They staggered in, one after the other. Five of them. Hands bound with barbed wire and faces bearing scars of what the MVPD liked to call 'sweet chin music'. Some could barely manage a limp.
"Yuri's hounds, sir" - informed an escorting constable, not that Mark was unaware.
This was the moment he'd been waiting for. The Ruskie rampage had been going unchecked because of the strain put on the Police Dept by the fire rescue and salvage operations. Now that reinforcements had arrived from across the state, Mark and his men could focus on battles closer home. For weeks all he could do was twiddle his thumbs while another orphan lorded the town. It was his turn now.
"Sir?''
The constable had a quizzical look on his face. Mark realised he had drifted off into his thoughts, leaving the other eight men in the room bemused.
"It's getting late in the day, this scum should be in lockup. We'll deal with the paperwork tomorrow. Prep transport."
A convoy of two cruisers and the van holding the outlaws snaked it's way to the county jail on the other side of town. Mark ordered the van to stop by the side of the road at a particularly isolated, bushy stretch. Courts and papers were too much hassle. CI Collinsworth didn't like hassles. There was to be no tomorrow for the crooks. Their only consolation - justice was swift. Justice - delivered by cold metal bullets, but swift. In some parts, this would have been an unheard-of luxury. The only thing left to do now was to return the lifeless bodies to their one time master.
It was time for the orphans to meet for the very first time.
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