The Intergalactic Alliance warship Raywar hangs like a steel stormcloud over Rothschild Island, a fortified wound in Earth’s heart. The island is a fortress of secrets, a nerve center for this Syndicate Family—a cabal whispered to have pulled strings since Earth’s colonial days. Commander Theron, a grizzled veteran with scars from the Vanguard wars, stares down at the island from the warship’s bridge, the mainscreen flickering with data streams.
Mercenaries hired by the Rothschilds swarm the island’s perimeter, their heavy rifles spitting futile bursts at the Raywar. They don’t know why the ship has come, only that their paymasters demand blood. Theron’s lip curls. “Fools,” he mutters, his voice like gravel. “Lock the laser grid. Non-lethal pulse, take them down.”
The ship’s AI hums, and a lattice of blue light lances downward. A single pulse riples across the island, and mercenaries drop like marionettes with cut strings, their augs fried, twitching in the sand. Not a drop of blood spills—Theron isn’t here for carnage. He is here for justice.
Alliance soldiers, clad in graphene armor, storm from the warship’s drop pods, boots thudding on the island’s black stone. They march past the fallen mercs, not sparing a glance, their HUDs locked on the Syndicate’s palace—a grotesque monument of glass and steel, built on centuries of plundered wealth. Inside, Baron Rothschild, last of the Syndicate’s figureheads, stands in a velvet robe, his augmented voice booming through the hall. “Who do you think you are, invading my—”
Theron cuts him off, striding through the gates like a meteor. “Mr. Rothschild, you’re under arrest for enterprise crimes, grand larceny, and systemic genocide on member states of the Inter Galactic Alliance across, known as The North Americas.” His voice is cold, precise, amplified by his suit’s vox. “You have the right to a lawyer. If you can’t afford one—and will not be able after confiscating all your ill gotten wealth—the Intergalactic Alliance will provide one.”
Rothschild’s face twists, his eyes almost glowing with rage. “You can’t touch me! My family built this world!” But the commander gestures to the arrest warrant with some ancient data on its backside: land grabs in 19th-century Dakota, payments to colonial militias, funds funneled to Earth’s early Zionist outposts in Palestine. “You monsters influenced history in the most parasitic way possible. he comes closer and whispers in his face ''We cant touch you for what you did outside the North Americas, but its not necessary anyway. The crimes you committed on Native Americans will be enough to lock you up until you and your whole bloodline rots alive!”
He doesn’t even blink when he keeps staring in the barons face and his voice rises. “You profited from so much cruelty that It makes me throw up in your damn face. He turns to his soldiers and whispers loudly Arrest him. Get him out of my sight.” Two soldiers snap quantum cuffs on Rothschild, but as they try to drag him toward a drop pod he resists so fiercely that the soldiers let go of him because they fear that the old man might get a heart attack. "Samson, O Samson… Samson O Samson…" He starts desperately to repeat as if his life depends on it. The commander stares at him annoyed. "What the hell are you mumbling?" But the baron stares back insanely and repeats, "SAMSON O SAMSON, SAMSON O SAMSON…"
And as he tries to repeat it for the fifth time, a young Inter Galactic Alliance soldier rams the grip of her rifle into the baron's face. The baron lands with a heavy impact on the ground and tries to repeat again, but instead of words, blood comes out of his mouth. The soldier tears a piece from the baron's shirt and uses it to gag his mouth. "What the fuck are you doing, young lady?" Yelly the commander. But the soldier doesn't look at him and just shouts back respectfully, "Sir, he was about to initiate a self-destruction sequence. I read a little bit about their history yesterday when I was informed that we would be arresting these people. And one thing struck my mind about their history. Their willingness to destroy everything and everyone if they feel threatened for their existence and have no way out anymore… Like one of theirs did it centuries ago, a man called Samson." She stands up and looks the commander in the eyes. "You can throw me in prison and I will accept any punishment you want…" She looks briefly at the baron and then back at the commander and comes closer. "But I think you will thank me instead, after finding out that I am right."
