NationStates Jolt Archive

Jimmy "The Snake" Valantino stood outside on the patio, he put a cigarette to his mouth and lit the end with the flame from a lighter. He savoured the smokey texture and the rush brought on from the nicotine.
He coughed.

"F****** cigarette!"

He threw the cigarette on the floor and trampled it into the ground, the embers of fire estinguished by the pressure of his foot. He then got another out of his pack and put it to his mouth, repeating the process. It was a kind of obsessive-compulsive thing; he had the money and the warehouse full of cigarettes, he could do as he pleased.
He looked out over the horizon, toward the sea, toward his private dock, over his mansion grounds that spread all over his hidden island.
The sounds of voices came out from the conservatory, a meeting of criminal masterminds. Jimmy had only left the conservatory to get some air and enjoy a cigarette before the stars.
Another man came out of the conservatory, Johnny Valantino, Jimmy's brother and personal assistant.

"Can you f****** believe it, one dumbass still does not accept your leadership of the Syndicate.

Jimmy turned to Johnny and laughed, coughing out the cigarette that was surely to kill him in 20 years or so.

"He can hold on to his f****** opinions all he wants, won't save him from his meeting with the fishes and with God."

Jimmy and Johnny returned into the conservatory to continue the meeting, a servant with a dust pan and brush cleaned up the pile of cigarette endings that Jimmy had stockpiled on the floor....

(OOC: Don't hate me for the added censored language, I wanted it realistic.)

Raul "the Smith" Bankone, a former steel worker and trade union activist, now a head of a Mafia Cell in Knootoss, the fool who challenged the leadership of Jimmy was discussing with the other members about the Arms trade.

"And I am telling you that if we continue the smuggling of weapons and lethal materials through the Knootian cell, we can quadruple our Armament profits within the next decade."

A voice came from the door..

"A smart idea, Raul. Especially one coming from such a f****** idiot as yourself. Challenging my leadership of the syndicate was a piss poor move."

It was Jimmy, he was smirking evilly. Raul eyed Jimmy severely, hating that cheeky and reckless smile.

"I've always been smarter than you, Jimmy. If I am so f****** thick then what does that make yo....!"

His sentance was cut short, smoke wisped in the air from the barrel of Jimmy's gun.

"Now that is settled, I say we go with our good friend Raul's idea about the arms trade."

Jimmy tapped the shoulder of dead Raul affectionately, as if tapping a close family member. Several henchman wheeled Raul out of the room on his chair...

Jimmy was typing at his computer, he was finishing the details of a draft of a letter that was going to be sent to every head of state on the planet.



Dear Head of State
We are the Mafia Syndicate. We are interested in doing business with your nation. Dont bother trying to track this e-mail, it leads to a rather incriminating website that I am sure someone as big a boss as yourself would most certainly hate to be affiliated with.
We want to do secret business with your government. We want to be able to sell and smuggle narcotics, guns, launder money and whatnot within your country and we want you to stay out of our way, out of our business. In exchange, we are willing to allow the capture of a certain amount of henchmen every year which your police forces can take credit for thus enhancing your image, we are also willing to share any information that we may obtain and that would be of use to you.

The Head Boss.
The Mafia Syndicate.


He pressed the send button, he had the message relayed to every head of state on the planet, only a matter of seconds before such a message was noticed....

The President of Free Pacific States looked at the message, and considered, before typing his response:

To Mafia Syndicate:
We can easily reach an agreement...I don't need to catch some of your men...all I ask for is that you keep the civilian and police death toll to a minimum. In return, I'll legalize some drugs, make penalties less stiff, and keep the National Police Agency (Rough equal of the U.S. FBI) and the Drug Investigation Bureau (Rough equal of the U.S. DEA) off your back. I can't do anything about local and state police, but as I said earlier, as long as you arent blowing up cities and killing random civilians, they should leave you alone-

Signed- President Johnathan Terrus




As the president typed this, two men watched through hidden cameras-

One was the leader of a small mafia in Free Pacific States, and he was greatly encouraged by the fact that he would soon get to do some major dealings.

The second was an agent of the once great, and now corrupt, National Police Agency. He was greatly dismayed by this, and realized that he was one of the few good cops left, and that his work was cut out for him.

Emperor Catsendt memorized the address, and then copied the letter, sending it to every major newspaper in the area. He burned the original. It made him sick. He wanted to know if this was a country or just an organization hanging out on some island(The Mafia Syndicate doesn't know his thoughts, keep in mind). He sent a letter back asking this question, saying he would make his decision afterwards. He had a feeling he wouldn't get an answer back. He made an order that no Maniacan newspapers--or photos--would leave the country this week(again, The Mafia Syndicate doesn't know of this, probably doesn't know of Maniaca, if they just sent this letter to everyone).

OOC: I'm getting tired of repeating this every time, but I am (and will always partly be, though I will eventually start getting modern tech stuff) a fantasy nation of hyperactive goblins. So if you don't like fantasy nations, just ignore this. But I assume that 'every head of state on the planet' counts hyperactive goblins...
BTW, hope you have a nice time in NS! It's been slow for me, but it's cool!

The foreign minister scurried down the gravel pavement into the shanty mansion that the reigning ruler of The Goblin Rights Move, warlord Snottynoze. The mansion had originally belonged to some rich human individual, but he had not been expecting a green tide knocking on his front door.
The minister eyed the parchment he had printed from the local net-café once more as he passed the grumbling guards, picking their noses as usual. TGRM was way behind the times, having dynamites as the most advanced invention. Worse yet, the minsiter was the only one who was trying to modernize their pitiful country.
"Sir!" he called stepping into the dining room, converted into a war room. "Sir! Pressing news! I found this in my inbox today! We may have mobsters in our presence!" he called to the short green goblin, who was eyeing over a map of the local countryside, looking for a new place to loot.
"Wot? Mobsterz?" Snottynoze asked as he began to read the e-mail.
"Sir, I think we should tighten security around our tents and HQ, or we might have dangerous criminals amidst us!" the minister squeaked with a civilized tone highly unusual for a goblin.
"Wait, look. Dey sez dey gonna be shipping gunz and drugz. Gunz are cool, coz dey make lotta noise. Diz great thing! Minister! I wants youz to find where da mobbiez in my nation are, so I can go buy some new gunz!" Snottynoze looked dreamily, envisioning himself with a pre-civil war blunderbuss (the goblin didn't have a clue of how potent modern guns could be).
The minister's jaw nearly fell to the floor, but he regained his composure. He should have realised that the dim-witted warlord would react exactly in that way. Beaten, he turned with a nod to go tell the border patrols to cease execution of approaching humans and hand them over to his inquisition. How he hated his hyperactive leader at times.

(OOC: I will be back tomorrow to view the replies in full and make my response. Keep sending. I do count goblins, elves and whatnot as long as they dont use the fantasy element to far i.e godmod)

The President of Free Pacific States looked at the message, and considered, before typing his response:

To Mafia Syndicate:
We can easily reach an agreement...I don't need to catch some of your men...all I ask for is that you keep the civilian and police death toll to a minimum. In return, I'll legalize some drugs, make penalties less stiff, and keep the National Police Agency (Rough equal of the U.S. FBI) and the Drug Investigation Bureau (Rough equal of the U.S. DEA) off your back. I can't do anything about local and state police, but as I said earlier, as long as you arent blowing up cities and killing random civilians, they should leave you alone-

Signed- President Johnathan Terrus


Good, excellent. Nice to do 'business' with you.

The Head Boss
The Mafia Syndicate

Bob Pratt didn't receive the message.

Oh yes, he was the head of state. But at the moment, he was dabbling in Nenyan politics and chewing tobacco. In the meantime, he had entrusted certain things to the head of the Internal Intelligence Agency, Gonzalo Tzu-- a long and trusted ally.

Reading, let alone responding to, Bob Pratt's mail was not one of those things.

Undaunted, Tzu caught the message out of c-space and quickly glanced through it, his brain clicking and calculating coldly as it always did. Reading the Honorary Chairman's mail wasn't exactly a casual hobby of his. He could, right now, only afford to do it at certain times, in certain conditions. Right now happened to be idyllic, and he was taking advantage of it.

Interesting, he thought. Organised crime was always fascinating. Unlike the majority of criminals in Santa Barbara, the mob was usually somewhat stable, economically, organisationally, psychologically. Oh sure, they had their thugs, but who didn't? Psychotics had to be locked up; entrepeneurial geniuses could be dealt with more beneficially.

<The Mafia Boss;

Your proposal is intriguing, but at this time the National Police and the IIA need no more glamour or credit, and we will not need to capture your men unless they get particularly... messy, if you catch my meaning. Truth be known, your men would never make it into the SB borders without my help-- which I am willing to give-- and as I am sure you, like me, are a businessman with a market to corner, you will see that our price is not unreasonable. For 25% of your profits made in Santa Barbara and incorporated territories, we will gladly let you operate therein. Do we have a deal?

Send response to

BP at OP.pcc>

You could easly do busness in Zerni, nothing is really ilegal and theres no income tax.

Emperor Catsendt memorized the address, and then copied the letter, sending it to every major newspaper in the area. He burned the original. It made him sick. He wanted to know if this was a country or just an organization hanging out on some island(The Mafia Syndicate doesn't know his thoughts, keep in mind). He sent a letter back asking this question, saying he would make his decision afterwards. He had a feeling he wouldn't get an answer back. He made an order that no Maniacan newspapers--or photos--would leave the country this week(again, The Mafia Syndicate doesn't know of this, probably doesn't know of Maniaca, if they just sent this letter to everyone).

Junior Abentis looked at the message and chuckled at the request. He wrote down his reply to his message then handed it to one of his assistants to mail back to The Mafia Syndicate

** The Letter **
No way in hell would I allow or even want your type of scum in the country for two reasons.

One, for the safety of the Gernomalese people, they have enough problems to deal with. The raiders and militas in this country attacking the smaller towns and cities, and the gangs fighting the streets of our large urban areas. The Government Forces can handle most attacks by these groups, it's the smaller cities that have the most problems because of the small number troops available and the lack of people wanting to join the army are major factors for this.

Secondly, for your safety, the groups i've mentioned would no doubt, tear into like a lion on a gazelle and possibly band together to eliminate your organization.

However, just because I don't want you here doesn't mean shit. I'm sure my forces wouldn't be able to stop you all from entering my country, so here it is. If you can make it to the country, set up operations and hold your own go for it. But you will not have me set up meetings to weaken our police forces and make deals to survive, if you want to survive you do it on your own. It's up to you, i issued you a challenge, will you step up and see if you can complete it?

Signed
Junior Abentis, Don Dada

Bob Pratt didn't receive the message.

Oh yes, he was the head of state. But at the moment, he was dabbling in Nenyan politics and chewing tobacco. In the meantime, he had entrusted certain things to the head of the Internal Intelligence Agency, Gonzalo Tzu-- a long and trusted ally.

Reading, let alone responding to, Bob Pratt's mail was not one of those things.

Undaunted, Tzu caught the message out of c-space and quickly glanced through it, his brain clicking and calculating coldly as it always did. Reading the Honorary Chairman's mail wasn't exactly a casual hobby of his. He could, right now, only afford to do it at certain times, in certain conditions. Right now happened to be idyllic, and he was taking advantage of it.

Interesting, he thought. Organised crime was always fascinating. Unlike the majority of criminals in Santa Barbara, the mob was usually somewhat stable, economically, organisationally, psychologically. Oh sure, they had their thugs, but who didn't? Psychotics had to be locked up; entrepeneurial geniuses could be dealt with more beneficially.

<The Mafia Boss;

Your proposal is intriguing, but at this time the National Police and the IIA need no more glamour or credit, and we will not need to capture your men unless they get particularly... messy, if you catch my meaning. Truth be known, your men would never make it into the SB borders without my help-- which I am willing to give-- and as I am sure you, like me, are a businessman with a market to corner, you will see that our price is not unreasonable. For 25% of your profits made in Santa Barbara and incorporated territories, we will gladly let you operate therein. Do we have a deal?

Send response to

BP at OP.pcc>

Sounds reasonable. We accept.

The Head Boss
The Mafia Syndicate

"These guys can't be serious," said Andrew Kane, Secretary of Security, Enforcement, and Defense, as he looked up from his copy of the e-mail.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's a mass e-mail. Crime spam, if you will," quipped Treasurer-Secretary of Commerce Matthew Griffith. "They can't be thinking of opening up operations in Copiosa Scotia. And if they were, they wouldn't bother giving us this offer. They'd just come on in."

Kane's face darkened, but he didn't say anything.

"So I think our next course of action," Griffith continued, "is to send a slightly mocking reply." He looked to Sophia Kahler, Secretary of Foreign Affairs. "Do you want to do it, or should I?"

Kahler grinned. "Knock yourself out."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Head Boss,

While your offer is interesting, we have no need of additional prestige for our police force; they will gain or lose prestige of their own merit, and it is hardly the place of the Copiosa Scotian executive branch to interfere.

If you are indeed interested in opening up operations in our nation specifically, I must caution you against it. Our police force is well-equipped and capable, and Copiosa Scotia's own native criminal organizations have not been very welcoming to foreign syndicates in the past, as elements of the Chinese Triad can attest. You would hardly fare better, I think.

We find your taste in web-based entertainment somewhat disturbing, but nevertheless wish you luck in your future business ventures.

Matthew Griffith, Secretary of Foreign Affairs
The Free Republic of Copiosa Scotia

Dear Head Boss,

While your offer is interesting, we have no need of additional prestige for our police force; they will gain or lose prestige of their own merit, and it is hardly the place of the Copiosa Scotian executive branch to interfere.

If you are indeed interested in opening up operations in our nation specifically, I must caution you against it. Our police force is well-equipped and capable, and Copiosa Scotia's own native criminal organizations have not been very welcoming to foreign syndicates in the past, as elements of the Chinese Triad can attest. You would hardly fare better, I think.

We find your taste in web-based entertainment somewhat disturbing, but nevertheless wish you luck in your future business ventures.

Matthew Griffith, Secretary of Foreign Affairs
The Free Republic of Copiosa Scotia

Jimmy read the letter. He then slammed it against the table and laughed wildly.
"These f***ing idiots cant be serious, 'they advise against it'? Ha! I am going to give these f***s the greatest f***ing education of their f***ing lives."
It was obvious, Jimmy was going to start a street war in the capital of Copiosa Scotia. The Mafia could be considered well armed and extremely dangerous, expecially with their links to armement manufacture and smuggling. They were dangerous, even to the most seasoned of officers.
He took out his lighter, lit a cigarette in his mouth and breathed in the smoke. He then took the lighter and burned the letter, throwing it out of the window.
"F***ing Copiosa Scots. Killing me with all this f***ing stress!"

"'Alt! Who goez dere!" the goblins guarding the road pointed their crude spears in the direction of the oncomer.
"Take it easy boys, it's just me," the foreign minister lifted his arms. The goblins grumbled to each other about 'that odd one', but eased their weapons.
"Listen, I've got a new order from Snottynoze," the minsiter said to the two. "If you happen to see any shifty-looking humans, or humans in general, take them to me. I'll check if they're the right people. Can you pass it on to the other border guards?" the goblins nodded, but as the minister continued down the road, he could hear them squabbling over who to send running by the borders.
The minister soon entered the net-café that he frequented, and began to write a return e-mail.

"Dear Mr. Head Boss,

As foreign minister, I have presented your letter to our warlord, and he has acknowledged your plans. He's a bit, shall we say, dim in the head, and would like nothing better than illegal dealing of weapons and drugs. The only thing he wishes in return is a gun (preferrably a noisy one).
However, if you approach our borders, then you might run into our border patrols. Our nation is hostile towards humans, and although I've instructed the guards to stop killing humans on sight, it might be better to keep a gun by your side. If you do meet them, they'll escort you to my interrogation, just to see that you are the right people.
Though I do not like your illegal peddling, our warlord is thrilled by this, and so I have no choice but to wish for the best in your dealings.

The Foreign Minister"

Pleased with his composed letter, the minister sent it and took a sip of moccha, while waiting for a reply.

"Dear Mr. Head Boss,

As foreign minister, I have presented your letter to our warlord, and he has acknowledged your plans. He's a bit, shall we say, dim in the head, and would like nothing better than illegal dealing of weapons and drugs. The only thing he wishes in return is a gun (preferrably a noisy one).
However, if you approach our borders, then you might run into our border patrols. Our nation is hostile towards humans, and although I've instructed the guards to stop killing humans on sight, it might be better to keep a gun by your side. If you do meet them, they'll escort you to my interrogation, just to see that you are the right people.
Though I do not like your illegal peddling, our warlord is thrilled by this, and so I have no choice but to wish for the best in your dealings.

The Foreign Minister"

Pleased with his composed letter, the minister sent it and took a sip of moccha, while waiting for a reply.

Jimmy read the letter.
"What the f*** do these f***ing gnomes want to do with us. Very well, I suppose we could use their f***ing tunnels to smuggle our f***ing stuff."
He wrote on a small slip of paper.


Fine, whatever.

The Head Boss
The Mafia Syndicate

He then placed the slip of paper in an envelope and placed the envelope in the outward mail tray..

So far, the morning had been rather uneventful. His screeners hadent given him any important letters, and it was a bit early to respond to a few random letters from the people. As he checked his private e-mail box, he noticed a forward from his e-mail screeners. As he began to read through it, he literally spat his gum out in shock, wiping off the screen in embaressment, he finished the letter and just sat still, not sure how to reply. Very few things were illegal in Buri, but this letter gave off a bad vibe, and he had a feeling that the "etc." in the letter entailed far darker things than the actual descriptions. Slowly, he began to type out a reply, it was early and he didnt want to bother waking Zagoth for guidance, he knew he could take care of it on his own.


Dear "The Head Boss"
Your people, as are all people, are welcome in our nation, however, we will not condone the breach of any of Buri's laws. You mentioned the drug trade specifically, many drugs that are illegal elsewhere are legal in Buri, while others are restricted to small amounts. Only a select few are outright illegal, so this shouldent be too much of an issue. However, you obviously wish to be above the law, and this we cannot allow. We do not wish for anyone to be hurt, and therefore, if even one act of violence is linked to your organization, we will be forced to take action against it. Buri is a peaceful nation, and we hope that your relations with ours, and other nations will be one free of conflict.

Sincerilly yours,

Prince Buri.



(ooc: Not quite as good as my original, but I had a invalid_session error, and had to retype it >_<)

[tag] for RPing when I'm not so tired. I've always wanted to deal with the mofia. :P

Dear "The Head Boss"
Your people, as are all people, are welcome in our nation, however, we will not condone the breach of any of Buri's laws. You mentioned the drug trade specifically, many drugs that are illegal elsewhere are legal in Buri, while others are restricted to small amounts. Only a select few are outright illegal, so this shouldent be too much of an issue. However, you obviously wish to be above the law, and this we cannot allow. We do not wish for anyone to be hurt, and therefore, if even one act of violence is linked to your organization, we will be forced to take action against it. Buri is a peaceful nation, and we hope that your relations with ours, and other nations will be one free of conflict.

Sincerilly yours,

Prince Buri.



Jimmy had to respond, he had been responding all day to letters from foriegn nations and businessman.


Fine, we will transport narcotics through your nation then.

The Head Boss
The Mafia Syndicate

OOC: This RP is doing well, I have seen so many try to RP the Mafia or create a nation like it and they dont do it very well.

OOC: [tag] When it is not five in the morning I will come back and RP. You look like a talented writer and seem to be very creative, so while I have this on My mind:

This is a offical invitation to join the Heartland.
Greetings,

I represent The Heartland, a large interactive region based on creative roleplay. Becouse our region founder The ReMODified Grand Duchy of Ineptia Mod is also the UN delegate, and a game mod and our map maker, his time is a little limited. So we have a trial period. Dureing this time You can get to know Us and see if We are right for You, also We weill be getting to know You and seeing if You are right for Us. If You do not know how to RP and would like to learn that is also no problem. Just sign up for the Heartland Institute of Roleplay, were our best RPers will teach You and asign a mentor. Someone You can ask questions of ect. We have Our own website with the best maps in NS. We have our own fourm, and our own chatroom. The Heartland is a long established region being almost as old as the game itself. All We are looking for is more players to join Us.

Helpful links:

http://theheartlandregion.com
This is the Heartland's Website. It contains links to the Fourm, and chatroom.

Bump.

The Emperor got what he expected: nothing. He didn't worry, he knew there were others. He buzzed his third in command, Sparticus Trowel. When he arrived, he was briefed, and immediately got to work. "I can't trace the E-mail back, I may be able to trace it forward."
The Emperor's reply was expressionless,
"But it's been sent to every head of state in the world, we knew that already, because it didn't say 'Dear Emperor Catsendt,' it said 'Dear Head of State.'"
"But, I can run a quick scan over which heads of state have opened the letter, and then which of them have responded to it, and then perhaps even, if they have lackluster technology, read their responses." The Emperor's reply was once again expressionless.
"You used the term 'quick.' This is every single leader on earth. How long is it going to take?" Sparticus' then said
"It can scan about ten nations per second, so I would say around 218 hours, or 9 days."
"Good lord, Sparty, don't use the term quick when you get to undergoing a procedure that takes over a week to perform."
"Don't fret, when it detects a respondent, it can bring it up and we can try and hack in immediately."
"Wow, that's great."

As Victor, the head of the Free Pacific States mafia sat down, he read the message hacked from his leaders screen. For five minutes he sat there, re-reading it. Then he jumped for joy. At last he could move into the big time, and get someone who knows what he/she is doing incharge again (their last boss had been cought by some National Police Agency agent). He didn't mind being the boss, but he liked being a hitman more, and always would. He wrote up a letter, and had it mailed to the syndicate mob boss.

Dear mob boss-
My name is Victor Kres, I'm the leader of the mafia in Free Pacific States (as of last month). I'd like to ask you to send someone down to take over the operation...I'm not very good at it, and we could use the big time support anyway. I have a lot of the nations cops on bribe, and can give you any info you need when you get here. Oh yeah, by the way, I'd like permission to take out the National Police Agency agent Matthew Kirk, he killed our boss last month, and I'd kind of like some revenge. Not to mention, he's the best of the few good cops left, and could prove problamatic. Please respond immediatly.

-Victor Kres

OOC: The following takes place at the same time-
Jim Kirk, the agent who had read the president of Free Pacific States' telegram, swore. He needed to find out if this was actually true, and needed someone to confirm for him what nations were good, and what nations were bad. As he thought, a name came up in his head. Sparticus Trowel. For a second he couldn't place it, then he remembered...the third in command of Maniaca. Maniaca must of received the message, and they weren't at all corrupt. Perhaps he could get there help! He sent a message (which the mafia somehow didn't pick up) to his old friend Sparticus.

Dear Mr. Trowel

Sparticus, look, I know it's been awhile, but I need some help. Did you get the bribery communique two days ago? If so, we need to talk. I think my president is going along with it, as well as many of the National Police Force. Look, I know I already owe you one, but I need your help, please right me back. Please man, I don't know who I can trust here, and I need some help, please. Message me back on a secure line, NOT THROUGH THE EMBASSY, they may be bribed as well. Thanks man.

As Agent Kirk shut off the moniter, he made another realizatoin. He could trust no one. When he went home that night, he kept his gun under his pillow. He was begining to wonder if the car crash his wife had died in last week had really been an accident.

Back in charactor:
Dispatch to all units, shots fired, Bellford Plaza.
Dispatch to all units, officer down, Derod Street.
Dispatch to all units, explosions reported, 2nd street.
Dispatch to all units, shots fired, presidential plaza.

Those four calls best epitimized Free Faramount. Since they illegalized gambling, prostitution, all drugs, and alchohall, crime had gone up. People were killed every day, it seemed the police no longer were in control. Every gang known to man had a stake. The triads, the Yakuza, everyone but...the mafia syndicate.

When President Corrupto Grande read the crime boses leader, he frowned...then smiled. While he was against crime (even though everyone in his administration was being bribed by it), he saw something in this. He wrote this letter back.

Dear Crime Boss-
In return for us leaving you alone, we ask a three things.
First, we get five percent of what you make in Free Faramount.
Second, you try to keep civilian casulties down.
Finally, we need you do to one biggy (though we'll help all we can).
We need you to take out all these damn gangs. Their creating havoc. It's okay if theirs one syndicate incharge, but right now our nation seems in civil war. Take out those fuckers, and we have a deal.

As he finished the letter, he smiled...before being shot in the shoulder by an assasin. Then he frowned, pulled out his assault rifles, and blew the man to pieces. Who needs bodyguards anyway?

OOC: Anyone out there? Been awhile since I posted last, and no one is responding! Are we continuing this rp or what?

Jimmy "the Snake" Valantino sat in his office, his shiny shoes atop the table. He was reading a print out of the e-mail he had just recieved from the FPS Mafia.

Dear mob boss-
My name is Victor Kres, I'm the leader of the mafia in Free Pacific States (as of last month). I'd like to ask you to send someone down to take over the operation...I'm not very good at it, and we could use the big time support anyway. I have a lot of the nations cops on bribe, and can give you any info you need when you get here. Oh yeah, by the way, I'd like permission to take out the National Police Agency agent Matthew Kirk, he killed our boss last month, and I'd kind of like some revenge. Not to mention, he's the best of the few good cops left, and could prove problamatic. Please respond immediatly.

Johnny, Jimmy's brother walked in.

"Eh! Can you believe this f****** schmuck? Wants me to send someone down to take over the whole f****** operation!"

He points at the e-mail emphatically.

"So Johnny! I want you to go down there and take over the operation. Shoot that Kres Motherf****** and shoot that b****** NPA agent!"

Johnny walks out.

(OOC: We should RP a conversation with and murder of Kres, then a detective story with you NPA agent.)

OOC: Alright, good idea. Nice to see this is happening again.

OOC: DANGIT! Invalid_Session! Free Pacific States, pretend Sparty got the letter and responded, saying it was a go, and he could help, but nothing more. The line was secure, and he awaited your response.

OOC: Alright.
IC:
Jim Kirk sat at his desk, reading the message. It was around 2 AM...no one was still at the office, excepting the security guards downstairs. This was the only time he could safely try something like this. Reading Sparty's message, he grinned. He said he would meet Sparty at (random location) inside Maniaca City in three days at 6:00. The only problem was...how was he going to get there?

Even as he thought this, Kirk heard footsteps coming from down the hall. He quickly jotted down the meeting place/time in a small notebook, deleted Sparty's email, send his email (deleting the auto-copy), and turned off the computer. He had barely put the notebook into his pocket when a man walked in.

"Hey Matt, man, you can't be staying up this late!" said the man

"Why not?" asked Kirk

"Your overtime is costing the government way too much..."

"Very funny..."

"What were you doing? I mean, what was so important that you would stay up untill 2:00 AM to finish it?"

"Finishing up some paper work on that guy I arrested for possesion yesterday"

"You stayed up till 2 AM to do that? Wow, your a lot better of an agent than I am..." said Doug Chermus, the newest forensics officer to the agency, "alright, well, I'm getting out of here...I assume you are too...would you mind giving me a ride?"

"No, not at all, come on down" answered Kirk as he passed Doug on the way out to the hall "just make sure you don't have any blood on your clothes, I just got a new car"

"Very funny"

The two left together, Doug assuming Kirk had been telling the truth, and Kirk thinking he was off the hook. Neither of them saw the two cars parked outside the parking lot. Nor did either see the cars following Kirk.

OOC: Maniaca City=Poppernickle, Maniaca's capital. How about the Undisclosed Location(where he can stay during his visit) be at the Fluffy Pillows Visitor Resort(all expenses paid), and the meeting place will be in the underground hub of the abandoned lower level subway network, discarded due to it's futily deep depth. The hub has been used by the government several times, so it's no longer a crocodile infested death pit.

IC: Sparty got his confirmation e-mail and the game was on. He whipped out his dart gun/paintball gun combo and plugged the dartboard with empty hypodermics. It was going to be a fun time. He phoned the Emperor......

OOC: Great idea! Alright, here it goes!
IC:
Kirk was enjoying the Fluffy Pillows Visitor Resort in Poppernickle, and, after being here for about a day, was realizing how nice it was. The flight in had been simple, and getting past security (on both sides) was made simpler by government intervention. Not to mention the fact that the government had given him a nice, easily blending in four door car. He was living the life.

Nonetheless, he had a job to do, and so, at 6:00 PM, he went up to his room, and got dressed for the ocasion. A t-shirt, jacket, and some confortable pants (he would wearn jeans, but blue jeans stood out more than something like chackis). Then, after clipping his desert eagle and holster onto the inside of his jacket, and putting an extra clip in a hidden pocket, he left. After about an hour and a half of driving, during which he randomly did backtracking to watch for followers, he found the place he was supposed to enter the old subway through. He began to descend the steps, and after about ten minutes (hope that sounds right) reached the bottom.

Once there, he looked around, and seeing no one, turned on a small flashlight he kept with him. Still no one.
"Hello? Anyone here?" he asked?

Two Wolfram P2K's pressed against Jim's head, both triggers were pullled.......Jim tried to duck down, it was too late, he already wailed. Then the two gunmen burst out laughing, and pocketed their guns. They turned out to be Kasper and the Emperor, with Sparticus sitting calmly at the desk, though chuckling uncontrollably.
"Don't worry Jim, some guards soundproofed the hallway you came down after you past them, no one can here a word we're saying. Nice place we got down here, 'cept for the lack of natural light, oi?" Kasper said with a grin. "Nice to meet you Mr. Kirk," The Emperor greeted. Both were dressed in sports jerseys, Kasper of a local(American) Football team, The Emperor of the national Triball band. Sparticus was in a blue shirt and khaki pants. "Nice little scare you got there. Knowing Sparticus, I would have thought he planned this, but now that I look at you, I bet it was all you two's doing," Said Jim earnestly. "Got us pegged." They all sat down at the desk, and began conversing over the situation at hand, Kasper blowing bubbles with his gum the whole time. "Should we go after the government of Free Pacific States covertly, or tackle the source of the problem itself?" queried Emperor Catsendt. "We cannot contact the Mafia Syndicate, perhaps we could use some of the underground lines here to send a mock letter to them. I would advise against it however, we wouldn't dare angering them, we would need to activate the military."
"You're saying you don't have confidence in the military?" returned Sparticus.
"I'm saying I don't want to start a full-scale operation against a tinpot crime syndicate."
"Just stirring the pot, Spike. Some Clown Gang MIB members could act as some ambitious foreign politicians wanting a high-level government job. Could easily infiltrate the government, though we would need another establishment to play along with us, which negates that plan." offered Sparticus. "What do you think, Jimmy?"

"I'm not sure we're going to be able to take the mob on directly for a couple reasons. First of all, I can't, because I don't know how deep the coruption in my government goes. If its just the president, thats one thing, but if it isn't....then I probably won't even make it into my office on Monday morning if we try anything big. And as for you guys, the military probably isn't a good idea. Having tanks rolling around your own streets? You know how many civilians will die? And how will you catch them, they have experience in hiding themselves. What we need to do is get people on the inside...and to get people on the inside, we need to get people in positions that the mafia will want to bribe." Answered Kirk

"At any rate, I can give you a few positions in law enforcement, if you wan't them. As long as your guys know how to keep their head low, that is. That's about all I can advise-get someone on the inside. Except in this case, it won't be as easy. The syndicate knows what their doing." continued Kirk "Perhaps if we could get an x-con who is willing to serve the government...and is trustable?"

OOC: By the way, the majority of the government IS corrupt, but we still don't know that.

As soon as Kirk had finished, Sparticus piped up, "I know your man. Two if you need them. The Crook brothers. Practically born into crime with their last names. Serving 15 years for unarmed robbery. They're not violent criminals, in fact they despise violence. They just like money. They're extremely clever, almost as clever as I am, just couldn't weasel out of a guilty verdict. If we put either one of them in this, no doubt will they spin it in any way they can to get more out of it for themselves, but they'll get the job done. Bill and Ted, I hope are not their given names. Think about it: 'I'm Bill Crook!' 'And I'm Ted Crook!'" The Emperor started almost instantly after the last syllable was uttered by Sparticus, "Good call, Sparty, I can get them out by tonight too. I like how our crime system is set up. Yellowbellied Angry Muskrat National Prison, Ranticok Maniaca."

"Sounds good to me" answered Kirk "alright, well, we can discuss the specifics once we've started getting those two out...anything else we need to talk about?".

This RP is dead. It looked good, but people just stopped playing it. Ah well, that life.

OOC: Whoah, don't be hasty. School's heating up, and I got to much homework. Look for me to post something this weekend, and if I don't, T-Gram me. Although, if The Mafia Syndicate stopped playing(and it appears he has), it's pretty much dead anyway.

OOC: Mafia Syndicate is no longer an active nation. In any case, this rp is dead.
IC:
"Today, raids by the National Police Agency in over three hundred sites caused the complete collapse of the mafia syndicate. Thousands of kilograms of cocaine, marijuana, and other drugs were convinscated, as well as large numbers of illegal weapons. Over 1000 arrests have been made, with Police Internal Affairs divisions arresting nearly entire divisions of detectives. Among those arrested were Victor Kres, Johny and Jimmy Soprano (hehehe), and many others. President Terrus was implicated in the scam, but a congressional hearing found that he was not purposely trying to do harm to the nation, and he continues to keep a nearly 90% approval rating. The raids, led by Special Agent Matthew Kirk (the "Jim" that I used in RP was just a cover name), have been dubbed a great succes. For FPS News, I'm Roger Klybis. Back to you Erica..."