Hans Schmidt didn’t realize that Daryl’s pigeon had a tracking device and an IED implant. The explosion was small, but instant. Hans would be scarred on his neck for life, but would live. Also, upon having its neck twisted it set off a ping to Daryl’s sensor. Daryl was torn apart inside by the loss of his beloved pet. He took a moment to jam some Mournful Congregation riffs on his guitar, in his pet’s honor. Thankfully, the ping showed the location to be south, in Argentina. His huge death metal tribe was headed that way already. “I will have forced vengeance!” he swore.
Hans was pissed about the scar. He called his expert tracker to study the implant and try and track it. “Bring me this fucker’s head,” he commanded, as he dispatched a small band of Corporo-ninjas and Swiss mercs.
Things were headed south of heaven in Argentina. Hans decided to rename himself Pablo the Great and declare himself continental Emperor. By the way, the elites always change their names and operate under fake names, so that they can avoid liability or disappear if necessary. Pablo the Great started his purge in the universities. Conservative students were fed to sharks and piranha, one by one, in an Olympic pool. The pool filled with blood. Severed limbs hung from the ceiling. A disgusting steaming hot tub with hungry alligators was reserved for any resistance leaders, of which there were few. The victims were plundered for all of their worldly possessions, mostly fine art, watches, bullion, and jewelry. He also took over political talk radio and did nothing but play commercials for government security products all day.
There was also something going on with the infrastructure. Two junkie bum types, Alyssia and Barbero, walked into the public restroom. She was weaing a sloppy bathing suit out of season, and looked ok except for her belly, boasting weird Mongol-ish Asian features were on her face. She looked wasted.
“Ya man, we can totally trade those blood oxe marbles for some oxy”, said the chick.
“I am gonna try and get some packs of smokes instead!” responded Barbero. He was one of those sunburned, RV in the parking lot, disheveled hair type of guys (with glasses and a short beard).
“No lets go looks for cans and get some recycling money,” she retorted, “and maybe if you do things my way we can fool around afterwards.”
Barbero sat on the toilet, and started taking out his rusty needle and black tarry junk, getting ready to get fucked up. He had no idea his butt was being remotely scanned through a database to determine if he could be useful to the state or not. Meanwhile, Alyssia started begging him for a tad. She was pulling on his arm and begging, rubbing his groin even. All of the sudden, just as the dude started to inject, the restroom lit up and a screen appeared which read: HOLD STILL. SCANNING.
“Oh shit its scanning your ass, and my face!” said she.
Both victims’ full names and addressed, complete with blood-type and social media history appeared on the screen. The floor suddenly turned into a green grid made of many different dimensions. As the floor sliced upwards, they were cut into exactly thirteen perfectly symmetrical pieces, and sucked completely out of existence into other dimensions. Therefor there was no mess whatsoever. This new technology represented a great new achievement for Octagon, and could be implemented in any restroom, giving the state total control. After all, everyone has to go to the bathroom.
The purge continued at a brisk pace. The Swiss mercenaries, dressed like Lakers Jesters in purple and yellow, purged the churches and private businesses of all individually minded people. They were now so brainwashed, that they burned every trace of independent thought, including people’s vintage death metal cd collections. Little did they know that of all their war crimes, it was the destruction of vintage death metal cd’s which would someday render them in legal jeopardy for the death penalty, under the Nuremberg Rulings.
Using samurai swords to behead those who would not submit to arrest, and then tossing those arrested into the central university’s pool to be devoured by sharks and piranha was making quick converts of the university students and discontented unemployed youth. People began turning in their own relatives so that they could be part of Pablo’s revolution.
Pablo felt he was started to have good control of the populations in South America. He derived great pleasure from the constant look of fear in all those around him. Although those who survived were already scared shitless, and would do whatever he commanded, he decided to implement further controls. First he had his tech support implant Axxon Enterprise tasers in the spines of everyone but him, as well as microphones implanted in everyone’s Adam’s apple. These were connected to a central control room, where people could be constantly censored and punished. Also, Pablo had all the nation’s sexbots rounded up into one place for his pleasure, as well as most of the good looking women. Many of the other women were placed in work camps, where they toiled resurrecting the lost Mayan gold pyramids. The guy was a real scumbag. Also, crummy house music, like Pitbull, was blared throughout the land, on old Communist P.A. systems, in between daily government statistical updates on the state of the purge.