NationStates Jolt Archive

It was 12:00 AM. Jose Fernandez stood on the corner of a street in the only bad section of Holy Paradise City, a small section nicknamed Slumtown. His eyes were dark and droopy. His arms had a few band-aids on it, probably because of drug needle use. He had in his pocket a loaded 8 mm pistol. In the other, a Ziplock bag full of prepared and ready for use cocaine and another bag full of marijuana. As he leaned back against a run-down tenement behind him, a 1990 Toyota pulled up and stopped. Jose looked around to see if no cops were in the area. He then went up to the car's front passenger side. The window rolled down. A man's head appeared. "Do you have the sample for our boss ready, Jose?" the man asked.

"Yes." Jose replied.

"Okay, get in the back." the man ordered. Jose got in the back of the car. He closed the door and they drove off. About 10 minutes later, they arrived a large mansion with armed guards. They stopped at the gates and were checked by a guard. The gates were then opened and they drove towards the mansion. They parked at the front of the mansion, got out, and went inside. They walked upstairs and opened a door up there. Inside was 2 armed guards and a lightly tan, but mostly Caucasian man in a Panama Hat. "So," the man in the Panama hat asked, "Do you have the coke and marijuana?"

"Yes, Santiago." Jose replied. He took the bag out of his pocket and handed it to Santiago. "100% Holy Paradise Islands. This is the first bags we got from there. They say the coke and pot are as pure as newly-fallen snow is white."

"Let me try some." Santiago answered. Jose handed Santiago the bag. Santiago took the cocaine out and used it. "That's the best coke and pot I have ever had. Alright, I'll sign the deal. I have 20 billion gold coins so I'll buy 1 billion gold coins worth." Santiago wrote a check. A few days later, at 1:00 AM, the first 3 shipment of drugs arrived in a large cargo ship at Holy Paradise City's main port. When two soldiers checked it, they were killed by armed smugglers. The smugglers then loaded the drugs into 5 semi-trucks, which drove away to Santiago's mansion. As the smugglers left, they had forgotten 2 bags of coke and marijuana. When law enforcement officials discovered it, they informed the government. The news got all the way to President Holtz, who then ordered that the Law enforcement department call all Border Patrol and Narcotics teams to duty, along with 300,000 police officers. The war on drugs had begun.

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Awesome thread, HP!

*Tag*

(I'll post something when you come back)

Sergeant Vanderbilt woke up to a bright and sunny morning. He went to the bathroom, took a shower and brushed his teeth. Then he got into his police uniform and gear. He then got in his police car and drove towards the station. It was a nice and quiet drive, until he reached 375th and Harrison. He saw on the curb an old Camero parked and two guys inside it taking bags out of the glove compartment and putting them into a hand coming from the window of the car. They were having a drug deal, Srg. Vanderbilt realized. They noticed him and the car took off. Vanderbilt called in back-up to arrest the buyer, and then he was in hot pursuit of the Camero. At least, he thought, it was on a quiet street. Then the Camero took a sharp right, and drove north towards the busiest road in Holy Paradise City, Holtz Ave. The Camero entered Holtz Ave., which wasn't as busy as usual as Rush Hour had ended. Vanderbilt sped after the Camero, his police car sirens blaring. They drove onto the median and went on the westbound road, going east . The two cars weaved in and out of a maze of about 42 cars. Then, from the left side of the Camero, the window rolled down, and a gun came out. It then was aimed at Vanderbilt. The drug dealer popped off a few rounds at Vanderbilt, missing. Vanderbilt, however, had a better aim. He took out his pistol and fired about 6 rounds into the driver's side of the Camero. The first two missed, but the rest hit the driver in the back of the head, apparent by the fact that the car swirved right and bashed into a tree. Vanderbilt pulled onto the shoulder, got out, and ran over to the front passenger's side, knowing the driver was dead. He pointed his gun through the window and yelled, "Get out and drop to the ground!" The drug dealer did as he was told and was then picked up by Srg. Vanderbilt, who rushed away from the car with the dealer. The dealer soon realized why Vanderbilt did that, for the Camero exploded with a resounding "BOOM!" Vanderbilt then arrested the dealer, put him in the back of his police car, and took the dealer to the station.

OOC: The interrogation will be later.

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BUMP because I like descriptive rps...however am not feeling like reading too much right now unfortunatly O.o

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Word of this incident receives Chinlanikistan. The new dictator is thrilled
He explains to his advisors "This could be the incident we are looking for, to establish ourselves as a country. Nothing too serious, like a major war, but nothing too minor. I shall send some of our best trained soldiers to aid them"

One of his advisors speaks up "But your exellency, dont we support illegal drug trafficking? I oppose this idea"

Unaffected by the suggestion, he simply pulls out a gun, and murders his advisor calmly, as if nothing happened. Two guards remove the body

"Now, does anyone else oppose my idea????" The remaning advisors shuffle uncomfortably in their seats.

The dictator wires a message to holy Paradise

"would 2,000 guards at all of your airports and naval bases be enough? They are adequatly trained for this occassion, as we must often stop Illegal drug trafficking during our new country."

Anything in particular I could do?

Word of this incident receives Chinlanikistan. The new dictator is thrilled
He explains to his advisors "This could be the incident we are looking for, to establish ourselves as a country. Nothing too serious, like a major war, but nothing too minor. I shall send some of our best trained soldiers to aid them"

One of his advisors speaks up "But your exellency, dont we support illegal drug trafficking? I oppose this idea"

Unaffected by the suggestion, he simply pulls out a gun, and murders his advisor calmly, as if nothing happened. Two guards remove the body

"Now, does anyone else oppose my idea????" The remaning advisors shuffle uncomfortably in their seats.

The dictator wires a message to holy Paradise

"would 2,000 guards at all of your airports and naval bases be enough? They are adequatly trained for this occassion, as we must often stop Illegal drug trafficking during our new country."
Yes, that would be enough to probably cripple the flow of drugs to Holy Paradise. Thank you.

Anything in particular I could do?
Start sending police and make a character who will be important to the end. Mine is Sergeant Vanderbilt.

The troops will be sent right away. You will find that very little drugs make it into your country. IN fact, none at all.

Don't be too confident, Chinlanikistan. I lost 2 good soldiers to the guns of drug smugglers. But I agree with you. I'm pretty sure 2,000 men could overpower any drug smuggler.

Start sending police and make a character who will be important to the end. Mine is Sergeant Vanderbilt.

To: President John Holtz
From: President J.L.

I have been informed of your dilemma. I will do everything humanly possible to aid you in killing these bastards. No one f***s with my allies and lives.

Thank you my friend.
-President Holtz

(OOC: Can I RP some of my men interrogating a drug lord?)

The 2,000 soldiers arrive in Chinilanikistan by courtesy of 5 transport planes. Their rugged desert appearance takes some of the people of Holy Paradise by surprise. Their clothes are torn, Arab men, with rough, untamed hair. Airport security guards will not allow them to unboard their plane. Cameras quickly arrive. With the Drug war happening, the people are jumpy. The story is all over the news Finally, a senior official arrives at the scene. "Stand down men. These our our guards, they were sent to stop all drug trafficking into our great country." He turns to the soldiers and grimaces, they look more like terrorists than trained police and armys. "Which of you are in charge" A tall, built arab man stands up and walks towards the official. He has the apperance of a man who has survived many long battles. His beard is roughly shaved, he has a small goatee on the point of his chin. He, like the rest of his men carry outdated Ak-47's from the cold war. He speaks in a gruff English voice, with the slight hint of a Arab accent "I am. And i suggest you tell you men to let us through, every second more cocaine and maurijuana are sent into your country. Oh, and my name is Jazar." The official lets them unboard the planes. Jazar turns to his men and calls out 10 names, they must be his lieutenants. He speaks to them an Arab, and walks off on his own.

OOC:Sure.

IC: The newly promoted Col. Vanderbilt had a new assignment: Interrogate the drug dealer.

Vanderbilt: Okay, son. Who did you get the drugs from?

Dealer: I'm not telling you shit!

Vanderbilt: I see.

(Vanderbilt punches the dealer in the face)

Vanderbilt: I'm going to ask you again: Who did you get the drugs from?

Dealer: You're crazy to think I'll tell you that.

Vanderbilt:Tell me!

Dealer: Hell no!

(Dealer spits at Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt grabs the dealer by the collar and points an 8 mm pistol at the dealer's chest.)

Vanderbilt: Tell me or I blow you to kingdom come.

Dealer: Okay, okay. I'll tell you. His name is Mark Sanchez.

Vanderbilt: I recognize that name. Okay, thanks buddy.

Dealer: Thank you for sparing my life.

(Vanderbilt points gun back at dealer)

Vanderbilt: When the hell did I say I'm sparing your life?

(Vanderbilt fires the gun at the dealer, who slumps over, blood dripping down his chest.)

Vanderbilt: Dumb bastard.

The 2,000 soldiers arrive in Chinilanikistan by courtesy of 5 transport planes. Their rugged desert appearance takes some of the people of Holy Paradise by surprise. Their clothes are torn, Arab men, with rough, untamed hair. Airport security guards will not allow them to unboard their plane. Cameras quickly arrive. With the Drug war happening, the people are jumpy. The story is all over the news Finally, a senior official arrives at the scene. "Stand down men. These our our guards, they were sent to stop all drug trafficking into our great country." He turns to the soldiers and grimaces, they look more like terrorists than trained police and armys. "Which of you are in charge" A tall, built arab man stands up and walks towards the official. He has the apperance of a man who has survived many long battles. His beard is roughly shaved, he has a small goatee on the point of his chin. He, like the rest of his men carry outdated Ak-47's from the cold war. He speaks in a gruff English voice, with the slight hint of a Arab accent "I am. And i suggest you tell you men to let us through, every second more cocaine and maurijuana are sent into your country. Oh, and my name is Jazar." The official lets them unboard the planes. Jazar turns to his men and calls out 10 names, they must be his lieutenants. He speaks to them an Arab, and walks off on his own.

OOC: So this Jazar is going to be your main character in this? Cool.

Oh and RB, you sure can.

Jazar walks among the streets of Holy Paradise. He sees a cell phone in a nearby store. Walking in, he simply grabs the cell phone, glares at the store owner, and walks out. He dials in a number.

"If you expect us to help you, we need more ammunition, and more modern guns. These Ak's arent worth nothing."

Meanwhile, a division of 100 soldiers intercepts a Columbian transport ship attempting to dock at the ports. 50 soldiers stay outside, to attack anyone who attempts to leave the ship. 50 head in to inspect it. Apon seeing the Arabian men enter with guns, the columbians immediatly open fire without question. In return, the Arabians return the fire. In only one minute, 60 are dead on both sides. The remaining Arabs head in towards the captians quarters, and catch him from behind. A liutenant whispers to the captian "Where are they?" the captian nervously replies "In the cargo area. Where else? Why? WHat do you want with them?" The soldier smirks. "You see, were going to take the drugs back to our country." the captian replies, shaking. "you cant, they will kill you!"

"What they dont know wont hurt them. You see, first, im going to kill you. Then im going to blow this ship. Ill tell them that we boarded the ships, found the drugs, and then a bomb went off on the ship. But first, im going to kill you."

The lieutenant prepares to slice the captians throat, but decides otherwise. He picks up a machete he spots on the captians bedspread, and rears it back, bringing it across the captians thin neck swiftly. A thud and then a clink hits the ground.

OOC:Sure.

IC: The newly promoted Col. Vanderbilt had a new assignment: Interrogate the drug dealer.

Vanderbilt: Okay, son. Who did you get the drugs from?

Dealer: I'm not telling you shit!

Vanderbilt: I see.

(Vanderbilt punches the dealer in the face)

Vanderbilt: I'm going to ask you again: Who did you get the drugs from?

Dealer: You're crazy to think I'll tell you that.

Vanderbilt:Tell me!

Dealer: Hell no!

(Dealer spits at Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt grabs the dealer by the collar and points an 8 mm pistol at the dealer's chest.)

Vanderbilt: Tell me or I blow you to kingdom come.

Dealer: Okay, okay. I'll tell you. His name is Mark Sanchez.

Vanderbilt: I recognize that name. Okay, thanks buddy.

Dealer: Thank you for sparing my life.

(Vanderbilt points gun back at dealer)

Vanderbilt: When the hell did I say I'm sparing your life?

(Vanderbilt fires the gun at the dealer, who slumps over, blood dripping down his chest.)

Vanderbilt: Dumb bastard.

(OOC: Lol, good one, HP ;))

IC: (WARNING!! Somewhat graphic violence ahead!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Interrogation Room, Roach-Busterian Military Base, Holy Paradise

Sergeant Thaksin Leekpai was without a doubt one of the toughest sons of b****es who had ever graced the earth. With but a mere glare, he could turn steel-spined psychopaths that killed without shedding a tear into bawling babies. Even the toughest, most ruthless men were sniveling cowards once he was through with them. His eyes, which had the predatory, calculating gaze of a hawk observing its prey, seemed to peer into your very soul. Nobody ever forgot those eyes, no matter how badly they wanted to. One simply glare turned men into mice, warriors into wimps.

He calmly paced the interrogation room, which was small, tight, and cramped. The ceiling was only eight feet off the ground, and the room was less than five feet by five feet. The walls were grimy, festering with mold, suffused in thick layers of dust, and reeked like sewage. Cobwebs were abundant. Cockroaches scurried hastily across the floor in droves. The squeak of famished, ferocious rats frequently raped the silence. Save for the rats, the place was so silent it made a ghost town look like Time's Square on New Year's Eve.

"Well, sir," he said in a soothing, placid voice, peering into the eyes of the suspect, who lay strapped to a ice-cold steel table, naked. "Is there anything you wish to tell us?"

The suspect would be a tough nut to crack. He had suffered abominable torture in the past, at the hands of torturers who made the North Vietnamese look benign in comparison. He had witnessed the deaths of dozens of family members and friends without even flinching. He could kill a baby without so much as a shrug. He was utterly devoid of remorse, and almost utterly devoid of fear.

Almost.

"I'm not telling you a thing," the suspect said. "Go ahead and do your worst, you cheap-talking, phony, lip-flapping flimsy pool of rancid penguin piss. I've been through much worse than anything a chickens*** pus-ball like you could ever hope to do in your pathetic and worthless life."

Sergeant Thaksin smiled and gingerly stroked his mustache- which many people believed made him look strikingly similar to Nguyen Cao Ky- with his index finger. While his glare was cold, his smile was warm. He had yet to find a lady who didn't go crazy for his smile.

"Those are awfully big words for a man in your position," he said calmly. "I could do very, very unpleasant things to you right now, things that you would find most excruciating."

"Try your worst," the suspect muttered.

Thaksin snorted. "'Try your worst?' What kind of dips*** writes your dialogue?"

"What kind of dips*** writes your dialogue," the suspect mocked in a raspy, high-pitched, feminine falsetto, and chuckled gleefully to himself.

Thaksin smiled and took out a plastic knife. He leaned over and whispered in the suspect's ear, "How long do you think it would take me to skin you with this?"

The suspect laughed. "What kind of moronic question is that?"

Thaksin shrugged. "Let's see."

He took a syringe filled with special compounds that increased the body's sensitivity to pain more than 1,000-fold and jammed it into the suspect's leg, injecting him.

"The hell was that crap supposed to be?" the suspect asked.

Thaksin smiled again. "You'll soon find out." He put in ear plugs, walked over to the suspect's foot, and went to work. After five hours of hysterical, delirious, extremely shrill, ear-splitting, agonized screams, the suspect's entire left foot had been peeled to the bone. Thaksin proceeded to slowly, ever so slowly, saw away at the ankle. He deliberately proceeded as slowly as possible, in order to prolong the agony.

"STAWWWWWWWWWWP! ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I'LL TALK! JESUS!!" the suspect screeched, bursting into tears. He sobbed, whimpered, and blubbered like a baby.

Thaksin smiled. "Good boy," he said, grabbing his notepad. "Now, what do you wish to tell me?"

Needless to say, Thaksin had no more trouble getting the suspect to divulge what he wanted.

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Tagg... my country is a drug haven I'll see where i can get involved

OOC: I won't join in too deep yet

IC:
Colonel Ronald O'Moore of the Achleonian 7th naval brigade and the Captain of the cargo vessel Big Martha watched the deck of his ship, checked by some arab's. He turned around angrily.
We are here to unload, get our cash and vegetables but now it's taking for days! One helluva mess they have here nowadays...
Captain, we're getting a message from Achleonia, sir
What is it now?
They want you as a naval colonel to speak with the Holy Paradise officials of this so called drug war and of the assistance of Achleonia
For christ sake. Send them a message to handle their own jobs...

Message to: Holy Paradise
From: King Marcus Anthonius III of Achleonia
Subject: Drug war

We are most intrigued to help you on this noble quest to end illegal drug producing and shipping and will be humbly asking to help you. We have one of our finest captains and a Colonel of the Achleonian 7th naval brigade on your harbor to command out troops if allowed

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OOC: One of the best RPs ever seen, RB. ;)

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OOC: One of the best RPs ever seen, RB. ;)

Thanks!

(What'd you think of it, HP?)

Very good, RB, very good.

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OOC: Sorry to go off-topic but RB, if you have MSN - send your address to the government of Pacitalia email address

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V

Vanderbilt got in his police vehicle and began speeding towards Sanchez's house, which was his new assignment. When he reached the house he got out. He was immediately fired upon by Sanchez's buyers and dealers, along with Sanchez himself. He got behind his police car for cover and then yelled into his radio, "I need some backup at Sanchez's house!". Then he threw the radio back into the car and got back out on the side facing away from Sanchez's house. He pulled out his trusty, old 8 mm pistol and his new M-16 assault rifle which was now a standard weapon for law enforcement officers. He shot and killed one of the attackers, then ducked.

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Jazar is walking around and looking for Vanderbilt, when one of his lietenants and his division of fifty guards run up to him. The lieutenant hands him the radio, which receives Vanderbilts message "nee.. some backup at Sanch... house!". Followed by the sound of gunshots.

Jazar: Sounds like a war going on down there.

Lieutenant: Should we help him.

Jazar: You know, actually i was thinking about letting him die. Of course we are going to help him you moron! Hand me that radio!


Jazar (Into Radio): Vanderbilt, where are you? I repeat, where are you??"

The answer doesnt take long, as they are practially there. The gunshots ring out for a few blocks. Screams and Yells are heard. Jazar orders his troops

Jazar: Ok, 15 of you take high ground, like on the roof, take out whatever you can. Lieutenant, you take 20 of them and head around the west alley, ill take 15 and head around the east alley and corner them. Oh, and try not to destroy too much of the drugs..

OOC: Is there room for me to RP some bad guys? I have a Mafia type or two that I have RP'd before that control the international marijuana trade - I'm not interested in playing full blown drug lord with cocaine, etc., Just the marijuana trade and dealing. This drug war would be upsetting to their business, but could also be a way they could boost profits by raising costs, they would need to come in country unsuspected though to gather info and set up a new marijuana network (or maybe die trying?) Let me know how someone like this might fit in your RP's plan (if they would fit).

OOC: Is there room for me to RP some bad guys? I have a Mafia type or two that I have RP'd before that control the international marijuana trade - I'm not interested in playing full blown drug lord with cocaine, etc., Just the marijuana trade and dealing. This drug war would be upsetting to their business, but could also be a way they could boost profits by raising costs, they would need to come in country unsuspected though to gather info and set up a new marijuana network (or maybe die trying?) Let me know how someone like this might fit in your RP's plan (if they would fit).

Sure! It's okay with me. I'm sure HP would be okay with it.

We would also like to join. We have found a drug family has a farm in Azurbajan and we have found it. Tids farm provides drugs to many dealers and lords.

The farm seemed so eerie on a night like tonight. The only thing that stuck out was the guard tower over my head. What a waste of metal I tought. It was completely silent until the noise, or roar of helicoptor engines was heard all over. Soon, our men were running in all different directions. They carried Aks and RPGs. The drug lord got into a nice SUV and started it up and hit the gas. The helicoptors addressed themselves as the army of Azurbajan. They opened fire on all men holding guns. One of the helis touched down and some troops got out. The soldiers were rounding up all the farmers and taking them into waiting trucks. The drug lord was not seen here again.

OOC: Any more room on the police?

Sure! It's okay with me. I'm sure HP would be okay with it.

OOC: Ok, based on that, hows this, HP, hope you approve.

The passenger jet set down in Holy Paradise City right on schedule and the passengers began to deplane and make their way to customs and on to the luggage retrevial area. Amongst the passengers were 2 men, and a woman. The men wore expensive Italian business suits and carried briefcases. The woman was in an equally expensive french business woman's suit and carried a laptop computer case. As they approached the immigration and customs area they reached into their coat pockets and retrieved their papers.

"Good afternoon sir, can I see your papers" asked the customs official

The leader of the group of 3, Guido "Carneficina" Prizzi (Carneficina is Italian for "bloodbath") was a 6' 1" tall, rather heavyset man with a thick neck and large double chin. His hair was black with greying temples and small grey streaks throughout. He eyes were a dark green. His fingers were pudgy and he wore semi-garish, large silver or gold rings on 5 of his 10 fingers. 4 of which were set with large diamonds. A punch from his right hand would leave a mark like brass knuckles, and it was clear he could throw a punch the average man might wish to avoid. His silk suit was neatly pressed and crisp and he had the air of a CEO from a large company who usually got what he wanted. Handing the expertly forged passport and visa papers to the customs official, he was quickly identified as Randolpho Tribianni, an Italian business man who ran a large agricultural commodities international brokerage company who was in Holy Paradise to discuss wholesale trade of grapes, nuts, other fruits, vegetables, olive oil and Italian wines with grocery wholesalers and government officials.

"Do you have anything to declare?" asked the functionary as he examined the papers.

"No."

"How long will you be in Holy Paradise?"

"Only 60 days at most, probably less than 30" Said Guido in a well modulated and Americanized Italian accent.

"Do you intend to seek employment while here?"

"Sonny, do I look a man who is looking for job!" stated Guido is a very firm, terse voice

"No sir. I just have to ask, its part of my job." Said the official, slightly rattled by the terse reply he had recieved to his routine question.

"Ok, Mr. Tribianni, your papers appear in order. Please enjoy your stay in Holy Paradise. You're authorized for 60 days, after which if you wish to remain you will have to report to immigration and receive an extension on your visa." Handing the papers back to Guido, the functionary looked him in the eye, Guido's eyes met the gaze and didn't blink once as he took the papers back and walked on through the check point towards the luggage carrousels.

Following Guido through the check point was his "first lieutenant," Rohanni Wahini, a large, 6' 3", burly Samoian by birth. Rohani was every bit the muscle man he was supposed to be. In his silk suit, he was incredibily intimidating, even more so than his boss. He had jet black hair pulled back into a pony tail and dark brown eyes. He had twice won the single man outrigger canoe race from the island of Maui to Ohahu in Hawaii and he could squeeze a tennis ball till in popped in one hand. Handing the official his forged passport and papers he stood waiting.

Looking at the papers, which identified Rohanni as a Mr. Robert Kuklea, an Italian citizen, and Mr. Tribianni's accountant, the functionary, wishing to avoid any possible confrontations with what were clearly rich and powerful men, asked his standard questions without any inflection in his voice and avoided looking at Rohanni directly. "You're approved for a 60 day stay along with your employer, enjoy your stay." He said as he stamped the forged passport and visa.

Finally, following Rohanni at the check point, was Caroleena "L'Assassino" Riccardo (L'Assassino is Italian for "The Killer" or "The Assasin"). She was a stunning blonde with bright green eyes, standing 5' 10" tall in her bare feet, her dress heels put her at 6'. The conservative business attire she was wearing couldn't completely disguise the 38-26-36 body that was inside it. And to tell the truth, she didn't want it to. In her job, distraction was an asset, and she was a great distractor. Handing her papers to the, by now, more than just a little intimidated customs officer she said, in a sultry tone with just enough of an Italian accent to be arousing, "Good afternoon sir, is there someplace near the luggage carrousel where I could freshen up?"

Looking at her, the guard stammered there was a woman's room just before she reached the luggage retreival area. He then looked at her passport which identified her as Serafina Juiliano, Mr. Tribianni's Administrative and Personal Assistant. Thinking briefly he wished he had an assistant that looked like that, the guard asked his standard questions and informed her the papers were in order and stamped her passport with a 60 day pass as he had done for the others. She strode on through the check point to join the rest of the entourage while the guard watched her go from behind and shook his head, miserable about the circumstances in life that had caused him to end up here.

When she reached her companions, Guido said "Caroleen - I mean, Serafina, you never cease to amaze me."

"That's my job Mr. Tribianni, that's my job" smiling, she looked Guido in the eye and said "and don't you forget it."

The 3 went down to the luggage area where they retreived their luggage without incident and proceeded outside where a pre-arranged limo was waiting to take them to their hotel. Once in the enclosed back seat where they couldn't be seen from the outside, All 3 of them opened their brief cases as Caroleena took out her lap top. Expertly they quickly broke them down and apart removing seemingly innocous metal tubes from the handles, small, machined springs, square blocks of plastic holding their brief cases square corners, etc. Within 15 minutes, they had all re-assembled and loaded their side-arms, .40 S & W caliber pistols with silencers, and tucked them away, inconspicously, in their clothing.

"Mr. Kuklea, when we get to the hotel, I want you to check us in" said Guido to Rohanni, using his assumed name. I've got a few phone calls to make. "Serafina, you know your job, get to work on it. I want all the preparations in place by tommorrow so we can really get down to business. We can make this so called "drug war" work to our advantage, but first, we got some fucking columbian competitors to erase. Mr. Kuklea, once we're checked in, see if you can contact someone associated with the Russians, you've got the possible contact list, make some discreet enquiries and, well, I don't have to tell you how to do your job. You know what the family wants."

With that the trio sat back and finished their ride to the Hilton in silence.

Slowly, across the waves, a ship could be seen heading to port.


It was the Seawolf II, judging by the way it was marked on the Hull. Heading a sturdy 20knots. They radioed in. "We have no attempt of making port contact with this Nation. Stay away. I repeat, stay away." It was the Communcations crew making that communcation.

The only visible men walking on Deck, held AK-47s and MP-5s and didn't seem friendly. Some of them having backup weapons of Uzis. They also wore Full armor. Each man, wore a wristband with a RFID tracker, to make sure they didn't leave the ship either. This could be interesting, the Ship was afterall, marked by the Nation of Jurrik, a popular Drug-trade nation.


Though, the Captain sat in the galley, eating his Lunch, he adjusted himself and begun to move toward the Communcations Room, fumbling at his closed-band radio that was attached to his waist. "Communcations, did the local navy contact us about our orders?" He smiled lightly and jogged up the stairs. Meeting up with the other men and lighting the Cigarette that he had placed between his lips.

The Cargo on this ship, was easily over 18 tons of illegal narcotics, but legal in Jurrik. They were out for illegal trade, as authorized by Krik Guztik (President of Jurrik) himself. The man had pressured the other chains of command. It was slightly ironic indeed.

Though, for now they waited. Perparing their Weaponary in case things got ugly. Though, that other ship was suppose to be here in mere minutes. The cargo that would be transferred would be interesting all on it's own.

mmm, bump?

Anyword on more room for police?

Where has HP gone??????