OOC: This is based upon the real gun problem that is occurring in RL Toronto. I figure that it'd make great story material here for NS, and it'd give me an opportunity- through the Romans- to present a possible solution.
If you want in, TG me. This is taking place in my main NS Earth territories.
IC:
Miguel Cervalos was nervous. A 25-year-old high school dropout born of Honduran immigrants, he usually worked the graveyard shift at a Tim Horton's coffee shop at Dufferin & Eglinton to support a family of three that he raised with his common-law wife of five years, Sara. The couple had met while Cervalos was still in high school and lived in a low-cost, two-bedroom apartment at Jane & Finch, a not so unreasonable 30 minute commute from Miguel's job. Sara, who finished high school, worked during the day as a legal assistant in downtown Toronto doing primarily data entry, so as to ensure that either Miguel or Sara were home to look after the kids.
However, tonight was different. Sara had not known that Miguel had taken the night off, so when Miguel went at his normal time for his job, Sara did not know that he wouldn't be going to work. Instead, Miguel was going further, all the way to Davisville subway station along Yonge Street, just north of Eglinton Avenue.
The reason he was going there was a secret to his family and to his friends, at least his true friends. Since money was tight at the Cervalos home, Miguel befriended another fellow Honduran-Canadian named Fernando Marquez who introduced him to his side job of selling cocaine, which he usually did during his breaks at his job at Tim Horton's. At first, he was highly successful and was able to make a decent profit, but over the past few weeks business had slowed, and now he was running into debts with Marquez, a fact he knew Marquez wouldn't like but one he needed to confront.
He brought with him a handgun he had bought while visiting his extended family in Honduras and managed to smuggle into Canada through the contacts he had made with Marquez, who told him needed the gun when he started his gig selling cocaine. Tonight, he brought it because he knew that there would be a confrontation with Marquez, and he knew that he'd need protection. Marquez would probably have a gun of his own, but at least he knew with his gun the fight would be equal.
When he arrived at the station, Marquez and three other people Miguel had never met before were there to greet him. He stepped out of the subway car cautiously, almost too much so as the doors nearly closed on him. Marquez greeted him with a scornful smile, his face dripping of the contempt Miguel was surprised to see.
(OOC: Reader Discretion Advised)
"You know why you're here, right Miguel?" started Marquez.
"Yes," said Miguel in a nervous but defiant tone.
"It's a nice night isn't? The cool winter air really hits the mark doesn't it?" replied Marquez, who took in the outdoor setting Davisville provided.
"Let's go for a walk, shall we?" continued Marquez.
"Let's not," barked Miguel, who now tried for his gun. As soon as he placed his hand on it, he felt a sharp pain in the back of the head and he stumbled, dropping his gun on the floor. Two of the men then proceeded to drag the now defenceless Miguel to the back of the station.
"Shall we try this again?" stammered Marquez. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Yes," said a now visibly nervous Miguel.
"You're behind $50,000 on your payments. When am I going to receive them?"
"Next week, I swear. Just don't hurt me! Please!" Miguel was now starting to cry, though he tried his best to hold back the tears.
"You said that to me last week. Why should I believe you now?"
Miguel's breathing got quicker and heavier, but he made no response.
"That's just not good enough. You boys know what to do."
"No! No!" Miguel's screams were of no use. Marquez's henchmen dragged Miguel to nearby Oriole Park, where he was shot five times and left to die.
For his part, Marquez boarded the subway to his real home in high-end High Park, funded in part by drug money but mostly through his computer consulting firm that he ran in Mississauga. He had left Davisville well before Miguel was shot, so that he could clearly say that he had no recollection of the killing, a story his henchmen would back up. Little did he know that the murder of Miguel Cervalos would become international headlines, being the first gun murder in Toronto after a record of 60 the year before. However, the relative security Marquez lived by in Toronto would be fading, as Canada received newer, more powerful masters in the form of the millenia-old Roman Empire, and they would be quick to act.
OOC: I’ll be using this post to properly introduce Consul Valerius Maderia and Emir Ali al-Tabin, the two opponents to Rodin Hartian in the Imperial elections. I figure this would be the perfect setting for it- with both of them in action.
Also, to provide some background on the RL political figures I’ll be using in this thread (part of this is a commentary on the RL Canadian elections, because Canadian politics is well, fun):
New Democrat Leader Jack Layton (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Layton), a beardless clone to Vladimir Illych Lenin (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Lenin). The New Democrats are Canada’s democratic socialist party. Layton himself is charismatic and outspoken, but he trumpets his own party so much that he sounds like a broken record.
Conservative Leader Stephen Harper (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Harper). Harper- Canada’s leader of the Opposition- is quick to criticize and is very direct, but he’s not exactly the most engaging figure.
Canadian Prime Minister (Liberal) Paul Martin (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Martin). Apologizes for everything. Literally. Polar opposite to his RL predecessor, Jean Chretien, who was bold, direct and seemed to know what he was doing. Martin shouts and screams and never knows what he’s doing.
Toronto Mayor David Miller (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Miller). On some issues, he fights, but when it comes to gun control he hasn’t been very vocal about it. A pragmatist.
Ontario Premier (Liberal) Dalton McGuinity (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dalton_McGuinty). Quiet- really quiet. However, when he does do something, it’s big. The man’s got ideas but seems too “afraid” to unleash them.
Ontario Conservative Leader John Tory (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Tory). He’s probably the most pragmatic politician in Canada besides Gilles Duceppe, and is an extremely Red Tory (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Tory). More of a populist than McGuinty is.
I should also note that nationally and in Ontario the Liberal Party and the Conservative Party are both interchangeable- they’re both moderate political parties that don’t lean to either side.
IC:
The news of Miguel Cervalos’ death shook Toronto to its core. It had been Toronto’s first gun death after a record of 60 the year before, and, as usual, the city clamoured for something to be done.
So to, now, was the Roman Empire, the new Protector of the Republic of Canada. Their primary focus for Canada was to mine for its resources, but the last thing the Empire wanted was a brewing gun battle in its new province, especially in its largest city. Since Emperor G.R. Rodin Hartian was away in New Orleans and could only release a statement, Roman Consul Gn. Valerius Maderia and Emir of Rümayyia D.A. Ali al-Tabin both made the trip to Canada. Part of their reasoning was electoral posturing as both were running against Hartian and the Canadians would be able to vote for both of them so they wanted to look good. Maderia went to the Toronto Metro Convention Centre to meet with the national Canadian leaders to see what they could do, while al-Tabin went to Cervalos’ Jane & Finch apartment to visit the bereaving family.
Toronto Metro Convention Centre, John & Front, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Consul Valerius Maderia’s campaign ran on a clear message- “Get Things Done”. He constantly reminded his Roman voters that the people of Rome elected him because he was a doer and wouldn’t let anything stop him from doing what he felt was right for Rome. His critics call him confrontational, but there was no arguing with his success, with the Roman populace giving him approval ratings of 70% or more.
He was banking on doing the same thing here in Toronto, and he couldn’t have picked a better opportunity to display his talents. Meeting with him today would be a who’s who of Canadian and local politicians, including the Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin, Roger Nemeth’s successor, Conservative Leader Stephen Harper, New Democrat Leader Jack Layton, Toronto Mayor David Miller and Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty.
Predictably, before he arrived at the Convention Centre the politicians were arguing. They all had a history of contention and today- with so many varying views in the room- would be no different. It was clear that they all had ideas- but, as true politicians, none of them wanted to yield from their views.
Maderia entered the room with Harper saying something to Martin about the latter’s gun control registry. Maderia simply smirked. Typical Canadian politics…
“Gentlemen. How nice to meet you all,” said Maderia in clear but accented English, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s nice to know you kids have come here to play, eh?”
Silence befell the room. “So, what have you accomplished before I got here?”
“Nothing sir. These people here are too set in their ways to see anything but their own viewpoint,” said Martin. “I try very hard to be accommodating but they don’t want to give me the chance.”
“Accommodating? You run this country as if you have supreme authority. We live in a democracy here Mr. Martin and that involves compromise, a word that isn’t in your vocabulary,” said Layton.
“Do I need to send you two into the corner for a time out?” snapped Maderia, trying to stop another fight. “You know, I’d call you all spineless but I realize that might actually be giving you a compliment.”
Anger descended upon the faces of the politicians, who didn’t exactly endear themselves to Maderia but the Consul didn’t care- he was out to get a job done, not make friends.
“I resent your dialogue Consul. We’re all adults in this room,” said an angered Layton.
“You sure do have a funny way of showing that,” said Maderia with a smirk.
“I want you to know that if the NDP were in power we wouldn’t be having these problems,” snapped Layton who now went on the offensive.
“Is that so Mr. Lenin?” cracked Maderia.
“MY NAME IS JACK!”
“So that’s what you call yourself these days. Vladimir, Vladimir. You keep deluding yourself into thinking the world actually cares.”
Layton’s face went red as Maderia’s delegates- sitting behind Maderia- tried their hardest to keep from laughing.
“You do know his name?” asked Miller.
“It’s Leon, isn’t it?” continued cracking Maderia, who was having fun ribbing Layton.
“Next you’ll call me Stalin,” stammered Layton, who was trying his hardest to suppress his anger.
“No, I was going with Fidel, but Stalin might work.”
“You know, for all your talk about ‘getting things done’, you sure like to start a fight,” snapped Harper, who was eager to get involved in the debate.
“I wouldn’t be the one to talk Mr. Harper,” said Maderia. “It’s not like you do anything yourself.”
Harper winced but recovered to collect his words to respond to Maderia, “but I have ideas. Ideas that work. Unlike that-”
Maderia cleared his throat loudly, cutting him off. “No more names children. Recess is over.”
“So tell me Mr. Harper, what’s your, ‘idea’?” said Maderia, who was unconvinced Harper would produce a viable idea.
“Let’s get rid of this stupid gun registry. All it’s done is eat up our tax dollars and you can see what good it’s been lately,” said Harper.
“I beg your pardon. That gun registry is vital to ensure that we know where every gun is, because we don’t want them to end up in the wrong hands,” said Martin.
“Well, we can see how well that worked,” said Layton sarcastically. “I personally believe the problem is poverty. These kids turn to a life of crime because they have no opportunities. An NDP-”
“Trotsky, we got it the first time,” interjected Maderia. He then adopted a Russian tone and said, “follow the Revolution and Canada will be better!” He then dropped the accent. “Man, you’re a broken record.”
Layton was steamed, but before he could say anything, Martin interjected. “We also need to ban handguns. They need to be made illegal so we can get them off the streets.”
“You’re an idealist,” chimed in Miller. “You can ban all the handguns you want but they won’t be off the streets. We need an increased police presence- my city just doesn’t have the resources to cover all the crime committed in this city.”
“Good,” said Maderia, nodding. “What about you Dalton? You’ve been stuck there in the corner sucking your thumb long enough. Certainly you have an idea, right?”
“Um,” started McGuinty, mumbling. “Maybe more border patrols?”
Maderia could only look in shock at McGuinty. “People elected you?”
“Because I have ideas,” said McGuinty.
“Well, show them,” said Maderia in mock exasperation.
“I certainly side with David here,” said McGuinty. “We do need a bigger police presence in Toronto. We also need to have a better security dialogue between the national, provincial and municipal governments so that we’re all on the same page and one step ahead of the smugglers.”
“Bravo! Now, was that so hard?” said Maderia in a mocking tone. He shifted in his chair before continuing.
“You know what, I am actually proud of all of you,” said Maderia in a sincere tone. “You kids have shown me that indeed, you do use your heads. I’m impressed; and you know what? None of you are. Absolutely none. You guys just spent so much time arguing with each other that none of you realized that had you actually worked together you might be able to solve your problems. I tell you, your egos are bigger than your brains- a lot bigger.
“Let’s look at the facts here. This gun program we have here doesn’t seem to be working- I mean, Toronto’s had a huge spike in gun crime, so we’re not keeping the guns off the streets; but eliminating it won’t solve the problem. We can ban street-level guns, but we must make sure they’re stopped properly at the border, and- lastly- we must give these kids something to do. If they’re turning to a life of crime that’s because our system has failed them and we must correct that.
“Lastly, none of you are stupid- you were all elected for a reason. However, you must all realize this is a democracy, and in a democracy, you have to work together. You’re going to get nowhere if all you do is fight.”
The leaders then broke for coffee, agreeing to meet later to discuss the battle plan, something Maderia would do everything in his power to ensure got done.
Jane & Finch, northern Toronto
While Maderia was meeting with the leaders to discuss solutions to the gun problems, Ali Al-Tabin, Maderia’s other opponent in the Imperial race, paid a visit to the Cervalos family with Ontario Conservative Leader John Tory, McGuinty’s opponent in the Ontario Legislature. The apartment itself had some furnishings but was mostly bare, a testament to the family’s shoestring budget. For the most part, the Cervaloses were attempting to preserve some sense of normalcy, but the pain of losing their father was too much to ignore.
“Hello Mrs. Cervalos,” said al-Tabin as he entered the Cervalos’ apartment, greeting Sara warmly at the door, with Tory making a similar gesture. “On behalf of the Government of Ontario and the Roman Empire, we send our condolences to you in these troubling times.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you came,” said Sara. “Miguel would have been so happy for this gesture.” She paused to collect herself before continuing. “Coffee?”
Both al-Tabin and Tory accepted the offer. When Sara returned with the coffee, the three began to discuss her life and her relationship with Miguel, to provide some answers for what happened.
“So, Sara, tell us about Miguel. When did you meet him?” asked Tory.
“We met in high school. He was in Grade 10, I was in Grade 9, but we took the bus to school together. He was always misunderstood- the day we met, he got into a fight with some students because one of them had swore at him. He was beaten up pretty badly so I took care of him.
“He was always a fighter- never backed down from anything. I told him once that he’d pay for his actions.” She paused to take a deep breath before continuing; “but he had a very soft side, a side he’d only show with me. People really needed to get to know him to really like him, and I’m glad I did.” She paused to take a sip from her coffee.
“He dropped out of class in Grade 11 because our school didn’t provide him the classes he wanted, so he always skipped. He wanted to be a mechanic, but all our school offered was math and English. They geared our education towards academics but not to the rest of us. So he dropped out and tried to get into the mechanics field as an apprentice.
“Soon after he dropped out, his parents kicked him out of the house for yet another fight, so that’s when he got a full-time job. I finished my high school career and then got a job myself so that we could move in here and start a family. Bills were always tight- as you can see here we couldn’t afford much.
“We had our first child- Alessandro- a year after moving in together, then had the twins Maria and Hector last year. Miguel had become so much softer as a man ever since he became a father, as he looked forward to seeing his babies’ faces every day. He was really beginning to be a father and seemed to be giving up his confrontational days for good. Then this happened.”
“Do you know why it happened?” asked al-Tabin.
“Miguel seemed very nervous the past few months,” replied Sara. “He had been meeting with this man named Fernando Marquez, whom he met while he worked at the coffeeshop. I only saw him once or twice, but ever since he met him Miguel never seemed comfortable.”
“Do you know the nature of Miguel’s relationship with Mr. Marquez?” asked Tory.
“No,” replied Sara. “Miguel never talked about it. He just called him ‘a friend’ but I suspected something else- like Marquez was controlling him. I don’t know how.”
Afterwards, al-Tabin and Tory went on a tour of the Cervalos’ household, seeing first-hand the conditions in which they lived. Sara wasn’t lying when she said the family had nothing- most of their possessions were second-hand, and their apartment lacked any kind of decoration. It was about as cost-efficient as possible- they owned the bare necessities and that was it.
After the tour, al-Tabin and Tory went for a tour of the Jane & Finch neighbourhood.
“Tell me John, this is a neighbourhood?” said al-Tabin to Tory after having a preliminary look around the intersection, which featured the low-scale Jane-Finch mall, several convenience stores and low-cost apartment complexes in the same vein as the one they had just exited. “I just look at this and think, ‘this really is depressing’.”
“Jane & Finch was conceived as a model suburb in the 1960s, right when Toronto had a population boom,” said Tory, as the two began walking around the neighbourhood. “The city designed this area to be a low-cost area to accommodate all the newcomers, but the planners did not really consider the apparatus necessary to sustain community life. This is why the area has become a hub for crime- because there are no opportunities here. You said it this area is depressing.
“Every year, a dance of half-a** promises to really build up the community takes place, but nobody does anything. ‘We don’t have any money’ being the popular complaint. Well, neither do they and unless the city does something about it, there will be more killings. Miguel was not the first, nor was he the last.”
“This is the reason I went into politics,” replied al-Tabin. “I see the destitution and think I have to fix it. It simply disgusts me that we live in a supposedly advanced civilization and there are millions of poor people like Miguel who need to be reduced to a life of crime to get by. Sickens me, really. Tell me, what opportunities do the people even have here?”
“York University is a couple of blocks northwest, at Keele & Steeles, but that’s too expensive for most of the students to go to here,” said Tory. “There are three high schools here- Westview Centennial, Emery CI and CW Jefferys. Westview and Emery teach manufacturing courses, but both schools are under-funded. As far as community events go, there rarely are any, unless the residents themselves organize them.”
Al-Tabin then reflected. He knew that something had to be done for this community, but what? There wasn’t much he could do as the Emir of Rümayyia, for he needed to make sure his people were taken care of, but he could provide a token of support for the community. “John, let these people know that if they vote for me, I will build them a community centre, and not just any community centre. I have a vision for low-cost housing here, a vision to make it the vibrant community it can become. No longer will these people live in neglect.”
“How Many People Have To Die Before People Start Caring?”
Allan Gardens, Sherbourne & Carlton
(OOC: Reader Discretion Advised)
“BANG!”
The sound of a gunshot broke the eerie silence at the downtown park. There was a crowd of people- mostly men- gathered at 4AM in the one block-wide park, but nobody was shouting.
Eventually, the shooter made himself known. It was one Armand Peligu, only 15, the son of a doctor who emigrated from France when Peligu was only five. He appeared to be at the centre of the crowd, and seemed to fire the shot to grab everyone’s attention.
“Y’all think I’m playing?” he said. He then pointed at his gun. “Now that you know I got this, who’s gonna fight me now?!”
“Me, b****.” A tall African-Canadian stepped right up to Peligu’s face. “I don’t care that you have a gun. I’ll drop you right now.”
“Oh yeah? With what?” The African-Canadian promptly pulled out his gun, which he had concealed in his pants, and shot Peligu five times in the chest, killing him instantly.
What happened next was a blur. Within the next five minutes, as many as 500 shots were heard, and by the end of the night, 15 people lay dead, and another 33 were injured, all as the result of a gun battle. The police and paramedics were slow to the scene, partly because they were going from witness reports since no one at the Gardens alerted the police. A further 10 people died as a result of their injuries, some upon arrival at the hospital and others after a hopeless effort by the emergency personnel to resuscitate them.
The war didn’t just claim the lives of those at the scene- a stray bullet found its way through the window of a nearby apartment building, shot by the African-Canadian as he was falling to the ground. 15-year-old Jonathan Townsend, studying for an exam he had the next day, was struck in the head and collapsed to the ground. Paramedics were called to the scene, but there was nothing they could do to revive Townsend.
The next day, Toronto Police Chief Bill Blair received thousands of angry calls from all over the city, some from angry parents who wanted to know how Davis could allow what happened last night to proceed. Details were initially sketchy come morning, but when they poured in, they were revealing, and underscored the police presence problem that Toronto had been experiencing in 2005.
According to eyewitness reports, some 27 men and 5 women- aged from 14 to 31- gathered at Allan Gardens at 3:50AM. Peligu was already sitting in the park with 20 men and 16 women smoking marijuana when the crowd gathered around, though no one at the time knew why Peligu was targeted. Police would later find out from the survivors that Peligu and Yohance Hiji, a college dropout originally from Hausaland (OOC: West Africa), had an argument because Peligu had “made a pass” earlier in the day on Hiji’s girlfriend, who accompanied Hiji to Allan Gardens. Apparently, Hiji’s posse encircled Peligu and started shoving him, which prompted Peligu to fire his gun skyward. Afterward, Hiji pulled out his gun to challenge Peligu, which prompted the gunfight that eventually claimed the lives of 26 people, including Hiji, Peligu and Townsend by a stray bullet.
The most shocking part of the scene was that it took Toronto police an estimated 25 minutes to arrive at the scene of the crime. Most of the police were in the Entertainment District (in between Spadina Avenue and Yonge Street, just to the west of the shootings) to provide security, leaving the Gardens woefully undermanned. Worse was that officers on their way to Allan Gardens took other calls en route, some of them even “forgetting” to go there. Area residents decried the lack of police attention, claiming that Toronto police would rather look over the “good parts of the city” and neglected comparatively ugly areas such as their own. “Toronto cannot look good just for its tourists,” Bhanuprasad Patel, a second-generation Indian-Canadian who lived next door to the Townsends, screamed on the phone to Blair, “it must serve all of us. Tell me, how many people have to die before people start caring?”