Vojvodina-Nihon
14-11-2008, 05:43
So this is going to be more or less a standard cop story about Vojvodina-Nihon's "War on Death". Expect adventure, thrills, espionage, romance, and the usual whoop-de-do. If you'd like to participate, you may take the role of: a romantic female lead, a good guy who ends up turning bad, a bad guy who ends up turning good, an annoying tagalong kid, the ethnic comic relief guy, or a similar role of your choice. Otherwise, just read.
Night in Novi Sad was generally quiet. The de-facto capital of Vojvodina-Nihon was not generally known for its nightlife, and except in the downtown districts the quiet was broken only by the occasional passing car, the meow of a stray cat, the sound of televisions in the houses of the few wealthy enough to afford one. And in the poorer districts of the city thrived seedier activities. Low-pitched conversations in unlit alleys and back streets spoke of prostitution, extortion, drugs, gang warfare, and death dealing.
This last was particularly serious. Death had been illegal in Vojvodina-Nihon for quite some time (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=547771), and as a result, laws had shortly been passed bringing hefty penalties to bear on those who aided and abetted death. The first round of so-called "die-ers" had gone mostly unpunished, largely due to failures to appear in court, and police soon discovered that people were hiding the die-ers underground, or in boxes, or by smuggling them outside the country, or in extreme cases burning them to ashes. It seemed amazing that an underground movement like this had sprung up so quickly after the law passed, and the death-abetters soon overtook the die-ers as the police's highest priority in death-related crime.
And so it was that one night, District Superintendent Ivan Saranov called in a pair of officers for a briefing.
"Dushkin, Rakcic, we've got word that the Pavel's gang is doing some burials and a crem about ten kilometers south of the city, in Kashnica." He handed them some sheets of paper across the table.
Inspector Mita Dushkin glanced at the co-ordinates and information. "Pavel's? They shouldn't be any trouble, sir, they've only got one crossbow between them and most of their leaders are safely behind bars now."
"Exactly," said Saranov, and Dushkin looked up sharply. "They shouldn't be any trouble. So why are they starting things again?"
"Because they're dumb, sir?" Dushkin suggested.
Sergeant Sasha Rakcic was quicker on the uptake. "How many cars are you sending, sir?" he asked.
"As many as I can spare. The death gangs have been too quiet lately and nobody's really sure what to expect. It should be fairly straightforward, no problems. But if I'm right...." Saranov trailed off. "What in heaven are you waiting for?!"
"Er, yes, right, my apologies," Dushkin mumbled as they fled the room.
In Car Six, as Rakcic gunned the accelerator, and in between his shouts into the radio, Dushkin reflected. Pavel Igorovic and Sons Funeral Parlor was one of the major death-dealing gangs around Novi Sad: once they first came to light, it seemed that they'd been hiding and burying dead people for literally years. Now Igorovic and his sons were in jail and the gang's financial lifeline was cut, but it seemed they were still functioning. And yes, on his reflection, Dushkin realized that he should have been more suspicious. His problem was that he was a slow thinker: he usually reached valid conclusions, but it took him a while. In the modern-day police force that was a poor idea. He looked at Rakcic; he was a quick thinker, only twenty-seven and already a sergeant, and he had a much more extensive background in forensics. The only thing Dushkin had that Rakcic lacked was experience.
"The Superintendent's usually right about these things," Dushkin said. "Lead to all cars, left turn on S76, do you copy? The death gangs usually don't try anything large-scale this close to the city unless they've got a deathwish, pardon the pun."
Rakcic turned left at full speed, only narrowly managing to stay on the road. It didn't matter so much now at night, but in the daytime, Dushkin had nearly had to arrest him for traffic violations once or twice. "Exactly, but what's he right about?"
"Well, either Pavel's has recruited new members, or it's obtained more equipment, or it's found new financial backers." He paused. "Or all three. I mean, what else could they do?"
NEVER SAY THAT SENTENCE!!!!
The Superintendent had instructed the police cars to mute their sirens and turn off their flashing lights. This was very easy to do because the flashing lights rarely worked properly and the sirens were fairly quiet anyway, so people generally managed to recognize the police by their license plates. And now, late at night, it seemed unlikely an informant would manage to catch the plates on a fleet of cars passing by at a hundred kilometers per hour.
With all this taken into account, it seems a bit counterintuitive to deploy eight or nine police cars. A formation so large, so late at night, in a country so rural, could be little else. But the Superintendent reasoned that a large deployment would allow them to bring back the entire remaining gang plus at least part of whatever assistance they'd mustered.
Oh how wrong he was.
Next in the exciting crime thriller A Grave Undertaking: the scene of the crime, and Sasha Rakcic's surprising discovery! Tune in again for a continuation of this dramatic tale of adventure and justice! And now, a word from our sponsor....
Night in Novi Sad was generally quiet. The de-facto capital of Vojvodina-Nihon was not generally known for its nightlife, and except in the downtown districts the quiet was broken only by the occasional passing car, the meow of a stray cat, the sound of televisions in the houses of the few wealthy enough to afford one. And in the poorer districts of the city thrived seedier activities. Low-pitched conversations in unlit alleys and back streets spoke of prostitution, extortion, drugs, gang warfare, and death dealing.
This last was particularly serious. Death had been illegal in Vojvodina-Nihon for quite some time (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=547771), and as a result, laws had shortly been passed bringing hefty penalties to bear on those who aided and abetted death. The first round of so-called "die-ers" had gone mostly unpunished, largely due to failures to appear in court, and police soon discovered that people were hiding the die-ers underground, or in boxes, or by smuggling them outside the country, or in extreme cases burning them to ashes. It seemed amazing that an underground movement like this had sprung up so quickly after the law passed, and the death-abetters soon overtook the die-ers as the police's highest priority in death-related crime.
And so it was that one night, District Superintendent Ivan Saranov called in a pair of officers for a briefing.
"Dushkin, Rakcic, we've got word that the Pavel's gang is doing some burials and a crem about ten kilometers south of the city, in Kashnica." He handed them some sheets of paper across the table.
Inspector Mita Dushkin glanced at the co-ordinates and information. "Pavel's? They shouldn't be any trouble, sir, they've only got one crossbow between them and most of their leaders are safely behind bars now."
"Exactly," said Saranov, and Dushkin looked up sharply. "They shouldn't be any trouble. So why are they starting things again?"
"Because they're dumb, sir?" Dushkin suggested.
Sergeant Sasha Rakcic was quicker on the uptake. "How many cars are you sending, sir?" he asked.
"As many as I can spare. The death gangs have been too quiet lately and nobody's really sure what to expect. It should be fairly straightforward, no problems. But if I'm right...." Saranov trailed off. "What in heaven are you waiting for?!"
"Er, yes, right, my apologies," Dushkin mumbled as they fled the room.
In Car Six, as Rakcic gunned the accelerator, and in between his shouts into the radio, Dushkin reflected. Pavel Igorovic and Sons Funeral Parlor was one of the major death-dealing gangs around Novi Sad: once they first came to light, it seemed that they'd been hiding and burying dead people for literally years. Now Igorovic and his sons were in jail and the gang's financial lifeline was cut, but it seemed they were still functioning. And yes, on his reflection, Dushkin realized that he should have been more suspicious. His problem was that he was a slow thinker: he usually reached valid conclusions, but it took him a while. In the modern-day police force that was a poor idea. He looked at Rakcic; he was a quick thinker, only twenty-seven and already a sergeant, and he had a much more extensive background in forensics. The only thing Dushkin had that Rakcic lacked was experience.
"The Superintendent's usually right about these things," Dushkin said. "Lead to all cars, left turn on S76, do you copy? The death gangs usually don't try anything large-scale this close to the city unless they've got a deathwish, pardon the pun."
Rakcic turned left at full speed, only narrowly managing to stay on the road. It didn't matter so much now at night, but in the daytime, Dushkin had nearly had to arrest him for traffic violations once or twice. "Exactly, but what's he right about?"
"Well, either Pavel's has recruited new members, or it's obtained more equipment, or it's found new financial backers." He paused. "Or all three. I mean, what else could they do?"
NEVER SAY THAT SENTENCE!!!!
The Superintendent had instructed the police cars to mute their sirens and turn off their flashing lights. This was very easy to do because the flashing lights rarely worked properly and the sirens were fairly quiet anyway, so people generally managed to recognize the police by their license plates. And now, late at night, it seemed unlikely an informant would manage to catch the plates on a fleet of cars passing by at a hundred kilometers per hour.
With all this taken into account, it seems a bit counterintuitive to deploy eight or nine police cars. A formation so large, so late at night, in a country so rural, could be little else. But the Superintendent reasoned that a large deployment would allow them to bring back the entire remaining gang plus at least part of whatever assistance they'd mustered.
Oh how wrong he was.
Next in the exciting crime thriller A Grave Undertaking: the scene of the crime, and Sasha Rakcic's surprising discovery! Tune in again for a continuation of this dramatic tale of adventure and justice! And now, a word from our sponsor....