Where are you taking them?"

"Oh, huh, forgot to mention; the commander said that we'll keep these as collateral. Once everything happens, we'll bring them back to you. If anything even goes wrong Celestino, you'd get them back with lumps of metal inside their heads."

"You fucking dogs."

"Oh- Watch your tongue Mr. Celestino."


The FARC trucks would drive off, leaving the small contingent of ELN soldiers in their wake. The heavy rain covering the tears that Celestino shed. The ELN had been brought to its knees.

 

[Der_Strix]

All Dialogue is in Spanish, Translated to English unless specified otherwise

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"This is Sector Bravo, encountering heavy fire, requesting armed reinforcements over."


The two policemen would hide behind cover, a burning wreck of their patrol vehicle. They would sometimes pop out and fire a couple of shots from their pistols. The sounds of civilian screaming would be drowned by the barks of assault rifles. Bullets would whisk through their patrol car, with only the engine block providing decent cover. The radio would reply;


"Sector Bravo, this is HQ, we are currently busy at the moment, please hold for 3 minutes, Armed transport is coming to relieve you, over."


One of the police officers would be hit in his left arm, wincing in pain as he stumbles to the ground. The other would continue to fire back, slowly inching close to his partner. His partner's patch would be bloodied, as his partner tries to ease the pain by clinching it with his arms, spreading more of the blood on his uniform.


"We got them on the run! Close in comrades! Throw molotovs!"

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven"


Sounds of broken glass would be heard around them, the distinct smell of gasoline and smoke would fill the air. Two other police officers would slowly pull back into the buildings for cover. A rebel would close in, throwing a bottle through the broken window, engulfing the interior with flames, and with it, the two sorry officers. They would scream in pain as their uniforms would light up.


"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sinned against us."


He would look at his fellow partner, who at this point was losing a lot of blood. He would try to stop the bleeding, reaching inside his bag for some gauzes or at least some spare cloth to turn into a tourniquet. Bullets would whizz past them as he would take aim at the rebels who were closing in at their position. His radio would yet again crackle with life;

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"Sector Bravo, this is Buffalo 2-1, providing fire support over."

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, Amen."


In the chaos of it all, the police officer never even noticed the familiar blades of a helicopter chopping through the air. Within a second, the sounds of machine guns would fill the air, the ground shaking from the number of bullets hitting it. The helicopter would hover meters above the wounded officer's position. After providing a few minutes' worth of machine-gun fire, it would take off, seemingly off to aid several other units in grave danger. An armored car with more heavily armed police officers would arrive, closing in against the rebels, whose morale at this point was broken and were now withdrawing.


"Officers! Wounded over here. I saw two more men in the building to the right.


The armored car would park beside them, as armed officers would slowly assist the officer in carrying his wounded comrade inside. Assigned medics would immediately tend to his wounds, stabilizing him for a couple more hours. The officer would watch as the doors would close before his eyes. His gaze would be broken by a young officer handling him a bulletproof vest, some magazines, and an assault rifle. The fighting at this point has basically stopped, as the rebels were now shattered while armored cars would clear out pockets of resistance within the city blocks.

He would look over to the dead bodies of rebels, noticing something odd. One of the bodies who were facing down would be wearing a red and black armband, typical of the ELN. As one of the armed officers would turn him over for identification, however, a bloodied patch on the chest of his uniform would be seen, clearly the insignia for the FARC. He would shake his head as it seemed impossible, the ELN and FARC working together this close? It was a known fact that the two groups would support each other indirectly, so it would be his surprise to see one rebel wearing both insignias at the same time.

The police officer would don the bulletproof vest, right before a single shot would ring through the road. He would feel liquid near his neck, finding it hard to breathe all of the sudden. He would collapse to his knees, begging for air, before toppling over on the cold asphalt.