NationStates Jolt Archive

War, disease, and corruption rocked Exponent, causing the new formation of the Confederacy. Within the city, a military quarantine was established. Police were pulled from patrols in order to help enforce the quarantine. With all of these troubled times, dissilusioned citizens have begun using more and more drugs. People, looking for a sense of unity have begun joing gangs. In the slums, violence has skyrocketed with the lack of police. Now, each gang looks to not only rule the slums, but one day even rule the entire city.

The Red Hawks was a gang comepting for their share of turf.

Miyu a teenaged blond gang baby bitch was the leader of the Red Hawks. She and her freinds often sped around in their car.

"Get out of the way, move grandpa!" Miyu shouted Horns honked as the car sped through the streets. "I'm hungry let's get some food."

They slammed on the breaks and backed up into a fast food resteraunt. jumping out of the car, big bad and tough, occasionally swiping from a few other patrons.

"You hooligans!" A man shouted

They walked in. Behind the counter was a timid nerd.

"Hey Miyu." He said

"You know what we like."

"You guys gotta stop comming here. My boss is getting pissed."

"Tough for him, we'll eat where ever we damn well please."

"Look Miyu, I'm happy to do anything for you, and the only reason I haven't busted you is because you my cuz, but you gotta take it easy."

He rang up their order.

And handed them their food.

She threw a few large bills down, she earned from muggins, ripping off drug traders, and various other places.

"Keep the change."

"Don't you need it more than me, you're the poor one of the family."

"Watch it cuz, or you might find a nasty suprise in your bed one morning."

She threw down her kinfe right between his fingers

Corporal Alexander Steeldagger looked around him as his patrol drove down the street. From the turret of his humvee, he could see poverty everywhere. This was the very worst part of the slums. It was known as the Lemontree district. It was filled with drug addicts, homeless, the hopelessly sick, and just about all around bottom of society. As the patrol drove on, he saw a man, laying under blankets next to a burning barrel, with a small cardboard hovel next to him. A dead dog lay in the street a little further on. Beggars were all over this district. Citizens were frequently told not to give anything to these beggars. Chances were that they would just take the money to buy drugs.
"I wish I could do something for these people" Steeldagger thought, as he clutched the .50 cal. It was not uncommon for a patrol to be ambushed by the poor in this area, hoping that they could sell what they get on the black market. Only one such raid ever succeeded, but the images of it were burned into every patrolmans memory.
A humvee was patrolling the streets, just like any normal day, when they came upon the body of a disease ridden man lying in the road. The soldier in the passenger side got out to move the body. Suddenly, a drug addict emerged from an alleyway, firing a colt .45. The soldier, caught off guard, did not have time to grab his weapon. He caught a bullet to the leg and went down. The .50 cal gunner swiveled around towards the gunman. A man in one of the upper stories of an apartment launched a brick at the gunner in the turret, striking him in the head. He collapsed into the vehicle. The driver gunned it in reverse, but a small crowd of about 15 had formed behind the humvee. People swarmed the Humvee, assaulting it with rocks, bats, knives, pipes, anything. The wounded soldier was pounced on by some of the other people, who proceeded to throw a cinder block at him, cracking him in the helmet. Others beat and stabbed him to death. The frightened driver took out his P90 side arm, and fired through the windshield, killing a man outside. He fired 2 more times, before he realized that the turret was opened. He turned to close it, and this gave the mob time to reach into the vehicle. The driver was stabbed in the arm, then dragged out through the windshield and beaten to death. Now, the patrols go with 5 men, all armed with AR22A3 assault rifles. Another policy adopted after that incident was not to stop, for anything, alive or dead.

Claude DeCell clutched his rucksack close to his back and held a backpack by the top grab loop in his left hand. His right hand held a cell phone to his right ear, "I'm here, Art."

The voice in the earpiece came from a small office in a freight warehouse in Blake's Point, Siap. "Grand, Claude. What do you see?"

"Nothin' but shit an' human capital."

"That's the spirit."

"Look, you have my startup investment, right? Get yourself started."

"How much support can I count on from home?"

"I'm still tryin' to shift these gun parts, so I'll be out of reach for a bit. But don't worry, you got some of my best muscle over there. In a little bit I'll let you test the market, see how they like our THC."

Claude wore his Olive Drab BDU pants and a black flak jacket over a white T-shirt, dog tags still dangling out, and slightly discolored flesh was barely visible from the collar of his shirt. His time in the army was over two years ago, but normal life didn't suit Claude. His hand anxiously fingered the .38 snub nose in his jacket pocket and the Walther PPK strapped to his leg helped maintain his sanity. Claude could never be without two guns. When he was arrested in Siap and sent to the labor camps, he nearly had a psychological breakdown every day. But so long as he had his guns, he was an amazingly calm person. He reached into the backpack and pulled out a stack of bills which he carefully concealed. A small sedan pulled up and four men got out. Claude tossed one the backpack and the other the rucksack. "You guys find out where our office is supposed to be. And keep my stuff safe. Hey, Dave, Steve, you two come with me. This city makes me nervous. Let's find food." The men wandered towards a fast food restaurant where a car and a group of noisy kids just pulled into.

Inside the place, Claude stood behind the kids while one bodyguard chose a table and the other went to find a bathroom. Claude just stood behind the group of kids, and placed a cigarrette in his mouth and lit it. The girl snapped at the scrawny clerk and put a knife business end down into the counter. Kids these days. Think everything's a fuckin' crisis. Think everything calls for violence. These kids will never become anything. Just another thread in the tapestry of poverty and violence, nothing to fight for and nothing to set them apart from their fellow man. He thought this, but was smart enough to simply stand behind them quietly. Sunglasses hid his eyes, so they couldn't tell if he was looking at them or not.


***

Across town, the other two men parked the sedan in an abandoned garage, out of sight. They pulled down the garage door and lifted up the old chain link fence. The men entered the building, which appeared to be near collapse. The men walked up the stairs which nearly collapsed under the force of their boots as they stomped up the stairs. When they reached the fourth floor, they set down Claude's stuff and several large duffel bags they had brought themselves. Each room on the floor had an archaic bed or sofa, with a communal bathroom on the outside wall and living space in the center. One room had a work table, and one man dumped the contents of a duffel bag onto the table. Guns, ammo, tools, and the like were strewn across the table. "Herman, want your steyr silenced?"

"You got stuff for a silencer?"

"Nah. Just drill holes in the barrel. Better than an integral."

"No. Don't touch my guns."

"I was Army Ord! I'm a profesional stuff like th-"

he was cut off by the sound of gunfire outside. Both man ran to the nearest window and watched a mob storm a humvee and tear it apart.

"Fucking animals out there."

"This place is really a shithole. Almost too depressing for me."

"Hey. We'll make this place something. You'll see."

"I hope so."

A disturbance call came in from a fast food restarant. A group of rowdy teens were causing problems. The Humvee pulled up outside. Cpl. Steeldagger hopped out along with another corporal, and walked inside. "Any problems here ladies?" the corporal said, seeing the girl throw the knife into the counter.

"Oh the Fuzz. I'll handle this." Miyu said confidently.

"Everything's cool officer. Just getting some lunch is all."

"I saw everything officer. Its nothing. There was simply a dispute over how much the food cost." Claude set a small wad of bills on the table, and allowed his sunglasses to slide down his nose, making eye contact with the cashier. "Keep the change." His hands slid gently across the counter as he stepped between the officer and the counter. In a fluid motion, he turned his back to the counter, his hand sliding across the counter and removing the knife and discretely depositing it in the girl's pocket. Claude coughed, stood up straight, and said in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry to make you go out of your way, officer. Really. Let me buy you lunch." Claude's expression was apologetic, yet firm.

Miyu's cousin also gave his vouch. "It's true officer. They're just unhappy about the high price of the food." He took the money "Thanks." He opend the register.

"See everyone is happy. Just because we dress tough doesn't mean we're hooldums." Miyu said. She utterd a few words in Kurma to her buddies.

"Food is so high cause most of the farmers died with the plague, its not this guys fault" Cpl. Steeldagger said. "You kids stay out of trouble, and thanks for the offer, but I am not allowed to accept it" he said, before him and the other corporal turned around and walked out the door.
"To bad, I wanted to see some shooting" the other soldier said
"No you don't, these people out here are animals" Steeldagger replied.

"Fumska." She mutterd in Kurma. (Which means pig)

"Why are all of you still staring the show's over. Anyway now that we have our food, let's go."

Claude turned and faced the cashier. "Get me and those guys some food. Something fried and greasy, preferably." he said motioning to his two bodyguards at the table. He leaned in closer to the cashier, "Who's the knife-happy blonde?"

He punched in the order "She's my cousin Miyu. Her family are immigrants from Kurona. 12.36 please."

"Cousin, eh?" He put the money on the counter. "you guys have family probs or something? Back in Siap, families sue the crap out of each other if there's some dispute. I suppose threatening you with a knife is a bit more civilized." He gathered the food. "Seriously, though. She's either got guts or is seriously stupid to pull a stunt like that in public. She connected?"

"Well I wouldn't say she's got massive connections. I mean she's not working for the Mafia or anything, but she runs a gang. The Red Hawks. There is a sort of dispute amongst our family. Her mom and my dad are brother and sister. Once my aunt's farm died out back home, well things kind of got tense. Miyu's always been a leader. I just never thought she would lead a mean street gang."

Claude looked at him. "I work for a uh, firm in Siap. We are a, uh, hedge fund of sorts." He cleared his throat, "And we are always looking for the strong-willed type." He set his card on the counter and slid it to the cashier. "Please give this to her. It has my number on the back. If our plans come to fruition, I will personally see that your family is looked after." His sunglasses slid down his nose again. "I mean that, heart and soul. I wish I had a family to look after." He took the food and motioned for the bodyguards to follow him out the door.

"Sure." he picked up the card and looked at it

Meanwhile Miyu's gang is chillin' in an ally way.

"Hey blondy you bitch, you're invading our turf!" Said some other Gang Banger

"Oh is this yours?"

"Yeah!"

"Is this yours?!"

"Yeah it is!"

Miyu kicked him the the stomach.

"Tough pal!"

A few of his freinds pulled out weapons of all sorts. As did Miyu's gang.

"You punks want a rumble we'll give you one."

"Hey HEY you punks!" Some man shouted holding a heavy duty riffle. "Amscray before I blast your brains on the side of the wall."

They all took off.

"Stay off of our turf Miyu."

"Same to you Marurice!"

Several snickerd.

"I told you bitch, my name is NOT Maurice!"

(Well it is his actual name but he would never admit that)

"Let's go Maurice."

"Shut up!"

he stormed off

The patrol was going smoothly until it came to a marktplace, in which hundreds of people were gathered. "Fuck, stop the Humvee, take positions, and call fot back up" Steeldagger shouted from the turret. The 3 passengers hoped out, took a knee behind their opened doors, and aimed their weapons throught their rolled down windows. The driver radioed for a few more vehicles. In the market, the crowd listened, cheering, to a man on a podium.

"Who do you blame for the problems of this country? The government? NO! The military? NO! It is the foreigners! Before Exponent opened its borders, we were prospering! We began annexing other lands, building an empire, but now look at us! This new Confederacy is struggling to get on its feet! These people, if they even deserve to be called people, have brought with them the ideas of communism! I would even go so far as to say they brought with them the plague that destroyed this nation! Now my friends, now is the time to rid our beautiful land of these foreigners who seek to destroy it! WHO IS WITH ME!!"

"Sure." he picked up the card and looked at it


The card read:

The Romano Group
Overseas Investment Branch
2314 N. Boulevard, Blake's Point, Siap
Claude DeCell-ext. 6148

On the back was a phone number scrawled in black ink.

A small mob was moving through the slums, beating up foreign looking people. Cpl. Steeldagger got on a bullhorn. "GO HOME" he blared. The mob continued doing what they did. Finally, teargas and rubber bullets were used to disperse the people

OOC: Where is everyone?

OOC: WIll post later today

The main leaders are in the a small tavern that they run, which is infact a thinly vield front for the sale of guns, maijuana, and Manae, a halucenigenic tea not commonly used outside of Gandaen communitiess.They were discussing a new shipment that was supposed to be coming, but this was momentaryily halted when news of the mob reached them, they began to organize their boy's and any other men they could find. This "counter-mob" left looking for the fleeing remenant of the first one armed with handguns, shotguns, bats, knives, chains, and whatever else the could find. (OOC you couldn't give us some time until you disperced it)

Claude and his two bodyguards walked down the alley toward the tenement his men were occupying. "Foreign bastard." A voice came from the alley. "What?" Claude wheeled around an screamed.
"Go back to hell, you foreign bastard." The voice replied. Claude's bodyguards stepped forward, but he motioned them back. "I will go back..." He said taking off his jacket and shirt, "...If you can make me." he was muscular, with a tattoo reading "Pro Domini et Pro Siapia" on his left arm and a brand on his chest in the shape of a bull's head with a circle around it. "Make me go home!"

The man lunged at him, but was met with a quick thrust of Claude's fingers in his throat. He lay on the ground gurgling. "Well?" Claude called. "Who else wants me to go home?" Two more men came out. Claude held perfectly still until one swung at him. He took the man by the arm with his left hand, elbowed the next man on the bridge of the nose with his right, and brought his hand down in the form of a karate chop, breaking the first man's arm at the elbow. He then roundhouse kicked the second man, and slammed the first man's head into the wall. "Anyone else?" More people came, and Claude saw one raise a revolver. Without thinking, he rolled, quickly retrieving his ppk from his leg holster, and fired three shots into the man's face. "Anyone else want to make me leave?" He trained the pistol on the mob whilst retrieving his stuff. "Anyone?" The mob backed away slowly and dispersed.

In the tenements, the men had been setting up weapons and equipment. Claude had put on his shirt and jacket as he walked in. "Sir, Mr. Romano says he is ready to send us a shipment..."

"...But it won't get through the military quarantine. Hmm..." He thought. "I have an idea. You boys take to the street. If you see any more mobs, kill 'em. Any thieves, kill 'em. Any junkies, well, kill 'em. This will be the safest part of the slums. If we can keep it safe ourselves, then we will be excluded from the military quarantine."

"Good plan sir!" The men loaded their sub machine guns and took to the streets.

The mob left the market, but was not disbanded. Gangs of thugs wandered the relativly un-patrolled streets. Cpl. Steeldagger and his patrol would not come by these streets for another week, and for that week, the mob would have its way. Of course, if it got too out of hand, the military would come in, but the leader of the mob, an old man by the name of Blueridge, knew this, and made sure to only target small bands of foreigners. There would be some looting, but it would not be widespread, and only of stores owned by foreigners, many of whom were illegal and did not want to report the crime.

Gangs of native confederates wandered the streets, armed with an assortment of weapons. Most of the men had bats, broom sticks, 2x4's, chains, and pipes, but the occasional knife and even rarer gun could be seen.

A abnd of about 20 men smashed into the window of a small meatshop. The owner attempted to defend his shop with a broom, but was soon over powered. The place was looted entirely. Not a scrap of food was left. The place was then burned to the ground, because the fire department refused to go to that part of town.

A gang, about 45 men strong, assembled outside of the Gandaen tavern. Someone threw a brick through the windows. The gang pushed there way in, swinging their weapons wildly, overturning tables and beating patrons. One man began to spraypaint the words "GO BACK TO HELL" on the facade.

Claude's men, mostly in black flak jackets or dark trench coats, approached the mob destroying the tavern. There were five of them, each of them was carrying either a Glock or a USP, and a Steyr TMP or Uzi Carbine. Four of them fanned around the entrance, submachine guns out and pointed at the mob. One stepped forward, firing three shots from his USP into the air. "Leave this business now. Go to your homes!"

The mob stopped, and saw the armed men. It began to back off. Blueridge soon learned of the armed men, and decided he too woul dneed to arm. He soon contacted the Griffincrest Oil Corporation. Soon, a deal was worked out, and 120 AR-550's were delivered to a small were house on the harbor.

"There's pretty tought talk about us Miyu."

"If these racist mobs could touch us, I would have handed them my lungs by now. Don't worry, we just will do what we do, and keep our turf."