NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is the IC thread for the RP “The Blood Duchess”. OOC comments will go to this thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=552541).

WARNING: This RP may contain strong, graphic, or descriptive language not suitable for children and for those whose sensitivities may be offended.

What is happening inside the thread:
Castellobruca, Sceicce
Evil
The Duchess (Brutland and Norden), Sofia (Third Spanish States), and Sondoël (Snefaldia) are back in Torre Maggiore for an afternoon of frenzy, as per post #141.

Doria (The Norwich Islands) is trying to abduct Chester and Luanna (Brutland and Norden), with Officer Makavelli (Snefaldia) in the town square, as of post #55 and #61.

Good
The Castellobruca Police are still searching for the lost Clyde Jamison, with Officer Santini's (Kulikovia) search of parts of the area turn up inconclusive, in post #106. Sgt. Webb's (Cazelia) efforts to use choppers were thwarted after the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force and the Sceicce Grant Police objected, in post #126. At the Castellobruca Police Station, Chief Bergoglio (Londim) had received a call from Sceicce Police Chief Bricco Calvatone (Brutland and Norden) to withdraw the foreign choppers and authorized Bergoglio to use the Nord-Brutlandese helicopters instead, as of post #130.

Lecarocchiavalle
Good
Foreign reporter Boniface Godenot (Free United States), pursuing a case form his own country, gets entangled with an argument with Canossa Police Chief Carina Laurenzana (Brutland and Norden). Meanwhile, exchange police officer Riccardo Sabbatini (Van Luxemburg) arrives in Canossa to help search for the missing Kyle Battaglia. Sabbatini gathered information from Inspector Bonzone (Brutland and Norden) of Canossa Police, and is set to partner* and meet with Godenot in Rizzogno, as of post #147.

*teehee, I was about to type "to hook up", lol. :D

The following e-mail had been spreading around Nordener inboxes for a few days:
Máio 3, 2009

Hals! Noi es Adam e Simona Gagliardo, e Zenone e Teresa Battista e noi sognece debraschal nostra abre.

Piasse sgrece al la codcu di nói stardu, Cestre Gagliardo e Luanna Battista. Sul tu ojeche mai, piasse ifformeche mai con noi sgreco mai, e con noi coglece mai uome. O, tu oametterseche io la stazione polza briola sul tu ici ani ifformazione e/o ojesse di nói brattu.

Raconte:
Cestre Gagliardo
Usce di natale: Settembre 11, 1996
Manza eftre: Avril 29, 2009
Ete: 12
Stature: 5’1”
Pese: 45.5 kg
Ojo: Azula
Ero: Rubia

Luanna Battista
Usce di natale: Febberre 1, 1997
Manza eftre: Avril 29, 2009
Ete: 12
Stature: 5’1”
Pese: 42.5 kg
Ojo: Verta
Ero: Ruga

Cestre e Luanna corviecce che uome e fuggirecce zunce Marze 8, 2009. Cai amigetto trecce con mai tentecce la stazione ralla di San Canico on treno no. W38. Noi ifformecci con treno no. W38 traversece la rutto Vilònorda-Compostela.

Noi levecce già a brelto di persono vegra son Polze di San Canico, non c’e noval, Esse/J. Derrico Belvetti trecce mai dell’ici pre traccii on la fracirci di nói stardu. Sul tu ici ani ifformazione, piasse mettersece nostra polzu briola o ci par:

Esse/J. Derrico Belvetti
San Canico Depreto Polza
1001 Piazzo di Fontanu, San Canico, Soltera, Norden SO541
(83) 655-455-00 loc. 12

Noi longece ghirrettíal nói stardu. Noi apprezece ani abre in ríunnonecche nói brattu te ci.

Piesse sentece hoce te verdune tu innecca. Grade tu verio masio per nostra supone e abre.
Adam e Simona Gagliardo
Zenone e Teresa Battista
PS. Cestre, Luanna, sul vosi ronjeco hoci, noi seche vosi innecche con noi gapece vosi e noi longece vosi verio masio. Piasse torinece uome…(Translation)
May 3, 2009

Hello! We are Adam and Simona Gagliardo and Zenone and Teresa Battista and we desperately need your help.

Please look at the pictures of our children, Chester Gagliardo and Luanna Battista. If you see them, please inform them that we are looking for them, and that we wish them back home. Or, you can also contact the local police station should you have any information and/or sighting of our children.

Description:
Chester Gagliardo
DOB: September 21, 1996
Missing: April 29, 2009
Age Now: 12
Height: 5’1”
Weight: 45.5 kg
Eyes: Blue
Hair: blond

Luanna Battista
DOB: February 1, 1997
Missing: April 29, 2009
Age Now: 12
Height: 5’1”
Weight: 42.5 kg.
Eyes: Green
Hair: red

Chester and Luanna ran away from home and eloped last March 8, 2009. Their friend said that they left the San Canico rail station aboard train no. W38. We had been informed that train W38 plies the Nordville-Compostela route.

We had already filed a missing persons report with San Canico police, but so far J/Insp. Derrico Belvetti said they have no leads yet on the whereabouts of our children. If you have any information, please contact your local police or us through:

J/Insp. Derrico Belvetti
San Canico Police Department
1001 Piazzo di Fontanu, San Canico, Soltera, Norden SO541
(83) 655-455-00 loc. 12

We terribly miss our children. We appreciate any help in reuniting our children back to us.

Please forward this to everyone you know. Thank you very much for your support and help.
Adam and Simona Gagliardo
Zenone and Teresa Battista

PS. Chester, Luanna, if you are reading this, we’d like you to know that we love you and we miss you very much. Please come back home…

Castellobruca, Sceicce
May 6, 2009, 08:44 AM

Brix and Catherine Jamison worriedly entered the Castellobruca police station. Their son Clyde was missing. He went out to stargaze outside the inn they were staying, he never came back. The couple from Timberland was racking their brains on where could their son be; they were supposed to return to Brutland later today…

Catherine approached the front desk of the police station, looking for a police officer on duty...

WARNING: Graphic description follows. Read at your own risk.
(Translations in gray)
Torre Maggiore, Castellobruca, Sceicce, Norden
May 6, 2009, 8:56 AM

Duchess Irena entered the dungeon of the Torre Maggiore, with anticipation brimming in her mind. Giacomo told her that the dungeon was ready for her, and all was prepared.

The Duchess closed the heavy stone doors of the basement and eagerly descended the stairs to the door of the dungeon. Located at the tower’s basement, the big and spacious dungeon is dimly lit by five tiny holes where sunlight passes. Giacomo had already installed a hanging lamp, like that used in interrogation rooms, but it wasn’t enough.

This former dungeon was converted into a storage room after Brutland and Norden outlawed torture. There were still stuff from its storage room days – dilapidated chairs, broken tables, pots, wooden buckets, firewood, and even bones and pieces of old clothing. Now, the old horrors locked up in this room are about to be relived again.

The Duchess inserted the big key into the keyhole and twisted it. She felt the door unlock and she pushed the door. She was absolutely delighted by the sight.

She entered the room and closed the door, anticipating what was she about to do. In the middle of the room was a boy of about 10, his hands and feet chained to two support columns, like the Vitruvian man (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitruvian_Man). Giacomo told her that he got this lost tourist kid from Brutland last night and that he had prepared this kid differently than those that came before.

The Duchess loudly dragged an old dilapidated single-seater couch in front of the boy, slowly waking him up. She sat on the couch as she watched him wake up under the dim light of the hanging lamp. The boy had wet his jeans and vomited white curdly stuff in front of his blue hoodie and white shirt. He smelled of sweat and urine and vomit and rancid milk; the stink overpowered even the moldy rotting stench of the dungeon. She relished the smell and the thought, even if Doria had told her what to expect after Giacomo had force-fed milk and water into the boy last night.

She realized that the boy was already awake and was crying silently. She stood up from the couch and slapped the boy on the cheeks. “I, tu sveglece!” ("Hey, wake up!")

The boy lifted his head up. “I want to go home,” he said miserably. “Please…”
The Duchess laughed. “I want to go home,” she mimicked the boy, and then bellowed out taunting words: “Tu mansessa! Tu natòica!” ("You person-without-balls! You cry baby!") She then asked viciously, “what is your name?”
The boy did not answer and hung his head low.
The Duchess leaned closer towards the boy, such that she can feel the boy’s nervous hot breath on her face. “I’m asking you, what is your name!”
His lips trembled and he muttered his name.
“Clyde? Your name is Clyde?” She slapped him again and sat on the couch. “I hear you are from Brutland. Show me the famed masculinity of the Brute boys, not that whiny ‘I want to go home’!” She kicked his chest hard with her right stiletto heel, sending the boy yelping loud with pain.

Pleasure surged inside her and she laughed as she kicked him again in the chest. She stood up and slapped his cheeks repeatedly with gusto. She paced to one end of the room, took a bucketful of water, and splashed it on Clyde. “Tu malo schifa!” (You filthy boy!) She looked around, grabbed a pail of soapy water, and began to half-scrub, half-maul Clyde into cleanliness and submission. As soon as her cleaning torture was done, pleasure and libido spiked up. She kicked the bucket away as she sat on the dilapidated couch. She retrieved her brerero*, raised her legs on the couch’s armrests, moved her skirt out of the way, and began to pleasure herself in front of the poor boy.

After a few moments of bliss for herself, she stood up, grabbed a fistful of his blond hair, lifted his head up and forced her brerero into his mouth. “Savonece la sapore di nobilette, scapo!” (“Savor the taste of nobility, young man!”) The boy gagged and as soon as the Duchess withdrew the object from his mouth, Clyde vomited more white acidic curds. “Tu do dell’enirece la sapore di nobilette?” (“You don’t like the taste of nobility?”) In anger she then whacked his face with the first thing she can reach, this time a human humerus. The force of the impact broke the bone into two and sent blood spurting out of his brow.

She watched as the boy tried to curl up in pain. He was crying, not understanding why this was happening to him. “Codarda,” (“Coward”) she muttered as she searched for that old Brucklander ceremonial saber. “You know what we used to do for cowards and prisoners?” She found the saber along with old copper pans and broken clay pots. She walked towards Clyde and pointed the end of the rusty saber at his nose. “We kill them, or, at least do this – ” with the speed of a swordsman she pointed the saber down and lopped off what was hanging in the groin area. Despite being rusty, the saber penetrated through his jeans and skin and flesh. Clyde howled loudly at the pain as the Duchess laughed.

“Too bad, you were so cute,” she told the boy. “But there’s no use spreading coward genes around, you know.”

She sat down again and used her brerero again. She toyed with the saber as she was pleasuring herself, eventually stabbing Clyde in the abdomen. She slashed him open and watched as his internal organs herniated out. She laughed as he screamed in pain, but eventually she got tired of the noise he as creating. It was dampening her enjoyment. Clyde was still alive when the Duchess tore a piece of his liver and stuffed it in his mouth to silence him. After five agonizing minutes, Clyde ceased sobbing and became limp. With the pleasurable stimulus gone, she stopped using her brerero, and muttered, “Aw, miei sempia.” (“Aw, how sad.”)

She stood up and went out of the room to look for Giacomo and Sondoël.

*brerero = Nord-Brutlandese term for a vibrating dildo

Castellobruca, Sceicce
May 6, 2009, 09:05 AM

Seven days, six towns, and three wrong bus rides – Chester Gagliardo and Luanna Battista found themselves still in Normark, in this out-of-the-way medieval town with busloads of camera-toting tourists. The last bus ride from Biccione was the wrong bus ride that took them there – they were supposed to take the long ride to the city of Fiargastramo, Dennland. But they were 600 kilometers and 200 livros short for the journey.

Perhaps it was time to call off this little rebellion of theirs. They ran away because their parents thought they were too young to be engaged in a relationship; but Chester and Luanna were determined to show them otherwise.

“I’m hungry,” Luanna complained. “How much do we have left?”
Chester took out his wallet and counted their remaining money. “I have 15 livros here, and coins.”
“Can we eat?”
He looked at his girlfriend. “Oh… okay.”

The pair went to find the place where they can eat cheapest – and found the Panettollío Bruchense (Brucklander Bakery) along a narrow alley leading away form the town plaza. Despite being tucked away from public view, the Panettollío Bruchense found business good, and in fact, it was a busy place. Chester bought a small loaf of focacio Bruchense and gave it to Luanna, who was waiting near the door.

“Here,” Chester said as he passed the bread and a small foil-wrapped cube to Luanna. “I managed to charm the people there to giving me a piece of cheese.”
“Thanks.” As she unwrapped the bread, she noticed that Chester hadn’t bought anything for himself. “You aren’t eating?”
“Nope, I’m not hungry,” he lied.
“Come on, you should eat,” she broke the bread in half and passed it to him. Chester refused to take it. “You are hungrier. Eat it.”

“Hello young ones,” a smiling man boomed from behind them. Chester and Luanna turned around to face him. “How are you enjoying my town? So far, so good?” His smile grew wider when he saw that they had patronized his business.

“Yes, sir,” Chester said, trying to charm the big man, “your town is very very nice. In fact this bread is one of the most delicious bread we’ve tasted in our trip.” He then broke off a piece of focacio Bruchense and popped it in his mouth. “Mmmm.”

“Why, thank you, thank you, young man,” the man said, chuckling. “By the way, I’m Dino Lanzavecchia, the mayor of this town. I’m happy you liked the bread from my bakery. This is our family business.” Lanzavecchia called out one of his nephews and whispered something to the apron-clad boy. The nephew ran out for the errand.

Luanna became anxious. This was the mayor of this town! They had been avoiding police and people like this big guy for a week now; would they be busted now?

But Chester kept on talking to the big fat but jovial mayor, seemingly bent on charming him.

“You can visit the Duchess’ place,” the mayor suggested. “Duchess Irena is a very nice woman.”
“That’s what I’ve heard too, sir.”

The mayor’s nephew returned with a small paper bag. The mayor took it and passed it to Chester. “Here, young man, accept my little gift for both of you.” Chester opened it and saw food enough for lunch and some free passes to the Duchess’ Castle. “Thank you sir,” he beamed in gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” Lanzavecchia said. “Hope you enjoy our town!”

They parted ways and Chester and Luanna went back to the town plaza.

The cool air was cut by the smooth curling smoke of a cigarette, held burning between the long aristocratic fingers of Sondoël Quèstayán as he lounged on an overstuffed divan in the Torre Maggiore. The fair Beládanyá man could have played Adonis perfectly if he had been wearing a chlamys and nothing else, with his regal features, softly curled blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. He deftly knocked the ash from his cigarette, and lifted it to his lips, pulling for a moment, and then exhaling.

Every movement he made, even in repose, was gorgeous and debliberate. The Quèstayä scions were members of an ancient and revered aristocratic family in Snefaldia- one that still monopolized positions of power with their wealth and connections in the modern day. Even Astár Sardávär, the new Provost of Deputies in the Snefaldian Parliament, was a Quèstayán- one who had taken his mother's name so he could avoid the pressing chatter of "privilege" and accusations of oligarchy. Sondoël, however, did not have such compunctions. In fact, he had embraced the legacy his name aforded him and glided through his youth on a wave of entitelement and lavish expenditure.

He had attempted to enter Aatem Nal (largely on his pious uncle Usálás' urging), but the Arsaþæs had entirely failed to press upon him the concept of moderation and dutiful study, choosing instead to seduce his superiors and refusing to dress appropriately, citing his "noble birth." University proved slightly more successful, in that he actually completed his study for a degree in the arts, but accumulated a reputation as a promiscuous debaucherer, with a trail of rumours of sexual excesses and acts unmentionable in polite company.

All through this his immediate family (a part of the extensive clan, but still wealthy and powerful in their own right) supported him, moving him from city to city to avoid problems until he hit the end of the road and was accused of raping a young man and woman in the port city of Taxilha, and he fled the country at age 25. How he ended in the company of the Duchess was certainly a tale also unfit for polite company. What was inefficable, though, was his rampant sexual appetite (for both men and women), his tendency to more... unusual sexual practices, and an unhealthy devotion to lavish parties and drinking to excess. All while he appeared the model of polished and divine aristocracy; women (and men) fell at his feet, and he used them dutifully.

He finished exhaling the smoke as the Duchess walked into the room, and he winked.

"Dearest." he purred and he removed his cigarette, a smooth and silky voice. "Back so soon from your play-thing? Satisfied so quickly? Tch-tch." he clucked his tongue, lazily sitting up and setting an arm on the divan. "Let's find Giacomo, shall we, and have lunch in the garden... or would you like to go out in the town to a café? I'm feeling like having a lusty tourist tonight, or two." He smiled a perfect smile, chuckling to himself at his sexual joke, leaning back and taking a drag on the cigarette.

--snippy--
Irena straightened her rumpled skirt as she listened to Sondoël. "That Brutland boy was bo-ring," she complained. "Didn't have the vigor and the toughness I expect from those Brute boys... so I gave him what he deserved." She snatched the cigarette from Sondoël's fingers, put it between her lips, and inhaled. "As for your lusty tourists," she said as she blew off a puff of smoke, "perhaps it's too early for those. You can satisfy yourself with a dead Brute in the dungeon if you like." She gingerly placed the cigarette on one of the notches on the side of the ashtray. The Duchess sat on the couch and felt rather sticky. "Scit*, I really need to take a youthful bath."

*Scit = Shit.

Irena straightened her rumpled skirt as she listened to Sondoël. "That Brutland boy was bo-ring," she complained. "Didn't have the vigor and the toughness I expect from those Brute boys... so I gave him what he deserved." She snatched the cigarette from Sondoël's fingers, put it between her lips, and inhaled. "As for your lusty tourists," she said as she blew off a puff of smoke, "perhaps it's too early for those. You can satisfy yourself with a dead Brute in the dungeon if you like." She gingerly placed the cigarette on one of the notches on the side of the ashtray. The Duchess sat on the couch and felt rather sticky. "Scit*, I really need to take a youthful bath."

*Scit = Shit.

He wrinkled his nose.

"Oh my goodness, how disgusting. So... dirty." He eyed her wryly, a cruel smile breaking his fine features. "I can hold myself until later. It will make for a much more interesting evening if I have a great amount of... energy to work through."

"You are looking rather... old today, dear Irena. A rough night, perhaps?" Sondoël ribbed her lightly, expecting a reactionary response. He removed the cigarette from her hand, got up and walked toward a window, stretching his limbs. He liked to dress in the fashion of the old French aristocrats, something apart from the traditional dress of his aristocratic Beládanyá compatriots back in Snefaldia, whose costume consisted of robes and traditional hair stylings. An accomplished dilettante as himself took some of those elements (the carefully tied artistic knots in men's hair, the silver chains and jewelry) and added them to his own style.

In the sun, he shimmered. A blue and gold redingcote that fit him perfectly, with a starched cravat and matching breeches. He preferred low slippers with a sensually arched last and a suspiciously low heel, patent leather as a matter of course. In Snefaldia, most Neeri wore a silver chain in their hair or somewhere else, with more affluent people having several- he had two silvery bows tied at the end of his breeches, giving a shimmer where his silk stockings met the knee.

"Perhaps you need some fresh sea air, dear Irena? Or, perhaps a... toy that will keep up with your expectations? We can call Arlecchino down in the town and have him look around. Then, dinner, and you and I both will have a chance to have some fun."

Juan got up to the sound of the phone ringing. He looked at the clock 5:00 a.m. Well just in time I had to reaserch that strange email i got yesterday. He got up and slumped to the phone almost tripping over the bed. He wasn't really awake just kinda in that stage of the morning. He picked up the phone and said,
"Hello, Juan speaking."
"yes this is Mr. Ravera"
"Oh, hey boss. Whats up at 5:00 a.m."
"Well we heard there were two teenagers missing goes by the name of Luanna Battista and Chester Gagliardo."
"Yea I know I got some strange email from their parents I was just about to go investagate."
"Well, o.k then you know what to do."
He hung up the phone and got out his clothes for the day. Another days work.

Alex gazed out the side of the Blackhawk as it landed in a large field outside of town "Have a good time Sarge, call us if you need some more men"
"I will, thanks for the ride" He said waving them off
He shouldered his M16 and jogged to the police station. He slowed down and began to walk as he walked past a large castle
"Nifty" He said to himself, continuing at his former speed.
He arrived at the police station panting from a long run
"Sergeant Alexander J Webb, IDMC reporting for duty!" He saluted the officer at the desk and waited for a reply.

OOC: A short post before lunch. I'm busy for the next two days so I'll be on the computer later on sunday

He wrinkled his nose.

"Oh my goodness, how disgusting. So... dirty." He eyed her wryly, a cruel smile breaking his fine features. "I can hold myself until later. It will make for a much more interesting evening if I have a great amount of... energy to work through."

"You are looking rather... old today, dear Irena. A rough night, perhaps?"
"Which is why I need my youthful bath," she insisted. "Unfortunately, Giacomo hadn't brought home one of those young women I can use. It seems, though, all I'm getting right now is a plain bath." She smirked a little and her thoughts returned to the boy he had just murdered. "That Brute boy... wasn't worth it." She looked at the blood and vomit spatters at the hem of her gown, on her legs, and on her feet.

"Perhaps you need some fresh sea air, dear Irena? Or, perhaps a... toy that will keep up with your expectations? We can call Arlecchino down in the town and have him look around. Then, dinner, and you and I both will have a chance to have some fun."
"We already have fresh air all around my place, my dear. It's a toy I need, hopefully a better one this time..." She was thoroughly excited of the thought of another session in the dungeon. "But I have no trust in that Arlecchino. If he becomes useless to me I can have him disappear without a trace... Perhaps Giacomo and Doria can supply us with better toys to play with - for you and for me," she stood up and saw her dirty feet. "Damn, I really need my youthful bath." She sighed resignedly. All she was getting was nothing but a soapy bath. "Perhaps we can go into town and have lunch at the restaurant. But before that, I'll just go and take a shower. I have that Brute splattered all over me."

Police Chief Erico Bergoglio was a bright man, he was a man who craved knowledge and action. Police Chief Erico Bergoglio was also a bored man. Being one of two police officers in a Castellobruca meant he knew everything that happened and as there were only 2 officers, it would indicate not much happened in this quiet part of the country. However the e-mail he had received the night before played on his mind. Children went missing everyday in the world, but if this was coming to his doorstep then he needed to be alert. His attention came to a couple who had entered the station.

Castellobruca, Sceicce
May 6, 2009, 08:44 AM

Brix and Catherine Jamison worriedly entered the Castellobruca police station. Their son Clyde was missing. He went out to stargaze outside the inn they were staying, he never came back. The couple from Timberland was racking their brains on where could their son be; they were supposed to return to Brutland later today…

Catherine approached the front desk of the police station, looking for a police officer on duty...

"Good morning Miss. I am Police Chief Erico Bergoglio of Castellobruca."

He looked at the couple who seemed tired and upset. 30 years as an Officer of the law gave him experience and his experience told him that something big was about to break.

"What's wrong Madame?"


Alex gazed out the side of the Blackhawk as it landed in a large field outside of town "Have a good time Sarge, call us if you need some more men"
"I will, thanks for the ride" He said waving them off
He shouldered his M16 and jogged to the police station. He slowed down and began to walk as he walked past a large castle
"Nifty" He said to himself, continuing at his former speed.
He arrived at the police station panting from a long run
"Sergeant Alexander J Webb, IDMC reporting for duty!" He saluted the officer at the desk and waited for a reply.

OOC: A short post before lunch. I'm busy for the next two days so I'll be on the computer later on sunday

The silence was broken by a man who had looked like he had be jogging. Erico eyed him with some contempt. He had been expecting an officer to arrive but not in such a brash manner.

"Hello Officer. I am Police Chief Bergoglio. As you can see I'm in the middle of something, but I want you to take notes for a case report."

Castellobruca Police Station

The quiet hum of the overhead fans are all I hear. It's another quiet day which benefits me greatly for I have much paper work to catch-up on. I drag a finger across the top of the filing cabinet, leaving a clean streak over the metallic surface. Examining my finger, it becomes apparent that the station could use a good cleaning. Of course, that's not my job. I contemplate asking Agata, our secretary out at the front desk to do a good cleaning but i remember that it's not her job either. not to mention even in her aging status, she'd still cut me from the bottom up. Sighing, I decide to wipe the surfcae off myself with my hankerchief.

My ear catches the tick of the wall clock in the Bull Pen. That's the nickname for the open area where most of the action happens. Three sets of two desks pushed against another, not to mention several long tables along the far wall with computers, boxes, and other items of police work. The clock mocks me as it ticks away. I am a slave to that damn clock. It grants me freedom when it feels most conveniant. Now, my attention is on the clock as opposed to the rampant dust all around.

"Inspector Santini!" I hear Agata bellow from the front desk. Finally, there was something for me to do, or so I think. She probably wants to ask a random question pertaining to a manner of law. Or, she probably wants to flirt a little with me. It's all fun and games with a hint of innocence. I always flicker my ring hand in her face and remind her that I love Claudia with all my heart. She'll smile then go back to typing.

"Yes, Agata?" I reply, beginning to walk towards the lobby. My stride is casual and without hurry.

"This couple would like to file a missing person's report" Agata tells me in a very business-esque tone.

I look up at the couple, they look like nice enough people. Out of towners who ran into a bit of trouble. Of course, a missing person is more than a bit of trouble. Their faces are taut with confusion and worry.

"Please come this way" I sweep my arm, allowing them to come through the door next to the desk, "I'm Inspector Dante Santini"

"We already have fresh air all around my place, my dear. It's a toy I need, hopefully a better one this time..." She was thoroughly excited of the thought of another session in the dungeon. "But I have no trust in that Arlecchino. If he becomes useless to me I can have him disappear without a trace... Perhaps Giacomo and Doria can supply us with better toys to play with - for you and for me," she stood up and saw her dirty feet. "Damn, I really need my youthful bath." She sighed resignedly. All she was getting was nothing but a soapy bath. "Perhaps we can go into town and have lunch at the restaurant. But before that, I'll just go and take a shower. I have that Brute splattered all over me."

The Snefaldian gave a tittering laugh. "Dirty girl. But you must trust my little policeman agent. He's giving us what he can- and letting us know what the gendarmerie are up to. But yes, dear Irena- go get yourself freshened up a little bit, and we'll go down on the town."

He twirled gracefully on his black pumps, facing the window once more. "I so love going down to the town and showing off the noble blood, don't you? It gives me so much more pleasure when we carry off the witless peasants for our little escapades. Like a wolf among the sheep, isn't it? Delicious."

He turned once again, giving a devilish look to his debauched patroness. "Now go, go and clean up that awful mess you've got all over you. I'll call Giangiacomo at L'Uccello- you know, that young buck I had screaming like a girl last week, from the café down on the piazza. And Arlecchino- to have him look around. Oh, we'll have a fun night yet, darling Irena." He gave a sultry laugh as he sat back down on the divan, snapping for a servant to bring him another cigarette.

Castellobruca Police Station



Special Agent Jian Cao arrived at the police station around 11:30 he walked into the police station. This was his first foregin assign he didnt know how well he would fair in a foreign envroniment. His people back home keep so much space from the other ethnic group. It felt like his home country was foreign to him. Jian thought to himself and about the case in brutland he has solved cases somewhat similar to this case. But he figured with the gruelsome stories. he heard he would bring his trusted AMI P-52 pistol and if His gun was losted due to some crazy circumstance. He could rely on his martial arts training with the monks. He hoped to solve the case quick with the other officers.

Jian walked up towards the front desk and flashed his AFBI ID and said

"Im Special Agent Jian Cao" said Jian

OOC: Short post i have to go somewhere with my moms

"Good morning Miss. I am Police Chief Erico Bergoglio of Castellobruca."

He looked at the couple who seemed tired and upset. 30 years as an Officer of the law gave him experience and his experience told him that something big was about to break.

"What's wrong Madame?"
"My child is missing," Catherine Jamison blurted out, and then broke into sobs. Her husband Brix turned her around and hugged her. He was used to this - Catherine is an intensely emotional person... to be frank, she can't be relied upon in intense situations such as this one.

"Good morning, Chief," Mr. Jamison began, "our son Clyde was missing." He then produced a photograph from his wallet and gave it to the police chief. "He asked if he could go stargazing at ten thirty in the evening last night. We know Clyde - he is a very nice obedient kid, and we told him he should be back by midnight."

"Brix, we shouldn't have let him go out that night!" Catherine wailed, with tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Yeah, I know," Brix struggled to both console his wife and tell the policeman their story, "But we trust my Clyde. We gave him the other pair of keys to the room we were renting, and we fell asleep. When we woke up, there was no Clyde, no keys, no sign of him, nothing!"

"Sergeant Alexander J Webb, IDMC reporting for duty!" He saluted the officer at the desk and waited for a reply."Please come this way" I sweep my arm, allowing them to come through the door next to the desk, "I'm Inspector Dante Santini"Jian walked up towards the front desk and flashed his AFBI ID and said "Im Special Agent Jian Cao" said Jian
There were three other people who came in the front desk. Only one looked like a policeman, others barely. Mr. Jamison looked slightly puzzled. Perhaps in this little corner of Norden, little things like these are rare and so everyone gets excited every time a case or complaint comes around. Overkill, he thought, but they better get their act together.

Juan got out of the shower at 5:15 and he was off. He grabbed a muffin and was out of the condo. He knew the first place to go and interview. Was the parents of the teens that were missing he wanted to know the story. Taking a bite out of his muffin, he walked on. "Taxi!" I arrived at the airport at 6:00.
"One ticket to San Canico."
The ticket women stared at me like I was a dead man walking.
"H..Here you go sir."
"Is there anything wrong miss."
"No nothing wrong, hehe why would anything be wrong."
Something was fishy. But I couldn't let that bother me I had to do my job. I went to the terminal and I got on the plane.

It seems like a gaggle at the front desk. Overly-eager policemen practically overwhelming a foreign couple. It must look like we never have anything to do. Which for the most part, is the truth. The town and surrounding area enjoys a low crime rate. Not because of sweeping changes brought by a politician. Nor the aggressive tactics of the police. It's just always been theta way for the most part. I've seen my share of action over the past some odd years. Of course, big city cops see twice the action in one day than I see in a month.

"Chief, do you want me to take care of this?" I ask Chief Bergoglio

The Snefaldian gave a tittering laugh. "Dirty girl. But you must trust my little policeman agent. He's giving us what he can- and letting us know what the gendarmerie are up to. But yes, dear Irena- go get yourself freshened up a little bit, and we'll go down on the town."

He twirled gracefully on his black pumps, facing the window once more. "I so love going down to the town and showing off the noble blood, don't you? It gives me so much more pleasure when we carry off the witless peasants for our little escapades. Like a wolf among the sheep, isn't it? Delicious."
"Mmm, deliza," ("Mmm, delicious") she repeated Sondoël's words in Nord-Brutlandese. "Actually, I know my people like me," she said, relishing the thought, "and so I don't actually use them as my toys. I use others' witless peasants, not mine. After all, if I kill my own people, then the people who worship me will dwindle..." She recalled each of her victims and realized that some of them may have been her subjects too. "Well, unless I'm desperate," she amended her statement.

He turned once again, giving a devilish look to his debauched patroness. "Now go, go and clean up that awful mess you've got all over you. I'll call Giangiacomo at L'Uccello- you know, that young buck I had screaming like a girl last week, from the café down on the piazza. And Arlecchino- to have him look around. Oh, we'll have a fun night yet, darling Irena." He gave a sultry laugh as he sat back down on the divan, snapping for a servant to bring him another cigarette.
"Yes, I will. Expect me within an hour - bloodstains and vomit stink are hard to wash away."

She then left him and went upstairs to clean herself.

"Well, theres another one missing name of clyde."
OOC: Well actually Clyde Jamison's disappearance was not reported until around 9AM.

OOC: o i c well then he just goes to the parents of the teens then.

OOC: o i c well then he just goes to the parents of the teens then.
OOC: Answered the stuff in the OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13563099&posted=1#post13563099). ;) (to prevent cluttering the IC thread, let's post our OOC stuff there. :))

"No Santini. I think we should all be working on this. A missing persons case is too big for just one person."

Bergoglio respected Santini and saw him as a close friend. Already his danger senses were going wild and he didn't think one person should cover such a case.

"So the last time you saw your son was at 10:30 last night. Where were you staying last night? Also did your son say where he was going to stargaze?"

Stargazing was not uncommon in the area. The fact that there was little light pollution meant a wonderful view of the sky at night. Bergoglio's mind was working at a high speed. He turned to Santini.

"I want a press release of the missing child. We're in a small area so someone must have seen something. Once we get the information of where the child may have gone we'll go to scene and look for any clues to help with finding the child."

OOC: Not quite sure how to introduce myself, but I'll do my best. By the way, Angoars charcter is under my command, right? Correct me if I'm wrong.

IC: Thorizio Carcellatti sat smoking a cigar as he read the email that had been sent him. Two children? A boy and a girl eh? Sounded like a grade C romance flick to him. What did they expect him to do about this? Round up a group of police officers to comb the city looking for two lost kids?

He sighed. "Don't have anything else to do." He said to himself. "The way things worked around here, unless there was a major killer on the loose, all the lower ranked officers grabbed the cases. The only excitement I get is filling out papers. Might give me an excuse to get out of my office..."

Just then a female voice came on the intercom. "Chief Carcellatti, we have one Special Agent Jian Cao down at the desk." Thorizio swore, now he'd never get out of the office. The man would probably beg to get put on a case, and would be all over something like missing kids. Happened every time there was a new guy. He sighed and pressed the button, "Send the man in." He sat and puffed his cigar sullenly. He had really been looking foward to avoiding the paperwork. He hated paperwork.

It was simply a small one-day stop at Santa Maddalena di la Bruca, although her heart wanted to stay a little more time in such quaint little town. But there was an actual reason for being there, it was not just the pleasure of contemplating the ancién architecture and serenity of such small town, neither it was just business that led her to that place. Sofia Porter was the head diplomat of Third Spanish States, and that was yet another step in her "cultural interchange" program to know more about Brutland and Norden, its culture and people and to get in touch with every authority in the nation she was residing at, or technically not as the embassy was a Confederacy extension. Or maybe it was merely a pretext for tourism that she decide to plan such travel across the entire nation for the embassy was somewhat idle in the latest months, and if anything actually happen, she could always use information technology to solve it without being physically there.

Bruckland was the current stop. Arriving in La Bruca Domestic Airport with her always trusty laptop computer, after solving some issues regarding her right to bear her 9x19mm P70A caseless pistol and some 9mm caseless magazines during the flight, which almost ended in a sort of gaffe, she now has, after renting a car, traveled long ways in her quite discrete but very elegant and actually high standard attires, despite having no visible brands, which consisted in jeans pants, a shirt and a blouse, usually of her favored colors, red, white, black and yellow combined with either black or brown shoes. There was no way to identify her as a diplomat unless she mentioned it, and that was the plan for it was not necessary to wave any official symbols or alike in such travel, or she wanted that way. After having a lunch in a local restaurant, where she ordered a lasagna, she was ready to hit the road towards the next town to visit, and this one would probably be more interesting in certain ways, and have more people to talk with... however the vehicle Sofia decided to rent was anything but discrete.

´"Because I can!"´, she thought smiling to herself when the Ferrari 599 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Ferrari_599.JPG) started to travel through Route 329, although actually it was a necessity, for in Third Spanish States even the cheapest car came with integrated computers and USB ports, and a car without one wasn't something they were used to. It was a quite tranquil travel where there was not much to do besides driving and enjoying the landscape during all those 3 hours, including a quick pass through the town of Cavallese, which became monotonous by the end. Now being about 4:00 PM, according to her car digital clock. The town was visible at about two kilometers away and she was at about 40 kilometers per hour to have enough time to appreciate the scenery.

As soon as she arrived at the town streets, soon it would be evident how important was to know their language, Sofia gently asked a local for a place to park the car, which was claimed to not be hers but rented, to demonstrated it was not exactly for the sake of ego, but because, something she kept to herself, not every country was enoughly ahead of time or sufficiently developed to have computers as standard issue in all cars. Although there was no way for her to hide the fact she couldn't resist the temptation of showing off with such a car. Finding a suitable place to park, although not really caring that much for the car wasn't hers, she wasn't that hungry currently, but was in the mood for a snack. It was not her way to drive in such place, as walking on foot would be more interesting. Eventually, after asking around in such historic town, she ended at Panettollío Bruchense, and asked for a mozzarella in carrozza. Nobody would imagine such relatively short woman was a diplomat, but it was obvious she was a visitor from her way of speaking with what is best described as... a sort of Spanish accent over it. The plan would be to meet the local authorities, and if possible, at this same day she arrived.

"No Santini. I think we should all be working on this. A missing persons case is too big for just one person."

Bergoglio respected Santini and saw him as a close friend. Already his danger senses were going wild and he didn't think one person should cover such a case.

"So the last time you saw your son was at 10:30 last night. Where were you staying last night? Also did your son say where he was going to stargaze?"

Stargazing was not uncommon in the area. The fact that there was little light pollution meant a wonderful view of the sky at night. Bergoglio's mind was working at a high speed. He turned to Santini.

"I want a press release of the missing child. We're in a small area so someone must have seen something. Once we get the information of where the child may have gone we'll go to scene and look for any clues to help with finding the child."

"I'll get right on it, Chief" I reply and produce my cellphone and try to get in touch with a contact I have with the local news. Awareness is key to finding a missing child. If everyone knows who and what to look for, especially if it's a child, then the likelyhood of finding her becomes greater. Of course, with these kind of cases, the first 24hrs are the most pivitol. The chance of finding the child alive after that time, their chance of survival decreases greatly. The couple begin to give their statement.

"Our contact with the news will be down here in fifteen minutes, Chief" I say.

After waking up from a very strange dream he heard
"We will be landing soon please prepare yourself for turbulance. Thank you."
A seat belt sing flashed on and Juan pulled the seat belt across his body.
The plane landed without trouble. He got on the ramp and headed off. He called for a taxi and climed aboard. This was a very strange town,so quiet.
He arrived at the house and got out his pencil and notebook.

The silence was broken by a man who had looked like he had be jogging. Erico eyed him with some contempt. He had been expecting an officer to arrive but not in such a brash manner.

"Hello Officer. I am Police Chief Bergoglio. As you can see I'm in the middle of something, but I want you to take notes for a case report."

Alex nodded and walked closer to the desk
"I'm here to work with the police on finding those missing children, sir. I can fuction equally as fire support if the there is a need for combat"
He unshouldered his M16A2 and unholstered his Colt .45 and set them down on the desk
"Are these legal to use here? I didn't have time to look at the police manual for this country"

Alex nodded and walked closer to the desk
"I'm here to work with the police on finding those missing children, sir. I can fuction equally as fire support if the there is a need for combat"
He unshouldered his M16A2 and unholstered his Colt .45 and set them down on the desk
"Are these legal to use here? I didn't have time to look at the police manual for this country"

"Yes this missing children business is already getting out of spiral. As for guns, we tend to like to take our criminals in alive. Fire power is only used as a last resort when there is no other way available."

Alex nodded "Do we have any suspects or people you think might be commiting this crime?"

"Not yet, and I'm inclined to think that there are none in this area." came a voice from behind. A man in the uniform of a police inspector walked lazily to the combined group, a smug, yet, disarming smile on his face.

"Inspector Arlecchino Makavelli, Sceicce Grant Police. It appears we have a dearth of help here. The Sceicce office recieved reports of missing children, and we're canvassing the countryside. It looks like I'm just in time." he said, flashing his badge and looking over each of the local policemen. "The Grant Police needs to be working more closely with the local police in this matter- what with current politics and all- and Sceicce Grant Chief sent us out. For some reason he also decided to call in foreign help as well." he grinned, eyeing the foreign agent.

He spun a chair and took a seat, eyeing the officers. "I'll be the liaison and provide logistical support, Signor Bergoglio. And the Grant Police has some experience with missing children, if you'll permit me-" he gestured to a map of Bruckland on the wall, getting down to business like he had years of experience under his belt.

"As for your son, Mr. and Mrs. Jamison- It's not unusual for young people to discover that the world is a lot bigger than they thought and go off exploring. I would bet anything that he thought he'd adventure and probably took the road to La Bruca- there's an airport there and a great deal of interesting things to see. I'd wager he's over there. I'll put you in contact with the La Bruca police, and I'd suggest you go there, find a hotel, and wait, D'accordo? We can handle things here quite well, I think." He said, taking a very concerned and careful tone, the kind you would use at a funeral for distraught family members.

He turned to the other agents. "I would suggest Inspector Santini and Sgt. Webb- it's Webb, isn't it? Pardon my pronunciation. - ah, Santini and Webb go south on Route 369 to Aversa, and check the southern area- he may have gone to Lecarocchiavalle, I can inform their Grant Police Office. Now, Signor e Signora Jamison, I see you've given the officers your son's information- please tell me what he looks like in detail." he tapped his head. "mind like a steel trap."

After a few minutes of talking, the clock struck- it didn't matter what, the hour, the quarter, the half, the three-quarters- and Inspector Makavelli glanced sharply, as if he had missed something.

"Chief Bergoglio, your phone? The Chief wanted to be kept informed of our progress and any information. I'll be back in una momenta."

* * *
The Inspector took the phone to a closed office, furtively dialing the numbers for the Duchesses' residence. Giacomo's voice picked up, and he whispered, confiding his dark secrets.

"Let my lady know I'm here in town. They're looking for the boy, and they have a description. I'll mislead them. I must see her, too! When?" he listened, grasping at the phone as if with talons, ear smashed against the reciever. "L'Uccello? When? Of course. And take care!" he hissed, hanging up the phone. He dialed quickly the Sceicce Office, relayed the information, and then composed himself, walking back out.

"Now, where were we?"

Alex laughed at the first comment "No offense, but what you just said remindes me of a police cheif telling me the Caz'e City killer didn't live in Caz'e city" He looked around for a blank peice of paper and a pencil and scribbled out a poorly imitaded map of the area "Okay, to start off, the MCIF has promised me a squadron of support helicopters, OH-6s, UH-60s, UH-1Ns, the works. They all have Infared and night vision so we'll have no problem for all weather operations. Secondly, I'm staying here, the choppers can take care of Route 369. We should also inform people to look out for suspicious activity and report it to us ASAP" He turned towards the men, giving Arlecchino a clear look at his Colt .45 in it's holster "And just wondering, what's with the castle?"

"The Duchess' residence. She is a woman loved by her people and I'm sure she'll be concerned about missing children. Now Inspector Makavelli, I do not appreciate someone coming into my jurisdiction and handing out orders. A young child making his way to La Bruca in the middle of the night is a very strange theory. The child would not know the area to well as he is not from around here. It is better to gather any clues closer to home before we go expanding further afield.

Now you mention helicopters Mr Webb. How soon can they be airborne? I want some to scan the woods nearby, for all we know the child may have fallen and injured himself so the helicopters will find him. Also scan the surrounding countryside to check for the child. Relay all the information we have to the airborne teams. Santini, I want you to go into town, along with Makavelli, and ask the residents if they saw or heard anything suspicious. I will stay here with the parents to put the pieces together. Everyone understand what they are to do?"

Bergoglio was now in full investigation mode and nothing would stop him from solving this mystery.

It was not her way to drive in such place, as walking on foot would be more interesting. Eventually, after asking around in such historic town, she ended at Panettollío Bruchense, and asked for a mozzarella in carrozza. Nobody would imagine such relatively short woman was a diplomat, but it was obvious she was a visitor from her way of speaking with what is best described as... a sort of Spanish accent over it. The plan would be to meet the local authorities, and if possible, at this same day she arrived.
Panettollío Bruchense
17 Vicolo Repubblicana, Castellobruca, Sceicce
10:37 AM
It was not yet lunchtime, but the employees at the bakery were already struggling to seat the people who came to eat. In order to seat more, the mayor's relatives unfolded chairs, assembled tables, and opened big colorful umbrellas and awnings along Vicolo Repubblicana. Mayor Dino Lanzavecchia went out of the door and greeted customers, diners, tourists, and townsfolk alike as he squeezed his big frame between chairs and tables. As he walked past the counter, he noticed a woman wearing jeans, shirt and a blouse, holding what Brucklanders call chiesìujabbo. She looked like a tourist all the way. "Bon'mattiore, simore," Lanzavecchia greeted her with his trademark wide happy smile. "Me sperenzece con tu enireche la limentu. Quam nostra juesche sum es c'e noval?" (Good morning, signora... I hope that you will enjoy the food. How is your stay here so far?")

After waking up from a very strange dream he heard
"We will be landing soon please prepare yourself for turbulance. Thank you."
A seat belt sing flashed on and Juan pulled the seat belt across his body.
The plane landed without trouble. He got on the ramp and headed off. He called for a taxi and climed aboard. This was a very strange town,so quiet.
He arrived at the house and got out his pencil and notebook.
Gagliardo Residence
1786 Strade Sant'Amella, San Canico al Carocchi, Soltera
May 6, 2009, 05:47 AM
Truth was, the town of San Canico al Carocchi was just beginning to wake up. Houses started to show signs of life: lights being turned on, a lone seamer honking its horns for early passengers as it approached the riverside pier, a few people taking an early morning stroll beside the Carocchi River. Despite the town being part of the urban agglomeration that extends from Nordville all the way to Lecarocchiavalle, San Canico still maintained that small-town atmosphere: little noise, friendly people, quaint surroundings. It has thus become one of the favored suburbs by those who are tired of the snobbishness and modernity of the big city.

It as here that the journalist Juan found himself, on the steps of the residence of Adam and Simona Gagliardo, when the lights at the house was turned on.

OOC: I think you should knock or ring the doorbell so they can realize you're there.. ;)

Makavelli raised an eyebrow at the foreign agent. "Now, Signor Webb... I am sure that the government of this nation would not be very happy to see a fleet of helicopters zooming up and down the countryside- the King's countryside- looking for a little boy who got curious and wandered off? Foreign helicopters, no less. I would wager that Chief Carcellatti would have to report to some higher authorities than himself for permission." He gave a wry smile as he saw the Sgt's pistol, and made also made a nonchalant motion moving back his trenchcoat to reveal a black Sig-Sauer P250. "I never got a chance, Sargeant, to welcome you to Bruckland."

However, he nodded to Chief Bergoglio.

"Sir, you are quite within your rights but do I need to remind you I'm with Grant Police, responsible for Sceicce? Which, of course, Castellobrucca is in? But no matter. I am still firm in the belief that the child stumbled onto the road in the dark and headed north. Perhaps curiousity, perhaps a sense of misdirection- perhaps both."

He frowned, leaning back in his chair.

"A southerner going missing in a small town... It just doesn't happen. Everyone knows everything there is to know. It's not logical. Chief Bergoglio, I do know this town quite well- I lived her for two years; but I'm not as familiar with the countryside. I can take the town, and Inspector Santini can go with the Sargeant, who I'm sure doesn't know the countryside at all. Maybe you'd like to talk to the Mayor, Chief? See what he knows?"

It appears that the Chief of Police and the Grant Inspector are getting into a pissing match on jurisdiction. This happens frequently, in Santini's experience. Small town police butting heads with big-budgeted, largely staffed, and far more experienced police forces from the more populated areas and cities. Both gave fierce arguments on what the best course of action is. Santini found himself siding with his Chief. It makes more sense to start in the town and work their way out to the outlying area, after piecing together a timeline of events. There was a third possibility, the one possibility that he prays in his mind is not a reality. A dreadful reality...

"Signor, perhaps he was kidnapped?" Santini offers, "A foreign child in the hands of criminals seeking a randsom or those with political aims. We can't rule out kidnapping. These are troubled times we live in"

He adressed the police cheif's question first "The OH-6s will take a shorter amount of time to get airborne than the Hueys or Blackhawks. I estimate it'll take them about 10 minutes all together to get searching. I can bring in a platoon of men as well, they've got dog teams, Humvees and medics in case the boy is hurt or already..." He paused for a second and looked at the parents "Dead" He reached for his radio attached to his belt "John, I need your choppers in the air in the next ten minutes. No excuses, over" He slid the radio back onto his belt and turned to Makavelli "Listen, these stripes aren't police. They're Marine Corps Investigator. The two are much different; One deals with keeping law in one area, and the other deals with eliminating crime lords, killing gang members and hunting down smugglers" he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He turned back to the police cheif "I think we should form search parties and stop wasting our time talking about where we think the child went and go there" Suddenly his radio beeped and he picked it up "Yeah? Oh excellent. You mind sending a 'hawk our way? Thanks J" He put it down on the table "The choppers are in the air and I've sent one to pick us up for a search. And Mr. Makavelli...I sent one of those choppers in the direction of route 369, happy?"

Makavelli got a shiver when Santini spoke, but shook it off.

"In a small town like this? Who would take him? If he was kidnapped, it would have had to be by someone from a big city, or just passing through." He looked directly at Santini. "Do you know anyone in this town who would kidnap a child?"

Makavelli got a shiver when Santini spoke, but shook it off.

"In a small town like this? Who would take him? If he was kidnapped, it would have had to be by someone from a big city, or just passing through." He looked directly at Santini. "Do you know anyone in this town who would kidnap a child?"

"Do you?" Santini counters, "The fact of the matter is that anyone is capable of anything. Perhaps he was kidnapped by someone from another area. Perhaps he did just wander off and is cold and alone out on the rugged hills somewhere. The truth is, we don't know. At this point, we can't rule out anything. That is why I agree with the Chief that we should begin our initial investigation in town. It can't hurt to bring in a search party to look at the locales that you proposed"

Searching in his memory, Santini remembers a particularily chilling episode about six years ago when a respected store owner suffered a great financial loss, coupled with problems at home. He was a good friend of Santini. One night, he made a brief and ambiguous statement which raised his suspicions. by the time he got to his house and forced his way when there was no reply, it was too late. He smuthered his child as he slept in his bed. Then, he drowned his wife and hung himself. It was the worst crime the town had seen in many years. It is something he carries with him to this day.

The radio beeped again, Alex swiping it from the table in the first few seconds of the annoying sound "Sgt. Webb here. That was quick, yeah I'll tell them. Out" He put it back down "Our chopper has arrived gentlemen." He said, picking up his M16A2 and heading out the doors where a grey UH-1N was sitting a coule yards away "That was quick"

Gagliardo Residence
1786 Strade Sant'Amella, San Canico al Carocchi, Soltera
May 6, 2009, 05:47 AM
Truth was, the town of San Canico al Carocchi was just beginning to wake up. Houses started to show signs of life: lights being turned on, a lone seamer honking its horns for early passengers as it approached the riverside pier, a few people taking an early morning stroll beside the Carocchi River. Despite the town being part of the urban agglomeration that extends from Nordville all the way to Lecarocchiavalle, San Canico still maintained that small-town atmosphere: little noise, friendly people, quaint surroundings. It has thus become one of the favored suburbs by those who are tired of the snobbishness and modernity of the big city.

It as here that the journalist Juan found himself, on the steps of the residence of Adam and Simona Gagliardo, when the lights at the house was turned on.

OOC: I think you should knock or ring the doorbell so they can realize you're there.. ;)

"Well," Juan thought to himself "Its a little too early to be up but I guesse I wouldn't sleep much if my own kin was missing." Juan rang the doorbell and waited for an answer.

Walking briskly through the quaint little town plaza, Doria Cavalcante cursed violently under her breath, her dark, sunken eyes observing the slow but steady formation of storm clouds in the sky. The strands of wispy, raven black hair that dangled out from under her bandanna blew every which way in the light breeze as she stormed through the center of the plaza, brown grocery bags crumpled against her frail, bony frame.

Although the sun still shone brightly, somber gray rain clouds were moving in swiftly. It was only a matter of time before it started raining, and Doria had foolishly driven her motorbike into town. Her cheap flower print dress flapping in the wind, the middle-aged housewife was practically shoving people out of the way as she struggled to beat the clock.

But as she crossed in front of a nearby bench, her heavy eyebrows furrowed in irritation, something interesting suddenly crossed her eye. Something very interesting.

Standing at the other end of the plaza were two rather out-of-place looking children. They were looking nervously about, as if they were expecting somebody to catch them at whatever mischief they were up to, and they seemed to shy away with every passing bystander. Normally, Giacomo was the one who did all the dirty work. Whether in the dead of night or broad daylight her heavy-handed husband had no qualms about striking a child and dumping their limp little bodies in the back of his trunk. But Tuesday night was his night to play, and Doria suspected he was still in Luccheri, fucking the brains out of some loose, broken-toothed hooker. Even more disheartening was the fact that the Duchess already had been given a toy to play with.

Bloodshot eyes staring out at the children from over skeletal cheekbones, Doria still played with the thought in her head. The Duchess did have a hefty sexual appetite, and should Doria bring her home a couple snacks, what harm could come from it? Not to mention the fact that she would have first dibs, a morbid detail that had so far evaded the Duchess' attention.

Making up her mind hesitantly, the dark-skinned woman slowly made her way towards the children, a crooked, yellow smile slashed across her freckled face. As she neared them she suddenly (and purposefully) tripped over herself, sending the grocery bags sprawling and foodstuffs rolling everywhere. As she propped herself up off the ground she managed her most innocent face and with watery eyes addressed little Battista and Gagliardo with utmost sincerity.

"Oh dear," she sputtered in a voice wrought with distress. "Clumsy me! And I am late to meet the Duchess! What am I to do? Please. Do you think you could help me pick up my groceries?"

She smiled that ugly smile, her bony face almost evil-looking in its mock politeness.

The radio beeped again, Alex swiping it from the table in the first few seconds of the annoying sound "Sgt. Webb here. That was quick, yeah I'll tell them. Out" He put it back down "Our chopper has arrived gentlemen." He said, picking up his M16A2 and heading out the doors where a grey UH-1N was sitting a coule yards away "That was quick"
Colmenara Air Force Base
Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
10:46 AM May 9, 2009

Sdch. Tobias Allegretti was monitoring the airspace above northwestern Norden. It was usually a boring desk job in the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force. There are many planes and helicopters showing up in his screen, but unless the air traffic controllers of the 24 major and several more minor civilian airports within his area of control reported anything suspicious, he won't do anything.

He usually amused himself in following those white dots on the screen representing aircrafts. As he as tracking one as it flew out of his area of control south towards Modica, a wailing sound came out of his console.

He pushed a button. "Colmenara Air Base," he said as he read where the message as coming from. It came from the Air Force station at La Bruca. "La Bruca Air Force Station. Unidentified aircrafts, possibly helicopters, heading southwest. Altitude at 545 feet, currently 13 kilometers northeast of Castellobruca."
"Any contacts?"
"La Bruca Domestic tried to contact the helicopters, but contact was not established."
"I'll contact them."

Allegretti turned on a dial to set the frequency, and spoke on the microphone. "This is Colmenara Air Force Base. I repeat, this is Colmenara Air Force Base. To the unidentified aircraft flying southwest, altitude at 745 feet, currently near Castellobruca, identify yourselves."

After repeating the message, Allegretti followed standard protocol and asked for helicopter and fighter jets in case they needed to force these aircraft to the ground, or worse, to shoot these aircraft down...

"Well," Juan thought to himself "Its a little too early to be up but I guesse I wouldn't sleep much if my own kin was missing." Juan rang the doorbell and waited for an answer.
After a few moments a woman opened the door. She looked puzzled as who was this stranger who rang up their doorbell this early in the morning, but she secretly hoped he brought good news. "Bon'mattiore, sinore," ("Good morning, signore,") she greeted him with a weak, tired smile. "What can I do for you?"

Sofia quickly shifted her green eyes up to look up the Mayor and reply, using her obvious domain of the local language, although with a clear accent she could never get rid of, the small figure on the corner stopped eating the toast for a while when replying. It was obviously the man from who to get the information she needed to continue her travel, and maybe another one to get acquainted with.

"This is simple, but excellent, the sort of dish I like. I just arrived from Santa Maddalena di la Bruca but until now I'm really enjoying this place. You know sir? When you live inside an apartment for most of your life cities like Castellobruca are precious gems. And before anything, I am Sofia Porter Limonero, from 'La Confederación Anarquista de los Terceros Estados Españoles'", she said mentioning its original language name, and continued: "Diplomat and manager of sorts, on its embassy in your nation. I'm seeking to become more knowledgeable of Brutland and Norden culture with a travel across your entire nation, unless something unpredicted issue happens, because I believe that it's not enough to just stay enclosed inside an embassy and talk friendly with other diplomats to make a truly beneficial and cordial foreign relationship. I really have liked the places I visited so far and as I'm going to live here probably permanently, I am glad to expand my horizons beyond the superficial views from inside an embassy. Also, I'm not sure if this is an wrong impression, but for me, you look like a person of authority, and although I admit it is a sort of somewhat impossible goal, I am looking to meet every Brutland and Norden authority during my travel, because I really believe such closer contact will help us all, thus, what is your name sir? And could you guide me to the local castle? To be honest, I never saw a castle in my entire life, and it'll just sum to help me to accomplish this sort of "impossible" goal I established in this new dynamic method of diplomacy I sort of invented. I'm looking forward to meet Duchess Irena, after we have some conversation, of course. Also, apologies for my way, I know I tend to speak too much sometimes"

--snippy--
"Oh, a diplomat!" Lanzavecchia's smile widened to engulf his entire cheeky face. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Simore Limonero." Lanzavecchia took her hand and bowed slightly. "I'm Dino Lanzavecchia, the mayor of this small town... of course I can show you around! Do you want to tour the town first before going to the Duchess' Castle?"

Settro Nordense per Stardu Manza (Norden Center for Missing Children)
Quarto 219, Norden Deprete di l'Intremmo, 3 Piazzo Repubblicana, Vilònorda
10:02 AM May 9, 2009

Adriana Calandra returned to her workstation, bringing a cup of hot chocolate. It was just an hour before lunch, and her stomach had been grumbling. She opened her computer that had slept while she was away. There was another report waiting in her e-mail.

Her work in the Norden Center for Missing Children is compiling reports of missing children from police all over Norden. The SNSM, under the Norden Department on the Interior, serves as the clearinghouse of information and as a contact agency for parent, friends, relatives, law enforcement officers, schools, and communities.

She opened the report and it came from Rizzogno Police Department, from the grant of Lecarocchiavalle. Ten-year-old Bruno Stanziola from San Riccardo di Valtemmira went missing in Rizzogno last May 6. Their family was traveling from their hometown to Nordville.

Why are there so many missing people in Rizzogno?, Calandra thought as she entered the details of case no. 2009-90LCV01521 into the database. She had entered quite a few cases from Rizzogno during the past few weeks. She remembered as missing child cases are quite rare; only two to three cases per day in the entire province of Norden. Norden is supposedly a very safe place where grandma can walk out the streets in the middle of the night without fear of being mugged. Another reason for the low missing person case count was that Norden law stipulates that in order to file a missing person case report, a person must be missing for more than 72 hours or cannot be found after an exhaustive search. Thus, most missing people are found before they are reported.

Calandra opened the file of the still unsolved cases from the past two and a half weeks and got:
(*Nome=Name; Ete=Age; Tonnùome=Hometown; Sgrese No.=Case No.; Manza eftre=Missing Since; Ojece zulchal=Last seen)
Nome Ete Tonnùome Sgrese No. Manza eftre Ojece zulchal
Carcieri, Isacco 9 Santa Fiora, Sceicce 2009-10SCE01284 Avril 22, 2009 Olevano, Lecarocchiavalle
Barletti, Bricco 9 Aversa, Lecarocchiavalle 2009-90LCV01471 Avril 23, 2009 Rizzogno, Lecarocchiavalle
Moscone, Larisa 16 Castellero, Soltera 2009-10LCV00617 Avril 23, 2009 Novellara, Lecarocchiavalle
Moratello, Liana 5 Alghariva, Epiro 2009-20EPI00681 Avril 24, 2009 Pontachianale, Epiro
Zambroni, Emmanuele 2 Vilònorda 2009-54VIN07702 Avril 24, 2009 Vilònorda
Pellegrini, Sabina 13 Griozzano, Valtemmira 2009-90LCV01484 Avril 25, 2009 Rizzogno, Lecarocchiavalle
Deretti, Alissa 15 Campobasso 2009-53CAB03829 Avril 25, 2009 Campobasso
Baadsgaard, Derrico 10 Scandinano, Cortel 2009-67SEL00848 Avril 26, 2009 Torrebruca, Seltina
Gribbiano, Elise 3 Berlizzi, Berlizzi 2009-33MCE00927 Avril 26, 2009 Fontanariva, Marchesta
Zucchini, Adalberto 7 Solarussa, Miditto 2009-44MID00221 Avril 26, 2009 Montocco, Midritto
Soriano, Canico 16 San Canuto di Mestagno, GME 2009-74GME00651 Avril 27, 2009 Santa Rossa di Mestagno, Giomestagno
Oddone, Achille 0 Pegognaga, Thessalia 2009-01THE01210 Avril 27, 2009 Fiagastramo, Thessalia
Torricelli, Vittorio 1 Guardavalle, Pennino 2009-08ALE00698 Avril 28, 2009 Albacutta, Albiore
Tedeschini, Brocco 8 Brendola, Borcenna 2009-02BOR00271 Avril 28, 2009 Brendola, Borcenna
Nicottini, Fabrizio 14 Gribbiano, Fiano 2009-43FIA01271 Avril 28, 2009 Lecarocchiavalle, Lecarocchiavalle
Zaritelli, Veronica 13 Torrescudo, Lecarocchiavalle 2009-55LCV01614 Avril 28, 2009 Lecarocchiavalle, Lecarocchiavalle
Gagliardo, Cestre 12 San Canico, Soltera 2009-26SOL00178 Avril 29, 2009 San Canico, Soltera
Battista, Luanna 12 San Canico, Soltera 2009-26SOL00178 Avril 29, 2009 San Canico, Soltera
Berardini, Giancarlo 0 Santa Podenzana, Rodige 2009-01TRE01094 Avril 29, 2009 Trefini, Trefini
Vecchio, Teresa 16 Pievapelago, Marchòstrigina 2009-17MST01210 Avril 29, 2009 Pievapelago, Marchòstrigina
Dorazzi, Adam 13 Sant'Arcangelo d'Onna, Onna 2009-90LCV01499 Avril 30, 2009 Rizzogno, Lecarocchiavalle
Calvello, Ferrando 6 La Fabbricana, Onna 2009-23ONN02094 Avril 30, 2009 La Fabbricana, Onna
Moschatelli, Oscar 3 Trassignana, Calabruzzi, Brut. 2009-52VLD03784 Avril 30, 2009 Viledenno
Battaglia, Kail 10 Avellanedi, Lecarocchiavalle 2009-45LCV01581 Máio 1, 2009 Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
d'Ampriato, Elena 17 Borgorinna di Dennillia 2009-07BDD00384 Máio 1, 2009 Borgorinna di Dennillia
Rocca, Alvino 2 Santa Croce d'Anza 2009-34VLD01637 Máio 1, 2009 Viledenno
Mosca, Umberto 3 Senzioffre 2009-12SZF00592 Máio 2, 2009 Briatico, Trefini
Gomicola, Sara 13 Formagnole, Fiano 2009-12FIA01002 Máio 2, 2009 Formagnole, Fiano
Toledano, Giorgio 5 Carpa 2009-10CAR01094 Máio 2, 2009 Carpa
La Porta, Gerardo 4 Chiaramonte, Modica 2009-88MDC00090 Máio 2, 2009 San Stefano di Modica, Modica
Getti, Antonio 14 Vilònorda 2009-54VIN07748 Máio 3, 2009 Vilònorda
Aldeo, Carmine 2 Spadavecchia 2009-44SPD02019 Máio 3, 2009 Spadavecchia
Aldeo, Carolina 4 Spadavecchia 2009-44SPD02019 Máio 3, 2009 Spadavecchia
Mompense, Fabiola 4 Taurianova, Duglie 2009-54DUG00167 Máio 3, 2009 Cerzetto, Duglie
Riccio, Pamela 9 Siderianello, Cortel 2009-56CRT00627 Máio 4, 2009 Biarratana, Cortel
Sembrano, Thomas 3 Sagliana, Asernia 2009-02ASE02019 Máio 4, 2009 Sagliana, Asernia
Moschella, Nicolo 12 Biarratana, Cortel 2009-90LCV01508 Máio 4, 2009 Rizzogno, Lecarocchiavalle
Moschella, Carina 12 Biarratana, Cortel 2009-90LCV01508 Máio 4, 2009 Rizzogno, Lecarocchiavalle
Barberini, Giusto 11 Forlicesena 2009-43FCE02310 Máio 5, 2009 Forlicesena
Brualtieri, Patrizia 16 Brualtieri, Mecco 2009-67SEL00862 Máio 5, 2009 Torrebruca, Seltina
Santangelo, Damiano 4 Rotondella, Redutto 2009-20RED00847 Máio 5, 2009 Santo Thorizio di Redutto, Redutto
Polster, Knut 7 Zurica, Helverica 2009-54HEL00485 Máio 5, 2009 Zurica, Helverica
Valverini, Amanda 10 Bonemerse, Potti 2009-25POT00749 Máio 5, 2009 Bonemerse, Potti
Boschini, Elisabetta 6 Codigliana, Valle di Giri 2009-45VDG01000 Máio 6, 2009 Codigliana, Valle di Giri
Frazione, Cestre 8 Bratignano, Troia 2009-92TRO01637 Máio 6, 2009 Biscaglia, Troia
Alano, Giuletta 12 Colfetta 2009-14CLF02493 Máio 6, 2009 Colfetta
Mareschini, Riccardo 9 Gardalfiera, Ferbiabbo 2009-25FNZ01301 Máio 6, 2009 Ballagorio, Fonzo
Stanziola, Bruno 10 San Riccardo, Valtemmira 2009-90LCV01521 Máio 6, 2009 Rizzogno, Lecarocchiavalle
Massimiliano, Roberto 12 Pettoranello, Morlise 2009-34MRL00819 Máio 7, 2009 Molverigi, Morlise
Lariva, Carlotta 3 Colobraro, Redutto 2009-65ANZ01002 Máio 8, 2009 Lancellara, Anza

Calandra printed the data and headed to Chief Mola's office.

Politely finishing the last bit of the toast, Sofia got up from the chair, her small frame blending into the crowd of the place. She smiled to the Mayor, saying in a way she did not tend to do it usually, for she was usually blunt with her way of speaking, she slowly accompanied him to the outside, and answered:

"That would be marvelous Mayor Lanzavecchia, but I have the unfortunate misfortune of time, and I fear that I will not have enough time to stay here for much longer, although otherwise I would love to have a tour through the city, I would like to just head towards the castle. I'm not sure if you have time to escort me to the castle, but I'll feel no offense if you don't, I know how it is to have the time as an asset to manage. But, if it turns that the Duchess is fast to exchange information, culture and traditions of Brutland and Norden and of Castellobruca, I will probably be back in late afternoon, and I would definitively want a tour then, or if not possible, tomorrow because I'm not going to drive during night to my next destination, which will probably be Lecarocchiavalle, for I really don't like to travel by night. I presume the castle have guest bedrooms, so I'll probably stay there, now, could you escort me to the castle? Like I said, no problem if it would be a burden for you."

After a while Sofia started to walk through the streets in a relatively slow pace, for the hurriedness of her youth has long passed since maturity became more developed. She knew that the economy of time between walking and running wasn't worthy. Maybe the mayor accompanied her, and if so she probably ended discussing politics with him, showing a quite peculiar and unseen point, maybe not and she went there alone, it made little difference in the big picture. Actually there was a secret goal for her travel, a quite personal one, maybe from a question which existed since a long time ago unanswered in her mind: to understand how noblesse shapes people, to find more practical examples of the old essay that "Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely", however until now she did not find any similar example to the legendary histories of "murderer kings" and "saints turned into tyrants by power" that are so commonly told around the Confederacy to maintain a continual heavily anti-monarchist stance which sometimes seem to be even more strong than anti-fascism. All nobles were just normal, apparently decent people with maybe a few secrets, however, the sort of "Closet Hitler type Noble" she was hoping to find as a confirmation to her ideological doesn't seem to exist at all, for now. Somehow this put doubts on her mind on whether the "Power corrupts" thing is really a rule with no exception or not.

Soon she would arrive at the massive doors of the castle. Expecting to be confused with a "normal person" for her clothing, she opened her bag and took a small pin on it with a Third Spanish States flag and a diplomatic seal, putting it in her blouse near her left chest. The castle was truly majestic, and Sofia quickly announced her presence.

"Greetings, My name am Sofia Porter Limonero, representative and diplomat, on behalf of a diplomatic cultural interchange mission of the Confederacy of Third Spanish States, requesting passage into the castle. I would like to meet Duchess Irena"

(Quick OOC: I hope this speed-up isn't a problem)

Colmenara Air Force Base
Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
10:46 AM May 9, 2009

Sdch. Tobias Allegretti was monitoring the airspace above northwestern Norden. It was usually a boring desk job in the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force. There are many planes and helicopters showing up in his screen, but unless the air traffic controllers of the 24 major and several more minor civilian airports within his area of control reported anything suspicious, he won't do anything.

He usually amused himself in following those white dots on the screen representing aircrafts. As he as tracking one as it flew out of his area of control south towards Modica, a wailing sound came out of his console.

He pushed a button. "Colmenara Air Base," he said as he read where the message as coming from. It came from the Air Force station at La Bruca. "La Bruca Air Force Station. Unidentified aircrafts, possibly helicopters, heading southwest. Altitude at 545 feet, currently 13 kilometers northeast of Castellobruca."
"Any contacts?"
"La Bruca Domestic tried to contact the helicopters, but contact was not established."
"I'll contact them."

Allegretti turned on a dial to set the frequency, and spoke on the microphone. "This is Colmenara Air Force Base. I repeat, this is Colmenara Air Force Base. To the unidentified aircraft flying southwest, altitude at 745 feet, currently near Castellobruca, identify yourselves."

After repeating the message, Allegretti followed standard protocol and asked for helicopter and fighter jets in case they needed to force these aircraft to the ground, or worse, to shoot these aircraft down...

Captain Jack Roycewill of the UH-1N "War-Pig" picked up the radio a she touched down outside the police station "This is Marine Crime Investigation Force UH-1N, Call sign War-Pig of the Cazelian force investigating the dissapearance of several children. We're here with Sgt. Webb and we're under authority of the local police cheif, over" he said as Webb climbed aboard and gestured for the pilot to hold until futher notice

"Greetings, My name am Sofia Porter Limonero, representative and diplomat, on behalf of a diplomatic cultural interchange mission of the Confederacy of Third Spanish States, requesting passage into the castle. I would like to meet Duchess Irena"
"Bon'mattiore, simore," the receptionist on the front desk greeted her. "La duche? Un'nomente, simore." She reached for a phone on her desk. "Prentavole. S'la duco sunt?... A diplomatetto... Stattu Spagnense Trejela... Ca s'sunt? De? Me melleche. Sì, sì."

She put down the phone and turned to Sofia. "I'm sorry, but the duchess is not here, she's in another castle. But I believe she will be in town by noon. She had been informed that somebody is waiting for her."

Captain Jack Roycewill of the UH-1N "War-Pig" picked up the radio a she touched down outside the police station "This is Marine Crime Investigation Force UH-1N, Call sign War-Pig of the Cazelian force investigating the dissapearance of several children. We're here with Sgt. Webb and we're under authority of the local police cheif, over" he said as Webb climbed aboard and gestured for the pilot to hold until futher notice

Colmenara Air Force Base
Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
11:05 AM May 9, 2009

Allegretti contacted his superiors downstairs. After a few calls, he resumed contact with the Cazelian helicopters. "War-pig, this is Colmenara Air Force Base. You have no clearance with the Sceicce Grant Police, Norden Department of Public Safety, the Brutland and Norden Ministry of the Interior, or the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force. Stay on the ground until further notice."

Three military choppers then took off from Canossa, heading towards Castellobruca.

In secrecy, Sofia actually regretted refusing to take a tour through the city with the Mayor, but now it would be a too big breach of etiquette to leave and risk arriving late at the castle. And there was the possibility she wouldn't be accepted again if she did something like that, while at the same time, that toast was barely enough to disguise her hunger, and in fact she was needing of something more solid. With such things in her mind, she was quick to answer to the receptionist, who was probably taller than her.

"Thank you, now I would like to make a simple request, would my presence be accepted in the lunch and my await accepted inside the castle? I have traveled a long way through here, and all I had was a snack. I intend to survey the castle after lunch, and maybe read some books, I am sure you have an excellent library, I will be waiting here if there is no problem with that"

Although a paella packs a certain prestige, it was sort of too common in Third Spanish States to be considered something of "luxury", or maybe it was the lack of really significant social inequality coupled with the overall prosperity, but anyone could purchase a dish like that inside it, and whereas it might be an expensive dish in certain restaurants, inside the Confederacy it was as common as an hamburger. Mastery of underwater extraction has led to much cheaper ways of hunting shrimps and other edible sea creatures which consisted in a significant part of the local cuisine. On the other hand, she was looking actually for the sort of things that were pretty much exclusive of Brutland and Norden, which nobody could imitate properly in other countries. Maybe that would be an excellent opportunity to taste the best of such culinary, provided her request is accepted, of course.

She seemed to pay attention to the architectural details of the castle, probably admiring them with a keen eye, or maybe distracting herself and wondering about many things as she looked at such details.

"Fine you take the town Makavelli, as you seem to have some knowledge of the town. Santini, you will take Webb and check the surrounding countryside. Go to the main spots where people stargaze, look for any signs of the child. It also seems your helicopters have been delayed Webb, diplomatic issues.

I will coordinate you all from here. If you find anything significant you tell me straight away. I need to compile a case report."

Bergoglio turned to the parents of the child.

"Do not worry. I will not rest until your son is found."

"Oh dear," she sputtered in a voice wrought with distress. "Clumsy me! And I am late to meet the Duchess! What am I to do? Please. Do you think you could help me pick up my groceries?"

She smiled that ugly smile, her bony face almost evil-looking in its mock politeness.
Piazzo Bruchense
Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:05 AM May 09, 2009

"Mi dax!" Luanna muttered as hey saw the lady fall down and her stuff scattered all over the plaza. Some of the tourists looked with concern, a few laughed. There was another tourist who rushed in to help, but Chester and Luanna were quick to act. They left their things at the side of the fountain and helped pick up the lady's stuff, just like what any Nord-Brutlandese would do...

Fixing Makavelli a curious look, Santini nods to his Chief's orders and will take the foreign agent with him to investigate the favorite spots around the town. A feeling grasped him abou the whole situation. In his mind, it's better that he search around in the town and establish a timeline of events. Well, he rarely doubted his boss's judgement.

He returns to his desk and places his fedore atop his head and gathers his trenchcoat which he is sure, will come in handy later on.

"Alright, we'll keep you informed" Santini tells his Chief.

OOC: What are some spots to look at?

"Thank you, now I would like to make a simple request, would my presence be accepted in the lunch and my await accepted inside the castle? I have traveled a long way through here, and all I had was a snack. I intend to survey the castle after lunch, and maybe read some books, I am sure you have an excellent library, I will be waiting here if there is no problem with that"
Castellobruca
Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:05 AM May 09, 2009
"Yes, Simore, you are very much welcome in the castle," the receptionist told her, and then turned to a passing servant. "Marco, pagnarece Simore te la bibloddío." ("Marco, accompany Signora to the library.")

The servant turned to Sofia, nodded slightly, and said, "This way, Simore."

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

Torre Maggiore
Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:05 AM May 09, 2009

The Duchess daintily went downstairs, looking for Sondoël. She had finished taking a bath, and was dressed to kill, literally and figuratively. She wore a frilly black short-sleeved blouse and equally frilly black skirt. She had arranged her strawberry blond hair into a plaited over-the-head braid.

She had been informed that a diplomat from the Third Spanish States had made a surprise visit to her castle and was waiting for her. She was looking for Sondoël to tell him of the change in plans, and also to possibly have him accompany her in meeting this diplomat...

Bergoglio turned to the parents of the child.

"Do not worry. I will not rest until your son is found."

Castellobruca Stazione Polza (Castrellobruca Police Station)
5 Piazzo Bruchense, Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:05 AM May 09, 2009

"Thank you," Mr. Jamison said. "I can help in the search if you want." He looked at her wife. "We would like to stay here until Clyde is found..." His cellphone then rang. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it. "Excuse me for a second..." He had to take the call. It was from his boss, and he would explain his predicament to him...

-------
OOC: What are some spots to look at?
Replied to. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13574069#post13574069) ;)

Ufficio de Depretetto per l'Intremmo (Office of the Secretary of the Interior)
Quarto 1000, Norden Deprete di l'Intremmo, 3 Piazzo Repubblicana, Vilònorda
11:12 AM May 9, 2009

Norden Secretary of the Interior Sandro Gravallese was reading a report from Norden's Chief of Firefighting Services when somebody knocked on the door. "Entrece," ("Come in") he said, not bothering to look up from the report.

The door opened and Giuletta Mola, Director of the Norden Center for Missing Children, came in. Mola was actually an ex-girlfriend of Gravallese and a known child's rights advocate. Though they behaved professionally, Gravallese would not appoint Mola to her position were it not for the insistence of Norden Governor Adam Lambroglio, who wanted a high-profile, hardworking person to fill the office.

"Bon'mattiore," she greeted him as he looked up.
"Oh, Giuletta, what brought you here? Sit down, sit down."
Mola sat down on a chair in front of Gravallese's desk. "I know my bureau's report is not due until next week, but you have to take a look at this," she then retrieved the printout from Calandra and put it on the table.
"What is this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"There seems to be an increase in the number of missing children in Lecarocchiavalle. Last year Lecarocchiavalle had reported only 22 cases of missing children. Now they have 11 cases within 17 days!"
Gravallese took the paper and read the highlighted lines. Olevano. Rizzogno. Lecarocchiavalle. Canossa. "Why don't you take it to the police chief of Lecarocchiavalle?"
"I did, I did. And to the police chief of Rizzogno, where eight of the cases were reported. They said they don't know why... I talked to the field office down in Lecarocchiavalle and they said there were rumors spreading about a kidnapper on the loose, taking children for organ harvesting. I don't know who in their right mind would believe such a thing, but the police aren't taking that lead seriously."
"And you want me to take that child-kidnapping-organ-harvesting seriously?" Gravallese smirked. "Jeez, the governor would fire us both if we do that."
"I'm not saying we take the organ harvesting part seriously," Mola retorted. "What I'm saying is that we have to have to explain why there is an increased number of children going missing there. And stop this, if this is kidnapping. It looks like kidnapping to me."
"Child kidnapper?" he muttered rather condescendingly. "I would not subscribe to that hypothesis until we got evidence, you know. I would not cause panic in Norden."
"Go ahead. But you must do something about the missing children," she told him. "Unless you want me to do it myself."
"Alright, alright," Gravallese said resignedly. "I'll make the calls."
"Thank you," Mola said as she stood up and left the room.

Sandro Gravallese lifted his phone and placed a call to Norden's Police Chief Thorizio Carcellatti. He toyed at Mola's printout as he waited for someone to answer.

Outside, Santini raises his head to the sky and looks with dismay at the impending rain. It's not only a nusense to those seeking outdoor activities but it also washes away evidence. Such as foot prints, finger prints, blood, and any number of items of consideration. It can also wash away paths. A feeling of frustration creeps over him as he makes calls to dig up some bodies, bringing in off-duty police officers who are all less than pleased to be sacrificing their time with their families to come in and search for some child how probably wandered off. The police department in the town is small and so is their resources. It would've only been a matter of time before the Chief had to notify provincial or grant authorities regarding this present case.

"Looks like rain" Santini observes, "I suppose we'll check out Ollino Castella and Ollino Gianicola. It can't hurt send an officer or two to Grotto Serpenta. I used to go there alot when I was a child. A difficult area to navigate through. We'll get some flashlights, rope, and proper weather gear"

Sondoël was smoking another cigarette on the balcony when his patroness returned, and smiled at her lavish costume as widely as he smiled at his own when he prepared himself in the morning.

"My dear, you look excellent. And I'm starving."

But he would have to wait. He pouted a moment, before brightening up and taking the Duchesses' arm in his.

"Well then, let's make a splendid couple and meet this mysterious diplomat. I do hope she's interesting." he trilled, walking toward the library.

* * *

Arlecchino was silently cursing the small-town podunk police officers of Castellobruca as he made his way through the town, "catching up" on leads. The Duchess, however, was not at L'uccello like Giacomo had said she would be, and now the corrupt cop was getting frightened. He was in the pay of the Duchess and her debauched foreign dilettante, both in terms of money and in terms of sex and punishment. Sondoël had seduced him several months ago when he was on vacation in Leccarochiavalle, and he had been assisting in the Duchesses' schemes since.

From L'uccello he walked around, showing a picture of the missing child and asking the standard questions in order to appear as if he was doing something. The commotion between the children and Doria caught his attention immediatly, and sensing a great opportunity he made his way officiously over, flashing his badge.

"Arlecchino Makavelli, Sceicce Grant Police. Is there a problem here? Madame, have these children caused you some trouble?" he asked gruffly, even though he knew Doria and she knew him from his "work" for the noble lady of the castle.

"Thank you! I am very grateful for your hospitality.", Sofia replied to the receptionist, and soon was to accompany him towards the library. There was not much to contemplate outside as she already noticed all the details of the facade of that majestic construction. On the other hand, it would be very interesting to see a castle inside. Never having visiting one before meant that there was a certain look of surprise and admiration in her eyes as she followed the receptionist towards the library. There was no hurry, and she hoped that the receptionist would tour her on the castle, explaining about its large rooms and where each led to, for Sofia wasn't used to visiting such large buildings accept from those of an embassy, which still paled in comparison to the length of this castle. The rooms were impressively large and the foyer was beyond anything she ever saw.

However, such awe was in conflict with her beliefs, for in her mind wasting resources with such construction which could otherwise be invested in education, health and other much more important things was not something to be impressed of, this believe contrasting with her enjoyment of the place, and she had to admit that the idea of having a building like that for her was very tempting, yet another shock between desire and ideology that is more common than it seems to regarding its happenings. There is a certain stalinist stereotyping of the people of Third Spanish States as "closet capitalists", and somehow, the way she reacted to all that luxury was fitting, although Third Spanish States idea of socialism wasn't exactly a life with only the "basic" needed to survive shared among everyone, it was more of a fair market process with no forms of exploitation, which if necessary, would be intervened by the people through their direct democratic government. Such concepts were always in her mind as she observed the environment. The conflict between pleasure and ideal was in certain ways a constant. Sometimes people gave in and used their fairly gained credits to waste resources building luxurious homes, while others people were radical enough to embrace entirely ascetic ways of life. There was very little of balance and most either belonged to the first or to the latter. Maybe it was the major value given to freedom, which was considered more important than even equality, but it should not predate it, but Sofia was among the hedonists, not among the ascetics, and her way of acting almost like if that was her home was a clear hint that she was definitively liking it, despite the shock with her beliefs.

The library had some very comfortable seats and Sofia took one, skipping a few pages of some books, Sofia searched for the fiction ones rather than anything else. For a reason she was interested in an horror story at that time, and soon found a certain work called "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Shadow_Over_Innsmouth). She never read any Lovecraft work before, and soon time became insignificant as she delved into the occult tales that book had about ancient gods like Cthulhu and Dagon and its apocalyptic tones. She was interrupted by one of the aides who announced that the lunch was ready and was escorted to the dining room. It was wonderful, the spacious and luxurious table, followed by the classic chair Sofia sat upon ensured an excellent digestion of the best the local cuisine could offer. She never ate anything like it before. Refusing to eat more than a plate of food, Sofia asked the aides to tell the cooks of the castle that their foods are "works of art" and also thanked them for their excellent service, heading back to the library, where she would continue reading that and other Lovecraftian books while waiting for the Duchess. Sometimes it could be heard she laughing softly and muttering "Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!" and other words she heard. Maybe it was due to her extreme skepticism, for she doubted Cthulhu would just spawn at her front, or maybe it was amusing as a possible prank to scare off the more superstitious around, but soon she stopped doing it as she became more concentrated into the book. Sofia was "officially" a Discordianist, of course for her Discordianism (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Discordianism) and Pastafarianism (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastafarianism) were the same as parody religions and that was just a way of expressing in a more amusing way her skepticism, something which would be rather kept to herself. Maybe Duchess Irena would be a more interesting acquaintance to meet than all the other local nobles she met before.

The drive north to the first two spots proves to be a quiet one. The special agent has little to say and Santini has an equal amount. Half the time he is on a cell phone trying to coordinate the search at the other area. Now, fat, rain soaked clouds completely blot out the sky and hold a dreadful reign of terror over the area. Out the car one can see the rugged and forested hills of the countryside. It is a beautiful danger. The land holds many natural beauties but hide a more dangerous and periless side to it. Up on some of the hills, one false step or a wrong turn on a path could leave you cold and alone for days.

Finally, raindrops hit against the winshield. A few at first, then they come more steadily.

"I wouldn't have it any other way" the Inspector grunts to himself aloud, "We're almost to Ollino Castella. I trust Makavelli is making some headway"

At the Lecarocchiavalle police station, Riccardo Sabbatini rested his feet on his desk, looking at the flatscreen monitor in front of him. The wallpaper on it intrigued him, being a map of the area. He edited it every time a new missing child was reported, making it a fairly complete overlook of all cases currently under investigation. While one might think this was useless to the exchange officer that would go home in a few months, it was indeed useful for him. He had intensively studied the affair, as he couldn't understand how so much children could disappear, many without a trace.

He was attended on it by his temporary police chief in Lecarocchiavalle, a man who had the same first name as he had. Sabbatini had soon taken interest in the affair, and now carefully read each message that reported that another child had gone missing. He was fairly intrigued by it, as he had realised that, in Van Luxemburg, a child gone missing would be located a few hours or days afterwards, and then still by the Polizia Communale. His Polizia Autostradale was usually also asked to be on the lookout, but kids aren't usually found along the motorway, you see.

As he lifted his feet from the desk, he went to work again. Details of speed tickets, reports for foot patrols and evaluations of his work with the Nord-Brutlandese police force passed over the screen, all in the works, some almost ready to be handed in. He knew he had a deadline, as he was supposed to go on a routine trip to the northwest part of the grant, visiting Rizzogno, following Route 329 northbound. A rather normal route to take for a patrolling police vehicle, but he had seen a message flying past his screen; a boy in a neighbouring grant had gone missing, so he would have to keep his eyes open again. Not that he wasn't paying attention on a normal patrol, but this was special. He also had kids, he could imagine how it would be to miss one of them, or worse: lose them forever. Thinking of that, he grabbed his keys and hat, and walked towards his parked car. As the engine awoke, he quickly glanced over the pictures of his wife and children, before putting the semi-automatic gearbox into 'sport' and driving off towards Rizzogno.

Sondoël was smoking another cigarette on the balcony when his patroness returned, and smiled at her lavish costume as widely as he smiled at his own when he prepared himself in the morning.

"My dear, you look excellent. And I'm starving."

But he would have to wait. He pouted a moment, before brightening up and taking the Duchesses' arm in his.

"Well then, let's make a splendid couple and meet this mysterious diplomat. I do hope she's interesting." he trilled, walking toward the library.
Torre Maggiore
Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:10 AM May 09, 2009
"I told my servants over at Castellobruca to prepare lunch," she said as she led Sondoël towards the main door of the tower. He was heading towards another portal. "No, not that library, my dear," she chuckled at his confusion. "I meant the library at Castellobruca Castle." She opened the door and saw some angry-looking clouds. "Let's go take my car."

Despite her being a duchess, Irena was not that lazy or haughty not to drive herself around. She drove with like a racecar driver along the dirt track leading towards town, as she knew too well that this dirt road can turn into a mess of mud when the rains come...

(OOC: I sped stuff up...)

--snippy--
Castellobruca Castle
Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:29 AM May 09, 2009

Duchess Irena led Sondoël towards the library of the Castellobruca Castle. She had instructed her servants to bring lunch in the library. She opened the heavy wooden door and they went inside. The only person she saw inside was a woman, and she reckoned this as probably her visitor. "Bon'mattiore, simore," she greeted her. "You must be Ambassador Limonero. I'm Duchess Irena of Bruckland, and this is Sondoël, my, er... good friend."

"Sir, the Norden Air Force is telling us we're grounded, we can't aid with the search." Shouted the pilot
"Score one for the bad guys. Call the carrier and tell them to send us two of those police AAVs"
"Yes sir Sgt." He picked up the radio
"This is War Pig to Colmenara Air Force Base, We are requesting al terrain vehicles to continue the search without us, over"

Webb looked over at the Cheif "It does seem that we've been delayed. No matter, I've asked for permission to bring in two AAVs for the search. Hopefully it works out better than our air support"
He adjusted the sights on his M16A2
"Call me if those AAVs are approved. Right now, I'm going to find some children"

Castellobruca Castle
Castellobruca, Sceicce
11:29 AM May 09, 2009

Duchess Irena led Sondoël towards the library of the Castellobruca Castle. She had instructed her servants to bring lunch in the library. She opened the heavy wooden door and they went inside. The only person she saw inside was a woman, and she reckoned this as probably her visitor. "Bon'mattiore, simore," she greeted her. "You must be Ambassador Limonero. I'm Duchess Irena of Bruckland, and this is Sondoël, my, er... good friend."

He strode forward two steps and gave a flourishing bow, smiling at Limonero.

"Ænyëç, kämłø mån. Or perhaps 'Lássë tué, quènt.' Or even "Buenos dias, senora.' Sondoël Quèstayán, Astár of Hrötandá Vale. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

It was obvious there were some quite infamous books around. Much before the Duchess have arrived, Sofia noticed a copy of Mein Kampf, and some of the infamous Marquis de Sade works among all the books, and other sorts of works that tend to be banned in conservative countries. A thought came to her mind, but those were just other books among many, and probably were just to show with pride that everything could be found there, even the most polemic and taboo works of literature. She continued reading that Lovecraft's book, thrilling into the horrors of the "old ones" and into the tales of terror such book managed to depict so well. There was a reason why it was a classic of horror works, and Sofia really enjoyed it so far.

Concentrated at the story of the conspiracy of the town of Innsmouth, Sofia did not immediately notice the presence of the Duchess or of that strange individual ahead of her. She was reading the last line of one of the pages of that Lovecraftian book when both offered her their greetings. Closing the book, obviously entertained by its content from the way her expression was, Sofia got up and looked at both, to attempt gathering an initial impression of them. Both seemed to be of certainly some quite European origins, and the duchess black clothing was something which was a bit uncommon, maybe there was more than what the eyes could perceive there, but Sofia wasn't keen on judging others by looks. The duchess was much taller, at 1.83 meters, while she was just 1.66 meters tall, and she looked above to meet the duchess eyes when speaking. While the served dishes were also impelling her sit down and eat, but politely, she first spoke to reply to the pleasantries, giving a small touch to her jet black hair with her hand.

"Buenos días, duchess, and just call me Sofia, that is more than sufficient for me. I must admit, you have a very interesting roster of books here, I would like to one day have such level of... unrestrained knowledge. I admire such dedication to unlimited freedom of information. Actually, I have a somewhat large library in a certain way, but reading virtual books from the screen of a computer isn't the same and doesn't have the same solidity as flipping the pages of a real book. I hope the day have been good for you."

The unlimited freedom of information was just commonplace in Third Spanish States. When you have a television channels called 4chan TV, Goatse Channel and Triumph of Will during what would otherwise be considered the "watershed" and when there is nothing that is not suitable for work around, it usually means that having some sorts of books like those wasn't anything uncommon for a typical citizen. However, the existence of those books wasn't the real shock, in fact, what called Sofia's attention more was the man with the duchess, for he was... strange. Definitively not someone from Brutland and Norden, and somehow, he seemed a bit... Sofia couldn't exactly ascertain, but somehow she felt there was something very fishy about a foreigner being with the a local, for she did not find foreigners in the other places she visited so intimate with a noble or authority in such way that individual seemed to be. Her senses tingled, perhaps this time she found what she was looking for, or perhaps it was an wrong impression again. Nevertheless, she ignored her thoughts and greeted the mysterious "friend" of the Duchess. It was a bit unsettling, or maybe pride-demeaning to her the fact she did not know his language, but she just spoke at Brutland and Norden language instead to reply him:

"Nice acquaintance, and like I said mister Sondoël, I am just Sofia. Now, I can only assure that you both know more of Brutland and Norden than myself. I am traveling across it to understand the local culture in depth, considering that I came from a quite... different cultural background, instead of through the windows of an embassy. Could you recommend me where I should head to? Only after I have finished seeing everything that exists in this wonderful town and castle, of course, but this won't be the last place I am visiting before getting back to the... bureaucratic routine of standard issue diplomacy... and on an equal question, what is there to be seen in Castellobruca besides this marvelous castle?"

(Quick OOC: No problem on speeding stuff up)

--snippy--
Norden Route 3
Santa Cristina al Carocchi
just outside Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
11:07 AM May 09, 2009

The road from Lecarocchiavalle to Rizzogno was almost clear, even if it was a Saturday morning. The sky, unlike in Castellobruca, was also equally clear. The harsh midday sun was heating up the air and the road, resulting some vapory blurring of the horizon.

Three Nord-Brutlandese Air Force helicopters whirred overhead towards the northwest. At the eastbound lane, another Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police cruiser and a car from the Roccabianca Police Department was giving chase to a speeder. At the westbound lane, there was a van parked on the shoulder...

"Sir, the Norden Air Force is telling us we're grounded, we can't aid with the search." Shouted the pilot
"Score one for the bad guys. Call the carrier and tell them to send us two of those police AAVs"
"Yes sir Sgt." He picked up the radio
"This is War Pig to Colmenara Air Force Base, We are requesting al terrain vehicles to continue the search without us, over"
Colmenara Air Force Base
Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
11:13 AM May 9, 2009

Hmph. Those foreigners, Allegretti smirked as he received their transmission. "War-pig, this is Colmenara Air Force base. I surmise that your all terrain vehicles do not fly in the air, am I right? Then you can't extract permission from us about your land-based vehicles. Over."

"Buenos días, duchess, and just call me Sofia, that is more than sufficient for me. I must admit, you have a very interesting roster of books here, I would like to one day have such level of... unrestrained knowledge. I admire such dedication to unlimited freedom of information. Actually, I have a somewhat large library in a certain way, but reading virtual books from the screen of a computer isn't the same and doesn't have the same solidity as flipping the pages of a real book. I hope the day have been good for you."
"Thank you. My day had been nice - so far," she said as her thoughts went back again to the dead Brute boy. He wasn't as good as that tough Dano-Nordener she had about two weeks ago. "My library contains some of the more unique books that can't be easily found in Brutland and Norden," she said as they sat down on the couches surrounding an intricately-etched glass coffee table. "Though we have those virtual books also, I prefer real books, as they cannot be easily lost with a touch of the wrong button."

"Now, I can only assure that you both know more of Brutland and Norden than myself. I am traveling across it to understand the local culture in depth, considering that I came from a quite... different cultural background, instead of through the windows of an embassy. Could you recommend me where I should head to? Only after I have finished seeing everything that exists in this wonderful town and castle, of course, but this won't be the last place I am visiting before getting back to the... bureaucratic routine of standard issue diplomacy... and on an equal question, what is there to be seen in Castellobruca besides this marvelous castle?"
Three servants went in and brought trays of food. The first one, aside from setting plates and utensils, laid down a plateful of plump grains of rice steeped in fresh tomato sauce admixed with an assortment of chopped local vegetables, bits of meat, and purple Brute cheese. "Our culture?" The Duchess smiled. "Why, you are seeing it right now. This is risotto alla Bruchense." Another servant laid down a heaping plate of fusilli (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fusilli) pasta steeped with brutfruit* sauce, cubes of medium rare beef tenderloin, and grated red Tortona cheese. Another plate of green bread slathered in what looked like pesto was put beside the pasta. "This is pasto ruga, and this is pano verta. The names are easy. Red Pasta, Green Bread. This green bread is made from crushed edible leaves mixed in the bread dough. Great partner for the red pasta." The Duchess pointed to the other dishes on the table. "This is the traditional Brucklander stew," she said, pointing to a pot with a stew containing fish, Norden onions, leeks, cabbage, potatoes, beans, olives, tomatoes, basil, and radish. "And this is carno chiesa," she then pointed to tender chicken fingers, mozzarella cheese, and mild spices wrapped in thin crepe, breaded with flour and bread crumbs, and then deep-fried. She then retrieved the two wine bottles. "This is Sebrola banana wine, made in Seltina; and this is licuoro vaca, or cow liquor, our national drink... Actually, Sondoël had not tasted some of these stuff," she smiled. "Let's go eat."

As they were eating, the Duchess enumerated famous tourist spots being taught to Nord-Brutlandese sixth-graders. "...the beaches of eastern Norden. If you like, we also have ski areas in central Brutland - Pannondrio and Montesa. We have almost everything - from sea to snow."

* brutfruit = scientific name Lycopersicon bruta; a fruit related to and similar to a tomato, primarily grown in Brutland and in some parts of Norden)

Bergoglio was feeling uneasy about this case. He had worked on missing children's cases before and luckily the majority had been found alive and well. However on occasion his instincts told him something was wrong, and his instincts were usually right...

[B]Norden Route 3
-snip-

Riccardo watched, as the two police vehicles passed by, in pursuit of another car that was, as far as he could see, violating the speed limits to an extreme. However, he had decided to not ask if he could assist, since two vehicles was preobably enough for what seemed to be a speeder.

As he looked on, paying little attention to the helicopters overhead, a van on the hard shoulder caught his attention. It could be there because of a breakdown, but it could have all sorts of reasons. Maybe the driver became unwell during his motorway drive? As Riccardo decided to check out what was wrong, an uneasy feeling overpowered him. This was a foreign country he was patrolling in, who knows what he would find in that van.

He swiftly parked the specialised automobile right behind the van, and reached into the armrest storage compartment to take out his SIG-Sauer, the standard-issue sidearm for all governmental security personnel, including him. He holstered it, before pushing the button for the car's hazard lights, and opening the door. He quickly got out and closed the door again, running towards the safe side of the shoulder, out of harms' way. He then approached the vans' passenger door, and knocked on the door once, before attempting to open the door.

(OOC: Speeding things up somewhat)

'Riccardo Sabbatini, I'm a Van Luxemburger police officer detached to the Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police because of an international co-operation treaty.' He said as he showed his Van Luxemburger police ID card.

'May I ask what we are doing on this shoulder here? It is not a parking lot, you see.'

Sondoël scrunched up his nose at the cow liquor. "You forget, Irena, that I had it once upon my arrival and nearly lost my dinner. The banana wine, however, is quite delicious."

He sat back lazily, popping a corner of the pano verta into his mouth. "Since we are on the subject of cultures and people, I will expound briefly on mine. I am from Snefaldia, from the region commonly known as Neer Dal. This is not, however, my people's name for it- I am Belädanyá, the people that have traditionally lived in the west of the region known in my language as "Glendáuál." We are a rather...woodsy, people, but with more refinement that rusticity. Brutlander cuisine, though rural, appeals to many palettes in my province because of the emphasis on using things from the land. I do still prefer Tiël Piukándë, the "Piukándá cordial," a type of strawberry wine that is well-respected- I believe we drank the last bottle I brought with me last month."

He took a drink of the banana wine and smiled ravishingly at the lady.

Damn the rain. Fat, heavy drops patter against the ground. Dark, menacing clouds loom above, mocking Santini and his efforts. The two other officers. A hapless duo with a pencent for slacking quietly but nonetheless obviously, snarl at this task.

"Inspector, there's nothing here!" wines Officer Andrea as he climbs over a boulder, carefull not to slip on the slippery rock.

"There's always something, you just have to keep your eyes peeled and your mind open" Santini responds, tipping his fedora down as drops of water perspire down from it. Even he begins to doubt all of this. It's a difficult place to get to despite its' popularity. Judging by how long the family's been here, he doubted that the boy would've wandered this far...alone. These distances are by no means impossible for a youngster, just unlikely.

Borello, coughing sadly steps from down the trail which leads to the cave.

"Inspector, we can't find any signs of the boy. We've been calling his name and went as far into the cave as a person can go."

"Alright, we'll move to the next sight after I call Chief" the veteran Inspector sighs at this dead end.

He produces a cellphone and calls Chief, "Chief, there's no traces here at the cave, we're going to move to Ollino Castella next. Are there anymore details we need to know about this whole mess?"

OOC: Oops, posted with my old nation on accident. Well, not like there's much difference between the two.

Finally something different to taste, the milk liquor was truly something she never tried before, there was a glint of delight in Sofia's eyes while she savored that generously luxurious meal, like if she rarely had eaten things like that in her entire life. Somehow she managed to contain her urge to ignore etiquette while eating, for that was not a meeting between Third Spanish States diplomats where they just "grabbed" the meal and ate like rancid dogs, sometimes even using their hands rather than forks and knives because between them, nobody cared about "etiquette". However, in respect to both and their possible nobility she restrained from doing so while she ate the pasto ruga, pano verta and the wonderous local stew. However, due to the fact that etiquette isn't something she is used with, she didn't notice when she involuntarily grabbed a pile of mozzarella cheese pieces with her hands and just putted them straight into her mouth, just while Sondoël was talking about his culture. Uneasy, she tried to pretend she wasn't embarrassed, with a certain success. Normally, after swallowing the pile of pieces of cheese, she let a small burp come out, putting her hand into her mouth just as it was to come. Taking a small breath, she continued:

"I will certainly be visiting the littoral and the mountains later, but for now it seems very pleasant to continue in this quaint and bucolic place. And as you speak of culture, I guess I owe you an explanation. Suffice to say, what I'm dressing now, despite being considered casual in the rest of the world, is what in my nation is called formal, long history, but we have a very progressive culture... or counter-culture perhaps. It varies from place to place. Tucker has a quite... interesting culture, it was founded by English... people with progressive ideas. We have some fast food of our own, the most popular being the Cheese Filet Mignon with Rump Cover, the Cheese Paella, and the Shrimp with Crab sandwich. Some of them were actually derived from the excellent meats served in Churrascarias (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Churrascaria) in Nova Lisboa and the recently founded Nova Brasilia, by the people from Anarchilopolis who decided to come from the Amazon to here, all located at cosmopolitan society,the Southeast of Third Spanish States... well, despite its name we are a very that's why everyone knows at least besides Spanish, English and Portuguese. We sort of have some mixes of ideas between these three cuisines.", she added, trying to look natural. Somehow, the way the culture of her homeland was could be unsettling for some, but considering the sorts of books that the Duchess library had, she probably wouldn't look at her funnily if she explained everything. With an additional last speak, she ended explaining its culinary:

"We have lots of seafood, being an island and all, but we don't like Japanese food, although we have devised our own ways of preparing and using algaes to make some seafruit snacks with shrimps, lobster or crab meat wrapped over them, it looks like a sushi superficially, but we aren't big fans of rice. Now on the other aspects of our culture. I wouldn't attempt to open a tie store there, because nobody uses ties, for example, I was serious when I said this is formal there. I hope it won't be shocking, but... the casual tends to range from provocative to no clothing at all... it's quite normal there, because the concept of "obscenity" is considered... hope it won't offend you, but there is only one word we use for it. We call it "reactionary". Mister Sondoël, you just reminded me by mentioning a woodsy lifestyle that there is a certain city in the center of our island, it's right in the middle of a forest, and people there have a quite... alternative lifestyle. I only visited Ciudad Gaia once, and it was true. They are nudists, really, there it's completely common and normal to walk around naked, and usually they are... stoned, pardon the word. Not that it's different where I live, just that in Tucker not everybody is a nudist or druggie, some are, some aren't, but in Ciudad Gaia almost everyone is one... and there are no taboos across my land except for one thing... we consider the age of consent to be 12 years old, and... as long as there is consent, it's nobody's matter whatever happens with two or more people there, except for the Christian city of "Fátima", which population ostracizes people who are too liberal for their conservative views. Also in Third Spanish States, marriage is preference, not exclusivity and adultery isn't something which actually exists or that people care about, in fact, sometimes there are some sorts of parties where couples have all sorts of relationships between them... huh... I... hope it isn't shocking. I just felt you would be more open-minded than most about it. Also, I apologize for that... reaction, but I'm not that used to etiquette, hope you understand, where I came from things are a bit 'weird' from the view of outsiders."

However, she had one last thing to mention, and Sofia tried to not blush while they were listening:

"Finally, the last thing we are known for is our... believe that people should be self-sufficient regarding protection. I got my first revolver when I was ten, it was an old .380, not very bulky because I was quite small by then. I remember when I joined the shooting sports club for the first time. At 15 I won an AK-47 as a birthday gift, I would've brought it here but I didn't want to scare people off", she said, smiling, "You see, we have problems with crime, yes, eradicating it won't be easy, but we all have means to defend ourselves, and maybe that helps we all to be kept in shape. A gun is a symbol of responsibility there, I would say that although nobody admits, it's also a sort of symbol of status. I4 hope it's not shocking, but we have no jails... we just kill the worst and try to rehabilitate the petty criminals. It sounds a bit like mob rule, I know, but it's much more effective than all the judicial bureaucracy that other places have. Also I had some experience in the military, but before, when I was 16 I joined a local militia to hunt criminals, it was quite dangerous but we were doing the right thing and that was what mattered, I joined the brass, sort of, but we don't have a normal Army there. I specialized in negotiation, sort of, "counter-terrorism" and stuff, that's where I learned the first ropes of diplomacy before finally realizing it wasn't my thing all those trainings and firefights with thugs, because I prefer talking over pulling triggers. And I guess that says all about how... my homeland is sort of strange for some. I hope you understand, but I would rather not give more... details because.", she blushed a bit then, fearing they would all see her with funny eyes and a sort of shock by then. Maybe she has foolish told enough to ensure her expulsion from that place, because that seemed to "lowly" for a traditional noble castle. That wasn't the first time she spoke more than she thought she should, but never it happened internationally, just in certain diplomatic events in Third Spanish States, where usually everyone stopped smoking drugs or walking around naked near the embassies to not shock visitors.

Bergoglio was feeling uneasy about this case. He had worked on missing children's cases before and luckily the majority had been found alive and well. However on occasion his instincts told him something was wrong, and his instincts were usually right...Sede la Polze Grattia di Sceicce (Sceicce Grant Police Headquarters)
Quarto 100, Giusallo di Gobbierro Grattia, 20 Piazzo di Palma, Castell'sceicce, Sceicce
11:14 AM May 09, 2009

Sceicce Police Chief Bricco Calvatone had just received a call from Arg. Giustino Bergamaschini, the chief of the First Air Force based in Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle. Arg. Bergamaschini sternly lodged a complaint at the Sciecce Grant Police about a certain police department under Calvatone's command. This certain police department allowed foreign troops and aircraft into Nord-Brutlandese airspace and territory. Moreover, Bergamaschini reminded him, not too gently, that such incursions were illegal, prohibited, and consisted of a violation of Nord-Brutlandese territorial rights. As their role in protecting the sovereignty and in providing for the defense of Brutland and Norden, Bergamaschini continued, the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force will not take such events lightly. The Air Force General warned the Sceicce Police Chief that he is not afraid of causing a political-military-diplomatic incident; he threatened to do something drastic unless Calvatone acted...

Which is why Calvatone is trying to connect with Castellobruca Police Chief Erico Bergoglio. The phone was ringing, and he's waiting for someone to answer...
OOC: placed the text in a different post for the reply. :)

--snippy--
Norden Route 3
Santa Cristina al Carocchi
just outside Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
11:07 AM May 09, 2009

The driver rolled down her window. "I know it's not a parking lot," she drawled irritatedly, "I'm just taking a call."

She spoke again on the phone. "Piú, del svilupe... Il ico a semane, non mai rescirecco dassecche Kail!" She spoke somewhat angrily on the phone, and looked like having every right to do so. She wore a crumpled shirt and pants, her long blond hair was in disarray, she had huge dark eyebags, and her face as creased with worry... she looked tired and wasted.

"Tinne, me vegrecci sperenzece in dasse mi fratello. Me dell'oapostece ritece e ansiece circe ce... fra s'ce, tutto ce doci... La polze s'descompeta... mi dax..." She then burst into tears, unable to talk further on the phone...

--snippy--
OOC: licuoro vaca is made from cow urine, not milk... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13318494#post13318494) :D

"Oh, Brutland and Norden is entirely different," the Duchess chuckled as Sofia finished. While she wanted that Brutland and Norden would be freer, she would never wish to live in any other country. "We are devoutly Catholic, intensely conservative, but kind of socialist and laissez-faire... I know, I'm using contrast words, but really, that's what Brutland and Norden is. Here, nudity is considered obscene, abortion is illegal, psychotropic drugs are prohibited, marriage is a religious institution - though some areas have homosexual civil partnerships which differ in nothing but name. But we are a very tolerant society, interreligious strife and anti-homosexual crime are rare... we have, though, universal health care, free education, and unemployment benefits, and we have a free-market economy."

"As for guns... we have strict gun control. Even I have to apply for a firearm license..."

Sede la Polze Grattia di Sceicce (Sceicce Grant Police Headquarters)
Quarto 100, Giusallo di Gobbierro Grattia, 20 Piazzo di Palma, Castell'sceicce, Sceicce
11:14 AM May 09, 2009

Sceicce Police Chief Bricco Calvatone had just received a call from Arg. Giustino Bergamaschini, the chief of the First Air Force based in Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle. Arg. Bergamaschini sternly lodged a complaint at the Sciecce Grant Police about a certain police department under Calvatone's command. This certain police department allowed foreign troops and aircraft into Nord-Brutlandese airspace and territory. Moreover, Bergamaschini reminded him, not too gently, that such incursions were illegal, prohibited, and consisted of a violation of Nord-Brutlandese territorial rights. As their role in protecting the sovereignty and in providing for the defense of Brutland and Norden, Bergamaschini continued, the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force will not take such events lightly. The Air Force General warned the Sceicce Police Chief that he is not afraid of causing a political-military-diplomatic incident; he threatened to do something drastic unless Calvatone acted...

Which is why Calvatone is trying to connect with Castellobruca Police Chief Erico Bergoglio. The phone was ringing, and he's waiting for someone to answer...
OOC: placed the text in a different post for the reply. :)

OOC: Thanks.

Bergoglio knew there would be consequences for his actions but he didn't care. All that mattered to him was that the child was found safe and sound. His phone was ringing and he stared at it. No doubt the consequences were about to come into fruition. He answered:

"This is Police Chief Bergoglio."

Saying that the rough-faced and dingy Boniface Godenot was tired was an understatement. After a long international flight from Meridian In'l Airport in the Commonwealth (http://z2.invisionfree.com/nasicournia/index.php?showtopic=3858&st=0&#last), he'd landed in Nordville several time zones later. From there, he'd chartered a small plane to the municipal airport of Rizzogno. After that flight, Boniface had rented a Mini Cooper and driven the rest of the way, deciding that relying on taxi services probably wouldn't do after a while. That was how he found himself in the town of Castellobruca, reading a town map as he sipped a cold cup of coffee. He decided to walk around the town a bit to get a feel for the place, so he put away the map, took up his satchel and off he went.

As he walked around, he took out an old Nikon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikon_F2) camera from his satchel. Bemusedly, he glanced at the unit patches sewn onto the pack. As a war correspondent, Boniface had been inbedded with a slew of military units, and each one was represented on his bag. It had raised quite the questioning at Customs, who had a hard time believing he was here on pleasure. Of course, the story of the runaway children had reached the shores of the Commonwealth, and as a veteran reporter, something about the story had struck him. There was something fishy going on, and Boniface was determined to be the one to find out what it was.

His phone rang-to the tune of My Bonnie (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCKliwF2jaM)- as he was walking up towards a bakery and he answered it halfheartedly.

"Bonjour," he answered, knowing it was his former boss at the CBC-Mark Rather.

"Bonny, how are you?"

"I just got in," Boniface replied, cringing at his nickname.

"Remember when I siad you were working too hard?" Mark chided.

"I'm not," he lied, "It's a vacation. It's a very touristy place I found on a travel guide."

"Yeah, I bet," came his friend's reply. "Just keep yourself safe, eh?"

"Au revoir," Bonny said.

"Bon chance," Mark interjected before Bonny hung up.

Now, Bonny told himself, where to go now? He decided to attach himself to a group of tourists and get some info before making his presence as a journalist known.

Riccardo had a hard time understanding what the woman was talking about on the phone, as he still hadn't completely finished his language course. It didn't matter how much he tried to relate it to Italian, he still couldn't make up a lot. As the woman burst out into tears, he quickly thought what to do. Leave the vehicle on the shoulder and drive off, or help her?

It would be his task to help her. Police is there to help you.

'Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?' he spoke, in a heavily accented Nord-Brutlandese. Languages never had been his best point, especially not if you had to learn them with a deadline.

OOC: Thanks.

Bergoglio knew there would be consequences for his actions but he didn't care. All that mattered to him was that the child was found safe and sound. His phone was ringing and he stared at it. No doubt the consequences were about to come into fruition. He answered:

"This is Police Chief Bergoglio."
Sede la Polze Grattia di Sceicce (Sceicce Grant Police Headquarters)
Quarto 100, Giusallo di Gobbierro Grattia, 20 Piazzo di Palma, Castell'sceicce, Sceicce
11:15 AM May 09, 2009

"Good morning. This is Chief Bricco Calvatone," the grant police chief said rapidly. He was somewhat angry, somewhat frustrated that he did not want to bother with those usual pleasantries. But the force of habit was stronger than what he was feeling, and an obligatory greeting escaped his mouth. He paused for a moment, realizing that venting his anger on his poor subordinate will not be that professional and will not cultivate a good working relationship. He decided to pursue the matter diplomatically. "I understand that you have a case of a missing child within your jurisdiction. As your superior and the police chief of the entire grant of Sceicce, it is my jurisdiction as much as yours. Therefore, I appreciate everything that you are doing in your power in order find the missing child. However, I have received a complaint about you overstepping your bounds... News reached me that you have invited... allowed foreign troops and aircraft within Nord-Brutlandese territory. Would you care to explain this to me?"

It would be his task to help her. Police is there to help you.

'Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?' he spoke, in a heavily accented Nord-Brutlandese. Languages never had been his best point, especially not if you had to learn them with a deadline.
Norden Route 3
Santa Cristina al Carocchi
just outside Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
11:09 AM May 09, 2009

"Me ritece tu oadella," she said snidely between sobs. She had lost all faith in the police force. "Ma s'a fucheca depreto polza elta sgrece per mi fratello, e mai dell'oadassece ce." She pulled a piece of tissue paper from a box on the dashboard and wiped tears off her cheeks. She was beautiful, even more so when she is crying. "Sul tu ici nilo bonenessa doche lui seccarecche me, que me seche gecche t'uome, sinore."

("I think you can't... there's an entire f*cking police department looking for my brother, and they can't find him... If you have nothing better to do than to harass me, then I want to go home, sir.")

Castellobruca

After doing the normal touristy things, going so far as to buy a few trinkets from the gift shop and mailing off a postcard to Mark, Bonny traveled back to his rental car to decide what to do now. He had a fair grasp of the town's history and he thought back of the castle that gave the town its name. There were no castles in the Commonwealth following the November Revolution; the visage intimidated him, though that was probably how its architect had designed it. His phone ranga again, and he settled in the seat as he answered it.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Bonny?" the woman's voice asked on the other side.

"Yeah...who's this?"

"You're the one who called me, moron!" came her answer.

"Nice to hear back from you, Lucia," he chuckled. "So, anything new?" On the other line was Major Lucia Vernaz, a friend of his from the recent Valentine's Day War and a source in military intelligence.

"Ti durak," Lucia muttered. "Concerning your suspicions, we've found that several children have been reported missing in the area recently. Our first is identified as two children that ran away from home, and there is another account of a tourist couple who's son disappeared. I can e-mail you the whole report."

"Thanks," Bonny answered, "I appreciate it."

"And watch your six," Lucia added. "I can't bail you out like in Basarah."

They hung up, and as Bonny opened his laptop to retrieve her e-mail, he decided it was time to meet the local constabulary.

'Well, I suppose this vehicle has to go with you? Then I can always escort you home. It'll sure be a lot faster.'

As Riccardo put up his hat again, and looked up his car keys, he took the time to ask a question he had wanted to ask ever since she told about her missing brother.

'Excuse me for being rude, but what is the name of your brother? There are a lot of people, especially children, missing in this area. It's really remarkable, I've never seen it before. At least, where I come from.' He said, standing up and preparing to walk back to his car again.

After a few moments a woman opened the door. She looked puzzled as who was this stranger who rang up their doorbell this early in the morning, but she secretly hoped he brought good news. "Bon'mattiore, sinore," ("Good morning, signore,") she greeted him with a weak, tired smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello my name is Juan and sorry for coming so early. I'm from the Daily Nation newspaper and I was wondering if I could interview you about what happened...I'm so sorry that it happened."

OOC: sorry for taking so long

'Well, I suppose this vehicle has to go with you? Then I can always escort you home. It'll sure be a lot faster.'
"No, thanks. Me oagece t'uome via mìse." She said as she started to roll up her window.

("I can go home on my own.")

As Riccardo put up his hat again, and looked up his car keys, he took the time to ask a question he had wanted to ask ever since she told about her missing brother.

'Excuse me for being rude, but what is the name of your brother? There are a lot of people, especially children, missing in this area. It's really remarkable, I've never seen it before. At least, where I come from.' He said, standing up and preparing to walk back to his car again.
She stopped rolling up the window. "Do della coparsece," she told him rather frustratedly. "Justi chiedece la Polze Canossense descompeta."
("Don't bother... just ask the incompetent Canossa Police.")

"Hello my name is Juan and sorry for coming so early. I'm from the Daily Nation newspaper and I was wondering if I could interview you about what happened...I'm so sorry that it happened."
Simona Gagliardo was unfamiliar with the newspaper, but if this was a journalist interested in their case, then she would be more than happy to oblige. It has been more than a week since their children's disappearance, they were beginning to be more desperate...

"Il s'ibbena," she told him. "Tu trece con tu s'a novotto? Entrece, entrece," she opened the door and led him to the dining room. "Tu seche cafe oltra? Oltrizio mangecche?"
("It's alright... You say you are a reporter? Come in, come in... Do you want some coffee? Something to eat?")

'Very well, Miss. Good luck to you. May the police forces find your brother. Ciao!' He spoke, ending his sentence with an Italian goodbye.

He then walked back to his car, waited until the van had driven off, and then pushed the button for his hazards again to make them stop. Starting the engine, he pushed the accelerator all the way down a few times, letting the engine howl before he drove off. As the car gained momentum and got up to motorway pace, He switched the police radio on, and began to speak. It was easily understandable, he spoke loud and clear.

'Polizia Autostradale 8-24 calling the Canossa Police Department, I repeat, Canossa Police Department, please come in. I want to inquire about a missing persone you're looking for. I just had a woman who was quite upset about your work. That is, in a very negative way. Polizia Autostradale 8-24, out.'

'Very well, Miss. Good luck to you. May the police forces find your brother. Ciao!' He spoke, ending his sentence with an Italian goodbye.

He then walked back to his car, waited until the van had driven off, and then pushed the button for his hazards again to make them stop. Starting the engine, he pushed the accelerator all the way down a few times, letting the engine howl before he drove off. As the car gained momentum and got up to motorway pace, He switched the police radio on, and began to speak. It was easily understandable, he spoke loud and clear.

'Polizia Autostradale 8-24 calling the Canossa Police Department, I repeat, Canossa Police Department, please come in. I want to inquire about a missing persone you're looking for. I just had a woman who was quite upset about your work. That is, in a very negative way. Polizia Autostradale 8-24, out.'
Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:13 AM

"Noi esaurecce nòi traccii!" Officer Rocco Bonzone complained as the dispatcher took a call. "Tinne, noi doco verdizio, noi iorgece par la relo... danne, me gece t'uome justi verdontra díe! Passo s'tutto me sgeco?"
("We've exhausted our leads!... You know, we did everything, we worked round the clock... damn, I go home just every other day! That is what I get?)

The dispatcher gave him the headset. "Per tu. Tinne, vosi le s'justi traíamenta."
("For you. You know, you both are just frustrated.")

Bonzone took the headset. "Indagetto Bonzone, Canossa Polze. Personu manza? Canossa ici sgresi oppa doza di personu manza, e sul tu rifereco te la stardo manza, avantece."
("Investigator Bonzone, Canossa Police. Missing persons? Canossa has two open cases of missing persons, and if you are referring to the missing child, go on.")

OOC: Nord-Brutlandese is different from Italian, actually. I created Nord-Brutlandese to make it look like Italian, and I feel like I succeeded. :D You're not the first one to confuse it. Thank you. ;)

Simona Gagliardo was unfamiliar with the newspaper, but if this was a journalist interested in their case, then she would be more than happy to oblige. It has been more than a week since their children's disappearance, they were beginning to be more desperate...

"Il s'ibbena," she told him. "Tu trece con tu s'a novotto? Entrece, entrece," she opened the door and led him to the dining room. "Tu seche cafe oltra? Oltrizio mangecche?"
("It's alright... You say you are a reporter? Come in, come in... Do you want some coffee? Something to eat?")

"I'm fine really. Well I know this must be tough on you, but I need a big story for my boss. Please can you just go through that night, and what you think your children was feeling that night."

(OOC: Hehe, the person I sent to Brutland & Norden is Italian. That's why he said Ciao. :D I rather send Italian-speaking Van Luxemburgers to B&N, as I think they might pick up the language earlier than, say, a German- or Dutch-speaking VL'er :p )

'Buongiorno, Inspettore Bonzone. Riccardo Sabbatini, Polizia Autostradale, Van Luxemburg. I just spoke to a woman on the motorway. She was on the phone with someone, being really upset after the conversation ended. She was not exactly positive about your department, I'm afraid. She called you incompetent. I tried to ask who her missing brother was, but she answered with something like 'try the incompetent Canossa Police'. I just wanted to make sure.' He paused.

'And if I've been hitting a sore leg with this question, maybe I can do something for you? Ofcourse, within the possibilities that my function offers, as I still have to follow the orders of the Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police'

He was on the radio while steering the car singlehandedly, doing a steady 130 km/h. He ofcourse was focused on the road ahead, but part of his attention was still at the radio conversation. That was why he decided to slow down and move over the shoulder, setting the cruise control of his vehicle to 80 km/h.

Bonny had placed his laptop laying open on the passenger seat as he drove. As a topographical graph of the missing persons cases popped up in a window, he abandoned his idea of meeting with the local police. Twisting the Mini in a U-turn, Bonny was now headed for Lecorach-dfgofd...damn, he still wasn't used to the language yet. He could speak conversationally, but place names still gave him a hard time.

He drove for a while before passing a police cruiser that had pulled over another vehicle. Bonny glanced back, noticing that the woman in the car was obviously distraught. Well, at least women still try to get out of tickets the same way as they do at home, he thought.

"I'm fine really. Well I know this must be tough on you, but I need a big story for my boss. Please can you just go through that night, and what you think your children was feeling that night."
"Well, they ran away," Simona said trying to contain her emotions. Despite telling the story over and over again, she could not manage to tell it without even her voice cracking. "Chester and Luanna are classmates. We did not know they were in love until they ran away..."

"Roger that, operation will continue on foot, War-Pig out"
Webb sighed "This only makes it harder for me..." He said to himself

OOC: Sorry for the extremely crappy post, I'm kind of busy at the moment

(OOC: Hehe, the person I sent to Brutland & Norden is Italian. That's why he said Ciao. :D I rather send Italian-speaking Van Luxemburgers to B&N, as I think they might pick up the language earlier than, say, a German- or Dutch-speaking VL'er :p )

'Buongiorno, Inspettore Bonzone. Riccardo Sabbatini, Polizia Autostradale, Van Luxemburg. I just spoke to a woman on the motorway. She was on the phone with someone, being really upset after the conversation ended. She was not exactly positive about your department, I'm afraid. She called you incompetent. I tried to ask who her missing brother was, but she answered with something like 'try the incompetent Canossa Police'. I just wanted to make sure.' He paused.

'And if I've been hitting a sore leg with this question, maybe I can do something for you? Ofcourse, within the possibilities that my function offers, as I still have to follow the orders of the Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police'

He was on the radio while steering the car singlehandedly, doing a steady 130 km/h. He ofcourse was focused on the road ahead, but part of his attention was still at the radio conversation. That was why he decided to slow down and move over the shoulder, setting the cruise control of his vehicle to 80 km/h.
Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:13 AM

"That lady was frustrated because we still hadn't found her missing brother. I assure you we are doing everything. We reported it to the Norden Center for Missing Children, organized search parties, tracked down leads, questioned witnesses... we always come up empty-handed." Bonzone sighed. "Well, we can't blame her - it's been more than a week since the child disappeared. I'm sure Chief Ricetti's directive had reached you, had it?"

"Well, they ran away," Simona said trying to contain her emotions. Despite telling the story over and over again, she could not manage to tell it without even her voice cracking. "Chester and Luanna are classmates. We did not know they were in love until they ran away..."

How can you not know who your child loves., Juan thought to himself. About what time did he make the run for it? And do you have any idea at all of where they are?

Sede la Polze Grattia di Sceicce (Sceicce Grant Police Headquarters)
Quarto 100, Giusallo di Gobbierro Grattia, 20 Piazzo di Palma, Castell'sceicce, Sceicce
11:15 AM May 09, 2009

"Good morning. This is Chief Bricco Calvatone," the grant police chief said rapidly. He was somewhat angry, somewhat frustrated that he did not want to bother with those usual pleasantries. But the force of habit was stronger than what he was feeling, and an obligatory greeting escaped his mouth. He paused for a moment, realizing that venting his anger on his poor subordinate will not be that professional and will not cultivate a good working relationship. He decided to pursue the matter diplomatically. "I understand that you have a case of a missing child within your jurisdiction. As your superior and the police chief of the entire grant of Sceicce, it is my jurisdiction as much as yours. Therefore, I appreciate everything that you are doing in your power in order find the missing child. However, I have received a complaint about you overstepping your bounds... News reached me that you have invited... allowed foreign troops and aircraft within Nord-Brutlandese territory. Would you care to explain this to me?"

"Politics are not my concern. Finding missing children is. I can only apoligise for that action. You must understand Sir that when an officer of the law is trying to solve a case, his only focus is the case. You must understand?"

Bergoglio felt he had defused the situation enough to keep Calvatone happy.

Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)

Well, Bonny said to himself as he walked into the police department, this is as good a time as any to get my foot in the door. He walked in quietly, scanning the interior before making his way to desk clerk. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

"Hi," he greeted, "I'm Boniface Godenot with the *Nasicournian Interloper," he said, fishing out the credentials. "I'm doing a story on the local area-for our travel section-and I wanted to talk with a law enforcement officer if I could." He paused to let the man digest that before going on, "I've always felt that the police usually have a better feel for their locale than the average citizen."

*Regional newspaper

How can you not know who your child loves., Juan thought to himself. About what time did he make the run for it? And do you have any idea at all of where they are?
Gagliardo Residence
1786 Strade Sant'Amella, San Canico al Carocchi, Soltera
May 9, 2009, 05:52 AM

"It as a Wednesday back then. My husband was at work, and I was in the grocery with Caterina, my older daughter. Wednesday is grocery day for us, because there are less people... Chester knew that. I had been at the grocery that morning in Santa Cecilia* for about two to three hours. I even bought home his favorite chocolate. When I came back... he was gone!" Simona broke down in tears over her coffee. She took a clean rag and wiped tears off her cheeks.

"I searched for him with the neighbors, or relatives, and his friends... yes, his friends, but nobody knew his whereabouts. The only thing I knew was that some of the younger children playing outside said they saw Chester going out of the house with a big backpack while I was away.

I reported it to the police, but they said they won't file a missing persons report just yet, and so they joined the search. They interviewed the people I called earlier. That's when the news came. One of his classmates in Santa Cecilia said that she accompanied Chester and his classmate Luanna to the San Canico rail station and boarded train W38. She was supposed to keep it secret but she was afraid that something bad might have happened to her friends, now that police was knocking on her door.

Now I asked who this Luanna is, and she said it was Chester's girlfriend. I didn't know he had a girlfriend. Probably got that idea from watching those silly TV shows... but he's too young to have a girlfriend and and other stuff. He knew that; I also thought he was an obedient kid..."

Simona then changed topic. "Now, I've made some inquiries on where train W38 goes to. They said that W38 plies the Nordville-Compostela route. Their friend told me they rode the train west. W38 passes by the remainder of Soltera, across Lecarocchiavalle, and into Valtemmira, where Compostela is. But it has been more than a week, they could be anywhere in Brutland and Norden right now..."

*Santa Cecilia al Carocchi, an adjacent town east of San Canico al Carocchi

Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:13 AM

"That lady was frustrated because we still hadn't found her missing brother. I assure you we are doing everything. We reported it to the Norden Center for Missing Children, organized search parties, tracked down leads, questioned witnesses... we always come up empty-handed." Bonzone sighed. "Well, we can't blame her - it's been more than a week since the child disappeared. I'm sure Chief Ricetti's directive had reached you, had it?"

Riccardo was silent for a moment. Directive? Which directive? I don't think I ever got one.

Then, he picked up the radio again. and spoke slowly, doubtful.

'Ehm, I never had a directive, as far as I know. Maybe you can repeat it for me? It could be that I just forgot it.'

He let go of the conversation button of the CB, the radio started to beep and crackle as it seemed to wait for the answer.

"Politics are not my concern. Finding missing children is. I can only apoligise for that action. You must understand Sir that when an officer of the law is trying to solve a case, his only focus is the case. You must understand?"

Bergoglio felt he had defused the situation enough to keep Calvatone happy.

"Yes I do. But you, too must understand that you are not in a position to invite and/or allow foreign forces into our territory. That is illegal.

If it is helicopters that you want, the Sceicce Grant Police has a fleet of choppers, sitting idle, waiting for work. I believe there is an officer under the grant police that is assigned to your district. You can get in touch with him. Or why didn't you ask the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force, which is just in Canossa? They can send out swarms of helicopters if that's what you want..."

OOC: I know you didn't know about the Air Force and the Police Chopper fleet, don't worry... ;)

Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)

Well, Bonny said to himself as he walked into the police department, this is as good a time as any to get my foot in the door. He walked in quietly, scanning the interior before making his way to desk clerk. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

"Hi," he greeted, "I'm Boniface Godenot with the *Nasicournian Interloper," he said, fishing out the credentials. "I'm doing a story on the local area-for our travel section-and I wanted to talk with a law enforcement officer if I could." He paused to let the man digest that before going on, "I've always felt that the police usually have a better feel for their locale than the average citizen."

*Regional newspaper
Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:13 AM

The front desk person wondered why would a reporter wanting to know about a place go to the police rather than to a tour guide or local government officials. Perhaps he was here to investigate the rumors of children being kidnapped for organs, a rumor he found laughable.

"Chief Laurenzana is in," he said as he asked a staffer to accompany Godenot to the office of the Canossa Police Chief. The staffer led him up four floors through the elevator and along a narrow corridor that led to the office. "This is the Chief Laurenzana's office." The staffer knocked and opened the door. "Go in."

Riccardo was silent for a moment. Directive? Which directive? I don't think I ever got one.

Then, he picked up the radio again. and spoke slowly, doubtful.

'Ehm, I never had a directive, as far as I know. Maybe you can repeat it for me? It could be that I just forgot it.'

He let go of the conversation button of the CB, the radio started to beep and crackle as it seemed to wait for the answer.
"Well I couldn't blame you," Bonzone said. "It came just ten minutes ago. Chief Ricetti asked all units of the Lecarocchiavalle Police to assist municipal and local police in finding the missing children."

Santini and the other officers exhausted all their leads as well as canvased all the said sites where a child might have wandered off to. It's now dark and at least the rain began to die down. It would make things earlier in the morning. They returned to the police station. The other officers were muddy, wet, and tired. The inspector himself plomps down onto a chair and contemplates passing out but reminds himself that he cannot rest.

He makes a call to his wife to let her know he won't be home for dinner this evening. He grumbles to himself, Claudia is an excellent cook. Then, he makes a call to Chief Bergoglio.

"Chief, this is Inspector Santini. We searched all the sites and couldn't find any traces of the boy" Santini says.

Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:13 AM

The front desk person wondered why would a reporter wanting to know about a place go to the police rather than to a tour guide or local government officials. Perhaps he was here to investigate the rumors of children being kidnapped for organs, a rumor he found laughable.

"Chief Laurenzana is in," he said as he asked a staffer to accompany Godenot to the office of the Canossa Police Chief. The staffer led him up four floors through the elevator and along a narrow corridor that led to the office. "This is the Chief Laurenzana's office." The staffer knocked and opened the door. "Go in."

Bonny thanked the staffer and walked in.

"Good morning Chief Laurenzana," he said politely, "My name's Boniface Godenot with the Nasicournian Interloper." He paused to make sure the staffer hadn't waited around. "I'm here in an unofficial capacity because of rumors about missing children in the area." He reached out a satchel and produced the map of missing children by area. "And it seems that most disappearances have occurred within the area. Now, I know that there are the occasional disappearances, runaways and the like, but this number of occurrences in a confined space seems a bit suspicious. I'd like to know if you consider the matters related or not."

Bonny thanked the staffer and walked in.

"Good morning Chief Laurenzana," he said politely, "My name's Boniface Godenot with the Nasicournian Interloper." He paused to make sure the staffer hadn't waited around. "I'm here in an unofficial capacity because of rumors about missing children in the area." He reached out a satchel and produced the map of missing children by area. "And it seems that most disappearances have occurred within the area. Now, I know that there are the occasional disappearances, runaways and the like, but this number of occurrences in a confined space seems a bit suspicious. I'd like to know if you consider the matters related or not."
Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:17 AM

Three things immediately came to Chief Laurenzana's mind. First, this foreigner reporter was blunt. Straight, direct to the point. Not that it was wrong. Them Brucklanders just weren't used to it. Second, she reminded herself, this person was in for a scoop. Though she can use this reporter in raising awareness for finding criminals and missing persons, from his questioning he seems like he wanted to have, or worse, invent, a link between their case and other cases. And third, how did this foreigner know about the missing persons here in this corner of Brutland and Norden, in a little part of the world?

Chief Carina Laurenzana swiveled in her chair to her left in order to place the file she was reading on the side table. She had just been five months into the job as the police chief of Canossa, but she's already used to dealing with journalists. "That's a great map that you have," the young Canossa Police Chief complimented him as she swung her chair back to his direction. "I see you have our little city marked over there." Laurenzana smiled prettily. "If that's the case of Kyle Battaglia, then all I have to say is that Canossa Police would appreciate any help in locating the child. As for relationships between different cases, I think I'm not in the best position to answer that. The Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police is."

Laurenzana leaned forward, inadvertently making her cleavage visible from her police uniform. "If you don't mind me asking," she whispered, "how did you know about the missing children?"

Putting his hands on the table and leaning forward, Bonny kept his eyes firmly locked on hers. He didn't know whether or not her stance was deliberate, but he wasn't going to allow her to distract him. His lips curved into a snide sort of smile. He immediately put it back into a straight face.

"Oh, I plan on asking around to all the district police," Bonny answered. "And as for my interest, isn't it a bit sad that a foreign reporter is more concerned about missing children rather than the people of that country itself?" He paused and straightened up. "Look, I've been a war correspondent for most of my natural life. I've seen all sortsa heavy shit, so I thought I was ready for a case involving child trafficking. Boy was I in for a surprise...the gist of it is; I followed this case from my country and I intend to solve it...whether or not you help me."



note: see the ooc forum.

Putting his hands on the table and leaning forward, Bonny kept his eyes firmly locked on hers. He didn't know whether or not her stance was deliberate, but he wasn't going to allow her to distract him. His lips curved into a snide sort of smile. He immediately put it back into a straight face.

"Oh, I plan on asking around to all the district police," Bonny answered. "And as for my interest, isn't it a bit sad that a foreign reporter is more concerned about missing children rather than the people of that country itself?" He paused and straightened up. "Look, I've been a war correspondent for most of my natural life. I've seen all sortsa heavy shit, so I thought I was ready for a case involving child trafficking. Boy was I in for a surprise...the gist of it is; I followed this case from my country and I intend to solve it...whether or not you help me."

Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:17 AM

Chief Laurenzana's mouth twisted to a wry smile. "Sure, go ahead. Ask all of Norden. I'm telling you right now, it's much better going straight to Lecarocchiavalle than going through every town in the grant."

"As for you observation, I believe that you don't know much about the country just yet, Sinore Godenot," she told him rather condescendingly. "The populace is concerned, but we don't want to blare out half-baked theories with almost nothing to back them up. Our journalists aren't like that... unlike yours," she relished flinging the barb at the foreign journalist who dared judge the good people of Brutland and Norden. "You say there is a case you are following? Check first if you've come to the right police department, Sinore. Canossa only has two missing persons cases - Kyle Battaglia and the elderly Giannina Pianotti. You don't come to my place asking about something that's not in my jurisdiction, dear." She straightened back up. "Like I told you, Lecarocchiavalle is in a better position to help you."

"Well I couldn't blame you," Bonzone said. "It came just ten minutes ago. Chief Ricetti asked all units of the Lecarocchiavalle Police to assist municipal and local police in finding the missing children."

Riccardo sighed in relief, taking the time to put down the CB and shift into 5th gear. As he picked the radio up again, he pushed the conversation button again about halfway the distance between the dash and his lips, so the first few sentences seemed a bit muted.

'Ah, very well. I suppose I was already away on the road when they sent me that directive. Is there anything I can help you with, then...? I'm close to the motorway exit to Canossa right now, so I'm only a few minutes away.'

Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:17 AM

Chief Laurenzana's mouth twisted to a wry smile. "Sure, go ahead. Ask all of Norden. I'm telling you right now, it's much better going straight to Lecarocchiavalle than going through every town in the grant."

"As for you observation, I believe that you don't know much about the country just yet, Sinore Godenot," she told him rather condescendingly. "The populace is concerned, but we don't want to blare out half-baked theories with almost nothing to back them up. Our journalists aren't like that... unlike yours," she relished flinging the barb at the foreign journalist who dared judge the good people of Brutland and Norden. "You say there is a case you are following? Check first if you've come to the right police department, Sinore. Canossa only has two missing persons cases - Kyle Battaglia and the elderly Giannina Pianotti. You don't come to my place asking about something that's not in my jurisdiction, dear." She straightened back up. "Like I told you, Lecarocchiavalle is in a better position to help you."

"Claire Deveraux," Bonny answered as he produced a photograph of the red-haired, blue-eyed teen, "Age thirteen, country of origin, the Commonwealth. Missing since April 20th. Last seen; Canossa. So you see, I have every right to ask you questions and I'll be damned if I'll let this slide. Sinora Laurenzana, what's your answer to the disappearance of a foreign national who's disappearance was only known through the Embassy and had to finally make it to my shores, eh?"

Riccardo sighed in relief, taking the time to put down the CB and shift into 5th gear. As he picked the radio up again, he pushed the conversation button again about halfway the distance between the dash and his lips, so the first few sentences seemed a bit muted.

'Ah, very well. I suppose I was already away on the road when they sent me that directive. Is there anything I can help you with, then...? I'm close to the motorway exit to Canossa right now, so I'm only a few minutes away.'
"I don't know where are you supposed to be," Bonzone said, "but prolly we can use some help around here."

"Claire Deveraux," Bonny answered as he produced a photograph of the red-haired, blue-eyed teen, "Age thirteen, country of origin, the Commonwealth. Missing since April 20th. Last seen; Canossa. So you see, I have every right to ask you questions and I'll be damned if I'll let this slide. Sinora Laurenzana, what's your answer to the disappearance of a foreign national who's disappearance was only known through the Embassy and had to finally make it to my shores, eh?"
"Then whose fault is it in not reporting the disappearance to the police?" Laurenzana said insolently. "You know, do not lash out at us for not finding her if we don't know about her disappearance in the first place. It's been what, about three weeks and it was never reported? What do you think we are? Psychics?" The Police Chief wanted to bitch-slap this aggressive reporter. Damn, Nord-Brutlandese reporters are nowhere this intrusive. "And then you come in marching demanding some hysterical theory that I will pull out of my pretty ass?" She chuckled a bit at her reference to her pretty bottom. "You're funny, Sinore, very funny. I told you that I am not the best person to answer your inquiries. Lecarocchiavalle can. As for your missing person, feel free to file your report by the front desk as you leave."

OOC: VL, FUS, I think I should pair up the two of you to search for that missing gal. Be careful not to go too fast, them evils had been idle for quite some time.............

"I don't know where are you supposed to be," Bonzone said, "but prolly we can use some help around here."


"Then whose fault is it in not reporting the disappearance to the police?" Laurenzana said insolently. "You know, do not lash out at us for not finding her if we don't know about her disappearance in the first place. It's been what, about three weeks and it was never reported? What do you think we are? Psychics?" The Police Chief wanted to bitch-slap this aggressive reporter. Damn, Nord-Brutlandese reporters are nowhere this intrusive. "And then you come in marching demanding some hysterical theory that I will pull out of my pretty ass?" She chuckled a bit at her reference to her pretty bottom. "You're funny, Sinore, very funny. I told you that I am not the best person to answer your inquiries. Lecarocchiavalle can. As for your missing person, feel free to file your report by the front desk as you leave."

OOC: VL, FUS, I think I should pair up the two of you to search for that missing gal. Be careful not to go too fast, them evils had been idle for quite some time.............

"You mean this report?" Bonny asked, producing a photocopy of a police report. "Says here her disappearance was reported...to this department in fact. But I get your point," he said as he stood up. "I'll ask around, but I'll be back." Bonny turned to the door and opened it. "And I've seen better," Bonny glanced down before closing the door.

ooc: that seems good.

"You mean this report?" Bonny asked, producing a photocopy of a police report. "Says here her disappearance was reported...to this department in fact. But I get your point," he said as he stood up. "I'll ask around, but I'll be back." Bonny turned to the door and opened it. "And I've seen better," Bonny glanced down before closing the door.

ooc: that seems good.
Laurenzana murmured something in Nord-Brutlandese as the aggressive reporter left. "Well, if it was known just to the embassy, how did he get that police report, eh?" She swiveled around to take a call from the wildly ringing phone.

'Well, I'll be in your office in a few minutes. Or at the Canossa Police Department at least. Out.'

Riccardo shifted two gears back as he floored the accelerator and pushed the buttons for his lights and sirens. As they activated, a tremendous noise came from the car, two tones ringing maybe kilometres ahead, cleaving through the landscape. The vehicle sped up as it exited the motorway, and stormed past several other vehicles.

If someone heard it passing, he could almost become afraid of the sounds that it produced. The loud-two-tone siren penetrated through every skin and bone, followed by the deep, musical howl of the 4-liter Ottocilindri. Squeaking wheels were inevitable, every time it semi-drifted through a corner. Overtaking when it was safe, the sound of the V8 increased even more, followed by a reaction of the self-adjusting siren, that tried to be louder than the car's powerplant at full throttle. It succeeded, but only just. The result was an inferno of sounds, but unmistakeably a police vehicle, although it was clear that it was a very powerful one.

Exactly three minutes after Riccardo had exited the motorway, he headed onto the Corso Fiumòquianda, the anti-lock brakes working hard to stop the car from slipping as the driver almost pushed the brake pedal through the floor of the car. As the car had stopped, Riccardo got out and ran inside, leaving the car's engine running, blue lights on, door opened.

As he reached the front desk, he quickly glanced over his watch.
'Three minutes. That's a new definition of quick, I hope.'

He paused, lowering his arm again, and looked at the officer currently on duty.

'I'm here because I was called up by Inspettore Bonzone. Riccardo Sabbatini, Van Luxemburger exchange officer to the Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police.'

He was still trying to catch his breath after the short sprint out of his car to here, but he quickly recuperated as he sighed in relief.

'Man, three minutes from the motorway exit to here, that must be a new record, isn't it?'

(OOC: I suppose that 3 minutes from a motorway exit to a town centre is a relatively quick time? I have no idea how large Canossa really is, so I took a guess. :p The search team is OK with me, btw.)

ooc: yeah, realized that inconsistency after the fact, sorry. I meant to say it wasn't made public knowledge...

ic:

Bonny had been leaving the station when an officer nearly bowled him over and hurried to the front desk. This could be interesting, Bonny thought and he decided to hang back and see who this guy was. When he heard he was an exchange officer from another country, it perked up his hopes. Maybe this guy will have a fresh perspective of the case, Bonny told himself. The officer was in to talk to an inspector, so Bonny crept forward, trying to hang on to a conversation without seeming conspicuous.

(OOC: Have I mentioned the cojones (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cojones) french fries? They're not made of potatoes. Also I took time because I was waiting for Snefaldia. Also, let's end here the meal, if it's OK with you)

The blush from her face visibly faded away after the reply, and during the meal at such majestic library, all that Sofia pondered about, was on how that her flamboyant behavior combined with her explanation of the peculiar aspects of her homeland culture have not shocked at all neither of those two, in fact, it seemed almost as if they were delighted to hear her words about the libertine traits present in the Confederacy. Her mind tingled on the possibility that perhaps she really found someone truly interesting for a change. Perhaps both had unusual tastes, but she didn't feel at ease to mention such things, they were still foreigners and there was a certain pride in separating the personal from the professional during such meetings.

Despite attempts to resist the urge to drink into stupor, for some reason, she has acquired a very personal taste for the licuoro vaca, and have emptied three bottles by the time the meal has finished, giving away to her addiction tendencies yet again, moderation was something that Sofia has never managed to achieve regarding anything from alcohol to... more heavy stuff. Her reflexes were compromised, her suspicions about Sondoel were gone while her grip on logic and reasoning loosened, and she was slightly tipsy, but still walking normally, with a certain courage and lack of shame coming through, the id acquired free reign over her ego. By the end of that meal, she looked at the Duchess and said, in a slightly drunkish manner, replied, tapping her gun gently for a few seconds:

"It must be difficult to live here Irena... but I has diplomatic immunity to bring my buddies because I don't feel safe without them... and whatever happens in my embassy is no matter of the State or of any church or whatever, yes? I has some nice parties there, it just is too monotonous and sometimes we have to break the ice, I think you understand, cause just business is boring, pleasures help breaking the monotony and we all do it because we want, now I ask you a small favor: don't go telling it around, personal stuffs are private, right? And I looove licuoro vaca! But if it spreads I fear I might end out and they pick a holier-than-thou prick from Fátima to replace me, but nobodies should have the right meddle in my personal life, but sometimes some does. Now, where's more to see? I like books but after the tour in the castle, I would like to visit other landmarks, I don't have much time to just read books, I want to know more than that, how does it sound? I thank you too for understanding, I was afraid of being kicked out for speaking truth about cultural differences"

A sort of enigmatic smile came from her facial expression while she dropped the glass and got up from her seat.

Gagliardo Residence
1786 Strade Sant'Amella, San Canico al Carocchi, Soltera
May 9, 2009, 05:52 AM

"It as a Wednesday back then. My husband was at work, and I was in the grocery with Caterina, my older daughter. Wednesday is grocery day for us, because there are less people... Chester knew that. I had been at the grocery that morning in Santa Cecilia* for about two to three hours. I even bought home his favorite chocolate. When I came back... he was gone!" Simona broke down in tears over her coffee. She took a clean rag and wiped tears off her cheeks.

"I searched for him with the neighbors, or relatives, and his friends... yes, his friends, but nobody knew his whereabouts. The only thing I knew was that some of the younger children playing outside said they saw Chester going out of the house with a big backpack while I was away.

I reported it to the police, but they said they won't file a missing persons report just yet, and so they joined the search. They interviewed the people I called earlier. That's when the news came. One of his classmates in Santa Cecilia said that she accompanied Chester and his classmate Luanna to the San Canico rail station and boarded train W38. She was supposed to keep it secret but she was afraid that something bad might have happened to her friends, now that police was knocking on her door.

Now I asked who this Luanna is, and she said it was Chester's girlfriend. I didn't know he had a girlfriend. Probably got that idea from watching those silly TV shows... but he's too young to have a girlfriend and and other stuff. He knew that; I also thought he was an obedient kid..."

Simona then changed topic. "Now, I've made some inquiries on where train W38 goes to. They said that W38 plies the Nordville-Compostela route. Their friend told me they rode the train west. W38 passes by the remainder of Soltera, across Lecarocchiavalle, and into Valtemmira, where Compostela is. But it has been more than a week, they could be anywhere in Brutland and Norden right now..."

*Santa Cecilia al Carocchi, an adjacent town east of San Canico al Carocchi

takes notes and puts the final period down on the paper.
"Well thank you I think I might have everything I need, And think you, I know it must be hard on you. Lets just hope the police force can do their job."

OOC: Upon closer reading, I realized this was meant for me...
'I'm here because I was called up by Inspettore Bonzone. Riccardo Sabbatini, Van Luxemburger exchange officer to the Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police.'

He was still trying to catch his breath after the short sprint out of his car to here, but he quickly recuperated as he sighed in relief.

'Man, three minutes from the motorway exit to here, that must be a new record, isn't it?'
Depreto Polza di Canossa (Canossa Police Department)
14 Corso Fiumòquianda, Canossa, Lecarocchiavalle
May 09, 2009 11:21 AM
"No," the front desk person answered as she called out Bonzone from the dispatcher's room. "We had that speeder trying to evade police three years ago. From Norden Route 3, took the Canossa exit, and was plunging into the Carocchi River within two minutes. The car took the dive just a few hundred meters from here, of all ironies," she chuckled as she tipped her chin towards the intersection located half a block from the police HQ. The Canossa Police HQ was along Corso Fiumòquianda, or Riverside Avenue, and as the name suggests, is found along the riverfront. "Sad. Them drunks in the car did not make it."

Inspector Bonzone soon emerged. "La polzetto ellena s'sum," the front desk lady told him. Bonzone swiftly replied in Nord-Brutlandese, and turned to Sabbatini. "I believe you are Officer Sabbatini," he said as he extended his hand. "Inspector Rocco Bonzone, Canossa Police. It's great having you here."

"It must be difficult to live here Irena... but I has diplomatic immunity to bring my buddies because I don't feel safe without them... and whatever happens in my embassy is no matter of the State or of any church or whatever, yes? I has some nice parties there, it just is too monotonous and sometimes we have to break the ice, I think you understand, cause just business is boring, pleasures help breaking the monotony and we all do it because we want, now I ask you a small favor: don't go telling it around, personal stuffs are private, right? And I looove licuoro vaca! But if it spreads I fear I might end out and they pick a holier-than-thou prick from Fátima to replace me, but nobodies should have the right meddle in my personal life, but sometimes some does. Now, where's more to see? I like books but after the tour in the castle, I would like to visit other landmarks, I don't have much time to just read books, I want to know more than that, how does it sound? I thank you too for understanding, I was afraid of being kicked out for speaking truth about cultural differences"

A sort of enigmatic smile came from her facial expression while she dropped the glass and got up from her seat.
"Thank you, you enjoyed our national drink," she said with a smile. Years of drinking the licuoro vaca had made it impotent to make Irena tipsy. "Nope, we'll keep you newfound enjoyment a secret," the Duchess said as she stood up to prevent the drunkenly swaying Sofia from falling. She turned to Sondoël. "Right, Sondoël, it's a secret?"

The Duchess guided the Ambassador back to the chair. "If you'll just stay here until noon, we'll give you as much licuoro vaca as you like!" She did not want the drunk Ambassador going out the library: she will be seen by the tourists roaming around the Castle. The Castle is closed during lunchtime, and so they will go out when the tourists are away. The Duchess reached for the doorknob and pushed the button to lock the door. Sometimes passing tourists mistakenly enter doors...

(OOC: Have I mentioned the cojones (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cojones) french fries? They're not made of potatoes.
OOC: Heard of the word, but did not know its meaning... Sounds so much like our soup number five (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soup_Number_Five)...
Also see TG about what are we going to do next...

takes notes and puts the final period down on the paper.
"Well thank you I think I might have everything I need, And think you, I know it must be hard on you. Lets just hope the police force can do their job."
"Thank you too," Simona said as she wiped tears off her eyes. "I hope this can help us find our children."

Sabbatini and Bonzone, Bonny made a mental note, even as he flipped on the hidden digital recorder under his shirt. He caught the attention of the desk clerk and asked for directions to Rizzogno while he tried to eavesdrop on the officers' conversation. While he was making blatant misinterpretations of the map key, his cell-phone rang.

"Bon," he answered.

"Hey, are you busy?" Lucia asked on the other end.

"No, not really," he said, stepping from the desk and keeping an eye on the intrusive cop. Bonny stared at his watch. "God, it's gotta be like, 2 am there. Go to sleep."

"I know," she answered, "But I was speaking with a friend in the ФСО (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Federal_Protective_Service_of_Russia), who's part of our diplomatic mission there. He faxed me some more info. on the girl. I'll pass it on to you before I go to sleep."

"You're too good to me," Bonny replied.

"I know," Lucia retorted, "I don't even go out of this way for my boyfriend."

"How is Marko?" he asked, glancing back at the officers.

"Well, that's complicated," she hesitated. "Look, I gotta go; keep safe, ok?"

"Sure," Bonny said even as the line went dead.

"Thank you too," Simona said as she wiped tears off her eyes. "I hope this can help us find our children."

"Your welcome I hope it will help too." I walked to the corner and called for another taxi. He thought about what he had just heard riviting that a child would not even care about what his parents would go through. A taxi came around the corner and stopped. I climbed in.

"Well, at least I made it to the police station alive.' He remarked to the female officer sitting at the desk. As soon as he saw Bonzone approaching, he interpreted it as the man he was looking for. As Bonzone introduced himself, Riccardo concluded that he was right, this indeed was the man he was looking for.

'Buongiorno, Inspettore. Riccardo Sabbatini, Polizia Autostradale d'Arvaglio, Van Luxemburg. I believe I can help you further with all the missing children reports? Anything I can do?' He said, accepting the hand outstretched by the Inspector.

Somewhere in Norden
12:52 PM, May 9th

"This is bullshit...Damn government...Those choppers were the only way.." Cursed Alex while traversing though a confusingly large patch of tall grass. His bayonet took care of most of it but sometimes he managed to get stuck in the mud and had to pull himself out
'Okay, when I get back, I'll listen to Santana...And shoot the fucker who has been taking these children..and then I can go home...Yeah...' He thought while reaching for his radio
"This is Sgt. Webb. This search is Bullshit; My gun is clogged with mud and I haven't found anything that relates to this case a single fucking bit. Hopefully I find something soon...I'm losing my fucking sanity in this mudfarm..." He held the radio for a second before asking "What's the situation on the choppers?"

"Yes I do. But you, too must understand that you are not in a position to invite and/or allow foreign forces into our territory. That is illegal.

If it is helicopters that you want, the Sceicce Grant Police has a fleet of choppers, sitting idle, waiting for work. I believe there is an officer under the grant police that is assigned to your district. You can get in touch with him. Or why didn't you ask the Nord-Brutlandese Air Force, which is just in Canossa? They can send out swarms of helicopters if that's what you want..."

OOC: I know you didn't know about the Air Force and the Police Chopper fleet, don't worry... ;)

"Then send them. I was working with something that was all ready to go and had been briefed. Those forces will be sent back, but I want this child found as soon as possible. I have a feeling this is much deeper than just a missing child."

Outside Canossa Police Station

Bonny had decided to wait for the officer to return to his cruiser-still sitting idle with its lights on-and in the interim decided to get in contact with the agent Lucia had mentioned. He looked up the number to the embassy and found the ФСО office. Crossing his fingers, he hoped the agent was on duty.

"Привет?" the voice on the other side asked. Hello?

"Yes, hello," Bonny began. "My name is Boniface Godenot. I am calling for an Agent Rotchenko."

"This is a secure line," the agent on the phone retorted. "Hang up-"

"I'm calling on behalf of Major Lucia Vernaz," Bonny interjected.

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" the voice changed immediately. "I'm Rotchenko; you must be her friend she told me about."

"Uh, yeah," Bonny said, taken aback at his change in attitude. "I was calling because I have a case I'm working on..."

"Yes, we all know of the Deveraux girl," the Agent said in a hushed voice. "It is somewhat an untouched subject here in the Embassy. Rumor has it the ambassador used what connections he had to keep it under wraps."

"Our own government did that?" Bonny asked. Crap, he thought, he'd have to apologize to that police chief-especially for that last comment.

"He wanted to avoid any embarrassment after achieving such a new post."

"Well, I guess I gotta eat a bit of crow," Bonny muttered.

"What?"

"Nevermind," he dismissed it. "On another note, is there anything not in the information you've provided that could be helpful?"

"There is one thing," Rotchenko began. "Foreign helicopters-um, not Nord-Brutanese-were headed to Norden before being turned away. Apparently, someone is on the ground conducting a search for a missing child."

"This is getting weird," Bonny answered. "Is that all?"

"All I can really remember," the Agent replied. "If something comes up, I'll contact you."

"All right, I'll get in touch-"

"Another thing..." Rotchenko cut him off. "Since I'm helping you, put in a good word to Lucia for me, all right?"

What? Bonny thought? Had she put some weird idea in the guy's head so he'd help?

"Um, sure," he said finally, deciding to roll with it. "До свидания."

"До свидания." Goodbye

"Well, at least I made it to the police station alive.' He remarked to the female officer sitting at the desk. As soon as he saw Bonzone approaching, he interpreted it as the man he was looking for. As Bonzone introduced himself, Riccardo concluded that he was right, this indeed was the man he was looking for.

'Buongiorno, Inspettore. Riccardo Sabbatini, Polizia Autostradale d'Arvaglio, Van Luxemburg. I believe I can help you further with all the missing children reports? Anything I can do?' He said, accepting the hand outstretched by the Inspector.
"Great," Bonzone said as he shook Sabbatini's hand. The Nord-Brutlandese Officer then took a manila envelope from the front desk and retrieved a photograph of a thin red-haired hazel-eyed boy. "Kyle Battaglia, age 10, from Avellanedi, Lecarocchiavalle. Last seen on May 1, 2009 in Canossa. Came here with his sister to visit their brother assigned at Colmenara Air Base, went missing at a shopping mall... by the way, I'm handling the case, and it's frustrating..."

"Then send them. I was working with something that was all ready to go and had been briefed. Those forces will be sent back, but I want this child found as soon as possible. I have a feeling this is much deeper than just a missing child."
"Very well," Calvatone said satisfactorily. "I'll place some calls. We don't want to mess up with the Air Force, do we?" he said somewhat jokingly.

OOC: You are in control of the helicopters. Go RP them! :)

'May the first is over a week ago. He can be anywhere by now. Did anyone see him at the mall? Maybe walking with someone else?' He inquired, looking through the envelope and studying the picture closely.

'Well, I suppose we must start somewhere. Any idea where he could have gone? Is it usual that kids show up again at other places here? We've had missing children that showed up in a McDonalds restaurant, Arcades, etcetera. But we also had to filter them from rivers and streams, if you really want to know. But it's pretty rare that a child goes missing in my country, actually. At least, not on this scale.'

Sondoël went through most of the meal in silence, enjoying the taste of the food and drink and watching with increasing amusement as the foreigner woman became tipsy and easy to manipulate. He smiled inwardly, the unconcious desire for sexual conquests and pleasure activating his libido, but he calmed himself down with some force and control, lest his "desire" become visible through his breeches.

At least, for a moment. The Duchesses' prompt caught him slightly off guard, and he could only muster a lackluster "yes, a secret." as he entered the depths of his mind.

The crazy don't ever know they're really crazy. Sondoël thought he was perhaps a little crazy, which made his desires all the more perverse and debauched. He rose as the Duchess locked the door and moved about the room, looking for similar entrances and windows to bar and cover, the heat of his blood rising the entire time. He had, perhaps, too much to drink.

Returning to the couches he fell into one with a smooth sensual grace, splayed about with elegant and smoldering appeal. His mind was working, and his desires were beginning to take over. He fixed his beautiful gaze on the ambassador and tried to pierce her with his deep eyes, sometimes looking at Irena, sometimes casually putting a piece of bread on his tongue and chewing slowly.

Shambling through the room, there was not even a single sign of professionalism into her attitude, and again the call of vice has gotten the best of Sofia. Then she was guided back to her seat, with a tempting call. Expectingly, yet another bottle of licuoro vaca was downed by her, who was becoming even more away from reality and common sense. However, impatience came to her sooner than expected. Sofia never liked to wait, and oblivious to Sondoël's gaze into her, she got up from the chair and walked towards a shelf of books. There was a simple choice she made, grabbing nothing more, nothing less than the infamous "120 days of Sodom", and mentioning with a cheesy smile, and strangely, she seemed quite skilled into speech even with all that alcohol in her veins:

"This guy, Marquis de Sade, he became more famous for his unusual tastes than for the fact he was sort of freedom fighter, a revolutionary... but his political ideals were overshadowed by his reputation on sexual... exploits. He defended democracy... freedom, a goverments closer to the people, that is what most... simply don't care about him. Som'times I wonder if it's because people worries more about sex than politics. Or he would be known for his progressive political works more than for his... inspiring work for all the tubgirls and alike, yes... inspiring work. I think people should care more about politics"

And she skewed through the book, getting into the more heavy parts of the tale and grinning deviously with a clear lack of shyness as she said:

"Yes, the same man who wrote this was a freedom fighter! Sounds a bit ironic, no? I guess sometimes politics is like sex, because it can lead you to be jodido, and sometimes you just end in the carajo because of it! The reactionary opposition to his progressive ideals used his infamous past against him to... put him into gallows, but not because of sex or of his polemic... books, but because of politics."

Finally she noticed Sondoël interest to her, but she simply smiled slightly in a somewhat strange manner and kept most of her attention at Duchess Irena, for some reason, she was being more drawn to her than to him, or maybe it was just all the alcohol making her mind fragile and letting some more primitive desires take over. Due to her small height, she was always facing naturally, unless when looking above, the Duchess cleavage rather than her face, and maybe there was more hidden interests of the diplomat than visibly seen. At last, Sofia simply spent her time with yet another bottle of the liquor while reading that enticing, and shocking book, with a few smiles, comments and one-liner jokes being mentioned during her reading. She seemed more interested than normal in the content of the book, and the feeling of impatience ceded for the while. After one more drink, her memory would no longer function properly, and from now on, not only she was very easily influenced, but also would no longer remember what would happen during her drunk state.

'May the first is over a week ago. He can be anywhere by now. Did anyone see him at the mall? Maybe walking with someone else?' He inquired, looking through the envelope and studying the picture closely.

'Well, I suppose we must start somewhere. Any idea where he could have gone? Is it usual that kids show up again at other places here? We've had missing children that showed up in a McDonalds restaurant, Arcades, etcetera. But we also had to filter them from rivers and streams, if you really want to know. But it's pretty rare that a child goes missing in my country, actually. At least, not on this scale.'
"Well, it is pretty rare here too," Bonzone said ruefully. "Well, it was. I know Lecarocchiavalle's being grilled for this horrible crime increase right now. Perhaps when you go back to Chief Ricetti later, he'll tell you that too."

"We had performed your suggested search, nothing," he said as he retrieved a sheaf of papers from the envelope. "Though we do not know who is this McDonald you are talking about. Well anyway, we have some dead-end leads though." He pulled out a sheet of paper. "This is the sworn statement of a lady who was packing groceries into the back of her car. She said she identified the kid. She saw the boy being led into a car by a man. She can't recall properly the face of the man - the man was wearing a cap and shades. She can't recall the license plate, but she is positive that the number on the plate bore the code SCE9. That code is assigned to cars registered in the Norden Department of Transportation Office in the grant of Sceicce, district 9, up in Santa Maddalena di la Bruca. There are thousands of cars registered there, but we asked them to limit their search to blue pickup trucks - and they came up with 200+ registrations..."

"Oh, also, I got in touch with Novellara police. They, too had a missing child case last April 23 where we joined in the search. Turns out the suspect car was a blue pickup with Sceicce plates, too."

Riccardo tapped his fingers on the desk as he thought about a possible solution to the problem.

'Cars are my job, so I would be able to help you with that. Do you have anything more specific about the pickup? Brand, abnormalities? We in Van Luxemburg are working on a sort of motorway vignette that can be registrated by special cameras above the motorway, and let the driver pay for the use of the motorway. Plus of that is that we can also registrate where certain vehicles have been. I'm afraid there is no such thing in place her, right? Or do you registrate vehicles that move from one grant to another, anything like that?'

Sabbatini paused.

'Well, I suppose not, as you probably checked those leads and possibilities. But may I suggest we pull over any and all blue pickups, just for security reasons?'

He stowed the picture of the boy away in one of the pockets of his uniform.

'Oh, and concerning the restaurant, I suppose it is a domestic company then. I thought they were pretty international. Ah, nevermind.'

--snip--
--snip--

They were drunk, the ambassador more so. Their spiking libido pierced Irena like a spear, drawing her near, inciting her passions. Never mind that she had already spent part of her sexual energy earlier that day. This is supposed to be better... fueled by want, not by hatred.

She watched as Sofia took out one of the books and began to read... sensual passages all too familiar with Irena. She stood in front of her and listened, the pleasurable tortures she inflicted parading in her mind. Want swelled from inside her and burst her defenses. She shot an flirtatiously seductive glance at Sondoël, signaling him to come join them in reading... reading each other's eyes, reading each other's wants, reading each other's skin - inch by inch.

She put down the book Sofia was reading. She leaned forward to Sofia such that her bosom almost touched her face. "Say it," she whispered. "I know what you want."

'Cars are my job, so I would be able to help you with that. Do you have anything more specific about the pickup? Brand, abnormalities? We in Van Luxemburg are working on a sort of motorway vignette that can be registrated by special cameras above the motorway, and let the driver pay for the use of the motorway. Plus of that is that we can also registrate where certain vehicles have been. I'm afraid there is no such thing in place her, right? Or do you registrate vehicles that move from one grant to another, anything like that?'

Sabbatini paused.

'Well, I suppose not, as you probably checked those leads and possibilities. But may I suggest we pull over any and all blue pickups, just for security reasons?'

He stowed the picture of the boy away in one of the pockets of his uniform.

'Oh, and concerning the restaurant, I suppose it is a domestic company then. I thought they were pretty international. Ah, nevermind.'
"The lady wasn't able to remember anything else. Not even the make or brand. Just the general type. She was busy at that moment."

"And no, we have no such thing. Brutland and Norden doesn't need it... I mean, Brutland and Norden didn't need it," Bonzone amended his statement. "And yes, partly. We would have wanted to track or hunt these blue pickups, but of course, they were registered in another jurisdiction... and yes, we thought of stopping blue pickups with Sceicce plates, but it as too late. That car and the boy could have been brought anywhere by then. Anyway, we could still forward such a request to Chief Ricetti. Maybe you can help us out there..."

As I got into the cab there was a women in it. She said where I was headed.
To the airport.
So she drove. But I noticed half-way that she was going the wrong way.
Um exuse me mam but the airport the other way.
I know
She said and a smile went from ear to ear. We got to a bridge and she stopped. Checked to see if any cars are coming by. Noticing there was none she got out.
Whats going on.
I asked getting freaked out by the random. I heard my car door open and she grabbed me and threw me out of the car. She had an unheard of strength as she dragged me across the pavement.
I'm sorry Juan your story can't get out into the public.
She bound and gagged me. She strapped an anvil to my legs and tossed me over the side of the bridge.

OOC: couldn't keep up the story. Just thought to add a few mysteries as I die.

There was still some resistance into Sofia. A few droplets of logic reasoning in the middle of a purely irrational drive to instinctive reactions. That was not what she came for. It would be disastrous, and indeed, there would be no excuses for the impending scandal should it leak. Unfortunately for her, the alcohol was a significant barrier to being reasonable and controlled. She could not resist for much longer, bluffing a last try to hold the most primitive, irrational desires at bay:

"No, I cannot do that because I am a professional, I have a reputat..."

Before she could finish the sentence, the duchess surprised her with her motion. There was a clear excitement into her, and it was getting unbearable to hold it for much longer, specially with all the alcohol and its noxious effects. When Irena came very close to Sofia, she had a slight goosebumps, and the inciting question, a question she wasn't expected to be asked about, came from her. It was a tricky question, requiring a clever answer. Sofia simply looked at Irena, in a very unique, unknown, manner, which was similar to the way pimps looked at prostitutes in her homeland, although she would never mention what such way of looking at others meant in Third Spanish States, she did not touch, caressed or enticed Irena in any way, and with a few, quick words, she smiled slightly and her green eyes faced Irena's brown yes as she simply said:

"That is very, very simple. I just want what you want Irena"

There was not much else into her. Perhaps the alcohol would not have been a bad idea, for there are certain things which are better forgotten. There were no feelings or visible emotions in her exchange, only interest of the most... carnal type, and perhaps that wasn't truly Sofia, but a temporary and erratic sentience created by chemical substances. Sofia laughed softly for a while remembering of the secret meaning of the way she looked at Irena, although for all accounts it was just the alcohol bringing more consequences, and it would be a "dead", insignificant and forgotten event in the end for her, personally, whatever would happen further ahead. Only the consequences into her reputation and diplomatic career would not be easily avoidable, should it leak. Thus, in the end, Sofia would only lose from such actions, with no real pleasure... and countless future headaches with the DiploNet. But for now she was entirely at Irena's hands.

Bonny had reclined the seat and was waiting (impatiently) for the police officer to leave. He wondered what they were talking about, but thought it would be weird to suddenly barge in again without a good reason. Instead, Bonny switched on the car's CD player and put in his La Boheme album. Reaching into his satchel, he took out an energy bar and halfhearedly munched on it, swinging the foodstuff like a baton as he listened to the opera.

ooc: just waiting to meet up like B&N suggested.

OOC: I will not be any more detailed than this; indeed I might be teetering on the edge as to what is allowed on this board. Perhaps that's the reason for the curt replies...
--snip--
For a few moments they pleasured each other out, the Ambassador's face buried on the Duchess' voluptuous bosom as the heat turned up another notch...

The Duchess was about to take off her blouse when a knock came on the door. "Tu Inzetto?" A voice called out, followed by the sound of somebody trying to open the locked door.

Irena lifted her head up and stopped but her partner still continued groping. There was somebody at the door. "Danne," she muttered, annoyed at the interruption. She looked at the old grandfather clock across the room. Twelve-thirty. That's why... she instructed her servants to knock and be ready by twelve thirty to clean up the table. She thought that they would be done by twelve thirty; but that was just eating, their present activity could not be done even until two...

"Sì?" she said as she hurriedly fixed her rumpled clothes.
"La serviziottu spetteci pulitecche," the faint voice answered.
"Bona," she remarked. "Noi finnecho. Torinece in minutu trejanua."
"Sì, Tu Inzetto." Irena then heard footsteps leading away from the room.

She looked around. They were three horny people inside a closed room. Sofia was horribly drunk, but still sucking cow liquor from a bottle like a nursing baby. She was looking at the Duchess with fire in her eyes. Sondoël, sprawled on a couch, was equally horny, but not that drunk. Irena was horny, but not drunk. She racked her brains on how to get them out of there and continue their fun without being noticed. Time was running out; the castle will open again in thirty minutes...

She glanced at the table, with its dirty plates and leftovers being feasted upon by happy flies. She and the Ambassador had reputations to protect, and they can't afford to have journalists and tourists feasting upon them like goddamn flies...

An idea came up upon her. Why not Torre Maggiore? There wasn't anybody there, except perhaps Doria or Giacomo. They can happily continue their frenzy there.

"Prontal, frenzece tuse e noi pestrece sum," she said as she clapped her hands to get their attention. She paced to Sofia, snatched the bottle of liquor from her hand, and straightened her clothes a bit. She left the bottle on the table and replaced the book back to the shelf. She then gently (wo)manhandled the ambassador out of the room as she signaled for Sondoël to follow them. Fortunately, the servants were eating in the dining room; the three went out one of the back doors of the castle.

She deposited Sofia into the back seat of the car, and they went speeding away towards Torre Maggiore.

OOC. Sorry for the godmode, we need to go to the Torre Maggiore fast...

Torre Maggiore
Castellobruca, Sceicce
12:50 PM May 09, 2009

The Duchess lay down the drunk ambassador at the couch. They were back at the empty Torre Maggiore, their horniness not diminished but intensified on their drive. Irena slanted a look at Sondoël and asked, "say, what do you think of fun in the dungeon?"

".."

'Perfect. I will do that as soon as I can get to my car.' He said, now also casually looking around the police office.

'In the meantime, do you need me in any place around the grant? Even though I do suspect that you probably finished searching in all possible places, I may be able to still help you with some things.'

He then suddenly thought of the car, that was still outside the station, engine running, lights on, door opened.

'And I have a car standing outside there that might be of use. Anyways, It is just a suggestion. I'll contact Chief Ricetti as quickly as possible.'

(OOC: Just trying to speed things up a little here.)

Throwing the power bar wrapper into the backseat, Bonny opened the door and got out; stretching after having been cramped in the car. He glanced at the police cruiser, its lights still flashing and engine idling. Taking a look around, Bonny walked over to the cruiser, taking a business card from his vest pocket. He scribbled a brief message and slipped it firmly beneath the windshield wiper. Bonny walked away, hoping the officer would get the message soon.

Officer, I am a reporter from a foreign nation. I think that we're after the same thing here. I'm headed to Rizzogno to investigate the disappearances there. Contact me if you want to join forces.

'Perfect. I will do that as soon as I can get to my car.' He said, now also casually looking around the police office.

'In the meantime, do you need me in any place around the grant? Even though I do suspect that you probably finished searching in all possible places, I may be able to still help you with some things.'

He then suddenly thought of the car, that was still outside the station, engine running, lights on, door opened.

'And I have a car standing outside there that might be of use. Anyways, It is just a suggestion. I'll contact Chief Ricetti as quickly as possible.'

(OOC: Just trying to speed things up a little here.)
Bonzone thought a bit. "There is none that I can suggest, but it would be a big favor for us if you keep vigilant on the kid... thank you."

OOC: You can now go forth and multiply... er, I meant go with FUS...

(OOC: Got little inspiration right now, I'm sorry. Btw, it seems that I'm one of the most active police officer now, isn't it? While I said I would be a background character.. :p)

'Very well, then, If you don't mind, I'll carry on with my responsibilities' He said, as shook hands with Bonzone once more.

He walked out the door of the police station, got in his car, and shut down the lights. Then, as he wanted to drive off, he saw a small note on his windscreen. It was stuck under the windscreen wiper, like how a police officer would stick a parking fine on the car.

'Damnit. They can clearly see it's a police vehicle... Who was the idiot who wrote that ticket' he mumbled as he got out of the car and took the note from the windscreen.

'Oh, wait...' he whispered to himself again.

Officer, I am a reporter from a foreign nation. I think that we're after the same thing here. I'm headed to Rizzogno to investigate the disappearances there. Contact me if you want to join forces.


He carefully read the note, and placed it in one of the pockets of his uniform again, next to the picture of Kyle. As he got seated in the Monteluci again, he picked up the phone. First, he phoned Ricetti and left a short message.

'Chief Ricetti, Riccardo Sabbatini here. I'm at the Canossa police station, and I just spoke to Inspettore Bonzone. I'm requesting you to allow us to stop all blue pickup trucks with Sceicce plates. It has something to do with the missing children case.'

As he put down the phone again, having left the message on Ricetti's voicemail, he phoned the number that was on the business card.

'Goodafternoon, mister... Well, anyways. You're speaking with Riccardo Sabbatini, exchange police officer with the Lecarocchiavalle grant police. You left me a note on my car, I'm hoping to get in touch with you in Rizzogno. Could you please call me with a date and place? I'm going to drive there now, so I should be in Rizzogno within the hour.'

OOC: I am lost:(

(OOC: Got little inspiration right now, I'm sorry. Btw, it seems that I'm one of the most active police officer now, isn't it? While I said I would be a background character.. :p)

He walked out the door of the police station, got in his car, and shut down the lights. Then, as he wanted to drive off, he saw a small note on his windscreen. It was stuck under the windscreen wiper, like how a police officer would stick a parking fine on the car.

'Damnit. They can clearly see it's a police vehicle... Who was the idiot who wrote that ticket' he mumbled as he got out of the car and took the note from the windscreen.

'Oh, wait...' he whispered to himself again.

He carefully read the note, and placed it in one of the pockets of his uniform again, next to the picture of Kyle. As he got seated in the Monteluci again, he picked up the phone. First, he phoned Ricetti and left a short message.

As he put down the phone again, having left the message on Ricetti's voicemail, he phoned the number that was on the business card.

'Goodafternoon, mister... Well, anyways. You're speaking with Riccardo Sabbatini, exchange police officer with the Lecarocchiavalle grant police. You left me a note on my car, I'm hoping to get in touch with you in Rizzogno. Could you please call me with a date and place? I'm going to drive there now, so I should be in Rizzogno within the hour.'

Bonny squirmed in his seat as his cell phone went off. The vibrate function always made him do that, but without it on, he'd never answer his phone. He looked at the number, Huh, who'd this? he wondered.

"Bonne?" he answered. He listened attentively to the officer on the other line.

"Well, I'm pretty close to Rizzogno, I think," Bonny replied. "I've passed the exit to Alfonsino just now. Um, I don't really know any landmarks in the town itself...wherever is good for you, I guess."

OOC: I am lost:(
OOC. Will try to post a summary up.

EDIT: Done. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13562314#post13562314) ;)

OOC: All posts in this font are flashbacks. ;) ~ B&N

Palazzo di Cignu
Calendasco, Seltina
10:23 AM June 20, 1987

“Entrece!” Irena called out. “Lasce nuotece!” (“Come on! Let’s swim!”)

It was a sunny morning at the lakeside. Irena and her cousin Bruno were playing at the wooden pier by the Swan Lake, a small but deep body of water located near the Swan Castle.

“Tojece, me s’a desnuotetto,” Bruno told her, “e fianca, zio mellece me con me dell’oisporchece mese.” (“You see, I can’t swim… And besides, uncle told me that I must not dirty myself.”)

Irena knew just exactly why her cousin must not dirty himself. Her father, Duke Stefano VIII of Bruckland, will announce later that he will be formally adopting Bruno. Her father was obsessed in providing a male heir to the ducal seat of Bruckland ever since Irena’s mother died of giving birth to her younger twin sisters. Irena’s mother was not able to provide Stefano with sons, and with her death, her father's obsession was close to impossible to achieve.

Bruno was the only son of Sabrina Mori, Irena’s aunt and Duke Stefano’s twin sister, and a commoner named Thorizio Stanziola. They are considered commoners, because according to Nord-Brutlandese noble tradition, a noble becomes a commoner if s/he is not a direct heir to the seat and then marries a commoner. Thus Bruno Stanziola is a commoner too; his father died when he was six, his mother, just last year. The Duke then took Bruno into their household, much to the resentment of Irena.

Not that she did not sympathize with Bruno’s loss. He was a few months younger than her, very handsome, and soft-spoken, but yes, still a commoner. Never mind that he was her cousin. The fact was that her father now devoted more time to Bruno than her. Her trainer, Larisa, told her that rumors are flying that the Duke would name Bruno the heir to the Duchy of Bruckland instead of Irena.

To the Duke, Bruno was the perfect candidate: he was related to the Dukes of Bruckland, was noble in character, was acceptable to people, and most of all, male. Irena was angered at this threat of something rightfully hers being taken away. But she was a good actress; she treated Bruno well, knowing that is her father did indeed succeed, she’d have the connections.

Why would her father want a male when she can do it and be the duchess? She asked herself one time. From then on, she vowed to show the world that the duchy doesn’t need pissy boys on the ducal seat. Her anger at her father’s incessant search for male heirs would later solidify into her hatred of boys. Irena would never have a boyfriend – she never needed males, the only thing they’ll do is to usurp what was hers.

The threat that had been lingering in the background came to the fore when Larisa secretly told her that her father would adopt Bruno. Should it happen, Bruno would be the heir to the Duchy of Bruckland, not Irena, since Nord-Brutlandese primogeniture gives preference for boys over girls. Of course, she pretended that she didn’t know, but deep inside, she felt hatred for her father and now, hatred for her cousin.

“Mansessa,” she taunted Bruno. “Noi famiglie s’dura. Craittece e provece con tu s’dura tabbe.” (“Impotent… Our family is tough. Come and prove you’re tough too.”)

Bruno inched closer to Irena, who was standing at the far edge of the pier. “Gioía,” she muttered as she paced towards Bruno and circled around him. She accompanied him to the edge of the pier. “Lasce nuotece!” she said as she took hold of Bruno’s jacket and tried to undress him for a swim. In that instant, Irena felt something weird. She felt something welling up her chest at the thought of undressing a boy. She felt good at the image of Bruno and her swimming together in the lake… But the feeling was immediately quashed as Bruno resisted Irena’s attempts to strip him for the swim.

“Me do della seche nuotecche!” Bruno protested. (“I don’t want to swim!”)
“Mansessa,” Irena said as she pushed him hard off the pier and into the lake. Her cousin disappeared beneath the water, and his head reappeared a few moments later, a few meters from the pier’s edge.

Irena, an expert swimmer, also dived in. She was thinking that she and Bruno were simply having fun. She swam towards her cousin and made fun of him as he repeatedly struggled to keep afloat. She grabbed his jacket and embraced him. For a split second their eyes met, and she could only see sheer terror in Bruno’s blue eyes. She smiled as she dived, carrying him with her. When they surfaced three seconds later, her cousin was coughing up water, panting, and trying to implore her to stop. She did not understand what he was saying and let go of him.

Irena felt a pleasurable feeling seeing Bruno panic and his head sink repeatedly. She thought that it was fun. Irena’s instincts soon overcame this new pleasurable feeling when he did not surface again. The scary reality sank in. Bruno was drowning. She screamed for help, and then dived into the slightly muddy but deep waters of Swan Lake. She did not find him.

Her scream caught the attention of a gardener, who immediately plunged into the lake. “Tu Inzetto, tu oipestrece noval di la aquo,” he told her. (“Your Highness, you must get out of the water.”)

“No!” she said as she dived again to search for her cousin. “Me oidassece Bruno!” (“I must find Bruno!”) By now, the fear of Bruno dying overcame whatever she felt before. As she resurfaced after what seemed to be a futile forever underwater, she found the gardener hurriedly carrying her cousin’s limp body onto the shore. Several more servants came to their succor. A maidservant helped Irena out of the water and wrapped her in a towel. There were people trying to talk to her, asking her if she’s allright, but her mind blocked them all out. The only thing she was fixated on was the sight of the gardener administering CPR on Bruno, trying to revive him, but to no avail. As she sat on the pier watching the people at the shore, the pleasurable feeling returned again. And satisfaction. And success.

Inside the police station, Santini made several calls, trying to figure out their next move. His partner, Inspector Ernesto D'Alema retired several weeks ago and no replacement is forseen in the near future. Ernesto was in his sixties and a dedicated member of the law enforcement community. He was a jolly old man who became portly in his latter years as an Inspector. Behind those cheeks where his blue eyes sunk in, they were keen eyes for detail. Nothing passed his notice...nothing.

After thinking back to the old days when they first became partners, Santini realizes that Chief Bergoglio is busy and he can't get a hold of him on the phone. It's still raining outside to his dismay. So, Santini removes himself to the break room and unscrews the cap to a simple silver flask he recieved years ago at his brother's wedding. He takes a quick swig and feels it burn down his throat and quickly hides it back into his coat pocket and wipes his mouth off.

"Inspector" Agata says from behind her desk, "Have you gotten a hold of Chief?"

"No, Agata" Santini sighs, coming back into the bull pen, "I'll keep trying"

OOC: Londim, my guy needs orders on what to do next

He carefully read the note, and placed it in one of the pockets of his uniform again, next to the picture of Kyle. As he got seated in the Monteluci again, he picked up the phone. First, he phoned Ricetti and left a short message.

'Chief Ricetti, Riccardo Sabbatini here. I'm at the Canossa police station, and I just spoke to Inspettore Bonzone. I'm requesting you to allow us to stop all blue pickup trucks with Sceicce plates. It has something to do with the missing children case.'
Lecarocchiavalle Grant Police HQ
14 Piazzo di Grattio, Lecarocchiavalle, Lecarocchiavalle
12:02 PM May 09, 2009

Lecarocchiavalle Police Chief Riccardo Ricetti went back to his office after meeting with some of his subordinates. The chief of the Norden Center for Missing Children was concerned enough to place a call to him, and now he has to act more decisively.

He was trying to form a task force to coordinate finding the missing children. There were similarities between cases...

His answering machine had one message. He pushed a button and listened. It as from the exchange officer. Apparently he learned about the cases already. Then something caught his attention. Blue pickups with Sceicce plates. He was sure it as implicated in at least four cases... Canossa, Olevano, Novellara, Rizzogno.

He called another subordinate and issued a directive to stop all blue pickup trucks with Sceicce plates.

"Whips, chains, and leather, oh my!" the Snefaldian giggled, his curls bobbing like a demented schoolchild. His was a sort of soft and androgynous, Adonis-like beauty that found lovers in both the sexes. His soft cheeks, a hallmark and prized feature of Beladányá aristocracy, were reddening in anticipation.

"Let's take her, now. Quickly, before I lose control of myself!" he hissed.

WARNING: Graphic post follows. Read at your own risk.
"Whips, chains, and leather, oh my!" the Snefaldian giggled, his curls bobbing like a demented schoolchild. His was a sort of soft and androgynous, Adonis-like beauty that found lovers in both the sexes. His soft cheeks, a hallmark and prized feature of Beladányá aristocracy, were reddening in anticipation.

"Let's take her, now. Quickly, before I lose control of myself!" he hissed.
Torre Maggiore
Castellobruca, Sceicce
12:55 PM May 09, 2009

"Don't get too excited," she told Sondoël, trying to play down his enthusiasm. They cannot hurt the ambassador too much. Plus, she wanted to show Sofia first something better than inflicting it on themselves...

They descended into the dungeon where the Clyde's corpse was still chained to support columns. The Duchess handed the ambassador a whip lying on a dilapidated wooden end table near the stairs. Also on the table was the bloody camera the Duchess uses for taking pictures of her victims. She became more excited as she thought of photographing their activity... but then she remembered something. She hadn't taken photographs of her most recent toy!

She pressed a button to open the camera and took a picture of the dead chained child. She moved closer to get a better angle, and the two followed her. Sofia, in her drunkenness, thought that the boy was their victim - a willing adult receiver of their sadistic tortures. The ambassador whipped the corpse, and not extracting the expected howl, whipped harder. The Duchess laughed as she caught some pictures. Irena can barely stop laughing as she restrained Sofia. "My dear, you are soooooo drunk!"

"Why doesn't he.... why doesn't he shout!" The Ambassador whipped the corpse again. "Shout, damn you!"

"He is dead!" Irena told her almost incomprehensibly between laughing fits. "Come on, let's go have fun with live things. I have had my toys, but unfortunately I do not have them now." The Duchess then pried the Ambassador off the lifeless Brute lad, turned her around towards Sondoël and tried to whip him. "You're too whip-happy!"

They climbed onto a thick dilapidated mattress on one corner of the room and began to enjoy sadomasochistic pleasures, taking pictures as they went along. Soon the battery of the camera expired and the Duchess placed it on a pile of wooden planks at the head of the bed. She did not mind not having it anymore. It was more fun when she don't have to take pictures. She focused and played more on the restraints and the chains on the willing drunk Ambassador until they all got tired and fell asleep.