NationStates Jolt Archive

( I saw this a little while ago and it was closed, so I decided to do my own version)

Even though Ralkovia was still in the middle of civil war, a genocidal one at that, it did not stop the slave trade one bit. In fact one could say they increased exponetially as each side enslaved captured prisoners and sold them to the highest bidder to pay for the cost of war.

Ralkovian warships that once regulated the flow of ships were gone, off to fight each other or raid enemy city ports allowing the unimpeded flow of any person who had money and a ship to come to the ports and buy there booty.

Not only was there a profitable slave market but a treasure in the black market. Pistols, Machine guns, APCs, tanks, even naval cruisers, battleships, and aircraft carriers could be found being sold at these markets. And rumor said that one could find nuclear warheads for only $2 million dollars.

No where was this black market and slave trade more evident than in the ports of Blackwell city, Whitewater city, and Josuha. Each a thriving port unaffected by the war, they were a center of menace, merchants, and mayhem.

Ralkovian women, extremely beautiful and slender unless scarred by war were sold for top dollar for use as common street whores, servants, or if they were lucky mail order brides. Ralkovian men were known as being hard workers and were sold for many labor uses.

Ships laden with ancient artwork, precious artifacts of ralkovian history, guns, drugs, and slaves left the ports and headed back to their home countries full of this precious but illegal booty.

(So basically you can be anti-slavery nations who intervene or black marketeers and slave buyers, terrorists, etc. who take advantage and buy up what they can. No ludicrous demands such as 5 million slaves for $500 dollars. I will rp only as the sellers of these illegal goods.

Josuha ports sell drugs, artifacts, and small scale labor slaves(Men)
Blackwell ports sell weapons(large scale), women slaves, and on a small scale drugs
Whitewater ports sell slaves(male), weapons and on a small scale artifacts, etc. )

The Chazakain Communist Group wishes to purchase women slaves from port Blackwell and from Whitewater ports slaves(male).
We wish to purchase at a rate of $125 USD per quality female slave and $105 USD per male slave, we'd also like a better listing of small arms or explosives from port Whitewater.

(This should be an in person RP, sort of character on character interactions)

Sync entered the port of Blackwell, eager to check out the fine selection of women slaves, to expand the Chazakain Communist Group power of course, she thought, as he headed deeper into the port looking for the correct address and avoiding any dangerously looking bums fingering the pistol in her hoister.

Ronin entered the port of whitewater, eager to find some new male slaves to work in the CCG camps, he also headed deeper into the port...

occ, better?

"Weapons, get your weapons. Pretty lady could I offer you an ARL-R30, its guaranteed one shot one kill, it packs a punch like an assault rifle but has the weight of a pistol. It was used by the death guard for almost 20 years,perfect to protect you from any accidents" a man with an eyepatch said.
All around the port poor men were calling out, selling their goods. Among the crowd were the wealthy foreignors here to buy what the ralkovian ports had to offer.
"You young lady, you need some excitement in life, your man not giving you any? Why not try Uncle Zeekees magical spices, I've got pure cocaine, heroin, even mushrooms. LSD, SIE(A ralkovian herb that gives the same halluncinagenic affects as mushrooms), All the good stuff."

A young boy probably only 7 walked into the lady trying to steal her wallet or purse.

Arcana imperii
006-590-345-867-Sachinich, known more commonly as Malko Sachinich, or, more simply, Mr. Sachinich, was scheduled to appear before his superior in three minutes. Mr. Sachinich was a field officer for the Imperial Foreign Affairs Office, one of two nearly synonymous, and often competitive, Imperial agencies designed to control the flow of internal-external communication and interaction. In fact, in the light of the current Emperor's relaxed control over the higher-caste officials, the heads of these organizations have become sort of de-facto heads of state; controlling all interactions and bearing authority to hand down orders as signed by the Emperor himself.

Mr. Sachinich was slightly less important than that, but not by much; he was, in addition to an experienced field officer, a close personal aide of Mr. White, the head of the Foreign Affairs Office, and Malko's immediate superior.

However, field officer was not the only distinction borne by Malko Sachinich, it was, though, his only official capacity. That is because, as is wont of an organization whose job it is to distort and control the flow of truth, he was a tool of a clandestine Imperial effort. This undertaking, brought on by Mr. White only a few years ago, was known as the Imperial Pudite Janissary Corps; a rather prestigious title for an organization whose existence it was imperative to keep a secret from the Emperor.

The Imperial Janissary Corps is the privately funded, maintained, and trained army of the Foreign Affairs Office, and by extension, Mr. White. Of course, 'privately funded' means little when a simple stamp can gain you access to the resources of a globe-spanning Empire. The Janissary Corps was established to combat the effectiveness of Mr. White's counterpart, and head of the competing Foreign Relations Office, Mr. Grey's Frumentarii. The Frumentarii are, however, a fully sanctioned and recognized Imperial tool; the foreign intelligence gathering service of the Dominion. As of late, though, they had themselves begun to train their operatives, usually lone operators trained in stealth, intelligence gathering, and blending in, in guerrilla warfare and small unit tactics, and has in one isolated case, deployed upwards of a thousand operatives, in a manner similar to a light infantry division.

It is this competition that fuels the need for the Imperial Janissary Corps, and therefore, the need for Mr. Sachinich's job. Malko was the officer-in-charge of recruitment for the Imperial Janissary Corps, which, as did the organization from which it bears it's name, does not take willing volunteers. Rather, the Janissary Corps takes whomever it pleases, and worries about their thoughts on the matter later.

Naturally, then, Mr. White was pleased when he learned of the situation in Ralkovia, and the possible gains he could reap from it.

Mr. Sachinich entered Mr. White's office. Before he could speak, Mr. White addressed him; "Mr. Sachinich - close the door," Malko shut the door quickly, and Mr, White continued, "Malko, I have a matter of great import to discuss with you, a matter that must remain between you, and me..."

At this point, Mr. White slid across his desk a small folder, with nothing marking it different than any other folder, excepting, perhaps, that there was nothing marking it at all. Malko picked it up, and Mr. White continued,

"Mr. Sachinich, in that folder you will find the name and crew roster of the Imperial Navy vessel which I have had assigned to you, and the coordinates to which you are to take it. From there, you will leave the vessel and make for the heading I have provided. Beyond that, I can give you no written instructions, the danger is too great."

"Indeed, sir, I believe I can understand what you mean,"

"I think you may - Mr. Sachinich, I am asking you now to undertake a mission of recruitment for our organization, a fact-finding mission. The city for which you are bound is in the war-torn country of Ralkovia, not, perhaps, a place of great importance, but it will suit our needs."

Malko nodded, and closed the folder, which he had been reading, Mr. White continued, "You are bound for the city of Whitewater, where you are authorized to employ as many new recruits as you can make reasonable. You will find your funding aboard your vessel already, along with a small security detail for the journey on land."

"Thank you, sir, for this opportunity to further our goals."

"Indeed, Mr. Sachinich, if you preform admirably here, it will only get better."

"Thank you again sir, I will preform to the best of my abilities."

"Then you are dismissed - remember what I told you, the coordinates are in the folder, but nothing else can be recorded permanently, you know that..."

"Indeed, sir."

At that, the rather informal meeting concluded, and Malko Sachinich left, bound for the city of Whitewater in the nation of Ralkovia, to procure as many unwilling bodies as he could...

The Ruling Triad of Nuevo Nihongo moved within the secure isolation of their security bubble, and while their security might look human, they had never been and anything resembling a sense of humor had never existed in their sensibilities. Nor had any intent of shirking their professional duties, and they were very very good at that singular duty. They were lethal mayhem moving with one purpose - to make sure that the Ruling Triad was not bothered in any way.

Sam, Tai and Val (http://www.atddm.com/trio.jpg) disembarked in leisurely fashion from the Thunderchild (http://www.atddm.com/tchild1.jpg) they'd taken to the bustling port of Blackwell. It was armed and armored and advertised quite loudly that off the coast rode something far more formidable. ‘Goan’s had no problem making statements that could easily be interpreted as threats.

Sam Ravensclaw Houston, a tall man, slender but broad shouldered, his wolf amber eyes hidden behind dark shades, strode down the gangway with his associates women on either side of him. All three had dark hair, and one of the women was obviously of Japanese extraction, though her green eyes were almost luminous in the white face she had masked her features behind. Tai'shenn Kahane’s lips were a blood red hue, as was the quilted silk jacket and form fitting halter-top she wore. Her tight fitting black leather pants flared at the knees and fell over high-heeled black boots of soft suede.

The other woman was obviously Caucasian with fine, fair skin that showed off her deep blue eyes remarkably well. Lady Valkyria Victrix McMaster’s outfit was contra matched - reversed, jacket and halter top in black with deep crimson pants. Both women's hair was thick, and worn long, falling almost to their trim waists. They moved with the grace of ballet dancers, or more lethally, martial artists. Both carried swords slung diagonally across their backs and shoulder holsters holding Smith & Wesson 1911Sc's.

Sam was only slightly taller than the two women and in their heels they stood just over six foot. He wore, with an air of complete nonchalant comfort, a casual suit with a dark blue shirt and a bolo style string tie with featured a carved gold long horn skull head with ruby eyes, the horns done in ivory. The jacket was properly draped, custom tailored in well-worn butter soft suede that hid his own shoulder holster completely but allowed instant access. He carried no sword; however a tanto was on his belt. And if one were knowledgeable they would note on all three that the belt buckles were actually discretely concealed punch daggers.

They hoped they had not come in vain, they had heard that Ralkovan females were worth a premium price. Slavery was legal in Nuevo Nihongo, and they always looked for the best breeding stock. And an artifact or two wouldn’t be amiss either.

(OOC: Hey, whereabouts would you say Ralkovia is located in reference to the real world? I'd like to know so I can decide how many ships to devote to trying to hunt traffickers. Also, is there a possibility of a deal with one of the sides that consists of us getting information about the other side's trafficking, but not knowing about our "friends'" business?)

Sync felt the lightening as her purse was lifted from she spinned around and shot hitting the would be purse stancher square in the shoulder, after retrieving her purse, Sync look apond the fallen boy, she slouched down.
"You'll live if you tell me what I want to know, Where are the slave markets?"

(Ralkovia is spread across the world in hundreds of colonies, protectorates, and territories, but the mainland is a continent in between Asia and North America. Its below and to the west of Hawaii.)

"Down that alley and to the right. You can't miss it, its a big plaza thats empty except for a large stand in the middle," the boy said before running off as fast as he could.


(Responses to everyone will be coming soon, I just have to make myself some dinner)

Jeffery Pico arrived via Rubin Class cargo sub. His mission was simple. He was to secure weapons, so that Iron Fist could resell them at a profit. He was armed with a Magpul FMG-9 hidden under his jacket, and had multiple 33 round magazines. He was on the lookout for pickpockets, as well as the weapons merchants.

Sync went as the boy had directed, keeping both eyes open for any kinds of tricks. she reached the plaza 10 minutes after the boy, she shaded her eyes and looked at the mass of humanity that was pinned into cages as far as the eye could see, she then approached the nearest one that seemed to be selling females.

Meanwhile Ronin had found the slave markets in backwell and was currently negotiating with a slave trader for several hundred manual labor slaves and slaves trained to wield weapons.

Arcana imperii
006-590-345-867-Sachinich, known more commonly as Malko Sachinich, or, more simply, Mr. Sachinich, was scheduled to appear before his superior in three minutes. Mr. Sachinich was a field officer for the Imperial Foreign Affairs Office, one of two nearly synonymous, and often competitive, Imperial agencies designed to control the flow of internal-external communication and interaction. In fact, in the light of the current Emperor's relaxed control over the higher-caste officials, the heads of these organizations have become sort of de-facto heads of state; controlling all interactions and bearing authority to hand down orders as signed by the Emperor himself.

Mr. Sachinich was slightly less important than that, but not by much; he was, in addition to an experienced field officer, a close personal aide of Mr. White, the head of the Foreign Affairs Office, and Malko's immediate superior.

However, field officer was not the only distinction borne by Malko Sachinich, it was, though, his only official capacity. That is because, as is wont of an organization whose job it is to distort and control the flow of truth, he was a tool of a clandestine Imperial effort. This undertaking, brought on by Mr. White only a few years ago, was known as the Imperial Pudite Janissary Corps; a rather prestigious title for an organization whose existence it was imperative to keep a secret from the Emperor.

The Imperial Janissary Corps is the privately funded, maintained, and trained army of the Foreign Affairs Office, and by extension, Mr. White. Of course, 'privately funded' means little when a simple stamp can gain you access to the resources of a globe-spanning Empire. The Janissary Corps was established to combat the effectiveness of Mr. White's counterpart, and head of the competing Foreign Relations Office, Mr. Grey's Frumentarii. The Frumentarii are, however, a fully sanctioned and recognized Imperial tool; the foreign intelligence gathering service of the Dominion. As of late, though, they had themselves begun to train their operatives, usually lone operators trained in stealth, intelligence gathering, and blending in, in guerrilla warfare and small unit tactics, and has in one isolated case, deployed upwards of a thousand operatives, in a manner similar to a light infantry division.

It is this competition that fuels the need for the Imperial Janissary Corps, and therefore, the need for Mr. Sachinich's job. Malko was the officer-in-charge of recruitment for the Imperial Janissary Corps, which, as did the organization from which it bears it's name, does not take willing volunteers. Rather, the Janissary Corps takes whomever it pleases, and worries about their thoughts on the matter later.

Naturally, then, Mr. White was pleased when he learned of the situation in Ralkovia, and the possible gains he could reap from it.

Mr. Sachinich entered Mr. White's office. Before he could speak, Mr. White addressed him; "Mr. Sachinich - close the door," Malko shut the door quickly, and Mr, White continued, "Malko, I have a matter of great import to discuss with you, a matter that must remain between you, and me..."

At this point, Mr. White slid across his desk a small folder, with nothing marking it different than any other folder, excepting, perhaps, that there was nothing marking it at all. Malko picked it up, and Mr. White continued,

"Mr. Sachinich, in that folder you will find the name and crew roster of the Imperial Navy vessel which I have had assigned to you, and the coordinates to which you are to take it. From there, you will leave the vessel and make for the heading I have provided. Beyond that, I can give you no written instructions, the danger is too great."

"Indeed, sir, I believe I can understand what you mean,"

"I think you may - Mr. Sachinich, I am asking you now to undertake a mission of recruitment for our organization, a fact-finding mission. The city for which you are bound is in the war-torn country of Ralkovia, not, perhaps, a place of great importance, but it will suit our needs."

Malko nodded, and closed the folder, which he had been reading, Mr. White continued, "You are bound for the city of Whitewater, where you are authorized to employ as many new recruits as you can make reasonable. You will find your funding aboard your vessel already, along with a small security detail for the journey on land."

"Thank you, sir, for this opportunity to further our goals."

"Indeed, Mr. Sachinich, if you preform admirably here, it will only get better."

"Thank you again sir, I will preform to the best of my abilities."

"Then you are dismissed - remember what I told you, the coordinates are in the folder, but nothing else can be recorded permanently, you know that..."

"Indeed, sir."

At that, the rather informal meeting concluded, and Malko Sachinich left, bound for the city of Whitewater in the nation of Ralkovia, to procure as many unwilling bodies as he could...

White water was just or even more despicable of a port as blackwell. Whitewater was a cesspool of slavery. Men groaned in pain as the enslavers took pleasure in torturing them. One of the slaver greeted Malko, she looked to be a woman of at least 22."Hello I am Sgt. Tanya of FPAR(the city is ruled by the section known as FPAR) We have a fine selection of manual laborers, from farming to soldiering. May I ask what you will be using them for so I can give you my opinion on which slaves will be best for you?"

The Ruling Triad of Nuevo Nihongo moved within the secure isolation of their security bubble, and while their security might look human, they had never been and anything resembling a sense of humor had never existed in their sensibilities. Nor had any intent of shirking their professional duties, and they were very very good at that singular duty. They were lethal mayhem moving with one purpose - to make sure that the Ruling Triad was not bothered in any way.

Sam, Tai and Val (http://www.atddm.com/trio.jpg) disembarked in leisurely fashion from the Thunderchild (http://www.atddm.com/tchild1.jpg) they'd taken to the bustling port of Blackwell. It was armed and armored and advertised quite loudly that off the coast rode something far more formidable. ‘Goan’s had no problem making statements that could easily be interpreted as threats.

Sam Ravensclaw Houston, a tall man, slender but broad shouldered, his wolf amber eyes hidden behind dark shades, strode down the gangway with his associates women on either side of him. All three had dark hair, and one of the women was obviously of Japanese extraction, though her green eyes were almost luminous in the white face she had masked her features behind. Tai'shenn Kahane’s lips were a blood red hue, as was the quilted silk jacket and form fitting halter-top she wore. Her tight fitting black leather pants flared at the knees and fell over high-heeled black boots of soft suede.

The other woman was obviously Caucasian with fine, fair skin that showed off her deep blue eyes remarkably well. Lady Valkyria Victrix McMaster’s outfit was contra matched - reversed, jacket and halter top in black with deep crimson pants. Both women's hair was thick, and worn long, falling almost to their trim waists. They moved with the grace of ballet dancers, or more lethally, martial artists. Both carried swords slung diagonally across their backs and shoulder holsters holding Smith & Wesson 1911Sc's.

Sam was only slightly taller than the two women and in their heels they stood just over six foot. He wore, with an air of complete nonchalant comfort, a casual suit with a dark blue shirt and a bolo style string tie with featured a carved gold long horn skull head with ruby eyes, the horns done in ivory. The jacket was properly draped, custom tailored in well-worn butter soft suede that hid his own shoulder holster completely but allowed instant access. He carried no sword; however a tanto was on his belt. And if one were knowledgeable they would note on all three that the belt buckles were actually discretely concealed punch daggers.

They hoped they had not come in vain, they had heard that Ralkovan females were worth a premium price. Slavery was legal in Nuevo Nihongo, and they always looked for the best breeding stock. And an artifact or two wouldn’t be amiss either.


There were sayings of how ralkovian men were like cactuses thorns and the women were the roses. Ralkovian women as a population were extremely beautiful. They pretty much all had the same features in their eyes, which were like deep pools of water one could stare into for eternity. They had long beautiful hair and shapely bodies. They were the epitome of youth, beauty, and vibrance.

Colonel Miles sat in front of a large plaza. Around him were 10 guards with shotguns or AS-125s on their backs. They were ready for a fight and could defend themselves if push came to shove. Miles sighed as he saw the approaching visitors."We have women, do you have money?"

Jeffery Pico arrived via Rubin Class cargo sub. His mission was simple. He was to secure weapons, so that Iron Fist could resell them at a profit. He was armed with a Magpul FMG-9 hidden under his jacket, and had multiple 33 round magazines. He was on the lookout for pickpockets, as well as the weapons merchants.


Men all over the city beckoned the strangers to come to their shop. Many were just selling the same old weapons you could buy anywhere. While one of the shop owners, a wily man by the name of Corry, offered some of the best weapons ralkovia had to offer. Harpoon anti-tank rifles, AS-132, AA-MSAM, etc, were all offered up.

Men all over the city beckoned the strangers to come to their shop. Many were just selling the same old weapons you could buy anywhere. While one of the shop owners, a wily man by the name of Corry, offered some of the best weapons ralkovia had to offer. Harpoon anti-tank rifles, AS-132, AA-MSAM, etc, were all offered up.

OOC: Harpoon anti tank rifles, or Harpoon missiles and anti tank rifles?

Jeffrey Pico said, "I'm looking for some heavy weaponry, for my employers. Payment isn't a problem, and neither is delivery. Do you have something with a little more punch than this?", while pointing to the weapons.

(Harpoon anti-tank rifles, armor penetrating harpoons that latch onto the inside....I gotta go to bed.)

OOC: Do you sell just adults, keeping the kids until they are of 'usable' age to bring good profit, or are all ages sold?

OCC - Duchy of Rechburg is considered to be in the south seas, roughly where Australia and New Zealand are located.

Admiral Davout read the latest reports coming in from Ralkovia, the slave trade was growing yet again and if there was one thing that managed to get his Duke, on a hobby horse; it was slavery.
So on their own initative Admiral Davout now the Dukes Security Advisor and Dr Andrea Bowman head of Department 717 (Intelligence) had set up a intelligence network thoughout Ralkovia and its colonies.
The human intel from this network was deep and combined with the satelites and pilotless drones that were being used they started to track the likely routes of the main slavers and their clients.

The side business of arms trade didnt greatly concern the Davout and Bowman, apart from the fact rumours existed that there were nuclear warheads for sale.
Nuclear warheads for sale in the Pacific - South sea areas was of concern to the Duchy, a great concern.

Taking the information gathered, both Davout and Bowman went their usual early morning security conference with Duke Blaise.
The Duke a young man, still grieving over the loss of his father (Duke Leopold) was not a man to trifle with. He had a sharp and decisive mind and he expected his advisors to be equally sharp and decisive. So the concerns regarding Ralkovia were brought to his attention from the outset.

He sat quietly, occasionally nodding his head when in apparent agreement with something said, his look deep and frowning.
When the two security advisors had completed their briefing, he stood and went over to the digital dispaly on the wall at the end of his office.
With a deft flick of the hand and fingers he brought up the Ralkovia region, by then up dating this with the electronic code that came with this briefing the Ralkovia region was highlighted with cities, trade routes, and main arms/slaving centres.

He stood watching the screen, then said to Admiral Davout,
"I want all slave ships intercepted, their crews executed and slaves freed".
He then turned to Dr Bowman,

"I want the any nuclear warheads located, the warheads secured and the dealers eliminated.
All this is to be done in a covert manner if within Ralkovia territory or in Ralkovia territorial waters, if in international waters I dont care, but best if they disappear without trace."

He sat looking at the sreen, his eyes continously looking down to Moir Island, the scene where one of the Duchy's renegade Governors had sought refuge and had threatened both Rechburg and Rammsteinburg with nuclear devestation. That incident had resulted in his fathers assassination, so anything even slightly linked was likely to set of a display of fury and retribution.After that the Duke was determined that no independent nuclear warheads would ever be available to renegades, terrorists or such.
He was declaring a personal war on arms dealers, and he hated slavers with a passion anyway, so to him; killing all of them solved his many problems.

OOC: also, in the 3 ports, where's the closest landing pads for helicopters and runways for aircraft?

Miles sighed as he saw the approaching visitors."We have women, do you have money?"

Lady McMaster looked the group of armed guards over with a distainful eye, and then nodded minimally, her voice pitched as addressing an inferior. "If they meet our standards, we will pay ...in gold."

Sam just looked about taking in the sights and sounds of the plaza. He knew that the not so discrete cadre of 'Goan protective detail could take those ten Ralkoviana out with little touble. And then no one here knew at all what he could do and he hoped for their sake they remained ignorant.

Tai smiled coldly, a bareing of teeth that was more of a predators challenge than other and said nothing. She might condesend to speak to an equal but other than Sam and Val there were none present.

OOC: Harpoon anti tank rifles, or Harpoon missiles and anti tank rifles?

Jeffrey Pico said, "I'm looking for some heavy weaponry, for my employers. Payment isn't a problem, and neither is delivery. Do you have something with a little more punch than this?", while pointing to the weapons.


"Heavy, like anti-tank heavy, the Harpoon is probably the best anti-tank weapon anywhere, capable of penetrating almost 8 inches of armor, it can be used like a needle to inject nerve gas, or it can carry a small explosive in its head.

We have machine gun heavy, the HMG-2023S/I, it fires specially made slug rounds and it has a special mechanism* for use as both an anti-helicopter and anti-infantry gun.

Then we have Assault Rifle heavy, Galils do nicely in this category.
Then we have Sniper Rifle heavy, try the CheyTac M200 Intervention, it has accuracy, range, and power. We also have a few Barret XM-500s for use.

And if you are interested in something heavy heavy," he said flashing this card so only the man could see and not anyone passing by.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/af/WMD_symbols_horizontal.svg/800px-WMD_symbols_horizontal.svg.png

"Then we can look into my back room and find something that might interest you."

OOC: Do you sell just adults, keeping the kids until they are of 'usable' age to bring good profit, or are all ages sold?

(They sell both in some areas. In blackwell though they sell female slaves from the ages of 10 and up. For males they really are sold only as adults or teenagers since they are expected to work as laborers. Plus it is against every major rule in society for a male to experience combat until they reach an age of 13[the age they are considered a man], so all three sides in the civil war have kept out of the what they think is the "kid" soldier thing. So the regular age of males being sold is between 13-50.)



OOC: also, in the 3 ports, where's the closest landing pads for helicopters and runways for aircraft?

(In Josuha that would be the old government "Emperor Joshua international airport." It is the only international airport in ralkovia still running in what is considered Pre-war status, meaning large aircraft can land without running into the risk of hitting potholes or runway mines. This airport, the largest on the west coast of ralkovia with airstrips as long as 4 miles long and 20 different landing strips. Its largest landing strips are 800ft wide. These can handle huge aircraft such as C-17s and larger and has 20 It is also heavily guarded and protected by anti-aircraft and anti-helicopter guns and missile systems.
Helicopter landing pads are also near the airport and can hold quite a few helicopters with room for at least 200 and hangar space for almost 130.

The airport is center to what is left of the ralkovian national airforce bombers and cargo planes. So many wide runways are reserved for these aircrafts. Fuel is no problem due to an adequate but not huge supply of fuel from the Laton Oil Fields and Refineries near by, the main problem is lack of workers since many have been drafted into helping the air force.


In Whitewater International Airport, which is under FPAR control, the runway is heavily damaged allowing only a few small aircraft to use it.[private jet type aircraft] It has major problems in fuel and room.
Helicopters have plenty of room to land in the parking lots, damaged runways, and helicopter landing pads.


In Blackwell City International Airport it is the largest airport in ralkovia and has large room for many aircrafts, etc. It has the largest and widest runways in ralkovia though many are badly damaged and disused.
Helicopter pads are plentiful and close by to the ports.)

Miles sighed as he saw the approaching visitors."We have women, do you have money?"

Lady McMaster looked the group of armed guards over with a distainful eye, and then nodded minimally, her voice pitched as addressing an inferior. "If they meet our standards, we will pay ...in gold."

Sam just looked about taking in the sights and sounds of the plaza. He knew that the not so discrete cadre of 'Goan protective detail could take those ten Ralkoviana out with little touble. And then no one here knew at all what he could do and he hoped for their sake they remained ignorant.

Tai smiled coldly, a bareing of teeth that was more of a predators challenge than other and said nothing. She might condesend to speak to an equal but other than Sam and Val there were none present.

"Welcome to my humble shop," the Colonel Miles said smiling. The small gates opened up revealing the untold human misery in the plaza. Almost 4000 women naked or barely clothed sat on the ground or in cages.

Most women were covered in dirt or grime and the only evidence of a bathing booth were men with hoses who would spray it at a line of women all standing by the wall. The Nuevo Nihongo soon lost any advantage in skill as guards could be seen watching the entire seen with heavy machine guns.

While the machine gunners rotated between the slaves and the visitors, it was evident that if the Nuevo Nihongo group tried to make any trouble by shooting any of the men below they would soon come under heavy fire.

Of course the guards were just doing there job and would only shoot if the customers made problems. If they acted as customers should and buy what they wanted then the soldiers would just go about their normal business.

(Pretty much the soldiers are watching you but they don't plan on shooting you if your group does do as it says and buys slaves)

Colonel Miles walked up them again,"So what are you looking to use the women for. Do you want women for use as Comfort women for soldiers, Brides, Breeders, Servants, etc.

Any characteristics you would like: Tall, Short, Fat, Slim, long hair, short hair, big breasts, little breasts, children, teenagers, adults, older women. Name it and I will line up what we have in each category."

(I feel like I'm the owner of a sleezy porn video shop.)

OCC - Duchy of Rechburg is considered to be in the south seas, roughly where Australia and New Zealand are located.

Admiral Davout read the latest reports coming in from Ralkovia, the slave trade was growing yet again and if there was one thing that managed to get his Duke, on a hobby horse; it was slavery.
So on their own initative Admiral Davout now the Dukes Security Advisor and Dr Andrea Bowman head of Department 717 (Intelligence) had set up a intelligence network thoughout Ralkovia and its colonies.
The human intel from this network was deep and combined with the satelites and pilotless drones that were being used they started to track the likely routes of the main slavers and their clients.

The side business of arms trade didnt greatly concern the Davout and Bowman, apart from the fact rumours existed that there were nuclear warheads for sale.
Nuclear warheads for sale in the Pacific - South sea areas was of concern to the Duchy, a great concern.

Taking the information gathered, both Davout and Bowman went their usual early morning security conference with Duke Blaise.
The Duke a young man, still grieving over the loss of his father (Duke Leopold) was not a man to trifle with. He had a sharp and decisive mind and he expected his advisors to be equally sharp and decisive. So the concerns regarding Ralkovia were brought to his attention from the outset.

He sat quietly, occasionally nodding his head when in apparent agreement with something said, his look deep and frowning.
When the two security advisors had completed their briefing, he stood and went over to the digital dispaly on the wall at the end of his office.
With a deft flick of the hand and fingers he brought up the Ralkovia region, by then up dating this with the electronic code that came with this briefing the Ralkovia region was highlighted with cities, trade routes, and main arms/slaving centres.

He stood watching the screen, then said to Admiral Davout,
"I want all slave ships intercepted, their crews executed and slaves freed".
He then turned to Dr Bowman,

"I want the any nuclear warheads located, the warheads secured and the dealers eliminated.
All this is to be done in a covert manner if within Ralkovia territory or in Ralkovia territorial waters, if in international waters I dont care, but best if they disappear without trace."

He sat looking at the sreen, his eyes continously looking down to Moir Island, the scene where one of the Duchy's renegade Governors had sought refuge and had threatened both Rechburg and Rammsteinburg with nuclear devestation. That incident had resulted in his fathers assassination, so anything even slightly linked was likely to set of a display of fury and retribution.After that the Duke was determined that no independent nuclear warheads would ever be available to renegades, terrorists or such.
He was declaring a personal war on arms dealers, and he hated slavers with a passion anyway, so to him; killing all of them solved his many problems.

(You can send spies in if you want to gather info)

(OOC: Hey, Hey Ralkovia! Here come the morally right! lol)
Parliament House, Bowmore, Whiskeasy

PM Jack Daniels was in another of his famous meetings all his major staff where there, the staff included some of the most important people in the country ((See Sig)). Director Adam Imhov stood up and said to the PM "Well I have some more intel on our old acquaintances Ralkovia. Turns out this war has created more slavery than ever. And that is only half of it, guns, drugs, artifacts and WMD's are passing hands in the three ports. They are being smuggled out in droves by freelance freighters along with corporations and other Governments. The situation is spiraling out of control, I have a man on the ground who has seen the faces of three major terrorists and he hasn't even been looking for them. If anyone gets a WMD we are screwed, people dislike our pro-Human Rights policy. Especially a few governments which are worried about 'Sovereignty'. The amount of slaves coming out is ridiculous and the guns are high tech Ralkovian Army issue. Even the so called 'Freedom Fighters' are doing it. I'm afraid to say we are going to have to put a fleet down, or at least a task force. I also suggest putting down a couple more agents and a hit team. The hit team off the books off course, but when we find someone doing the big arms trade we hit the guy and take the stuff. This gentlemen is the big cheese."
General Abraham Smith, the balding, overweight, alcoholic,61 year-old in charge of the military said "Whatever happened to carpet bombing? 'Hit squad' this and 'subtly' that. Why cant we just blow 'em all to the fairies? Eh? Whatever happened?"
The PM glanced over from the dossier in front of him and said "I know you have some new toys General and you want to try them out. I think there may be an opportunity for a little precision bombing. I want a fleet out there in seven days, plus a detachment of special agents from the OII. Ok General it's your show, well yours and Adams."
Abe snorted and said "Well fine, we will have five Destroyers out there with four Frigates, uh lets say five smaller gunboats probably Corvettes or Cruisers. And of cource our new pride of the sea the WRS Dauntless our new super carrier. I will have a couple of subs patrolling the area as well. We spread out and make a net anything coming out of those ports is going to be checked, we can't check everything though. Just too much shipping."
Imhov smiled and said "I can help there we will have the agents buying info from the locals. We find out who is smuggling what by keeping an eye on the docks as well."
The PM looked happy and said "Well great, sort it out you two. I want that sea cleaner than a heroin addict who has found God. Hop to it."


WRS Dauntless, at sea, approaching destination
Admiral John Seaman, a navy man looked proudly over his fleet. His ships spread out over a large expanse of sea. It was going to be a good day. He sent out a message hoping someone else may be doing the same as him.

Encryption: High
Communique
Attention all naval vessels. 5th Fleet Whiskeasian Royal Navy, are in the area conducting anti-slavery and arms smuggling operations. Will anyone help? Any ship found smuggling cargo will be confiscated and crew arrested. All slaves shall be freed and taken either back to Ralkovia on request or to Whiskeasy.
God speed and may the wind always blow.
Admiral John Seaman

(Ralkovia do you have a map of the area?)

Sync turned to the merchant, i'd like to inspect your (female) stock, my group is looking to buy your healthiest (400) slaves for $200,000 USD.

Ronin turned to the merchant, I'd like to inspect your (male) stock, my employer is looking to buy your best labor slaves totaling 300 at the moment and we are willing to pay $250,000 USD for them, we are also looking for some of your combat trained ones.

(Working on a map of trade routes and paths, Whiskeasy, just let me finish some of my homework)

Sync turned to the merchant, i'd like to inspect your (female) stock, my group is looking to buy your healthiest (400) slaves for $200,000 USD.

Ronin turned to the merchant, I'd like to inspect your (male) stock, my employer is looking to buy your best labor slaves totaling 300 at the moment and we are willing to pay $250,000 USD for them, we are also looking for some of your combat trained ones.

Sync was greeted by laughter,"You can get 160 slave women for that much. Each of them is worth at least $1250 dollars. I have to feed them you know."

Ronin was showed the way,"Combat soldiers are $1000 each regardless of age, laborers are about $400 for 40-50 year olds, $500 for 30-40 year olds, and $700 for anyone between the ages of 14-20 years of age."

Sync
"I see, in that case goodday said Snyc as she headed off onto the next merchant. The next one also laughed in her face and the next and the next one...

Ronin
"Hmm, in that case I'd like to buy 1000 Combat soldiers for $1,000,000 we would prefer that they've been at least in one battle. We also like to buy, 1000 labor slaves $500,000 in the 30-40 year old range."

"good, would you like me to line them up for you to pick out?"

Ronin
"Yes, that would be fine."

Sync
after talking to the final merchant in the area, she headed back towards the first one.

"It seems that you're the cheapest one in this area, Merchant.
My offer is now 300 (female) slaves for $400,000"

Altogether 3000 combat slaves and labor slaves were lined up. Once he had picked the rest were brought back to their cells."Would you like me to get some Chronzonal Guard to bring them to your ship for only $600 more? Or would you like to carry them out yourselves. Its riskier to do that then to just go with the guard, if one of your slaves escapes and they can't get them back I will not only give you another replacement but your money back for your lost slave."
--------------
"You have yourself a deal ma'am. I will get you a line so you can choose from it."

Ronin
"Sure, heres the extra $600 now, is there a working airport in the area?"

Ronin pulled out his satellite phone, hijacking a passing satellite for acouple seconds, he called his boss. "sir the package(s) has been bought, we will need several cargo planes to carry them" "They will be sent"

Sync
As she looked at the line of humanity, Sync picked out the most fertile looking bunch.
As she finally got to the end of the line, she turned to the merchant. "These will do well, here is your first payment(2/3 of the total payment) Now is there a working airport in this region?"

,"So what are you looking to use the women for. Do you want women for use as Comfort women for soldiers, Brides, Breeders, Servants, etc.

Lady McMasters looked over the dirty, bedraggled mass of females with an expression that went from neutral at the start to contemptuous as she evaluated the jumble. "They are filthy, barely fed, and we hear rumors that they are worth premium prices? Oh you poor stupid little man, have you no idea about merchandizing?" She half murmured to herself, her tone was critical but not cruel, almost disinterested.

She took another look through the gate, but made no move to enter, not wishing to dirty her boot soles with the dismal conditions within. With the normal exquisite politeness of 'Goans, Val gave the Colonel a half nod "It wzas a ...pleasure... meeting you Colonel. Thank you for your time, but your merchanzise is not of the quality we require."

(They are filthy but they are fed well.)
"Then you look in our backroom, for high paying customers," he said."Premium women are for premium dollar."

There was a darkened room, with only two sources of light. The first was a spotlight, pointing to a symbol carved into a concrete wall with professional accuracy, a skull pierced by eight short swords, forming the shape of an asterisk in their disposition, and with each of their tips breaking parts of a shackle around the skull. Below the symbol, a single, crimson word stood, a label to what it represented, "Rangers".

The other source of light was coming from a now unused projector, which due to the laxity of someone, was left there, and not shut down, projecting a map into an appropriate, flat and white surface, the map of a nation known as Ralkovia, with three large red dots and a few minor ones. A title was much more highlighted than the map, and it said: "Operation 12 Gauge Shell in Metzger's Eye", which was a somewhat uncommon title, although it certainly had a source. Nothing of it mattered now.

"You are, you were, and you have always been Rangers of the NCR, a special force bent on covert and not-so covert operations to annihilate slavery from this world bereft in chaos and destruction, to stand for freedom and civilization in the wastelands, and you have come from Vault Ten, you were born and have lived all your lives in Vault Ten!" A mysterious man said in a loud tone of voice, hours ago, at this same room, to a crowd of anarchists, most of them, coincidentally, or perhaps on purpose, originated from the Midwest of the United States, with a few who actually came from the more leftist segments of Vault Ten population, another anarchy to which the Confederacy had certain, relations.

"You have seen Third Spanish States or Anarchilopolis in your entire lives! You have no idea of how either of them truly is! Your culture is the culture of the NCR!" the man insisted further with the group, perhaps part of the plan to avoid detection, although it would take some skills to impersonate such NCR as it was intended to. All was being set for yet another shady maneuver, not an act of war, but an act of cunning, intended to disrupt a crime worse than genocide, and to, in the right time, take more direct actions on an indirect threat that was close enough from the allied Community of Anarchilopolis in South America to actually pose a threat. Roughly an year ago, as crime went rampant in the Confederacy, a bustling but brief slave trafficking was established, only to be brutally suppressed into a gory slaughter of slavers, burned alive, beheaded, castrated, skinned and even eviscerated, by the fury and lust for mob justice of a free people against the inhumanity and savagery of such beasts that no longer deserved to be called, or treated as human beings. Very few managed to escape, and thousands of slavers were simply exterminated with no mercy.

Since then, Third Spanish States and many of its allied communes have become avoided by all those who delved into such heinous crime against humanity, specially now, as in active war, their borders are continually patrolled by stealthy corvettes and patrol ships, which will shoot on sight against criminals on the run or slavers, or capture them for extremely painful ways of dying in the hands of armed mobs of people who despised slavery and those who practiced it. However, other than blockading the hypocritical trade of slaves by their primary enemy, the People's Republic of Spain, little official action have been done to fight against such threat... and will continued being done, for the actions that were planned were certainly neither official, nor public.

These planned operations were the work of the NCR Rangers, not of the MilNet, which by itself wasn't either a representative of what existed of a government in the Confederacy. It would be difficult, with little support as all focus was being given to the front against Bolshevist Spain. It was, first of all, a "do or die" mission. But to attack without known one's enemy, failure chances would be too great to be truth. And thus, somewhere else, beyond anything official or public, a woman was being instructed:

"Again, it's good to see you back from your long vacations. You are an arms dealer and a pimp of questionable sexuality looking for cheaper whores. I hope you have prepared yourself well with this new persona, for this is not going to be an easy mission. We have chosen you because you had a past as a real criminal, and thus you are the best suited individual for this, for nobody else would be able to impersonate what you must impersonate. If you fail, if everything blows up, remember that pill in your hollow teeth. This is a very important mission agent, for the freedom of thousands, or perhaps millions, depends upon it, are you truly ready? If you wish, you can forfeit this, for you have already done much for our cause."

"I will not forfeit it!" the woman said loudly, with enough conviction to go straight into a charge against a machinegun emplacement if necessary, "without doing anything, my life has become a pointless strolling through dull vacations and I can feel a hollow, I just cannot stop it. Once a Blackguard, always a Blackguard."

"It's a sacrifice you were aware of since your first training days. Most of ours aren't able to resume a civilian life, and most of us, rather than getting old and retiring, either assume a leadership role in the corps, or perform one last glorious mission of extreme risk to die as heroes to the cause, because they are more afraid of getting old than of dying. Being prepared for war since a teenager has some consequences." The man answered, with an experience dealing with the Blackguards, the best of the best among them, each of them being one in a million, of outstanding individuals tasked for the most dangerous and secretive missions where a conventionally trained soldier would falter.

The woman knew what to do, and just replied, smiling to the man who briefed her. They were in a sort of meeting room, windowless, either to avoid peeking, or because it was not located in the surface, where a bunch of screens with satellite images were layered in the nearly entirety of a large wall:

"Only a twelve gauge? Why not a two millimeters EC?"

"We lack the punch to face the Enclave earlier, but remember that to reach The Den, you must make a stop at Klamath first, and that this is an ironman, you cannot just save it and load again to go back in time if you fail." the man replied in a metaphorical manner. It was no game however, but reality, and success was critical to secure the rest of the operations.

"I need some goons though to be convincing." the woman then reminded, for no respectable arms dealer would go without a bunch of goons behind. The man simply looked at her a bit disappointed with what he had to say, explaining why he obvious would give a negative answer:

"Sorry, but I have to tell you to just hire them on the way, as authentic ones, it will be less risky than having more operatives just to impersonate henchmen. I wish you good luck with this mission, comrade Marie, you are already a hero."

"Lets us hope I won't be an hero by doing this." Marie reminded him, as she adjusted the leather jacket and the sling through which her shotgun was held over her shoulder. There were scars, a barely innocent stare from someone who sometimes seemed cynical enough, of someone who truly has been a criminal for some time, out of disappointment, to then find a strange form of redemption. It was yet to be answered whether getting back into the den of crime would corrupt her, even though it was a mere disguise, or not. However, even the majority of criminals of the Confederacy, typically computer crackers and grifters who targeted the wealthy of other countires using the Confederacy only as a base of operations, despised slavery.

(OOC: I'll be posting her actual arrival later)

"Heavy, like anti-tank heavy, the Harpoon is probably the best anti-tank weapon anywhere, capable of penetrating almost 8 inches of armor, it can be used like a needle to inject nerve gas, or it can carry a small explosive in its head.

We have machine gun heavy, the HMG-2023S/I, it fires specially made slug rounds and it has a special mechanism* for use as both an anti-helicopter and anti-infantry gun.

Then we have Assault Rifle heavy, Galils do nicely in this category.
Then we have Sniper Rifle heavy, try the CheyTac M200 Intervention, it has accuracy, range, and power. We also have a few Barret XM-500s for use.

And if you are interested in something heavy heavy," he said flashing this card so only the man could see and not anyone passing by.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/af/WMD_symbols_horizontal.svg/800px-WMD_symbols_horizontal.svg.png

"Then we can look into my back room and find something that might interest you."

"I think the wares you carry in the back room would do. My employers are interested for a variety though, so we may be able to make arrangements for some of your other wares.

Adam Fleming was a respected member of the rechburg Mercantile guilds, he was also a senior commander of the intelligence gathering organisation simply referred to as department 717.
Adams specialty was commercial intelligence, he had within his network many estblished businessmen, in particular importers and exporters.

Over the last week the members of the Ralkovia cell were being secretly sent into the ralkovia business community and in particular its various arms and slave markets.

Their initial brief was to

a) Locate all main personalities in the buying and selling of slaves.
b) Locate all personalities involved in buying or selling of nuclear weapons.
c) Identifying the trade routes, the people involved and the types of transportation.

The national Security advisor had also dedicated several intelligence gathering satelites to the task of observation and eaves dropping.
he also ordered the navy to establish a secret submarine presence off Ralkovia using the Ultra secret "Duke Series" of submarine.

"Then you look in our backroom, for high paying customers," he said."Premium women are for premium dollar."

"Then you may have the honor of escorting us, Colonel" Lady McMasters favored him with another tiny nod, this time warmed by a miniscule smile. He had risen slightly in her estimation.

And the 'Goans were good for top dollar paid in rich, red gold, heavy and shining.

Sam ceased his looking about and commented. "If these" He waved a negligent hand toward the four thousand in the courtyard "were clean they might fetch an offer from me, but with them so encrusted I wouldn't bid. IF they are clean when we come out I might be interested in offering as much as fifteen hundred apiece for them. Good servants are so hard to find these days..."

The cadre of hard bodies just looked vigilant, all baker's dozen of anonymous menacing figures in their state of the art personal armor.

The armor was comprised of an advanced Shear Thickening Fluid over special zero g grown 'abalone tile’ plates- a liquid armor that turned extremely hard and spread itself out when punctured or struck with a high-velocity object, such as a bullet. Because of the liquid nature of the armor, it was extremely flexible and easy to wear, unlike the stiff, heavy armors currently in use by the vast majority of nations. The called 'plates' that underlay the STF were even higher tech and were grown as in integral nanotech laminate that was lighter than titanium but stronger than any β titanium alloy . But Nuevo Nihongo prided itself on having the best available for their military and had advanced past most so called modern technology.

An Aerospace Logistics airliner, presumedly from the anarchic wastelands known as Vault Ten, has arrived into the poorly maintained international airport of Blackwell, in the nation of Ralkovia, a shadow of its former self, now likely maintained only from the pure interest of criminals and scum to keep the necessary infrastructure for their goods to flow internationally. There were little questions about what sort of individual would be attracted to a nation in ruins of war, only opportunists, criminals and guns for hire looking for opportunities as risky as they are profitable. In fact, somehow the situation even prompted the very risk of slavers taking some of the visitors among their trade, something to which the passengers were mostly prepared. Metal detectors were either shut down or vandalized, and a customs, if still exiting, was likely a mere excuse for customers of the black market to be greeted. Ralkovia has certainly become an attractive haven for the dregs of mankind, whoever they were.

Blackwell became infamous for the social regression, leading as far as to the trade of woman as slaves to the wills of dregs and scum, from the poor to the filthiest bourgeois to engage into such dealings, and as expected, the sheer majority of visitors were male, or sometimes, specially when there was the need of acquiring a virgin, women so ugly and tough that nobody would even waste their time trying to enslave them.

Emmet was an exception regarding beauty, as she was certainly attractive, on a way, despite her quite mature age nearing the forties, but certainly wasn't an easy prey for the scum that round up a place where might makes right seemed to be the primary rule. The woman wore a rough black lined, short sleeved jacket, large enough to hid even a submachinegun inside. A R1 Advanced Battle Rifle (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=139) was slung on her back, which was a quite expensive piece of hardware, contrasting with the typical cheap AK clones that were found with much more frequency around. As she stepped into the barren, crust-ridden tarmac, amidst a crowd of all types of goons, her eyes seemed to covered everything around her, even her back, as she looked for potential mercenaries to contract for her protection, or more exactly, to help her in the firefight should someone attack her first.

It was trivial to find them, the problem would be to find those with sufficient honor to remain loyal to their contractor during their service time. She knew that backstabbers would eventually find nobody willing to hire them, and that a dead customer wasn't something the dealers found profitable. Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to simply ask about to that group of individuals where the customs were before, likely "men in the know" hired to guide customers to what they were looking for.

And thus, Emmet addressed one of them with a cold, emotionless nod, keeping of one her hands close to a pocket of her jacket, as she sought to make the question, still holding a cylindrical luggage with her left hand, with a very brief answer, avoiding to give any information that could allow for them to exploit her:

"I wish to contract guns for hire."

Already after only a short stay the reports were coming in on his Satelite burst radio that targets were being identified, buyers and sellers. The hit teams were being briefed on their targets.

The times were scheduled and operative in and around the slave and guns markets werebeing quietly withdrawn. All closing their stalls "due to lack of business" or "ill health" they quietly wandered away into the lanes that exited the market areas.

Ronin
As he entered the airport, Ronin looked for the transport that his boss said would be there. Seeing it, he walk towards it, glancing backwards to make sure that the Chronzonal Guard(s) were bringing along the slaves, there had already been several escape attempts and they had even lost one into the crowds. O well thought Ronin as he settled into one of the better looking seats, watching the guards herding the slaves into the cages towards the front of the plane.

"This is 521 Gopher, requesting clearance for lift off, Tower"

Sync
Sync entered what was left of the airport, she looked at disgust the various debris and wastes around the place. She then turned to look out the nearest window, broken just like all the rest she thought. Spotting the transport you turned to the women and their captors. "I want them onto that plane in 10 minutes!" She then headed towards the plane.

Some distance from the ciry in the rural regions 12 missiles were launched from their portable tripod launchers. They cruised to the city and then diverted to their particular target patrol areas. They flew high and went unoticed by most people.

The 12 "lurker" missiles had quietly been guided toward the arms bazaars as well as the slave markets, one by one their computerised GPS systems calculated time and distance and then plunged down to not only their destruction , but to cause massive damage and destruction amongst the arms dealers, and the slaves. The chaos in the arms bazaars was the greater because of the tons of open ammunition stacked in the various stalls.

Within minutes of the attack, letters began arriving at the news media

"Fighters for the freedom of the Ralkovian slaves today launched the beginning of their offensive against the despicible trade in human misery.
People who deal in this misery, must be made to pay, be they sellers or buyers.
The saddest events of the day was that many of our slave brothers suffered as a consequence of these attacks, but in the short term their suffering would be less as opposed to the years they would suffer at the hands of their cruel masters.

Buyers of slaves take note, do not come to Ralkovia to buy our brothers, to do so will only bring about your own destruction.

Within minutes of the attack pairs of "red cross" people were rushing into the arms markets, to "assist" the wounded, any known dealers as identified by the intelligence agents whether wounded or not; were quietly subdued (by injection), placed on stretchers and rushed away for urgent treatment.

They were placed in ambulances and taken out of the cities to a rural area 20 miles from the city, there they would be interrogated by interrogation specialists from department 717.

Using drug therapy, the dealers were questioned in regard to nuclear weapons that were or could be purchased, most of these dealers were not brave men, it would not take too much "treatment" to break them.

Meanwhile the 2nd battlefleet arrived from Rechburg, it remained in international waters, their commander "Admiral Georges" started to make contact with other fleets blockading the coastline.

Unfortunately for Rechsburg they had received info that such terrorist organizations as Black Water, The Freedom Eagles, and the Red Mafia had all bought what was left in stock in the WMD department.

They had also not hit the major shops, which got better business as more people took cover inside them.

"Then you look in our backroom, for high paying customers," he said."Premium women are for premium dollar."

"Then you may have the honor of escorting us, Colonel" Lady McMasters favored him with another tiny nod, this time warmed by a miniscule smile. He had risen slightly in her estimation.

And the 'Goans were good for top dollar paid in rich, red gold, heavy and shining.

Sam ceased his looking about and commented. "If these" He waved a negligent hand toward the four thousand in the courtyard "were clean they might fetch an offer from me, but with them so encrusted I wouldn't bid. IF they are clean when we come out I might be interested in offering as much as fifteen hundred apiece for them. Good servants are so hard to find these days..."

The cadre of hard bodies just looked vigilant, all baker's dozen of anonymous menacing figures in their state of the art personal armor.

The armor was comprised of an advanced Shear Thickening Fluid over special zero g grown 'abalone tile’ plates- a liquid armor that turned extremely hard and spread itself out when punctured or struck with a high-velocity object, such as a bullet. Because of the liquid nature of the armor, it was extremely flexible and easy to wear, unlike the stiff, heavy armors currently in use by the vast majority of nations. The called 'plates' that underlay the STF were even higher tech and were grown as in integral nanotech laminate that was lighter than titanium but stronger than any β titanium alloy . But Nuevo Nihongo prided itself on having the best available for their military and had advanced past most so called modern technology.


The women were cleaner than there outside counterparts and many had probably just reached the age of 18. "Sullivan, Gregory open the gates and let me in," he said to the guards outside as they began pulling the heavy gate with chains. The women inside were in much better shape and many looked as if they were models.

Long hair, smooth skin, nice breasts and beautiful faces and eyes. They were the epitome of female beauty in Ralkovia and would make any man a little excited.

Ronin
As he entered the airport, Ronin looked for the transport that his boss said would be there. Seeing it, he walk towards it, glancing backwards to make sure that the Chronzonal Guard(s) were bringing along the slaves, there had already been several escape attempts and they had even lost one into the crowds. O well thought Ronin as he settled into one of the better looking seats, watching the guards herding the slaves into the cages towards the front of the plane.

"This is 521 Gopher, requesting clearance for lift off, Tower"

Sync
Sync entered what was left of the airport, she looked at disgust the various debris and wastes around the place. She then turned to look out the nearest window, broken just like all the rest she thought. Spotting the transport you turned to the women and their captors. "I want them onto that plane in 10 minutes!" She then headed towards the plane.


"You are clear"


The guards had one final bit of fun before loading the women onto the plane. "Mrs......Your slaves have been loaded."

"I think the wares you carry in the back room would do. My employers are interested for a variety though, so we may be able to make arrangements for some of your other wares.

"Then let me show you," he said opening up his back room door. It had antharax, sarin, cyanide, even a box full of samples that said small pox. He smiled as he pulled a sheet of cloth off of a 30 kiloton Peace of Hell nuclear warhead. In the room 4 men armed with armor piercing rounds took aim at him, if he tried to do anything with the nuke they would shoot. "Its just a precaution now."

Unfortunately for Rechsburg they had received info that such terrorist organizations as Black Water, The Freedom Eagles, and the Red Mafia had all bought what was left in stock in the WMD department.

They had also not hit the major shops, which got better business as more people took cover inside them.

OCC
Hmmm very unfortunate. I have trained intel agents working and living in the bazaars, they had plenty of time to identify with GPS the location of every arms dealer in the city. Yet depsite the barrage of missiles they only hit the all the small ones.. Damn those guided missiles, damn damn.

Those Intel agents should be shot for missing all those Big dealers.

(Well hey you always have to look in the backrooms just because a shop is bigger it doesn't mean it has less. Plus your not destroying all the shops or this rp will come to a quick end because lack of shops.)

( good night I'll respond tomorrow)

OCC
Fair enough its your show. - sleep well.

IC
The Duchy of Rechburg seeing the total failure of their intelligence operations and missile attacks have decided to withdraw and return to Rechburg.
All assets are flown out to the 2nd battlefleet and returned to Rechburg.

OoC: May I do some thing where I will buy a slave for some sort of media spectacular, and we roll from there?

A single black Eurocopter EC130 made its way to the helipads at Emperor Joshua International Airport; its first stop in a tour of all three ports. Painted a flat black with a the outline of a three dimensional box and a vertical line through it in a very glossy silver, it carried the President and CEO of Blackboard Specialty Corporation, an offshore ViZionarian firm that was heavy into various manufacturing industries, as well as investments, biological and chemical affairs, and even small-time mercenary jobs.

Being located on its own island not under the control of the ViZionarian government, it had no laws against such actions as slave-trading, inhumane treatment of its employees, and how it conducted its research - as well as what, or rather who, it conducted it on.

Mr. Richard Maybach had plans - plans to add an addition 500-1,000 people of which it could add as employees and research tools. Woman, men; young, old; smart, dumb. He had his plans, and he was looking forward to bringing in one of his ships within the week to haul them off.

---

Back in Vitalita, President Kilo was continually being updated on the situation in Ralkovia. It had been just a few months ago when they seemed to have come to an agreement that would ensure prosperity for the country of Ralkovia, while giving the slaves freedom in a new country and a new chance at life.

Yet, now, things have only gotten worse. Before the ships ever reached Ralkovia to begin boarding the freed slaves, the country went into further turmoil. And now, here we sit. Looking at options - do we ignore this situation and let others deal with it? Do we move in? And if we move in, how will we proceed?

President Kilo did not know - but he knew he would need an official plan and statement within the week. Those in Ralkovia did not have long.

( President Kilo has nobody to blame but himself. In fact the civil war is directly related to presidents kilo's demand to release the slaves who turned to violence and ended up killing the government workers)

"Then let me show you," he said opening up his back room door. It had antharax, sarin, cyanide, even a box full of samples that said small pox. He smiled as he pulled a sheet of cloth off of a 30 kiloton Peace of Hell nuclear warhead. In the room 4 men armed with armor piercing rounds took aim at him, if he tried to do anything with the nuke they would shoot. "Its just a precaution now."

"Oh, I completely understand. Our line of work is a dangerous one. I should let you know right now, I am armed in case some do-gooder shows up. How much for the nuke, and how many can you get? And how much for the Anthrax?".

(OOC: As I got no answer I'll just assume she got her henchmen. And this is the most morally ambiguous character I have ever done and RPed)

Her assumptions were right, and Emmet soon met two guns for hire looking for an opportunity of a quick cash. There was not much to say to such types, for again, she would never forget the fact she was in hostile grounds prone to savagery, where men were the wolves of men, where even her could be enslaved, if she could not end dozens of lives of scum and dregs to defend her liberty, with the pull of a trigger. It was therefore, the best thing to say what she got to say, brief, short and giving almost nothing about who she was or what were her businesses in the place:

"Five thousand plus a rifle like this for each of you to escort me. The five thousand shall be now, and the rifle after you complete the job. Deal?"

"Deal!" both thugs exclaimed, almost simultaneously, as they observed the R1 and the gestures of the woman, who never gave them her name, as she took a large amount of paper-money from her jacket, counting it and splitting it in half, giving one part for each of them, who, being who they were, immediately checked the value, and after a few seconds, both of them handled a thousand back to her, as one of the thugs whispered at her ear:

"Check your smarts sis', not everyone honor his deals around this place. We do and we are also very competent, that's why we aren't cheapskates to hire."

She simply broke off her coldness for a while, realizing that she was not cheated by those she asked about, and certainly indicated to a bunch that no matter how questionable were, at least seemed to honor their dealings with others. No answer came from her, although she clearly showed her satisfaction, and was glad she would not have to put her weapons to use so soon, for she has mistaken the value to handle them on purpose, as a test, and if they failed, she would feel very tempted to put an end to some of such scum right there.

Instead she carried on with her businesses, and began to head to the port of Blackwell, guided by the goons she hired, who conveniently had their own car to bring her towards her destiny. The streets were on an utter state of abandonment, with litter and papers swept by the wind, fissures on the ground and many houses and buildings simply deserted across the cityscape. There seemed to be no rule at all, and perhaps she thought, if they were not already busy in the war against another slaver and tyrannical nation, the People's Republic of Spain, Ralkovia could find the light of freedom and fairness amidst such darkness... a very inviting darkness, something strange, but familiar. To observe, to see the roots of the underground at her eyes, again.

Emmet knew much of her dark past, even though much of it was forgotten as a better present atoned for it, and that her deeds have been worthy enough to have her former criminal records completely erased. Such environment however, was bringing part of it back, be in her wish to simply kill anything that tried to hinder her, or in a certain pride that was emanating from the fact she had enough wealth and power to pull some strings around. Everything was going round the clock in her mission, until something would change completely the situation, as the goon that drove the car shouted, as he quickly braked the vehicle:

"Shit! Look at that!"

Mothballs of flame began to emerge from the port, signaling the destruction below as explosion stormed the place, Emmet simply sighed, and imagined that others were a bit too precipitated in their struggle to fight against slavery, and could hinder her operation. Nonetheless, the flames seemed to have not engulfed the entire harbor, and as she noticed such fact, Emmet was quick to give a clear answer:

"Seems like they missed the big... continued on our way to the areas of the harbor that weren't struck. Fucking world's policemen, always meddling in businesses which aren't theirs. But no businesses have been seriously cramped, I believe. Our way is clear."

The vehicle continued to move through the downtrodden streets, and eventually the sights of still intact areas of the harbor were clear of the chaos that has struck elsewhere. And thus there was it. A hive of the worst dregs of mankind, where men traded misery, where the strongest oppressed the weak. A nearly unstoppable urge began to come at Emmet as she witnessed it, a will to kill everything around with no mercy or fear, to annihilate such scum. It was a dangerous urge, and she felt her hand involuntarily reaching for the rifle at her shoulder while she still was inside the moving car, approaching from the markets. When she saw the disgusting, pathetic freaks and losers who had no other way than to buy women, she nearly had a breakdown. A thought begin to form on her mind, a very radical one about the lasting solution to the slavery question:

We should just nuke this bottom of the gene pool

She contained herself again, and tried to keep her mood calm. It was a pity she did not have an armored division at her command, or some gunships, for if she had, she would waste no time to kill every slaver and thug of such place, to exterminate them like the rats and parasites they were. Her angered thoughts continued, even if completely hidden by her cold facade.

I will kill all of you one day! Monsters, you will all die, I will shoot straight into your groins for this!

But suddenly, her memory began to flutter, like if something deeply hidden into her mind was trying to go, something that could change everything, struggling to leave, to let her know, to show itself.

And thus it did, as a flashback came with no mercy against her.

´She was sneaking through a staircase, going down through it, ridden with fear as she held a pistol ahead of her, to face an enemy she was quite aware of. An enemy who sought to kill her, to annihilate what they saw as scum, and the scum was her. When she went to the intersection with another floor, everything became clearer. She could not avoid it. He was going to lead her to an horrible death, he was going to tell them where she was. To survive, her only choice was to kill him, a four years old boy, before he could alert the mob. An thus, a pop came, as a round flew quickly through the air, and straight through the head of the boy, as his corpse fell coldly over the floor, with some blood dripping from it. Its dead, blank eyes staring straight at her, and she felt like part of her was gone, like if her very humanity was decaying.

She simply ran away, with too much fear to look at what she had done. She tried to blame them, because they wanted to kill her only because she was married with a thug, without any evidence of anything she ever did of wrong. Not that they were wrong of doing so, for it was not the first time she killed someone, as the most infamous hitman of the Medellins, but it was the first time she killed a child, and fortunately the last, for her dormant sense of morals was deeply struck by it, despite the wicked fulfillment she felt whenever someone died by her hands. And perhaps an old sense of morals, betrayed by a past of hypocrisy and being forsaken, was reawakened."´

Suddenly the present returned to her, as one of the thugs she hired looked at her funnily, from the way she probably was while she was reliving part of a dark, forgotten past, which perhaps was better left behind:

"I think you need some vacations sis', you just went black all of a sudden and we tried to wake you up but you did not listen. We have arrived now."

"Yes, good." she replied back, trying to disguise the shock from the realization of what she did before, of something her mind has chosen to forget for a long time. However, the place wasn't very suitable for her to forget of such things due to its very nature. It seemed that, being in a hive of scum, the worst of her very self was attempting to return in the form of her past. Instead of fighting against it, Emmet allowed for it to benefit her at the moment.

She took her R1 rifle away from her back, and released its safety trigger. It was better to be prepared for the worse in a place like that, and she simply held it with her left arm, using a carrying handle. The thugs certainly found it as a good part for their payment, and ammunitions would not be hard to find in a place like that either. Emmet continued her way to the very depths of darkness, until she found a major trader... of human beings. Now it was a difficult moment, that required much coldness, and alertness. In the Plaza, she looked for one of the many sellers, and perhaps by a stroke of coincidence, has decided to head to the shop of Colonel Miles.

She greeted nobody, and with her rifle lowered, simply looked at the man who was at the front of the "shop", if that thing could be called one. Her amber eyes were very cold in their glare, and there seemed to be little to no emotion as she spoke:

"I am looking for women, with certain requirements I shall detail once I see what you have."

"Very good," Colonel Miles said smiling towards Emmet. A Radio began bursting news how Old Government Forces had lost a major battle to try and take Blackwell city and were now being pushed back to Gordon. Men in the TUB uniforms cheered and Miles face visibly brightened."Even better, you have just come at a perfect time, we are now having a sale of 10% off," he said taking a swig of a foul smelling liquid in a canteen as it passed around the group of guard.

"What type of women would interest you?" He said a bit tipsy. It was mid afternoon and business was booming. He would have to get another shipment soon or he would soon run out of his usual variety."We have a wide range of choices, blacks, whites, mulattos, big, small, short and tall. Old or young, etc." he said. He was a muscular man who had probably been in combat quite a few times by the looks of it with quite a few battle scars, he walked with a limp and that was probably why he wasn't on the frontlines.
-------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, I completely understand. Our line of work is a dangerous one. I should let you know right now, I am armed in case some do-gooder shows up. How much for the nuke, and how many can you get? And how much for the Anthrax?".

"Well I had to go through a lot of trouble to get a hold of this baby. I lost 30 men during a raid on a convoy, but I can probably get maybe two more depending on how much your willing to pay for those. For this one I can sell it to you for 3 million and the other two for 4 million a piece plus $300,000 per man I lose. The antharax, well I was personally there when we raided the NAPBW(National Armory for the Protection of Biological Weapons), I can sell you it for $600,000 a vial of Grade A.(a vial is about 11 oz of it) Its pure grade antharax and its probably the best you will ever see, then I can offer you $400,000 a vial of Grade B, which is still good stuff but its mixed with powders and stuff to increase its weight, and $300,00 for Grade C."

OoC: May I do some thing where I will buy a slave for some sort of media spectacular, and we roll from there?


(You can buy a slave but once its outside my country it really won't do much.)

OoC: I just needed to get... popular support against slavery.

His name was Tom Tucker (http://cache.idolator.com/assets/resources/2007/04/riversss.jpg) from Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. He was a slender, brown haired man in his early thirties, a career journalist with NBC. His alias, however, was Paul Smith, also from Harper’s Ferry. Of course, name and location did not matter in this. No one would care that he was a New Englander. It all just blended in well with all of the people his age, some a little younger, a couple a lot older, all looking for one thing.

Everyone arriving to Blackwell in this old DC-10 were the same thing, perverts. Either that or they were teenagers trying to get high. Or do a bit of both. Tucker, looking a bit like Indiana Jones with his brown leather flight jacket and a khaki shirt and trousers, held his North Face messenger bag in his hands. Once again, nothing was really descript. There was no press badge. He did have identification, but it was not needed. He had a camcorder with him. It was nothing spectacular though, just one you could buy for a couple hundred dollars in a department store. Besides, people did like to make some… records… of their activities. He had seventy pale blue twenty Euro notes, all new, unmarked, and freshly wrapped. Euros, of course, were global currency. They were accepted everywhere, which was why the studio gave the Thomas the money.

His mission was to simply do two things, one, show how easy it is to purchase a slave presumably for sex, and two, show the horrible conditions that these slaves were living in, and possibly gather international condemnation of these acts.

A cheap hotel room was rented. There were agents of the Department of State there. The woman would be processed and be given residency in New England.

Of course, Paul Smith, getting out of the airplane, just had to find a slave trading place first.

As he walked out of Blackwell airport gunfire began to spray at the visitors. Some of the people Tucker had probably sat next to turned into a bloody mess. "Police" or rather mercenaries for hire shot back at the place where the men were shooting from starting a gun battle that lasted several seconds before gun fire from the other side finally stopped and the Mercs pulled 4 dead bodies all were women, presumably slaves who had gotten hold of M12 MAC(Military Attack Carbine) and G3s.

Finally Tucker was pretty much allowed into the country without a bag or word checked or said.

Sullivan, Gregory open the gates and let me in,

Lady McMasters, Tai and Sam followed the Colonel in and assessed the women within the 'back room' with knowledgeable eyes. They were indeed much higher quality than those out in the court yard. Their eyes flicked to each other, but none of the three spoke aloud – ‘Goan hand sign was barely discernable by outsiders, and untranslatable by none but another ‘Goan . Once their brief silent confab was complete. She made an offer for all of the Colonel’s stock.

“Five and a half million for those outside and three thousand apiece for these.” Lady Mcmaster offered

OOC: That’s $1375 each for the 4,000 out side. Just tell me how many are in the back room…

(He has about 8000 slaves altogether in the outer market)

"We have probably 600 maybe 700, I expect a major shipment to arrive tomorrow if you would like to wait. Right out of a village just south of here, but for the 4000 outside you have a deal"

OOC: Sorry not quite following - earlier you said 4000 in the court yard, but never gave the number in the backroom. Now you say that he has about 8000 outside, so may be I am just misunderstanding - and is that between 600 and 700 in the inner area/ backroom? If he has 8000 all together ( inside and out ) how about 12 million for the lot?

Val looked at the other two with a slightly cocked eyebrow. Tiny movements of fingers, hands and subtle shifts of body posture as the trio discussed the matter. "We may be back tomorrow, we may not. But we prefer to stay aboard our own ships thank you."

One of the security detail, anonymous behind the seemingly opaque of his helmet's visor, sent an encrypted message to the waiting Thunderchild, and in seconds a second cadre accomanied a armed robotic (http://cache.gizmodo.com/archives/images/040628_robotProtection.jpg) that bore a large multipley secured chest. The gold bullion within was heavy but the specially made and equipped carrier moved easily on its adjustable tracks.

From out in international waters approached a quad of what appeared to be full sized cruiseships, comanied by more Thunderchild ultra fast partol vesselsn cans. More of the 'Goan fleet waited out in international waters.

(He has 4000 in the courtyard, 800 in the back and another 4000 in their cells in another part of the plaza.)

"Very good, will you be taking these by yourself or would you like me to send some guards with you"

This Colonel Miles was as pathetic as he could be. Drunk and tipsy, he seemed quite an easy target, if her mission at the moment was to actually take him down. Instead, Emmet was doing very well what she had to do, and nobody would even suspect from her. She had the peripheral view at the miserable, oppressed with no emotion, simply ignoring their presence to focus on her goal. And on her secondary objective nonetheless. Perhaps it could be an opportunity for revenge in the future, perhaps not, but even with the skepticism over those who did not choose death rather than a life of slavery, Emmet held high hopes that somehow, an opportunity could arise. Taking a look around, she focused her sight at Miles, and explained briefly:

"First I need a very specific type of woman. I want someone who is both pretty, but also very tough to handle, someone who still wasn't put in her place, who insists futilely in a rebellious attitude, if you get my meaning, and I want to see her personally, right at my face. Other than that, I would like nine thousand of your prettiest as well, regardless of skin color or anything, just the ones who are beautiful on their own, it doesn't matter if you have them immediately available or not, as I'll instruct you to where I need them delivered, if it becomes a deal."

Hopefully her estimations would be correct about how many were there, for otherwise she would have to return and make another "purchase". The information she needed was very crucial, but only a big deal would allow for it to come.

( President Kilo has nobody to blame but himself. In fact the civil war is directly related to presidents kilo's demand to release the slaves who turned to violence and ended up killing the government workers)
OOC: lol well he doesn't agree with that. But due to unforeseen events, he probably will not have ViZion get involved in the situation...
IC:
The seven-seater EC130 touched down at Emperor Joshua International Airport, Mr. Richard Maybach - president and CEO of Blackboard Specialty - opened the door and stepped out, flanked by two men in black suits.

OOC: Will there be any official welcoming party for those who arrive by aircraft, or do we just make our way to the markets. And, speaking of which, where ARE the slave markets in the towns?

Very good, will you be taking these by yourself or would you like me to send some guards with you"

The payment had been double timed over; twelve and a half million in gold bullion for all eight thousand eight hundred. And the cruise ships would be docking soon. Each could easily house four thousand passengers, which even with their onboard guard compliment would hold the new purchases with ease.

“No, our own guard forces will be here shortly. But while they are being loaded, whom might you recommend for luxury goods? Unique trinkets?” Tai broke her silence in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"Well I had to go through a lot of trouble to get a hold of this baby. I lost 30 men during a raid on a convoy, but I can probably get maybe two more depending on how much your willing to pay for those. For this one I can sell it to you for 3 million and the other two for 4 million a piece plus $300,000 per man I lose. The antharax, well I was personally there when we raided the NAPBW(National Armory for the Protection of Biological Weapons), I can sell you it for $600,000 a vial of Grade A.(a vial is about 11 oz of it) Its pure grade antharax and its probably the best you will ever see, then I can offer you $400,000 a vial of Grade B, which is still good stuff but its mixed with powders and stuff to increase its weight, and $300,00 for Grade C."

Jeffery said, "My employer likes simple math, so how about 3 million for this one, and 5 million each for the other 2, assuming you can get them. On the anthrax, how much can you get of Grade A? We're looking for a lot of it. Also, I could talk to my employer about purchasing the sarin, if the price and amount is right. The ASoGM government starts asking too many questions if my employer buys too many locally made CheyTac M200 Intervention and Barrett XM-500s at once, so I'll need a price and quantity available on those, as well".

"Ah, you want Cecilia then, she's been with us for almost a month and is a flight risk and quite dangerous. She's killed one of my men and we beat the shit out of her and then about a week ago she bit tony. Tony show her your fingers." One of the guards took off his glove. The tips of his index, middle, and ring finger were just stubs.

"Cecilia bit them right off," he said laughing a bit."Follow me," he said. After taking her to a nook in the wall there was a woman in a cage, she was extremely beautiful. Her face was an exquisite and her body beautiful and shapely."She's almost escaped 4 times and we planned to kill her today. CECILIA GET YOUR ROYAL ASS OVER HERE, THERES SOMEONE WHO WANTS YOUR KIND." He said.

"FUCK OFF MILES," she yelled back throwing a rock through the bars. "Tony, Spars get the shock poles. The two men dissappeared for a few minutes before coming back with two poles with sparks flying off."Cecilia be a nice bitch and get up before we have to make you," Miles said.

The men opened the cage and slowly walked up to her. As they got ready to shock her, she grabbed one of the shock rods and spun it around turning its voltage up and using it as a weapon. Miles got ready to shoot her and she grabbed both guards and through them against the bars. Now cecilia answered in her condescending voice,"Miles how stupid are you, I told you I was special forces. You can't beat me with two men."

"Jacob, Wilhelm, Garret, Evan get your ass over here, stop her," he said visibly getting pissed. As the men entered she threw the 2 guards who were unconscious at them and used the shock rods to electrocute the other two guards. Miles shot her with a stun gun just as she was about to impale the rod in a guards head.

She screamed for a while but still got the guard, luckily for him it was through the shoulder instead of through the back of the head. Miles shot her with a second stun gun before she finally collapsed. "She have enough kick for you," he said pissed as hell. He walked over to Cecilia and picked up the groaning woman and knocked her against the wall a few times before two more guards and what would classify as a medic showed up. The guards held her against the wall and tied her with chains and rope.

"As for the others, I am getting a large shipment tomorrow of almost 20,000 new slaves if you could wait until then I would love to do sell them to you."

As he walked out of Blackwell airport gunfire began to spray at the visitors. Some of the people Tucker had probably sat next to turned into a bloody mess. "Police" or rather mercenaries for hire shot back at the place where the men were shooting from starting a gun battle that lasted several seconds before gun fire from the other side finally stopped and the Mercs pulled 4 dead bodies all were women, presumably slaves who had gotten hold of M12 MAC(Military Attack Carbine) and G3s.

Finally Tucker was pretty much allowed into the country without a bag or word checked or said.

Mr. Tucker walked out of the airport somewhat shocked. After all, there was a bit of an attack in the airport and nothing really happened. These kind of actions, if they happened in New England, would have elicited a national outrage. He walked out of the airport, swung his bag across his chest, and hailed a cheap taxi to take him, "somewhere the ladies are". Tom gave the cabbie a fistful of Browns* and reclined, keeping his bag on his lap.

* Browns are the colloquial name for a five New England dollar bill, referencing the portrait of John Brown of Connecticut (1800-1877). Brown was a fervent abolitionist and led the movement to end slavery in New England.

OoC: Irony intended.

OOC: lol well he doesn't agree with that. But due to unforeseen events, he probably will not have ViZion get involved in the situation...
IC:
The seven-seater EC130 touched down at Emperor Joshua International Airport, Mr. Richard Maybach - president and CEO of Blackboard Specialty - opened the door and stepped out, flanked by two men in black suits.

OOC: Will there be any official welcoming party for those who arrive by aircraft, or do we just make our way to the markets. And, speaking of which, where ARE the slave markets in the towns?


(Not really, the only greeting party you'll get are the stone cold stares of death guard)

Two death guards walked up to the group,"You are interested in slaves or drugs," the leader said. He had seen enough business men to know they were only interested in slaves and drugs. Sometimes they wanted artifacts but other than that slaves and drugs.

Mr. Tucker walked out of the airport somewhat shocked. After all, there was a bit of an attack in the airport and nothing really happened. These kind of actions, if they happened in New England, would have elicited a national outrage. He walked out of the airport, swung his bag across his chest, and hailed a cheap taxi to take him, "somewhere the ladies are". Tom gave the cabbie a fistful of Browns* and reclined, keeping his bag on his lap.

* Browns are the colloquial name for a five New England dollar bill, referencing the portrait of John Brown of Connecticut (1800-1877). Brown was a fervent abolitionist and led the movement to end slavery in New England.

OoC: Irony intended.

"Heh bub, the ladies aren't slaves, your looking for Slavas(in ralkovian slavas means wife) not ladies, you say that to slave traders you'll get your ass kicked out or even shot in some cases." The man said. Making tourists lives miserable was fun.

Very good, will you be taking these by yourself or would you like me to send some guards with you"

The payment had been double timed over; twelve and a half million in gold bullion for all eight thousand eight hundred. And the cruise ships would be docking soon. Each could easily house four thousand passengers, which even with their onboard guard compliment would hold the new purchases with ease.

“No, our own guard forces will be here shortly. But while they are being loaded, whom might you recommend for luxury goods? Unique trinkets?” Tai broke her silence in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"I can recommend a small shop near the edge of this lane. It raided the ralkovian museum of national history...it has some pretty nice stuff"

Jeffery said, "My employer likes simple math, so how about 3 million for this one, and 5 million each for the other 2, assuming you can get them. On the anthrax, how much can you get of Grade A? We're looking for a lot of it. Also, I could talk to my employer about purchasing the sarin, if the price and amount is right. The ASoGM government starts asking too many questions if my employer buys too many locally made CheyTac M200 Intervention and Barrett XM-500s at once, so I'll need a price and quantity available on those, as well".

"AHH so you're looking for big business. Well I can get my supplier to give you a sweet deal. Theres an island in the east with a factory that makes those rifles. I can give you a location and call up my friend and you can work out a deal with him. Of course information costs money. As for the nukes you have yourself a deal. We can get about 400 pounds of Grade A. Sarin is about a million dollars a vial and I have about 20 pounds of the stuff."

( Did I forget anyone?)

You deserve freedom, Cecilia. And they deserve death, as they are both scum and stupid. Freedom is priceless, I just hope I won't have to hurt you until the time comes for truth to be told.

Emmet smiled enigmatically, but spoke no words, as she observed Cecilia. The woman was perfect for her secondary objective, and someone who never surrendered, who would rather face death than to live as a slave. Looking at the plight of the woman, she simply observed coldly everything, neither showing signs of disgust or delight, with a professionalism from someone used to seeing all sorts of savagery before. And she realized the bargain she had a chance to pull, as after all, they were going to kill her anyway. A waste of talent, of someone who should be at her side, giving her cover while she shot at such scumbags, but she did not wish to waste such talents, no matter how her behavior was cold and her intentions completely hidden, as she simply explained:

"I can't stay another day in this city. I can pay extra if you arrange for me to reach this shipment and make my purchases straight from it. As for Cecilia..."

Emmet observed the beaten up woman, chained next to her. She has endured too much in a world ridden with injustice and tyranny, and somehow... memories were struggling to come, yet she would rather to reject them, to leave them forever in oblivion, for the suffering of the past could not overshadow the actions of the present and hopes of the future. Yet, the flaming desire for revenge was lit, and no matter if they weren't the same scum who once led her to a misery she willfully forgot, Emmet still considered them as the same, and wished to pay them back as a whole. The goons simply stood there, observing everything professionally and looking out for potential traps. It was then that she continued what she had to say, while she opened her cylindrical bag.

"I would be very willing to conduct further business with this establishment if I could both purchase this shipment with antecedence and get her as a bonus. What about eleven million? A million now, which hopefully I will not have to go through the inconvenient of demanding to have back, as I hope you are capable of honoring your deals, and the rest once I have the shipment. Now... keep her tight please, I have something to say to her."

And thus Emmet approached the subdued woman, and coming to her left ear, she whispered with the tone of a snake slithering, impersonating too well the very scum she despised so much, in fact, it was so frighteningly well that Emmet could even be the actual deal regarding such scum, as a challenge she expected:

"Well, once you are out of here, you will become as docile as a little doggie. And you will do what I want of you, or whatever they have done to you will be nothing close to what I can. Play nice, on the other hand, and I'll think about giving you a nice chateau, luxuries you never dreamed of, even a private jet of your own perhaps, my beloved pet. It will be your choice, and yours only."

Hopefully, she would not be disappointed, for wealth was the most tempting way for people to give in their freedoms to. Some people were slaves to money, doing things they would never do because of it. Some would sell themselves, their voices and opinions to the highest bidder, slaves of capitalism, of the system, of the bourgeoisie, wage slaves, but nonetheless slaves. It was this the only way to know, and at the same moment she whispered, she prepared herself to dodge from a blow she could suffer if what she wished to could turn true. Her first million was in a briefcase in her bag, although she first had to stay clear from that woman with fire in her.

"AHH so you're looking for big business. Well I can get my supplier to give you a sweet deal. Theres an island in the east with a factory that makes those rifles. I can give you a location and call up my friend and you can work out a deal with him. Of course information costs money. As for the nukes you have yourself a deal. We can get about 400 pounds of Grade A. Sarin is about a million dollars a vial and I have about 20 pounds of the stuff."

"Let me call my employer, and find out what he wants to do. He's the one footing the bill, so he's got to be happy". Jeffery slowly and carefully pulled an encrypted satellite phone out of his jacket pocket, and called a number. He gave the person on the other end of the line the numbers the marketeer gave him, and listened to the response. After he hung up, he turned to the marketeer and said, "My employer isn't going to be able to buy the sarin or anthrax after all. He's worried about storage, due to the ASoGM breathing down his neck over his last auction. Also, he's offering $1 million for info on your supplier".

(Not really, the only greeting party you'll get are the stone cold stares of death guard)

Two death guards walked up to the group,"You are interested in slaves or drugs," the leader said. He had seen enough business men to know they were only interested in slaves and drugs. Sometimes they wanted artifacts but other than that slaves and drugs.
"The slaves. We produce our own drugs." Richard said blankly, a man who rarely ever shows emotion.

Richard Maybach was a man in his mid 40's. Dark brown hair and brown eyes topped off a face that looked much younger than has age, but one which looked to be made of stone with a square jaw and all. His 6'5 frame was draped by a white suit.

"you bitch, I'll beat the shit out of you and everyone of you fucking slavers," she said. The humongous men behind her began to struggle as she tried to kick emmet. She kneed one of the guards hard enough in the crotch to cause him to fall over, and used her chains the other guard grabbed her but he also soon fell as she slammed him against the wall. She then aimed at colonel miles who despite looking weak reacted fast and grabbed her by the face and through her down. After a minute of struggling she collapsed from lack of air.

He kicked one of his guards in the stomach."I told you to make sure she was tied UP!!!!!"
"Deal," he said quickly roping her hands and then knees, and then strapping it around her neck."This is an anaconda knot, the more she struggles the tighter the rope around her neck gets. If she begins to asphyxiate pull this rope here and it should loosen it a bit."

Even though he looked weak he reacted with amazing ability

"Let me call my employer, and find out what he wants to do. He's the one footing the bill, so he's got to be happy". Jeffery slowly and carefully pulled an encrypted satellite phone out of his jacket pocket, and called a number. He gave the person on the other end of the line the numbers the marketeer gave him, and listened to the response. After he hung up, he turned to the marketeer and said, "My employer isn't going to be able to buy the sarin or anthrax after all. He's worried about storage, due to the ASoGM breathing down his neck over his last auction. Also, he's offering $1 million for info on your supplier".

"Well you know that little island I told you about, I could convince my friend to hold all your shipments for no extra cost...he owes me big time. If your employer would like information I want to see the funds first"

"The slaves. We produce our own drugs." Richard said blankly, a man who rarely ever shows emotion.

Richard Maybach was a man in his mid 40's. Dark brown hair and brown eyes topped off a face that looked much younger than has age, but one which looked to be made of stone with a square jaw and all. His 6'5 frame was draped by a white suit.

The death guard smiled a bit but it was covered behind a black mask that showed no features."You'll see 3 signs when you reach the exit. One says F, another W, and the last has an H. Follow H path and a white bus will pick you up and drop you off at the slave plaza." The death guards said before turning around and patrolling the area.

Yes, you just did what you had to do. Without freedom, it is better to die than to live Cecilia. I hope you won't have to die.

Emmet quickly jumped out of the way of the slave, much before she could even reach for her, landing over the dirty ground with her jacket, but seemingly unharmed, as her bag flew together with her. She was completely oblivious as a very contrasting thing came out of her bag, something that opposed completely to the oppressive feeling of such place. A Rubik's Cube, a children toy, representing the joy and innocence of life, in a place without any joy or innocence. It landed softly on the ground, nearly already touching it as the bag was nearly touching the floor when it was dragged by her dodge. Decidedly, she was not someone unaware and easily caught by surprise, and as they tied the woman in a very, unpleasant way, she looked at the disgusting Colonel, who agreed, and then immediately took away a briefcase from her large bag. In fact, it was large enough to fit someone inside, which could be a fortunate coincidence. The bad news was the fact it was loaded with ammunitions and a pair of R1 Rifles.

She simply looked at the two goons she hired and explained, as she slung her rifle on her back and took both R1s from her bag, one with each of her hands, handling them to each of them:

"You can have your new rifles now bros, and some of the magazines as well. I will trust you to honor our deal."

Both thugs with her simply smiled as they began to play with such advanced guns, clearly satisfied with them, as they took eight magazines each from the bag, giving to it barely enough space for a woman to be put inside, albeit at a very uncomfortable position. It was then that Emmet handled the suitcase to Colonel Miles, and explained her proposition.

"I'd like to either be given the location of the stockpile to directly purchase from there, or be escorted to its location, whichever suits you better, I'll call my business partners and hired hands once I get there to take them. As for her... put her inside this bag please, it'll be safer for both her and me. It's large enough for her, even if... the magazines inside will bury into her skin a bit, but she won't be hurt, nor bleed or anything, it'll just be very unsettling, and somewhat painful for her, specially considering the "clothes" she is currently wearing. And could you set this tie in a way that makes it possible but difficult for her to breathe, right that one small move would asphyxiate her? She really needs some tough handling to be put in her place. And at last, I don't want to travel being called a bitch all the way to my next step in my round-the-world business trip, nor I want to get my fingers bitten, and she seems unlikely to snap her mouth shut by her own, if you get what I mean. Now, if I manage to get her extremely docile and obedient, would you be willing to buy her back as a discount for a future purchase, if I find for some reason her to be unsuitable for my, private interests?"

It was getting perfect, except for one thing. Emmet was feeling a certain empowerment, a certain pleasure from dominating the helpless woman next to her, from having her fate in her hands. She did not like to feel it in her rational thoughts, but her unconscious acted differently. It was like if, there was a darker, repressed psyche surfacing in a place optimal for it like this, or perhaps the utmost proof that power corrupts. Suddenly she let an authentic delight over the situation, and looked at her slave, even if for a matter of less than two hours, with contempt and pleasure from seeing her plight. What was a disguise at first, was slowly becoming part of her nature, although it could still be stopped, if her reason managed to suppress her most scummy emotions before they could take control of her. The next part of the secondary objective was soon to come, and perhaps the most difficult, for it would prove to be very challenging to hold a certain urge at bay.

As for the primary objective... she might have involuntarily given a start to it by letting that peculiar Rubik's Cube, strangely amidst a bag mostly filled with weapons, slip from her possessions. Only a pothead would ever think about making something like it, but it certainly had many utilities. It was unfortunate that a so valuable and expensive tool of the trade was missed by her as she prepared to head for businesses, but it was not as unfortunate that her mistake could already kill a slaver foolish enough to think it was a toy rather than a sort of bizarre grenade and boobytrap shaped like a Rubik's Cube, which weighed like one as well, to match a perfect disguise.

(OOC: Just in case you decide to have someone trying to solve the Rubik's Cube for some black humor: http://forums3.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13944673&postcount=26 )

"I can recommend a small shop near the edge of this lane. It raided the ralkovian museum of national history...it has some pretty nice stuff"

"Thank you Colonel" Tai replied in her whispery voice. With nods from the other two and a receipt of payment they left the second cadre there to oversee the safety of their purchases. If any one dared now try fun and games with what belonged to the More than Slightly Rabid Empire of Nuevo Nihongo, they'd find that no, 'Goans really did have no sense of humor.

Leaving the slave market behind the Ruling triad sauntered along taking in the sights with pitiless, observant eyes, heading for the shop that the Colonel had recommended.

They would pay gold there too, if the pretties from the national museum interested them. Their tastes were very eclectic...

"Well then heres the location, just tell them the keyword is BDOL Mile."

"I can recommend a small shop near the edge of this lane. It raided the ralkovian museum of national history...it has some pretty nice stuff"

"Thank you Colonel" Tai replied in her whispery voice. With nods from the other two and a receipt of payment they left the second cadre there to oversee the safety of their purchases. If any one dared now try fun and games with what belonged to the More than Slightly Rabid Empire of Nuevo Nihongo, they'd find that no, 'Goans really did have no sense of humor.

Leaving the slave market behind the Ruling triad sauntered along taking in the sights with pitiless, observant eyes, heading for the shop that the Colonel had recommended.

They would pay gold there too, if the pretties from the national museum interested them. Their tastes were very eclectic...

Not much to respond to

Emmet took the map from the hands of the Colonel, as he took the briefcase from her. The slave she personally "purchased", still struggling and unwilling to accept a fate of misery and slavery, was placed inside the bag, silenced and unable to further rant or speak, when the same was closed. She refused to pay much attention to her, in part to keep with an air of professionalism, and in part to avoid the helplessness of the woman to corrupt her. She felt a certain remorse from getting so far with the impersonation for the mission, but it was necessary. Nodding to the trader as she heard the password, she simply slung her rifle to her back, and looked at one of her goons, saying:

"Bro', help me to load this problem in the car trunk, while your pal will escort us. As as for our businesses, Colonel Miles, I will return for further deals sooner than you expect. For my deals are very active, and I am always in the need of many suppliers. Also, I suggest you to become a philosopher if you day you decide to retire from these businesses. You see, Plato was a philosopher, and he is now more remembered by the fact he was one than by the fact he owned dozens of slaves." she added to the trader, smiling wryly on what her suggestion meant, as she kept a thought hidden in her mind.

If there is an afterlife, you'll certainly have an eternity to be a philosopher in Hell!

And then she took one of the ends of the bag, and the hired gun came to take the other as they lifted the heavy bag, with the woman inside groaning, breathing harshly and agonizing, unaware that all was part of a questionable test to verify her resolve, as they took the steps to the car. The other one opened the trunk, and with little politeness, they threw the bag over it, as a muffled scream came from the bag. Emmet again let the strange, hidden nature surface, as she punched the bag right into the middle, and another muffled scream came from it. Waiting then exact fifteen seconds, she opened the bag again, and messed with the ropes as Cecilia's face was almost getting purple from asphyxia, and still, she recovered very slowly, breathing hardly only through her nose, as Emmet again said in a menacing tone:

"This is only a demonstration. If you don't obey me once we arrive at my home, you will suffer so much that you would rather to be in Hell than there. And I hope you will obey if you aren't stupid. Now, look at me! You are nothing! You can have been whatever you were, but you let yourself to end here from your own weakness. Now you face the consequences, and must accept your fate."

Emmet then carefully removed the multiple layers of cloth tucked inside the mouth of the writhing woman, and then putted one of her boots right next to her face, very close to her mouth stepping over a bunch of magazines. Then, humiliating the woman, she ordered:

"Clean my boot now or face the consequences, animal!"

She refused, proving that Emmet did not make a wrong choice, and instead, attempted to bite her boot. She immediately removed her leg from the trunk, and tightened the woman to asphyxiate her again, as a session of agony continued, this time augmented, as while she could not breathe, Emmet began to kick her back with violence, right at the limit that one could stand without having their bones broken. When she finished, looking at the exhausted and humiliated woman, and realizing what she was doing, she nonetheless allowed for such brutality to unleash, and putted her boot again, saying:

"Will you clean my boot now?"

The woman refused again, and Emmet realized that she has wasted enough time to let her cover perfected. It was unnecessary to insist, and thus she simply punched the face of the poor woman, feeling an increasing burden, and said:

You are lucky I'm out of time, but once we arrive at home, you will be groveling and pleading to me. Now have a nice trip and shut up!"

Emmet thus punched, rather than placed, the clothes inside Cecilia's mouth, tying it close with one last cloth as she quickly closed the bag again and sighed. A guilt, a burden and a regret were increasing significantly. She was getting too far perhaps, but any suspicion could spoil the operation, and thousands of freedoms were at stake. As scheduled, she went into the inside of the car, and headed towards the indicated place of the storage.

Twenty thousand individuals to be freed from tyranny and oppression, and hundreds to be sent to the fast and effective justice of a twelve gauge shell splatting their brains over the pavement. Now the time for the most dangerous moment of the operation was coming, and she was unsure on the thugs she hired. They seemed like honest people who were just doing what they had to do to survive, but once they realize what she was going to do, they could turn against her out of fear from the consequences of supporting her. She felt that telling them the truth was a problem, and then simply realized, that maybe dismissing them once they arrived at the place where the women she sought to set free were was the best idea, although risks would come from it, and she would have to defend herself alone, or maybe... she could have another back up, provided she would not take too personally what Emmet had to do to test her strength of will and impersonate scum.

(OOC: I'll be posting her arrival in the place in a separate post later)

"Heh bub, the ladies aren't slaves, your looking for Slavas(in ralkovian slavas means wife) not ladies, you say that to slave traders you'll get your ass kicked out or even shot in some cases." The man said. Making tourists lives miserable was fun.

"Oh, my bad, my bad. Well, can you take me to where the slavas are, then?"

(You might like this post)

Cecilia pulled out the tip of a shock rod she had, it was the blade portion and the electrics, the only thing missing was the actual rod portion that held the thing together. Taking the blade she worked her bonds enough to break the anaconda knot. Using the rope she began to implant the blade tip on each end.

The rope now became an implement to behead someone. Using what was left of the blade she and a handle she used the electricity to heat the blade and cut through the bag. Very slowly she came up from her case and put the rope on one of the thugs neck.
Luckily for Tom(I guess that will be his name) she had lost the blade portion on the rope and now was strangling him.

"Oh, my bad, my bad. Well, can you take me to where the slavas are, then?"

The man laughed,"See in this country you either have to adapt or die. Do you have a weapon?"

"I don't got a rifle or something... no one in the airport really cared about it, but I do have a 'knoife', if it matters. I do hear that y'all have quite a few... weapons 'sailors' so I might be able to pick up a piece for myself, if you know what I mean."

OoC: I adjusted the spelling of words to accurately reflect the man's accent.

He gave the man a 12-GaStr pistol,"This pistol is from an incident about a week ago, some idiot foreigner came here with a woman in the back, she killed them both with the weapon and now it came into my possession. I have an AK and a remington. You can have it."

OoC: Is GaStr a made up brand? Oh, and in New England, Virginia refers to the US state of West Virginia alone.

Tom grasped the pistol by the butt and flicked on the safety. He was from Virginia, so he did know a thing or two about guns, after all. He placed the gun by his side and left it there. He put his hand into his jacket pocket and grabbed, this time a much larger fistful, of Browns, and gave it to the man. The money was all warped and crumpled, because the crisp five dollar bills were twisted into a roll which was tied with a rubber band. By this time, however, the band was taken off and became crushed whenever Tom reached his hand into his pocket.
He said, "I insist.", to his driver.

(Yeah its a shotgun in pistol form)
"No its yours"

"Well you know that little island I told you about, I could convince my friend to hold all your shipments for no extra cost...he owes me big time. If your employer would like information I want to see the funds first"

Jeffery made a call on his encrypted satellite phone, then turned to the man and said, "An associate of mine is bringing the million for the information now, as bearer bonds. As to the Sarin and Anthrax, my employer won't go for that, because then he has to send for it before he auctions it off. Once you have the other 2 nukes, we'll give you the payment for all 3, totalling $13 million". Soon enough, a man came into the tent, nodded to Jeffrey, and handed him a briefcase. The man left, and Jeffrey turned to the marketeer, opened the case, and pulled out $1 million in bearer bonds. Jeffrey handed them to the marketeer and said, "Now, can you tell me the name of your supplier? I promise to give you the referral, and put in a good word. And you never gave me a price for the CheyTac and Barrett rifles you have in stock, as my employer wants to buy those as well".

OoC: Like a Lupara (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lupara)?

The man was speechless, his only response was,
"Uhm... thanks, man. Now... uhmm... now are the slavas around here?"

"Black Prince, weapon manufactures: Kyomi island, tell them Steven sent you, as well as the code 312" he said to jeffery.

OoC: Like a Lupara (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lupara)?

The man was speechless, his only response was,
"Uhm... thanks, man. Now... uhmm... now are the slavas around here?"


(Sort of its smaller but better and accurate)
"yep, just don't go into any alley corners, or huts with women who look happy to be slaves or you will soon find yourself in a cage"

As she saw the thug next to her face a rope of justice, and realizing how far from any presence they went, in the middle of a completely deserted road, Marie Nansen wondered fastly if giving money to such scum, who would do anything for money, was worth, or if they deserved to live, and soon her sense of duty stroke stronger than any disguise, as she took an object from her pocket, a silenced Glock 19 pistol, and before the driver could even ask, shot straight against his head, an act, that unlike many others she has done before, gave her no remorse, for it was one less of millions to be wiped off from the human race. And soon two less, as she simply observed the other thug, and said:

"Glad to see that for now, I don't have to pretend being a scumbag and an human filth like you..." spitting on the face of the dying thug, as Cecilia ended his life. Realizing the likely confusion of the young woman on what happened, and how she could have the same fate, Marie said, before Cecilia could run to get her:

"Sorry Cecilia, but I had to be convincing... please forgive me. And, if it really will calm you down, you can punch my face. I have gone too far, I confess... but I'll try to make it over for what I did... sorry again, but we don't have much time now. If you didn't tore them apart, there are some spare clothes at that bag... I have some work to do, and an opportunity for you to use your newly gained freedom for a greater cause, if you wish so."

The vehicle swerved into a ditch its engine dying. The vehicles engine would not turn back on and in a deserted road that wasn't a good thing especially with hundreds of slavers.

(Sort of its smaller but better and accurate)
"yep, just don't go into any alley corners, or huts with women who look happy to be slaves or you will soon find yourself in a cage"

"Huts, is this like in the wilderness or something?"

"No this is downtown blackhelm," the man said laughing as the vehicle came to a stop. Letting the man out he turned around and left leaving the man in the busy port city.

"Black Prince, weapon manufactures: Kyomi island, tell them Steven sent you, as well as the code 312" he said to jeffery.

Jeffrey made a call on his satellite phone and passed along what the marketeer said. Then Jeffrey turned to him and said, "And the rifles you have on hand? How much?".

"4000 of each, I'll them to you 2000 a pop, actually 1500 a pop since you've made my day"

"Look at what you've done idiot!" Cecilia shouted as the car was broke, and sighing, Marie got off the vehicle, and took both rifles from the hands of the now dead thugs, who, in their blank stares, seemed to have finally met justice. There was no excuse for what they have done, no forgiveness, no chance. And yet, Marie pondered, feeling like it was unfair from her to have done it, for she has strayed through the path of selfishness and brutality, and even then, given a second chance, while they didn't have such opportunity. Perhaps it was simply a question of survival, of she being more fit to survive, for she could no longer count how many situations her life was at risk, how many times she had to run from people seeking to kill here, and how many times she has overcome many odds and survived. Perhaps existence was just like that, and everything was simply decided on the roll of an invisible dice of randomness. If she hasn't chosen that target for example, Cecilia would die, but now, right in the middle of nowhere, amidst a nation rife with scum, Marie had only one way to secure her freedom, and looking at Cecilia, who seemed truly annoyed with her, she lowered her head, and felt a surging pain, augmented as her forehead crashed with the frame of the car, something she felt deserving of for what she has done.

Recovering fast from the punch, she left the car, and observed as Cecilia got herself clothed, using a similar set of clothes of her own. A black lined jacket, black pants and boots, with many places to keep ammunition and guns. And with no words, she quickly handed over a R1 rifle to Cecilia, who looking at her asked, likely confused from the entire commotion, and a little less desperate and sad than before, realizing a chance for freedom she was given by sheer luck:

"Who the hell are you? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I am Marie, a first name shared by millions across many nations of the world, and that's all I am going to say. As for what I am doing here, I am a defender of freedom. But now we must find cover, and stay alert. It's a pity I didn't bring an incendiary rocket, but we'll have to do with what we got. Take this rifle, and here are some grenades. I believe you already know how to use them, so if you see an opportunity to blow them sky high do it. And one more thing: we should try to hit them straight on the groin, because if that's not an enough of a deterrent for a thug trying to catch us, then we will castrate them once they get at melee. And sorry for this mess again... I just had a breakdown because... I was sick of pretending to be someone I wasn't. Lets stay quiet and alert, that place is not too far. Let me instruct my friends about its coordinates. There could be hundreds of thousands of slaves there, and we are going to get all of them to safety. And to put the heads of these scum over pikes and their entrails around them, because no mercy must be given. If every time they wake up, they know that an horrible death might be awaiting for them, if their numbers dwindle enough, this could be over."

"So, you are a sort of agent in an anti-slavery Op, and someone who really hates them, aren't you?" Cecilia asked.

"They are monsters, you have no idea how hard it was to contain my will to just shoot all of them right there!" Marie explained, trying to divert the attention of the woman from the question about who she worked for. Instead, she took a pocket computer from her pocket, and began to operate it, as suddenly she took it next to her ear and spoke:

"These are coordinates for major slaver outpost, also, I'll switch on my tracker. I can't safely continue on feet, I need a vehicle and I need it now!"

After some seconds, as she listened attentiously to what the man had to say, she was briefed on their idea, in a transmission using the latest means of signal reduction to minimize chances for it being traced and, benefited by breakthroughs of quantum physics, virtually unbreakable in its encryption:

"We can airdrop an AC with TBRs in your position, but you'll have to hold your ground until then. It'll take an hour and half for it to come. I hope you brought lots of ammo, because I am afraid you might need it."

The eight millimeters magazines were plenty, and Marie knew what had to be done. Looking at Cecilia, she quickly scanned the surroundings for a position of advantage, and seeing a small mound across the road, with a few rocks serving as a good cover she explained:

"Help me to bring this gear up there, and each of us shall cover half a circle of foes. We must keep ourselves prone whenever possible, and use grenades should we face suppressive fire. If we shoot at them first, we are game. Lets go!"

She run, crouched, towards the mound she has spotted, carrying the broken bag filled with ammunitions with her, and soon both climbed the small elevation, which allowed them to have a good view from everything around. Now, they would have to hold their ground, and Marie was quick to explain:

"One-shot, one-kill, do you understand? We don't have enough bullets to waste in automatic fire should hordes of scum come, and remember to try hitting that specific region of their bodies, and maybe they'll become too afraid to attempt getting at us... Once the transport comes, I hope you know how to drive well, because I'll have to control a missile launcher to roast these pigs. And if we fail... this is a cyanide pill. Better death than slavery, you just bite it and you'll be dead before they can even check you. I'd rather have a suitcase nuke for this, but I suppose it shall suffice. Don't worry, I can handle this scum, and we are going to succeed here."

Two individuals thus stood, to defend their ground against a potentially larger number of thugs, who on the other hand, could be disorganized, disunited, and who unless completely idiotic, would realize that, provided they brought enough deaths, the cost in lives from trying to enslave both of them would be greater than the cost they would ever have there. Specially when it also involved the loss of their manhoods.

(OOC: Can I assume full control of Cecilia in this RP?)

(Sure, but you'll get a reprieve soon, Old Government forces are here to save the day.)

Outside the city limits a battle raged, Cecilia and Maria could hear the drumming of artillery as it hit the ground. Even though it was far off screams of men could be heard. It seemed the radio broadcast lied about how the Old Government Forces had been repulsed.
10 minutes later the first signs of the battle could be seen and heard. TUB forces in huge masses were retreating, tanks, jeeps, columns of injured men all made their way to Blackwell, some men just simply fell to the side of the road dead from injury or disease.

These men, while warriors, were part of the national tub army and did not participate in slavery. They were fighting to protect TUB territory. Pretty soon the small road became an engorged vessel of retreat.

Columns of soldiers would ward off any thugs but if an airdrop was seen landing near here anti-aircraft guns would soon unleash hell.

"No this is downtown blackhelm," the man said laughing as the vehicle came to a stop. Letting the man out he turned around and left leaving the man in the busy port city.

Thomas, keeping his gun in his pocket and his bag on his arm, switched to safety but slightly visible, and his bag at his hip, walked down the street. He was looking for a place that would sell wives. He was confident, but not arrogant. Tom knew how these cities were, a bit, he went to Columbia University so he knew how the cities of the world were like. He walked on the sidewalk, looking for anything that looks rather obvious to be selling slaves.

"4000 of each, I'll them to you 2000 a pop, actually 1500 a pop since you've made my day"

Jeffrey again opened his briefcase, handed the marketeer $12,000,000 in bearer bonds, and made a phone call. Then he turned to the marketeer and said, "I've got some friends coming by to pick up the crates of weapons, once they secure a truck large enough to move them. When do you think you can secure the nukes?".

Meanwhile, some of the men from the sub left the boat, and began looking near the docks for a truck to hire or borrow.

(I'm amazed that all of your characters don't meet each other)
There were hundreds of "stores" down the line, one of them was painted a bright red and a young man beckoned thomas into it.
"We have slaves, exquisite slaves, exotic ones"

"It may take a month, we know of a FPAR shipment of 4 60 kiloton warheads in 2 weeks, I will gather up a party and we shall take it by force."

"It may take a month, we know of a FPAR shipment of 4 60 kiloton warheads in 2 weeks, I will gather up a party and we shall take it by force."

"A month is fine, and we'd be interested in all 4. I'll pay you now for this one, though", Jeffrey said as he opened his briefcase and pulled out $3 million more in bearer bonds.

OOC: Shall I just RP as my other men finding a truck?

(Sure)

"Its a good day to be me, I must thank you"

The death guard smiled a bit but it was covered behind a black mask that showed no features."You'll see 3 signs when you reach the exit. One says F, another W, and the last has an H. Follow H path and a white bus will pick you up and drop you off at the slave plaza." The death guards said before turning around and patrolling the area.
Without so much as a nod or 'Thank you', Richard and the two men made their way through the exit and down to where the white bus was waiting. Stepping on, "Slaves, correct?" he asks the driver.

(I'm amazed that all of your characters don't meet each other)
There were hundreds of "stores" down the line, one of them was painted a bright red and a young man beckoned thomas into it.
"We have slaves, exquisite slaves, exotic ones"

Thomas questioned the man,
"Slaves for work or slaves for... wives, for the lack of a better word."

The Iron Fist crew secured a large enough truck with the help of some cash, and soon arrived at the marketeer's establishment. One of them greeted Jeffrey and handed him another briefcase. Then the men began loading the crates of weapons into the truck. The nuke was saved for last, as that's the first thing they wanted in one of the vertical cargo containers of the Rubin Class sub. While the loading of the truck was going on, Jeffrey took the remaining bonds out of the first briefcase, placed them into the second one (OOC: The second one contains more bonds, as the first briefcase was near empty), and placed the now empty briefcase into the truck's cab. Once the loading was complete and the truck was on the way back to the sub, Jeffrey turned to the marketeer, gave him the satellite phone number, and said, "Please call me when you secure the other warheads. Also, my employer has other things for me to buy. Would you happen to also deal in fine art and historical artifacts, or know someone who does? My employer has a taste for such things".

Without so much as a nod or 'Thank you', Richard and the two men made their way through the exit and down to where the white bus was waiting. Stepping on, "Slaves, correct?" he asks the driver.

"No, White collar workers," the man said laughing to himself,"Yes this is to the slave market." He said closing the doors and driving towards the market area.

Thomas questioned the man,
"Slaves for work or slaves for... wives, for the lack of a better word."

"Wives, Whores, and Workers, whatever you need they can do. I have some beautiful Nihoppian Village women, they are very very pretty."

"Okay, that'll do."
Thomas reached into his jacket pocket and asked, "Mind if I smoke?"

As the minutes have passed, it was soon remembered that the slavers were not uncontested, as a extremely familiar sound came to Marie, the sound of artillery strikes, distant, as a battle was raged. From what she knew about the place, there were basically the old government, the united branches and a libertarian and socialistic organization of free slaves, that perhaps, could be taught on the true way of anarchism. As neither of them openly defended the cause of anarchism, the Confederacy has maintained its neutrality since the conflict has begun, ignoring the atrocities... at least publicly. Somehow, Marie pondered if she could convince the leadership of the freed slaves to align themselves with the cause of anarchism, but there was much yet to be done, and to start small was a good way to start.

It was no coincidence that the same individuals she despised as slavers, she also despised as fascist pigs, or perhaps both sides were pro-slavery, and thus deserving of defeat. However, her sympathies neither were lined with the old, reactionary government of that place, which like the Russia of the 1900s, seemed a melting pot, an opportunity they have blindly ignored in their war against the People's Republic of Spain, nor with the fascist scum. She imagined what could happen The Free Peoples Army emerged victorious, with its leadership either converted, or "forcefully and covertly" replaced to an anarchist leadership. The only problem however, was to find an anarchist in a place like such. Cecilia was quick to explain:

"Marie, the soldiers of the old government are forcing their retreat! If your friends are sending in help, it could mean trouble!"

"All right, just keep your head down, and stay quiet. I am going to warn them. We wait here until the heat settles down and the battle moves somewhere else. I hope they all die like the fascist and reactionary scum they are!" Marie explained, in a very lowered tone of voice, as she took again her portable computer and called in another quantum encrypted session through its low probability of intercept datalink. She was very quick to send a text message as simple as "cancel V. AD. Conflict zone... Cont monitoring of pos.", with the connection quickly being cut off, to reduce as much as possible the chances of an ELINT getting it. It would be a long exercise of discipline, and Marie somehow was glad for it:

"I am lucky I did it, imagine if we headed straight to the battlefield. I don't even want to think."

"But once they leave, we will be vulnerable again... and you certainly would be worth a karat gold in the slave market if they got you... ehm, I forgot about the pills, but I don't want to have to kill myself anyway." Cecilia explained, to which Marie was quick to say:

"I am not sure if you lived in a farm, but one of my friends liked to shoot cocks, if we shoot enough cocks, nobody is going to approach here... or maybe they'll send women. Then try to hit their spinals. They won't die, but they'll become paralytic and on wheelchairs for the rest of their lives. It's something they deserve, and a better punishment than death."

"Holy shit! I wanted to kill them too, but aren't you a bit... over the top with this? First you say about putting their heads on pikes and their entrails around them, now this? You scare me Marie, and I see your brutality against me wasn't a fake." Cecilia replied back, and Marie didn't find her considerations very friendly, although she found herself on the task of explaining it to her:

"Look, Cecilia. If you are nice with them, they'll just take your freedom away and the freedom of others. There is no crime more heinous than slavery, not even the murder of a child." where her forehead began to swell as she mentioned it, aware of what she has done once.

"Wait, are you a child killer? The way you behaved when you mentioned it, you seemed unsettled from speaking about it."

Marie sighed silently, and tried to observe, delighting on the misery of the fascist scum that retreated, seeing them die and thinking on curses, wishing for all of them to die before they could find safety, as a way to distract herself from the question, but the question was knocking over her, bothering her, and like if something want to come out of her throat, she only found solace about it by finally answering it:

"Cecilia. What matters is the present, and by extent, the future. Whatever I might or might not have done in the past of wrong is neither your business to mind about, nor relevant for what I am currently doing. I won't answer your question with anything more than to say you that once, circumstances, which shredded my innocence, led me to commit wrong and criminal acts, and that now I have returned to what I was before such circumstances came, except I am not as innocent as before. Now, you seem to be... military. Which side were you from?"

Cecilia saw no link anymore with those she fought with before. After all, rather than searching for her, than trying to get her back, they simply abandoned her to a fate of misery and suffering, and aware of this, Marie was again having a strange sensation, like if blocked memories were trying to come back to her, as she realized that once, she also has been abandoned somehow. There was still a gap in her memory to justify the fact that once she has been a criminal, and whatever it was, it certainly wasn't a good thing. Strangely enough, it has been a few weeks since she remembered of her dark past, and she always pondered why so many memories were forgotten by her, in a level that seemed unnatural. The answer of her newly acquainted friend was brief:

"Nevermind it. My loyalties now lie with nobody, and I have no wish to fight in this unfair conflict that only brought misery... and was the reason why I ended there. Now about you, I think you are a communist from the way you mentioned the reactionaries, aren't you?"

"Yes, in a way I am, but the word socialist is more appropriate for what I believe in." she replied, refusing to give in she was an anarchist as well, as there was only one civilization in the world able to support such scale of operations that stood for anarchism, the Confederacy, and even though no national symbols stood with her, or any sort of official log, and even though all messages of her pocket computer were instantly erased and she had to personally give the address and frequency for communications, stored only in her memory, it was still a too high risk to let her know more than it.

"Wait Marie, we better stay quiet now, the place is quite busy over there. Stay alert."

Marie nodded, and thus, they kept their rifles ready, watching the distant motions from their sights as they stood prone, hidden by rocks and terrain depressions, waiting patiently for the area to become clear enough again... for how much time it would be necessary to wait. For their clothes would mean trouble if they just went there and attempted to contact with the old government forces, which were somewhat less repugnant than the fascists of The United Branches.

(OOC: I might participate in your "Shattering Point" RP in the near future)

The cruise ships docked, and an agent found the port master and paid him a handsome fee for his good work in allowing all four ships to dock side by side. While that bit of back scratching was being taken care of, the guard compliment was disembarking with trained briskness, and heading to the location of the new merchandise.

Efficiently they secured the slaves into coffles and marched them briskly back to the ships. They were sorted by age, all of those less than twenty being placed on certain decks. All were placed two or four to a room and each room had their own facilities. On each bed were fresh jumpers, towels, and bathing necessities. The matrons – there were two per each ten cabins -advised the women that their old clothes would be disposed of and that they were to shower and dress themselves in the uniforms laid out. No one raised their voice to the slaves, or lifted their hands to them – though they did not allow any weeping and wailing to affect them, or slow the efficient stowing of the women down.

The Trio strolled along noting locations of interest, but eventually reached the recommended store and entered. They didn't immediately seek out a sales associate but wandered through the store taking in its stock. Furniture, rugs, silver service pieces, and jewelry were among what they hoped to find. Paintings and other art less so.

The Iron Fist crew secured a large enough truck with the help of some cash, and soon arrived at the marketeer's establishment. One of them greeted Jeffrey and handed him another briefcase. Then the men began loading the crates of weapons into the truck. The nuke was saved for last, as that's the first thing they wanted in one of the vertical cargo containers of the Rubin Class sub. While the loading of the truck was going on, Jeffrey took the remaining bonds out of the first briefcase, placed them into the second one (OOC: The second one contains more bonds, as the first briefcase was near empty), and placed the now empty briefcase into the truck's cab. Once the loading was complete and the truck was on the way back to the sub, Jeffrey turned to the marketeer, gave him the satellite phone number, and said, "Please call me when you secure the other warheads. Also, my employer has other things for me to buy. Would you happen to also deal in fine art and historical artifacts, or know someone who does? My employer has a taste for such things".

There is a place a little north of here, it gets its things from an old Museum. They have jewellry, ivory, etc.," the man said counting the money. He was a little overjoyed at the moment.

"Okay, that'll do."
Thomas reached into his jacket pocket and asked, "Mind if I smoke?"

"Sure go ahead, half this entire city is up in smoke anyway," he said laughing.

He pulled out a cigarette, a mentholated one, put it up to his mouth and, with one of those Zippo lighters, lit it. He then asked, "So, mind if I see your... selection?"

There is a place a little north of here, it gets its things from an old Museum. They have jewellry, ivory, etc.," the man said counting the money. He was a little overjoyed at the moment.

Jeffrey said, "Then I'll be off. It was a pleasure doing business with you, and I look forward to the completion of our pending business". With that, he left, and headed north, to the shop that the weapons marketeer told him of. He kept his briefcase locked and close to him, and was hoping he wouldn't need the Magpul FMG-9 and loaded 33 round magazines hiding under his jacket.

The truck arrived at the docks where the sub was tied up, and loading of the nuke and crates of rifles began. It wasn't long until the 4 cruise ships arrived, and began their business. The sub captain was watching the loading, and noted with disgust that the cruise ships were transporting slaves. He spit in their general direction, and said to his XO, "Ain't nothing worse in this world than a slaver. If I was still in the ASoGM navy and came across those ships, I'd make sure the crews were executed". The XO replied with, "Sir, we smuggle weapons, stolen goods, and God knows what else for a criminal organization. Are we really that different than those guys?". The captain said, "That's why you aren't a captain yet. Weapons and stolen goods are inanimate objects. Slavers treat people like we treat inanimate objects, buying, selling, abusing them, destroying them. It's nowhere near the same".

-Snip-
(OOC: I might participate in your "Shattering Point" RP in the near future)

(Cool, I would like that)

Pretty soon the tat-tat-tat of machine guns could be heard. The pace of the TUB retreat immediately quickened as people capable of running did. At last the TUB retreating line came to a finish. Only to be replaced by old goverment forces.

They were death guard, probably the only semblance of order in the region. TUB soldier to wounded to walk tried to crawl or play dead. The death guard quickly hung them from ropes and dragged them from behind vehicles.

"Xrea Dhea ndeua frwes equi," one of the death guard grunted as they headed toward where Maria and Cecilia were hiding. Behind him 4 APCS and a Main Battle Tank came to a halt as more men came to the edge of the road.

The death guard began digging into the side of the roads to create slits."YIK AR Artu ergo FEA," said the commander who looked to be in charge. He pointed to the city."ICK BEIN ICK BEIN," he said louder. The death guard had no facial expressions, there skull like masks only allowing room for their eyes which constantly scanned the battlefield.

From behind the 2 women, 8 death guard in a large patrol party came across them. They looked at them for a minute as they examined their uniforms which were not TUB uniforms, they then ran the faces in a data base of known TUB troops and after being satisfied they simply continued on there patrol.

The cruise ships docked, and an agent found the port master and paid him a handsome fee for his good work in allowing all four ships to dock side by side. While that bit of back scratching was being taken care of, the guard compliment was disembarking with trained briskness, and heading to the location of the new merchandise.

Efficiently they secured the slaves into coffles and marched them briskly back to the ships. They were sorted by age, all of those less than twenty being placed on certain decks. All were placed two or four to a room and each room had their own facilities. On each bed were fresh jumpers, towels, and bathing necessities. The matrons – there were two per each ten cabins -advised the women that their old clothes would be disposed of and that they were to shower and dress themselves in the uniforms laid out. No one raised their voice to the slaves, or lifted their hands to them – though they did not allow any weeping and wailing to affect them, or slow the efficient stowing of the women down.

The Trio strolled along noting locations of interest, but eventually reached the recommended store and entered. They didn't immediately seek out a sales associate but wandered through the store taking in its stock. Furniture, rugs, silver service pieces, and jewelry were among what they hoped to find. Paintings and other art less so.


One of the salemen popped up, he was quite energetic and greeted them,"Hello, Mam you know what would look beautiful on you? This," he said holding up a hair clip embedded with gems,"I found this baby in what was left of the royal palace at Emperor City. It probably belonged to some Empress long ago but it would look beautiful in your hair.

How about an ivory throne, another piece I found at the palace. Made of real 100% Ivory."

He pulled out a cigarette, a mentholated one, put it up to his mouth and, with one of those Zippo lighters, lit it. He then asked, "So, mind if I see your... selection?"

"Sure and if you really like one I'll even let you try the merchandise," he said opening up a chained door. Women in the back sat on the floor, some crying and some just sitting without emotion. Most were quite beautiful others would have been beautiful if not for the scars and burns.

Jeffrey watched as a trio of people entered the shop, and followed them in. As he was entering, he heard the words, "...real 100% Ivory".

OoC: Do they have clothes on?

Thomas laughed a bit. Although it was a bit sad for him to do so, the word choice was a bit ironic. He replied back,
"I did not know that was... possible. Besides, I rented a room for that all. It's better, in a bit safer location, and... it has a bit better ambiance, if you know what I mean.
Oh, are all of these women from the war?"

"This fine leather and gold chair over here belonged to the King of Raxanastan. A Ralkovian Conqueror took his kingdom by force and the chair was presented to the Emperor along with the King of Raxanastans head. For only 1 million dollars you can own this chair. Its the only one in the world."

"No, White collar workers," the man said laughing to himself,"Yes this is to the slave market." He said closing the doors and driving towards the market area.
Richard looked at the man, "Hmph..." he responded, not even giving a smile, then taking a seat. No one knew the last time he laughed, and the only time anyone saw him smile was at the expense of others lives or when he'd see large profits being raked in. "How long, I'm on a time schedule." he said from a couple seats back on the driver on the passenger side.

OoC: Do they have clothes on?

Thomas laughed a bit. Although it was a bit sad for him to do so, the word choice was a bit ironic. He replied back,
"I did not know that was... possible. Besides, I rented a room for that all. It's better, in a bit safer location, and... it has a bit better ambiance, if you know what I mean.
Oh, are all of these women from the war?"

(Most have no clothes)
"Well many are from the villages surrounding us. Families are forced into the city to take refuge from the bombs and they often come with nothing, they fall into debt pretty quickly and they give away there daughters, wives, and anything they own to try and pay it back. Its sad to see really but it sure makes a pretty penny in the market.

So what were you thinking of: I have 15 year olds all the way to 40 year olds"

Richard looked at the man, "Hmph..." he responded, not even giving a smile, then taking a seat. No one knew the last time he laughed, and the only time anyone saw him smile was at the expense of others lives or when he'd see large profits being raked in. "How long, I'm on a time schedule." he said from a couple seats back on the driver on the passenger side.

"Well mr. big shot unless you would like to buy me a new bus that have nitro in them, it takes about 10 minutes to get into the city and another 3 minutes to get into the slave markets."

"This fine leather and gold chair over here belonged to the King of Raxanastan. A Ralkovian Conqueror took his kingdom by force and the chair was presented to the Emperor along with the King of Raxanastans head. For only 1 million dollars you can own this chair. Its the only one in the world."

Jeffrey inspected the chair and said, "I'm interested. Mind if I give it a test ride before I commit to it?".

OOC: Is it solid gold?

"Go ahead, the chair also has a rudimentary form of back rub. You can pull those strings and they move roller pins back and forth. It was good to be king back then," he said laughing.

The skeletal, sinister figures that were advancing were enough to put much fear into the hearts of both, as each of them faced one direction, they were aware of everything surrounding them. As the massive forces of the old government came through, both stood into the utmost silence, observing the forces that were everywhere around them. Marie simply realized, seeing the armors of them, that to engage into hostile actions would be foolish and suicidal, and it was best to first hide, and second attempt to place themselves as desperate civilians in a war torn country which were not taking sides, but only attempting to survive. Cecilia was about to tremble as eight of those skeletal figures, infamous for their abilities and ruthlessness, began to stare straight at them, as they spotted them. Touching Marie's back with her boot, she was immediately given the same gesture as Marie continued to watch her field of view, and Cecilia, simply stood there, cowered, but ready to, if necessary for their lives shoot. They were simply staring at them, taking no action, like if awaiting a decisive order from a superior. Facing them directly Cecilia's heart was pounding fast, as she concentrated all her attention over them, to at least, if the worse came, die taking one of them down with her, for she realized that their death was nigh at such moment, for nobody could have any chance against such numbers. Each second was a second of worry, as her eyes watched back the death guards, and she spoke no word, nor did threaten to fire against them, keeping her gun pointed close, but not aimed against them. She was nearly having a breakdown from the thirty seconds that have taken, as nothing yet happened, and pondered on all that went on. Who were that strange, and ruthless woman who rescued her in such way? An answer she would die without knowing now, unless their delay meant they simply had nothing to care about them.

And, when they finally turned around and left, a heavy burden was lifted as Cecilia whispered to Marie, with both still keeping a close look on everything around. It seemed that their time has not come yet, but there was more, and likely many more hours to wait. Marie was feeling herself sore, although she was used to situations like this. Patience was a good thing to have, because it was the most needed virtue in the art of combat and of operations, for sometimes it was necessary to wait hours for the right time to continue.

"Marie, thank God the death guards did not come against us! If they came, we would have no chance but to surrender. Fortunately their war is against The United Branches, not against us. And fortunately, I did not serve them before ending like I did."

"So you were with the old government, I presume?" Marie asked"

"Yes, I fought for them, but when I needed them the most, they left me behind, because, I am, like they say, expendable."

"I know what you mean, I really know..." Marie stopped saying as she gasped, and suddenly the present waned, as the past struggled to go through her. To reveal itself for her. The final link of truth that had to come. A bursting revelation that would forever change her mind and beliefs

´´It was... twelve years ago...I was just Agent Maria...Operation... Operation Artemis...I'll still kill them for it one day! Isabel! Experiment... you... you have brainwashed me sons of a bitch!´, her memories flashed through, in the form of thoughts rather than direct images, as she finally remembered, what they have done to her, and how they have used her for their goals, manipulating the very sanctity of her mind while they supposedly stood for freedom.

´They left me alone, they abandoned me... they betrayed me, I was just a pawn, for their "cause of freedom", the bullshit they used to stand for their own selfish interests. They are no anarchists... they are just scum, pure and simply, which instead of exploiting themselves exploit the rest of the world with their secretly smuggled drugs, tools of war... they twisted an ideology for their ends instead of assuming their true nature. They arrogantly see themselves superior to all other peoples of Earth and yet dare to claim being anarchists!´, her mind spoke with nothing coming from her mouth as she remembered as precisely as she could at such exact moment, with the surrounding danger no longer being the focus of her attention. She was sent to infiltrate the Medellin family when she was a young, innocent, idealistic and quite lascivious Spy of the Blackguards Special Forces before, and they were like a family to her, they were everything she had, because her parents were killed during the Second Spanish Civil War before the foundation of Third Spanish States, and thus could not watch as, after much personal struggle, she was awarded as the champion of the 2016 European Teen Acrobatic Gymnastics tournament, when she had only 12 years of age and became orphaned... 3 years before she was both recruited and raised by the Blackguards to begin her training since youth after she was caught stealing a mutualist credit card from a man, as poverty still existed in the early stages of Third Spanish States development. She trusted them deeply as they trusted her, she lived with them for 7 years, until everything changed as her cover was broken after she already had 4 years of field experience and was 22 years old.

She could remember the thugs pointing guns against her head, the other infiltrated agents selfishly abandoning her to her fate like rats jumping from a sinking ship and not caring at all of organizing a rescue mission for her, she was just an expendable pawn for them... she still also could remember the brutal interrogations and torture methods the Medellins did against her from which she still had scars she carefully hid at her back and belly. The incomparable despair from being locked in a hot dark and dank room with nothing to eat or drink for almost 3 days. It was a shock treatment of the worst of reality that shaped her nature and values, to only be restored again through unethical mind control techniques... but now, everything was clearer.

They have stolen her life, conditioned her as a puppet... creating a false persona over her true self. A new sensation began to reach her, of an incalculable wish for revenge that suddenly swept over her entirety. It was not an urge to return to criminal life, but something else, an wish to expose their conspiracy once she returned, to let the people know of the puppeteers, of the secret government behind a facade of anarchy. It was time for their crimes to be exposed. But first, she had to get the hell out of there.

"Marie, is everything all right" Cecilia whispered as she noticed Marie was much more detached from reality than before. Marie simply nodded, and resumed her watching, letting her thoughts come. There was one person she wanted dead for all she has done against her. A woman named Selene, officially dead, such was the guise of the organization she worked for. But to reach her, much would be needed, and perhaps, she would have to keep her true intentions hidden for a long time.

Every hour waited, a sense of hatred against all that was truly behind the civilization she has risked herself and suffered so much, in untold and agonizing ways for, was building up, burning like the flames fed by an waterfall of kerosene, inciting her to a wish to lead their mission to failure on purpose. But still, she pitied the victims of such misery, for in part she has changed from the past self. Realizing that to let Ralkovia fall under an anarchist revolution would be to let a secret order controlling it, Marie simply decided to never help them in such endeavor.

Of course, none of these facts removed the need of them getting out, but for now, they had to wait for the coast to become clear... for as much time as it would be necessary. Their bodies were already giving them the situation of their needs, as soreness slowly took them, and it was fortunate they were not in the middle of a desert.

(OOC: Each of them is covering a field of 180 degrees and faced at opposite sides.)

"Go ahead, the chair also has a rudimentary form of back rub. You can pull those strings and they move roller pins back and forth. It was good to be king back then," he said laughing.

Jeffrey gingerly sat in the chair, and found that the chair was very comfortable. He briefly tested the back rub feature, and found it to be pleasing. He stood back up and said, "I'll take it. May I add all my purchases together before payment, or do you want payment for each item individually?".

Jeffrey gingerly sat in the chair, and found that the chair was very comfortable. He briefly tested the back rub feature, and found it to be pleasing. He stood back up and said, "I'll take it. May I add all my purchases together before payment, or do you want payment for each item individually?".

"You can buy it altogether. Its less of a hassle for me."

"Well, at least they're not dead.

I'll be honest. I don't like them that young. How about anywhere from the early to the mid twenties."

The nearest of the protective detail that accompanied the Ruling Triad frowned at the stranger who followed them into the store, and raked him with a threatening glance but did nothing else ...for the moment. He'd - well all of them - would keep a portion of their awareness on him.

How about an ivory throne, another piece I found at the palace. Made of real 100% Ivory."

Sam tilted his head slightly as he perused the chair, moving slolwy around it to view it carefully from all angles.

Meanwhile Lady McMasters looked over the jewled hair cip with an expert eye. She was very knowledgeable about such and nodded approvingly.

"Ho you have the matching jewelry set to this piece?" She asked when the sales man stopped touting the ivory and leather chair to the man who had followed them in.

Sam looked over at the leather and gold chair and shook his head - historical as the piece might have been, it was not worth a million, even if it was unique...Though he might pay a quarter of a million for the solid ivory piece he was inspecting.

-SNIP-


4 Huge war machines came rolling by. Upon them artillery and turrets rotated, they were siege machines, massive tanks that could take down entire armies. Finally the death guard lines came to an end as human supporters of the old government finally came straggling behind.

Some of them cheered as if excited, they were of course young kids. Tanks and all other instruments of war rolled on by before the 2 women were met with the peace and tranquility only known before the storm hit.

The nearest of the protective detail that accompanied the Ruling Triad frowned at the stranger who followed them into the store, and raked him with a threatening glance but did nothing else ...for the moment. He'd - well all of them - would keep a portion of their awareness on him.

How about an ivory throne, another piece I found at the palace. Made of real 100% Ivory."

Sam tilted his head slightly as he perused the chair, moving slolwy around it to view it carefully from all angles.

Meanwhile Lady McMasters looked over the jewled hair cip with an expert eye. She was very knowledgeable about such and nodded approvingly.

"Ho you have the matching jewelry set to this piece?" She asked when the sales man stopped touting the ivory and leather chair to the man who had followed them in.

Sam looked over at the leather and gold chair and shook his head - historical as the piece might have been, it was not worth a million, even if it was unique...Though he might pay a quarter of a million for the solid ivory piece he was inspecting.

"Yes, I believe I have a matching set, I even have a ring made of what I believe to be a carat of necklogen," he said. Necklogen had only been found in a few places on Earth. All in Ralkovia and each mine could only find about a pound of the stuff a year. The real stuff was extremely rare.
-----------------------

"You can buy it altogether. Its less of a hassle for me."

"Excellent", Jeffrey said as he began looking around at the other wares. He realized he ruffled the feathers of the trio of shoppers, and smiled despite himself. When his eyes fell on the ivory throne, he asked, "What is the value of this piece?".

"Well, at least they're not dead.

I'll be honest. I don't like them that young. How about anywhere from the early to the mid twenties."

"Well dead slaves do no good to me, unless customers are interested in the whole necrophilia thing.....let me show you my wares," he said. Six women all between the ages of 23 and 30 looked at the new man. Rhoana was one of the women, she had a bit of a caramelish skin color but had long brown hair and green eyes.

Sarah was extremely beautiful, white with long blonde hair and big blue eyes.

"Well, at least they're not dead.

I'll be honest. I don't like them that young. How about anywhere from the early to the mid twenties."

OoC: .....

"Well mr. big shot unless you would like to buy me a new bus that have nitro in them, it takes about 10 minutes to get into the city and another 3 minutes to get into the slave markets."
"Or maybe I should just buy you so you can keep your mouth shut when you should." Richard said.

The two guards sat the seat ahead of him, one of them keeping their eyes fixed on the driver while the other continually scanned the surroundings in and outside of the bus.

Richard just looked around, barely giving the driver even a glance as he spoke.

"Excellent", Jeffrey said as he began looking around at the other wares. He realized he ruffled the feathers of the trio of shoppers, and smiled despite himself. When his eyes fell on the ivory throne, he asked, "What is the value of this piece?".

"For you my friend, $500K, plus I give you a discount with the Raxanastan throne"

"Or maybe I should just buy you so you can keep your mouth shut when you should." Richard said.

The two guards sat the seat ahead of him, one of them keeping their eyes fixed on the driver while the other continually scanned the surroundings in and outside of the bus.

Richard just looked around, barely giving the driver even a glance as he spoke.

"Ouch pretty snobby, you act like that in the slave markets and some punk ass kids going to fuck you up. Damn this city really turned into a shit stain, I used to be a Haufman award winning chemical engineer and now that the university was burned and the books taken...well thats why I am driving a bus now, oh well"

"For you my friend, $500K, plus I give you a discount with the Raxanastan throne"

Jeffrey debated whether he should once again purchase an item without giving the trio a chance. His employer would appreciate the ivory throne as well, so he decided to go for it. With a smile he said, "Add it to my total, sir". He then continued looking around.

OOC: I've got to get up for work in almost 6 hours, so this is probably my last post for the night.

(Yeah, I should get off since I have 3 tests and quizzes tomorrow, I'm just going to play the sick card though and get a 4 day weekend hopefully.)

OoC: Me?

(What?)

"Ouch pretty snobby, you act like that in the slave markets and some punk ass kids going to fuck you up. Damn this city really turned into a shit stain, I used to be a Haufman award winning chemical engineer and now that the university was burned and the books taken...well thats why I am driving a bus now, oh well"
"Award winning chemical engineer, hmm?" Richard perked up, "How long have you been in that field?"

Jeffrey knew he would be needing the truck as much for these purchases as for his last purchases. He called the sub on his encrypted satellite phone, and soon some crew members were on their way with their rented truck.

(What?)

OoC: I didn't get a response.

Sam, Val and Tai just smiled blandly at Jeffery, half a million for the ivory throne? Well he apparently had too much money for his own good, and no real eye for what something was worth. If he wanted to be fleeced that was his look out. They weren't interested in throwing money away, but continued looking around the shop.

They would make an offer in the jeweled hair clip and others of the jewelery set, but the necklogen ring was of little interest to them. Precious gems were of more interest than rare metals.

In the end they were merely whiling time away while their earlier purchases were loaded into the cruise ships. Once that was secured and in interantional waters the Ruling Trio would be done for the day.

Though if any one had blood stock - purebred - horses, cattle, dogs, and cats -for sale those they'd be highly interested in, and pay better for than they had for slaves. Rare breeds in danger of becoming extinct were always of interest.

"Award winning chemical engineer, hmm?" Richard perked up, "How long have you been in that field?"

"About 23 years, then everything went up in smoke with the university"

Sam, Val and Tai just smiled blandly at Jeffery, half a million for the ivory throne? Well he apparently had too much money for his own good, and no real eye for what something was worth. If he wanted to be fleeced that was his look out. They weren't interested in throwing money away, but continued looking around the shop.

They would make an offer in the jeweled hair clip and others of the jewelery set, but the necklogen ring was of little interest to them. Precious gems were of more interest than rare metals.

In the end they were merely whiling time away while their earlier purchases were loaded into the cruise ships. Once that was secured and in interantional waters the Ruling Trio would be done for the day.

Though if any one had blood stock - purebred - horses, cattle, dogs, and cats -for sale those they'd be highly interested in, and pay better for than they had for slaves. Rare breeds in danger of becoming extinct were always of interest.
(Not much to respond to, your in the black markets)

Jeffrey looked around the shop more, looking for more art or historical artifacts, that Iron Fist's leader would like for himself or for later auction. It would have to be a special or unique item though, as Iron Fist's leader had unique style.

A yacht entered the harbors of Blackwell, the crew was full of men with assault rifles wearing phantom masks. The entrepreneur took off his mask and placed his rifle on top of a cargo box. When the ship docked at the harbor, 2 men replaced their weapons with tasers, small yet sharp knifes, and small concealed handguns.

The trio walked out of the boat and went around the harbor looking around for a few good deals in weapons and a few luxuries for the upcoming plan. "Ah, the bliss of the breakdown of society. Maybe we'll be able to exploit this war-torn hellhole of a country," said the business man. The bodyguards were not at ease though, the war was still on and the port might be attacked any second, they understood they needed to complete these deals as fast as possible. They saw some vagrant like man in the corner and went to ask him where they could get some drugs and weapons. "Hello there, if you tell us where we could get some drugs and some extra heavy weapons are, I'll give you 500 dumes."

"About 23 years, then everything went up in smoke with the university"
"Interesting... I just might have to take you back to our island. We're looking for - among other things - engineers." Richard said, looking at the bus driver for a few seconds before he looked away. It seemed he didn't have much interest in his tone or the fact he still paid the man little visible attention, even as he spoke.

A yacht entered the harbors of Blackwell, the crew was full of men with assault rifles wearing phantom masks. The entrepreneur took off his mask and placed his rifle on top of a cargo box. When the ship docked at the harbor, 2 men replaced their weapons with tasers, small yet sharp knifes, and small concealed handguns.

The trio walked out of the boat and went around the harbor looking around for a few good deals in weapons and a few luxuries for the upcoming plan. "Ah, the bliss of the breakdown of society. Maybe we'll be able to exploit this war-torn hellhole of a country," said the business man. The bodyguards were not at ease though, the war was still on and the port might be attacked any second, they understood they needed to complete these deals as fast as possible. They saw some vagrant like man in the corner and went to ask him where they could get some drugs and weapons. "Hello there, if you tell us where we could get some drugs and some extra heavy weapons are, I'll give you 500 dumes."

"The blackmarket of course. Its the only thing with a flow of power in this entire place and it has some pretty couches around the plazas that are perfect for sleeping."

Off the coast of the Ralkovian port city of Whitewater a single Raven vessel flowed ominously just within visiual range. The ship was a Model-602 type Human Assets Transport. It however seemed to be modified from the normal style as it had two landing pads for two Orca transport dropships. Of course being painted in all black it was not a normal sight to see in any kind of place, but its talltale markings let others know it was a Raven vessel.

Aboard the vessel was the Corporate Representive known as Milina Tecronica (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v734/hobbeeb/Ravenrep.png), a personnel assistant to Colderon and his personnel decorator. With his wedding quickly approaching Her task was to find items of rarity and precious value to give out as presents and thank you gifts for the attendees....

" I dont want any excuses... Civil war or no Civil War. I want my Orca loaded and ready to make landfall before the hour!" she screamed out at the SF troopers standing around the Orca. Many of them simplly could not understand her frustration, and simplly did as they where told. Her Orca was fueled armed and loaded with the proper items and personnel. As Milina boraded the orca she straigthened her vest out and watched as the door closed behind her by the ever growing shadow.

Milinia took her seat and cracked open a maginzine and listened for the engines to start up. They always gave a new sound as they started; this time was quite as they started without much sound and quickly propelled the Orca into the air. Milina opened a side view window and watched as the coastline came into view. she could see people below being sold, beaten, and sometimes killed below. Not that she cared but it did make her wonder about her saftey....

As the Orca came over land the pilot found a suitable place to land and took it down for a soft landing. the engines turining the ground below them into glass with their exhust. The doors to the Orca came to life and slowly opened letting Milina and her guard roam the city looking for the items they needed...

After a short time of looking about Milina walked to the neaarest man and asked a very striaght forward question...

" Where can I find a train of white Pure-bred Arabian stalliones, and a small museum of artwork pretaining to landscapes with snow?"

After giving the vagrant 500 dumes, the trio went further into the city towards the black market. There were many people around them selling drugs and sex slaves but the most important item of their list were weapons, chemical weapons. After looking around the market, he found a rather shady man advertising his weapon wares. The business man walked up to him and said, "You don't by any chance might be selling biological and chemical weapons?"

After giving the vagrant 500 dumes, the trio went further into the city towards the black market. There were many people around them selling drugs and sex slaves but the most important item of their list were weapons, chemical weapons. After looking around the market, he found a rather shady man advertising his weapon wares. The business man walked up to him and said, "You don't by any chance might be selling biological and chemical weapons?"

(I don't think you get how to be subtle and inconspicious. If you go to a gun shop and ask can I have a rocket launcher, even though they might have one, they of course will say no and get you out of there shop. If you go in and ask for something heavy and you turn down everything they have in the front of the store and ask if they have something heavier or has more power than they will show you. For now though I will let it slide)

"Why don't you come in my back room and see what I have," he said all the while watching for any onlookers in the crowd. In the back room there was sarin, antharax, mustard gas, cyanide, tabun gas, kolokol, small pox, SARS, yellow fever, Ebola, and a few other types of poison gas and biological weapons, as well as 10 men with CS-35 shotguns.

"Well dead slaves do no good to me, unless customers are interested in the whole necrophilia thing.....let me show you my wares," he said. Six women all between the ages of 23 and 30 looked at the new man. Rhoana was one of the women, she had a bit of a caramelish skin color but had long brown hair and green eyes.

Sarah was extremely beautiful, white with long blonde hair and big blue eyes.


(England I responded to your post a while ago)

"Interesting... I just might have to take you back to our island. We're looking for - among other things - engineers." Richard said, looking at the bus driver for a few seconds before he looked away. It seemed he didn't have much interest in his tone or the fact he still paid the man little visible attention, even as he spoke.

"Anything to get out of this country, everyday a bomb goes off or some gunfight, I'm just surpised no one has detonated a nuke yet"

The captain of the Rubin Class cargo sub noted the new arrivals, and radioed his men in the truck to look out for themselves and Jeffrey. They were armed with a variety of weapons, like the relatively new SRM ARMS 1216 shotguns, M4 rifles, P90 SMGs, and H&K Mk23 pistols, although most of them had their weapons at arm's length or hidden under jackets. They were to stay outside the establishment unless someone started shooting inside the store.

Jeffrey stopped at a large painting. He turned to the shopkeeper and asked, "My friend, what can you tell me about this painting?".

(I'm just going to take control of your character for a single second, if it isn't okay with you just ingore the post)

" Where can I find a train of white Pure-bred Arabian stalliones, and a small museum of artwork pretaining to landscapes with snow?"

"Arabian Horses?," the man laughed,"Mrs...."
"Milina," the woman said staring coldly at the man.

"Mrs. Milina, the only horses your going to find in this city are on painting. If you are looking for horses you will have to head west to the great plains. They have a wonderful arrange of horses, if they aren't starved or dead. As for your artwork you want, well we have plenty of paintings by Joau D'leh(Famous ralkovian artist known for his landscape paintings) the only problem with that is finding which ones are real and which ones are fake. Now I must go"

The captain of the Rubin Class cargo sub noted the new arrivals, and radioed his men in the truck to look out for themselves and Jeffrey. They were armed with a variety of weapons, like the relatively new SRM ARMS 1216 shotguns, M4 rifles, P90 SMGs, and H&K Mk23 pistols, although most of them had their weapons at arm's length or hidden under jackets. They were to stay outside the establishment unless someone started shooting inside the store.

Jeffrey stopped at a large painting. He turned to the shopkeeper and asked, "My friend, what can you tell me about this painting?".

"Ah thats the Heroes of the Ridge, its a painting of the Battle at Brodham Ridge 1798. Painted by Mikayal Clayton, it was one of the largest battles between ralkovia and are vile neighbor to the south Balkov. It lasted almost a month, Brodham ridge was where the ralkovian militia had been pushed back to, they were outnumbered, outgunned, and pretty much screwed, reinforcements weren't expected for another month and for one month the 830 Hades Guards, a tribe in the Emperor Mountains held back almost 40,000 balkov troops. The Hades Guardsmen killed over 30,000 balkov troops and lost only 230 men by the time reinforcements arrived. The reinforcements quickly eradicated what was left of the balkov troops.

The Hades Guards were elevated to protectors of the Empire and the royals and they later came to beknown as the death guard."

OOC: I just assumed the black marketers took over the town so I thought it was safe.

"You have an interesting group of agents; I'm interested in the sarin, tabun, and anthrax. Though do you have anything more potent?" said the man.

OOC: I just assumed the black marketers took over the town so I thought it was safe.

"You have an interesting group of agents; I'm interested in the sarin, tabun, and anthrax. Though do you have anything more potent?" said the man.

"Depends on what your looking for"

"Mainly nerve agents, do you have any others besides sarin and those older chemicals? Such as a V agent."

"Well we have a small amount of VE and VX but that stuff is hard to come by"

"Ah thats the Heroes of the Ridge, its a painting of the Battle at Brodham Ridge 1798. Painted by Mikayal Clayton, it was one of the largest battles between ralkovia and are vile neighbor to the south Balkov. It lasted almost a month, Brodham ridge was where the ralkovian militia had been pushed back to, they were outnumbered, outgunned, and pretty much screwed, reinforcements weren't expected for another month and for one month the 830 Hades Guards, a tribe in the Emperor Mountains held back almost 40,000 balkov troops. The Hades Guardsmen killed over 30,000 balkov troops and lost only 230 men by the time reinforcements arrived. The reinforcements quickly eradicated what was left of the balkov troops.

The Hades Guards were elevated to protectors of the Empire and the royals and they later came to beknown as the death guard."

Jeffrey said, "It's a striking painting for sure. What's the sticker price on it? And what other paintings do you have?".

"$8,000 for you, I don't know paintings don't sell well around here but your welcome to look in my backroom"

"How much for the whole stock of both? Money is of no object to me, I'd also like to know how much per vial of sarin would cost," said the man. "Also, how much anthrax do you have. If you have enough to kill a couple of people, or a crowded plaza, I might be interested."

"$8,000 for you, I don't know paintings don't sell well around here but your welcome to look in my backroom"

"My employer has always wanted to get his hands on a Van Gogh or Picasso. Top of his list though, was a Da Vinci. So, I'll check out the back room, maybe you've got a hidden treasure there".

"How much for the whole stock of both? Money is of no object to me, I'd also like to know how much per vial of sarin would cost," said the man. "Also, how much anthrax do you have. If you have enough to kill a couple of people, or a crowded plaza, I might be interested."

"Probably 10 pounds of VE and maybe 20 pounds of VX which is 21 vials of VX and 11 vials of VE. VX I'll sell for 20,000 dollars a vial and 10,000 dollars a vial for VE.

Sarin costs 20,00 per vial, antharax I have over 300 pounds of it and It will cost 12,000 per vial of antharax"

(In ralkovian measurement a vial is 11 ounces)

"My employer has always wanted to get his hands on a Van Gogh or Picasso. Top of his list though, was a Da Vinci. So, I'll check out the back room, maybe you've got a hidden treasure there".

"Go ahead, I might have a Da Vinci or maybe a VG but I won't have any Picasso."

"Sounds good. I'll take the entire stock of V agents for $530,000. I'll also be taking 200 vials of sarin and I guess 400 vials of anthrax will fit my needs. I'm guessing you want us to pay $9,330,000 in cash. If that's the case then it'll take about 5 or so minutes to have my men bring in the extra amounts of cash."

"Yes cash is good," the man said as he told his "assistants" to get the mans purchases. The guards of course got everything stacked and waited for the man to bring their boss the money.

(Bump)

The naval blockade outside Ralkovia was still standing, they had seen ships enter but had not stopped them as their orders were to stop ships leaving. Their men on the ground were gathering intel from locals on who the major players were. When anybody tried to leave by boat, they would be met by a battleship. And a couple of cruise missiles, if of course they tried anything funny.

"Go ahead, I might have a Da Vinci or maybe a VG but I won't have any Picasso."

Jeffrey looked through the collection in the back, but saw nothing that would interest his employer. There were some pieces of art that he wouldn't mind owning, but the money he carried wasn't his own. He went back into the front room and said, "It's a wonderful collection, but my employer isn't going to authorize me to purchase any of them". With that, he continued to look around.

"Anything to get out of this country, everyday a bomb goes off or some gunfight, I'm just surpised no one has detonated a nuke yet"
"Well, there won't be much of a pay. However, everything on necessity - clothing, food, drinks, housing, and so forth - is all provided by my company on our own island. You won't need a vehicle, however bikes and employee transportation are free." Richard said to the driver.

"Now, when will we arrive?" he asked.

Jeffrey walked around the store some more, but didn't see much that would interest his employer. He stopped and said to the shopkeeper, "Well, I think I'm done shopping. What's my total for the 2 thrones?".

"I would accept little pay and plenty of foood rather than death." The man said,"About 2 minutes more until we arrive"


--------------------
(Gun does 1.6 million sound good? You'll have to rp the transaction since I got to go)

"I would accept little pay and plenty of foood rather than death." The man said,"About 2 minutes more until we arrive"


--------------------
(Gun does 1.6 million sound good? You'll have to rp the transaction since I got to go)

OOC: Well, the total was $1.5 million, but you offered a discount on the first throne, since I bought the second one.

"I would accept little pay and plenty of foood rather than death." The man said,"About 2 minutes more until we arrive"

"Very good, we'll get you set up when we arrive." Richard said as he closed his eyes for a minute, waiting for their arrival.

OOC: Well, the total was $1.5 million, but you offered a discount on the first throne, since I bought the second one.

(1.4 million then)

"Very good, we'll get you set up when we arrive." Richard said as he closed his eyes for a minute, waiting for their arrival.

"Thank you very much, we have arrived at the markets."

(bump)

"Thank you very much, we have arrived at the markets."
Richard got up and exited the bus. "I should be ready to go in a few hours. If you want to work for us, then you can be flown out tonight." he said. "For now... I'm going to go shopping."

Richard began to make his way from the bus and into the market, looking for where the slaves were at so he could find the right people to pick up.

Jeffrey paid the shopkeeper $1.4 million in bearer bonds, then motioned through the window to the men waiting outside. Jeffrey held up 4 fingers, then motioned for them to come in. Four of the crew came in, picked up the thrones, and brought them outside. As they began loading them into the truck, Jeffrey said to them, "Be extremely careful with those. They're more fragile than the last bunch of crates we loaded up". Jeffrey then turned to the shopkeeper and said, "Good day, sir", then left with the others. They had plenty of room left in the truck and the sub, so they wandered through the blackmarket, looking for any deals that caught their eye. Jeffrey's employer had rules about buying and selling drugs, so he'd have to be mindful of them if the right deal came up.

The death guard walked by richard, a long line of male slaves behind them. The old government was slowly ending the slave trade as the old government was soon going to die. Josuha was one of the last cities on the mainland still under their control and every day the enemy came closer.

Slaves were being sold for extremely low prices especially the captured FPAR forces. One of the shopkeepers beckoned richard to come in and look at his stock.

Jeffrey paid the shopkeeper $1.4 million in bearer bonds, then motioned through the window to the men waiting outside. Jeffrey held up 4 fingers, then motioned for them to come in. Four of the crew came in, picked up the thrones, and brought them outside. As they began loading them into the truck, Jeffrey said to them, "Be extremely careful with those. They're more fragile than the last bunch of crates we loaded up". Jeffrey then turned to the shopkeeper and said, "Good day, sir", then left with the others. They had plenty of room left in the truck and the sub, so they wandered through the blackmarket, looking for any deals that caught their eye. Jeffrey's employer had rules about buying and selling drugs, so he'd have to be mindful of them if the right deal came up.

Emily Boersma sat and watched Jeffery, dressed in a white nylon type garment that showed off every curve, she was an absolutely gorgeous woman. Her face was perfect, her eyes deep pools of blue. She looked out of place among the rest of the slave shops, she was young but beautiful probably in her early 20's. She walked up to Jeffery,"Well you look like you have been buying up everything"

Emily Boersma sat and watched Jeffery, dressed in a white nylon type garment that showed off every curve, she was an absolutely gorgeous woman. Her face was perfect, her eyes deep pools of blue. She looked out of place among the rest of the slave shops, she was young but beautiful probably in her early 20's. She walked up to Jeffery,"Well you look like you have been buying up everything"

Jeffrey saw her approach out of the corner of his eye. After she spoke, he smiled and said, "Well, not EVERYTHING. But I am interested in a wide variety of the items for sale here".

Jeffrey saw her approach out of the corner of his eye. After she spoke, he smiled and said, "Well, not EVERYTHING. But I am interested in a wide variety of the items for sale here".

Emily smiled,"If you like antiques I know a shop in the middle of the market that sells ancient items. Staffs, swords, the whole kit," she said. Getting up from where she was seated, let Jeffery see her entire body. What she wore left little to the imagination. She was by all words the perfect trophy wife, she was extremely beautiful, her blonde hair straight and long went down to at least the middle of her back.

Emily smiled,"If you like antiques I know a shop in the middle of the market that sells ancient items. Staffs, swords, the whole kit," she said. Getting up from where she was seated, let Jeffery see her entire body. What she wore left little to the imagination. She was by all words the perfect trophy wife, she was extremely beautiful, her blonde hair straight and long went down to at least the middle of her back.

"Lead the way, and my group and I shall follow", Jeffrey said. The men in the truck were keenly aware of the lady's looks, but were also keenly aware of what would happen to them if their employers new possessions were to be damaged due to them not paying attention to what they were doing.

"Follow me," she said. If the front of her dress was revealing, the back was nonexistant. As she walked her hips swayed back and forth. She was a beauty, she also had to have some skill since she wasn't a slave yet. She fell back and talked with Jeffery for a little while before they arrived.

The shop was probably the best looking one around and had a dignified look.

The death guard walked by richard, a long line of male slaves behind them. The old government was slowly ending the slave trade as the old government was soon going to die. Josuha was one of the last cities on the mainland still under their control and every day the enemy came closer.

Slaves were being sold for extremely low prices especially the captured FPAR forces. One of the shopkeepers beckoned richard to come in and look at his stock.
"What do you have right now? I'm looking at quite a mix - both genders, as well as a wide range in age and health. Though I'm more interested in teenagers and those in their twenties... with good health. Since we'll have more various jobs that would require that." Richard said. "Laborers, guards, test subjects... So, show me what you have."

"What do you have right now? I'm looking at quite a mix - both genders, as well as a wide range in age and health. Though I'm more interested in teenagers and those in their twenties... with good health. Since we'll have more various jobs that would require that." Richard said. "Laborers, guards, test subjects... So, show me what you have."

"I have about a thousand male from the ages of 16-30 they are all in good health, some know how to carry guns, all know how to carry bricks, Unfortunately females are not sold around here at all. I can try and get a hold of some but it will take a while. The prices are $700 a slave."

"Follow me," she said. If the front of her dress was revealing, the back was nonexistant. As she walked her hips swayed back and forth. She was a beauty, she also had to have some skill since she wasn't a slave yet. She fell back and talked with Jeffery for a little while before they arrived.

The shop was probably the best looking one around and had a dignified look.

Jeffrey turned to the lady and said, "I appreciate the guidance, and enjoyed our conversation. And I'm sure my employer will enjoy the wares I find here". With that, he entered the shop with his briefcase full of bearer bonds, leaving the other men outside to wait for him. He looked around, hoping to find a hidden treasure.

Inside the shop lay priceless ralkovian artificacts. Some looked as if they hadn't been touched in centuries.

http://s160.photobucket.com/albums/t180/arrondock/Ralkovian%20Pictures/?action=view&current=itemsweb.jpg

Inside the shop lay priceless ralkovian artificacts. Some looked as if they hadn't been touched in centuries.

http://s160.photobucket.com/albums/t180/arrondock/Ralkovian%20Pictures/?action=view&current=itemsweb.jpg

Jeffrey happened upon a large sword with a gem in the pommel, and another on each side of the guard. It also had gold and silver filigree inlaid into the dark wood handle. He hefted it, and then drew it out of its scabbard. The fuller ran nearly the length of the blade, and the edge looked sharp enough to split hairs. He carefully resheathed the sword, and looked around for a shopkeeper, to inquire about the price.

"$15,000, the sword belonged to the Emperor Vilgax who slew a thousand enemies with the sword. It gives the user grace, strength, luck, and speed."

"$15,000, the sword belonged to the Emperor Vilgax who slew a thousand enemies with the sword. It gives the user grace, strength, luck, and speed."

"Very well. I have more shopping to do, so would it be possible to keep a running total, or would you prefer I pay for each purchase separately?".

"a running total is good, would you like to see statues?"

"a running total is good, would you like to see statues?"

Jeffrey said, "I would be glad to view the statues. My employer has quite the collection, and he's always wanting more".

The man showed him statues of Appollo, Zeus, Aphrodites, and other greek g-ds. He even showed him a few michelangelo pieces.

The man showed him statues of Appollo, Zeus, Aphrodites, and other greek g-ds. He even showed him a few michelangelo pieces.

Jeffrey was impressed. He asked the shopkeeper, "How much for the lot of them?".

"All 12 million for all 20 statues. Or $500,000 for the G-ds and 3 million for the 3michelangelo statues"

"All 12 million for all 20 statues. Or $500,000 for the G-ds and 3 million for the 3michelangelo statues"

OOC: What's the sizes of the statues? I'm just asking because of concerns of it fitting in the truck.

(20 statues, the michelangelos are all life size, and the g-ds are life size to bust)

(20 statues, the michelangelos are all life size, and the g-ds are life size to bust)

Jeffrey said, "So, $12,015,000, if my math is correct. And that pretty much puts me at my spending limit". He opened the briefcase, and pulled out the correct amount of bonds. He handed them over to the shopkeeper, and signaled some men to come in and load up the statues.

emily waited outside for Jeff, smiling,"Well now you own everything eh?"

emily waited outside for Jeff, smiling,"Well now you own everything eh?"

Jeffrey walked outside, heard Emily's comment, and laughed. He said, "Everything I can afford to buy, yes. I'm sure there's a few things I missed, but my employer should be happy with the quantity and quality of items I purchased for him". When the loading was complete, Jeffrey turned to Emily and said, "Well my dear, I must be off. I have a long journey back to my nation, and my employer is a somewhat impatient man. If there's anything you ever need acquired, please feel free to call me to make an arrangement". He handed her a business card his name and a phone number. At the top of the card was one word: Acquisitions.

"I have about a thousand male from the ages of 16-30 they are all in good health, some know how to carry guns, all know how to carry bricks, Unfortunately females are not sold around here at all. I can try and get a hold of some but it will take a while. The prices are $700 a slave."
"Well, where are your slaves at?" Richard asked slightly impatiently. "I'm here to buy slaves, not make a new best friend."

"Let me show you," the man said, bringing him into a huge warehouse.

Jeffrey hopped into the truck, which drove off towards the docks. The sub's crew jogged behind the truck. Once the truck arrived at the dock, loading the valuables into the sub began, but due to the nature of the items, was done with care. Smaller items, such as the sword, the throne chairs, and the busts were secured in cargo crates located in the internal cargo areas. The larger statues were loaded individually into the vertical cargo containers, which were padded to protect the statues from damage during transport. Once the sub was fully loaded, it departed the dock. It was still on the surface and it's navigational radar was on.


OOC: Whiskeasy, where is your blockade? International waters, or Ralkovian waters? I need to know if my navigational radar is picking up your ships.

OOC: My ships are on the International / Ralkovian water line. They foray into Ralkovian waters when they see something on their radar or sonar.

OOC: My ships are on the International / Ralkovian water line. They foray into Ralkovian waters when they see something on their radar or sonar.

OOC: Gotcha.

IC: As soon as the Rubin Class cargo sub left the dock, the radar operator called out, "Conn, Radar. Surface contacts at the edge of international waters. It looks to be a blockade, judging by the military radar parametrics". The captain said, "All stop. Navigational radar to passive. Let's see what they want. Radio room, Conn. Get me in touch with those vessels". Turning to his XO, he said, "If they come after us, we're going to have to get the hell out of here". When the radio room reached the vessels in international waters, the captain got on the radio and said, "This is Captain Joseph Finn of the commercial cargo transport Orca, out of the ASoGM. Please state your intentions".

(So its out of my hand right now)

OOC: Gotcha.
"This is Captain Joseph Finn of the commercial cargo transport Orca, out of the ASoGM. Please state your intentions".

The message squawked through to the WRS Belle, a Type 23 Frigate. Captain James MacRaels answered the transmission. "Cargo Transport Orca, this is the Whiskeasian Royal Ship Belle. Cut your engine power. We are searching all foreign trading vessels in the vicinity. I repeat cut your engine power and prepare to be boarded. Any attempt to flee will be met with deadly force. I repeat any attempt to flee will be met with deadly force." He turned to the helmsman and said "Try and met them, prepare the boarding parties." He turned on the intercom and said "Master Gunner, prepare the fore turret. Fire on my order."

The Osean goverment, although it would never admit it, was not adverse to breaking their morals or explioting the problems of other nations. So when they heard of the situation in Ralkovia and the black market there, they soon decided to send an agent to make purchases there. The agent in question, Peter Maier, soon landed in Whitewater International Airport and immediatly prepared to set out and find the main trader or traders in the area.

The trading area was impossible to miss and it was easy to find, huge tents and warehouses intermixed with each other formed the entire market ground. Millions of dollars were being made every hour as the profitable businesses made record profits.

The message squawked through to the WRS Belle, a Type 23 Frigate. Captain James MacRaels answered the transmission. "Cargo Transport Orca, this is the Whiskeasian Royal Ship Belle. Cut your engine power. We are searching all foreign trading vessels in the vicinity. I repeat cut your engine power and prepare to be boarded. Any attempt to flee will be met with deadly force. I repeat any attempt to flee will be met with deadly force." He turned to the helmsman and said "Try and met them, prepare the boarding parties." He turned on the intercom and said "Master Gunner, prepare the fore turret. Fire on my order."

Captain Finn radioed back and said, "Our engines were already at full stop. You have no authority to search us in Ralkovian waters though, and would have even less authority to search us in international waters. We are a civilian cargo vessel, and what you are doing is piracy. The ASoGM will not look kindly on your boarding us". Then the radar operator said, "Conn, Radar. Passive radar shows the Whiskeasian radars closing on our position". The captain got on the intercom and said, "All hands, lock all external hatches, and prepare for silent running. If these guys get within 12,000 yards, we're going to dive and run for it. Radio, Conn. Get me ASoGM Naval Command". Once Naval Command was on the radio, Captain Finn explained that the Orca was in Ralkovian waters, and Whiskeasian warships were bearing down on them with the intent to board or destroy the Orca. The captain requested that Naval Command put a call into Whiskeasy, to get their warships to back off. Then the captain got back on the radio and said to the commander of the WRS Belle, "We have informed the ASoGM naval command of your intended piracy, we ask that you back off before you start an international incident".

At Naval Command, Admiral Rogers called the Whiskeasian Foreign Affairs office, to tell them that the ASoGM will not tolerate piracy against a civilian cargo vessel registered in the ASoGM. He then told the Whiskeasian Foreign Affairs office that if Whiskeasian warships did board the Orca, it would be considered an act of war.

OOC: Doesn't the Whiskeasian ships entering Ralkovian waters to board the Orca constitute an act of war against Ralkovia?

OOC: Considering the fact Ralkovia is being split into three separate parts, rather like a pie. I really don't think that they will be worried with this right now.

Captain McRaels replied "You are conducting a felony in Ralkovian waters, you are therefore under upstanding Ralkovian laws on smuggling and illegal transit. We are helping the Imperial Ralkovian Government retain control. You have threatened Whiskeasy with war, the act of deterring smuggling is not an excuse with a war." That would light a fire under their arse. He was technically not working with anyone but the Imperial Ralkovians were probably gagging for support and they were giving it. It gave them a handy excuse anyway.
(OOC:Please Ralkovia say your government had really tight smuggling laws!)

"Let me show you," the man said, bringing him into a huge warehouse.
"Hmmm... show me your prime selection under 30 if you will... I'll also be looking at older people as well, though I doubt you have so many of them." Richard said, following the man into the warehouse.

"I'm looking at an even selection of teenagers and twenty somethings. Even if there's some kids, that's fine - the younger, the better workers you can make of them... physically and mentally. Surely, though, you know that."

OOC: Considering the fact Ralkovia is being split into three separate parts, rather like a pie. I really don't think that they will be worried with this right now.

Captain McRaels replied "You are conducting a felony in Ralkovian waters, you are therefore under upstanding Ralkovian laws on smuggling and illegal transit. We are helping the Imperial Ralkovian Government retain control. You have threatened Whiskeasy with war, the act of deterring smuggling is not an excuse with a war." That would light a fire under their arse. He was technically not working with anyone but the Imperial Ralkovians were probably gagging for support and they were giving it. It gave them a handy excuse anyway.
(OOC:Please Ralkovia say your government had really tight smuggling laws!)

Captain Finn said, "Captain McRaels, until you provide a Ralkovian search warrant authorizing the search of the Orca, what you're doing is considered piracy. And since you and the Ralkovians have no evidence of the Orca's purpose here in Ralkovia, I seriously doubt you'll get one". Then he turned to the radar operator and asked, "Range?", and the radar operator responded with, "Passive radar puts them at 18,000 yards and still closing". He said to the radio operator, "Put another call into Naval Command, and tell them that the Whiskeasians still intend to board us". The call was made, and soon Naval Command was again calling the Whiskeasian Foreign Affairs office. Another call was being placed at the same time, to the ASoGM Air Force, which began prepping a dozen B-2 bombers for a strike against the Whiskeasian warships. Each was loaded with 16 AGM-158 JASSM missiles, and a full load of fuel. When the bombers were ready, they were launched. They were on standby, with orders not to fire unless given the command by Naval Command.

McRaels was in a decidedly dodgy position, he was threatened with starting a war unless he made the right call. Technically there was martial law in Ralkovia, no warrants for arrests there was a shoot on sight order. But he thought that these guys weren't going to back down in the face of law. Talking in to the squawk box he said "This is Ralkovian Water, it is under Martial Law. No warrant is required to search you, just cut your engine power and let us take a look aboard. What is your cargo?"
The Office for Foreign Affairs sent a message to ASoGM it said that they would not forcibly search the Orca however a lack of a search would prove guilt and condoning of smuggling and slavery.

(ooc: Hope you don't mind me joining in?)


The Vervarian government, upon hearing of the chaos in Ralkovia, and the flourishing black market, was greatly disturbed. Several generals and ministers clamored for military intervention or a blockade, but the President adamantly refused to condone any immediate action. He did however secretly authorize the intelligence agency to send several agents to investigate the situation. They immediately departed for Ralkovia.

McRaels was in a decidedly dodgy position, he was threatened with starting a war unless he made the right call. Technically there was martial law in Ralkovia, no warrants for arrests there was a shoot on sight order. But he thought that these guys weren't going to back down in the face of law. Talking in to the squawk box he said "This is Ralkovian Water, it is under Martial Law. No warrant is required to search you, just cut your engine power and let us take a look aboard. What is your cargo?"
The Office for Foreign Affairs sent a message to ASoGM it said that they would not forcibly search the Orca however a lack of a search would prove guilt and condoning of smuggling and slavery.

Captain Finn signaled for the radio operator to cut the transmission, then asked the XO, "How deep is the water here". The XO replied, "It's 165 feet from the bottom. We running, sir?". The captain said, "Radar, Conn. Give me a range". The radar operator stated that the radar contacts were still closing, and were at a range of 15,000 yards. The captain said, "XO, dive the boat. Make your depth 150 feet, and make revolutions for 20 knots. I want to take a course 90 degrees from their bearing. We're quiet enough that by the time they get here, we'll be gone". With that, the Orca slipped under the waves, and headed out.

The ASoGM Naval Command stated to the Office for Foreign Affairs that without probable cause, what they were doing was an act of war. Naval Command also stated that lack of a search would prove nothing, as Whiskeasy does not know why the Orca was in Ralkovia. Since Whiskeasy has no evidence, it cannot legally stop the Orca and search her.

Peter Maier walked up to one of the large tents and went up to the owner and said "I wish to look at your wares and see what you have to offer".

Captain Finn signaled for the radio operator to cut the transmission, then asked the XO, "How deep is the water here". The XO replied, "It's 165 feet from the bottom. We running, sir?". The captain said, "Radar, Conn. Give me a range". The radar operator stated that the radar contacts were still closing, and were at a range of 15,000 yards. The captain said, "XO, dive the boat. Make your depth 150 feet, and make revolutions for 20 knots. I want to take a course 90 degrees from their bearing. We're quiet enough that by the time they get here, we'll be gone". With that, the Orca slipped under the waves, and headed out.

The ASoGM Naval Command stated to the Office for Foreign Affairs that without probable cause, what they were doing was piracy under international law. Naval Command also stated that lack of a search would prove nothing, as Whiskeasy does not know why the Orca was in Ralkovia. Since Whiskeasy has no evidence, it cannot legally stop the Orca and search her.

OOC: By definition acts of piracy can only be conducted by non-state actors. What you would be dealing with is an act of war.

The more you know... :p

OOC: By definition acts of piracy can only be conducted by non-state actors. What you would be dealing with is an act of war.

The more you know... :p

OOC: And knowing is half the battle....G.I. Joe!

I'll correct it now.

As the Orca silently moved through the water, they kept an eye on the passive sonar. Being submerged, they wouldn't appear on a surface radar, but that didn't mean they were out of the woods. One good thing was, the farther they got from land, the deeper the water got. Soon, they were in water 600 feet of water, and the Captain gave the command to dive to 450 feet. They were still 8 miles from international waters, though.

Damn it, thought McRaels. They've gone under, he could see them on his sonar, but he couldn't deep charge them. Well he could, but that would be considered firing on a civilian vessel. They would just have to let this go.... He ordered the helms-men to stop the chase. And continue patrolling, maybe they would find a freighter soon...

Damn it, thought McRaels. They've gone under, he could see them on his sonar, but he couldn't deep charge them. Well he could, but that would be considered firing on a civilian vessel. They would just have to let this go.... He ordered the helms-men to stop the chase. And continue patrolling, maybe they would find a freighter soon...

The Orca made a course correction to get to international waters quicker, and that's when they picked up the Whiskeasian warships again. The sonar operator said, "Conn, Sonar. Whiskeasian vessels spotted on passive sonar. It looks like they're breaking off". The captain smiled, turned to his XO, and said, "Well, that went better than expected".

Peter Maier walked up to one of the large tents and went up to the owner and said "I wish to look at your wares and see what you have to offer".

"Well come right this way," the man said showing him his stock of women. He had a small group to sell only 30 but all were extremely beautiful and from the island of Graniv in the Ralkovian Grand Islands.

Peter Maier smiled and said "While that was was not exactly what I was was looking for, I will purchase these beautiful women. First I wish to be told the total cost of your women. Then I need directions to the stores that sell quality weapons and male slaves in quantity".

Peter Maier smiled and said "While that was was not exactly what I was was looking for, I will purchase these beautiful women. First I wish to be told the total cost of your women. Then I need directions to the stores that sell quality weapons and male slaves in quantity".

"Well the cost of the women are $2000 each, they are very beautiful and are extremely rare. I know of quality weapons, in the weapons district but male slaves are hard to come by."

Sergei Blak was a traitor, a slimeball. A double agent. He held a semi-important desk job at the Treasury Department of Lancov. But he was better knowk as Avon, a shady agent who supplied the some of the most notorious terrorists and freedom fighters with weapons and slaves, bought with funds embezzled from the Lancov Treasury. Now, he was looking for something else. He had been contacted by an anonymous person in the government of one of Lancov's enemies. They would pay him handsomely for WMDs.

Sergei didn't care that he was using taxpayer's dollars to fund agents of terror. He didn't even care that the WMDs he was looking for would most likely be used against his nation and people, friends and family. He had become a rich man, and planned to be long gone before the WMDs would be used.

Currently he was visiting the home of one of his informants, Alan O'Toole. Sergei was not pleased with the man's progress.

"I have been paying you my client's money to find me some nukes. You are too stupid to even do that for me!" He shouted at the cowering man.

"Please, Mister Avon! I need more time! My sources are very suspicious people! I need to convince them that you are trustworthy!" He whined.

"Then just tell me where these sources are, I'll just convince them myself."

"If they knew that I told you without their permission, they would kill me! Please, give me more time!"

"Why? So you can wine and dine more of your female friends? I saw you in that bar last night. You better be more careful about being seen in public!"

"You don't understand! She was... uh... the daughter of one of my sources!"

"Maybe I was wrong about you." Avon muttered. Alan relaxed."Perhaps you have outlived your usefulness after all."

Alan gasped. Avon was coldly drawing his pistol from a concealed holster.

"All right, you win! You win! Here, take this card. It is the address of my main source. He will set you up."

"I knew you would come through for me." Avon sarcastically said, taking the paper and sweeping grandly away.

Time for a visit to the Blackwell east side...

Peter nodded and replied " Thats $60,000 for all of them. Very well, I accept. You will get your money soon. Send them to the Emperor Joshua international Airport. We will tranport them out by cargo plane. It has been good to do buisness with you". He then waited a moment to see if the shop keeper had anything to say. If no, he would immediadly go to the weapons district.

"That is all, I shall have them waiting by terminal C"

"I knew you would come through for me." Avon sarcastically said, taking the paper and sweeping grandly away.

Time for a visit to the Blackwell east side...


Avons plane flew over the city, curving around a battlefield still active. Flak could be heard pounding at helicopter but the plane was left alone as it banked to the left and headed to the city which was about 50 miles away.

Finally, the plane landed and Avon was allowed into the cesspool city of Blackwell.

Peter left the store and went for the weapons district. He then went to one of the shops and walked up to the owner. He then said "I wish to see what you have to offer".