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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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You pass by the first checkpoint with ease. You instruct Maliki to wrap up with a shemagh, and then pull up to the barrier, weapons put away. The men manning the checkpoint, members of the Coalition for the Islamic Freedom of Algeria (A group you're certain you'll never hear of again) spend only a short moment looking you over, before unashamedly asking for a bribe.

A few moments haggling, they settle for ten thousand dinars. Highway robbery, but nothing much you can do at the moment. You'd rather not tip off anybody that you're moving precious cargo. It also has the side benefit that you can gas up at Hassi Fedoul's petrol station. Rachim ends up covering the fuel costs.

>New dinar total, 34016 Algerian dinars.

Back on the road with a full tank, you head north to government controlled territory. Checkpoints actually manned by trained soldiers.

Before that though, a few dozen kilometers outside of Layoune (There was a government checkpoint, but Tahir knew of a way to circumvent it), just short of the mountains you see black and greasy smoke rising in the distance. With a wave of caution to the tail car, you push on. Sure enough, burning husks of trucks, torn apart fighters. What used to be a checkpoint was a charnel house. Obstacles were cleared to the side, and dead men scattered the road. You drive slowly forward, edging your car around torn steel and person.

"Good fortune, no?" Maliki asks. You hadn't pegged him for an optimist. Nothing alive is in your smoke impaired sight. You hear a knock on the back window. Maliki nearly jumps out of his skin. Guess not that optimistic. You turn; Rachim's holding up a phone. A text from Mr. Heron. "Trouble in Layoune. Reports you were spotted." How did Heron know where you were? Whatever-

>Push ahead, full speed. Whoever did this is gone.
>Double back to Layoune. You can't trust Heron.
>Push up cautiously.
>Pull the trucks off the side of the road, and wait. See if anyone's following.

>Sorry I'm late.
>>Pull the trucks off the side of the road, and wait. See if anyone's following.

Ask Rachim if he is updaating Heron on our plans/location
then go with Tahir's circumventon if the coast is clear
Right, pulling over. Writing.
>Pull the trucks off the side of the road, and wait. See if anyone's following.

Set up the mark19 just in case.

Then,follow anons plan: ask Rachim if he is updaating Heron on our plans/location
So dear Anon(s)
In what direction do we want to take this?
Betray Heron?
Honor our contract?
Stand by our country?
Become a warlord?

This anon can't into decision
We honour our contract, but want to stay alive.
So no worries about what our choices have turned us into lately?
I'm not sure I can live with that. We have become a blight upon this land... Sometimes I wonder if we are still saveable.
"Rachim, are you telling Heron where we are?" You shout out the window.
"Yes, why?"

You roll your eyes, pull the truck over to the side of the road, "Get the Mark 19 set up."

You hear Rachim scramble to his feet as your truck bounces off the side of the road, rolling over what once might have been a sign. Tahir behind you follows your plan well, pulling up beside you- blocking Maliki in the truck cab. Shakir and Tahir clamber out to the left, and start going for their AKMs in the back. Maliki is looking nervous again.

"What, what is going on?"
"We're taking a short stop-"
"I can't HEAR you imbecile, write it, write it!"

You roll your eyes, get out of the truck, and make for the back. Rachim is doing fairly well getting the mark 19 set up actually. Among other things, he made sure there wasn't a round in it before starting. He gives you a look of antipathy before getting back to work.

"Rachim, can I borrow your cell phone?"
"What, you need a prefight jerk off?"

You wait. Eventually, with a sigh, he passes the phone over to you. You check his text messages- yes, Rachim was giving Heron a play by play. Hadn't let him know where the final destination was though. You tap in to the text field, "Trouble's coming. Keep your head down," Show it to Maliki. Maliki sighs, nods, and gets out of the truck. You jerk your head to Tahir, indicate Maliki. The young man follows the old, leading him over to a ditch. You grab your rifle, stay at the edge of the ditch by a mangled truck.

With a final pull, a grenade is loaded in the mark 19. Rachim hops off of the truck making his way over to you crouched. Shakir mans the grenade launcher. You keep your eyes down the road, blinking away the smoke. That's going to be a pain on your eyes.

"Hey, my phone?" Rachim at your elbow.

>[ ] Pass it back to Rachim.
>[ ] "Stop telling Heron everything we're doing."
>[ ] Pass it back to Rachim, "See if Heron can tell us what we're up against?"
>[ ] "No. No more phones for you."
>[ ] Other.
>>[ ] Other.
I need it to talk to Maliki, you have no use for it now, right?
>[ ] Pass it back to Rachim.
Also, we can text Heron ourselves.
We just have to finish this contract, get our money, and get out.
Get out to what?
The knowledge of all the widows and orphans we have created since we went down this path?
I pray to Allah for an opportunity to atone for my sins.
Maybe we could use this opportunity to test Heron. Tell him we're in one location, while we are another place, watching. See if anything turns up. If it does, we know what we're up against, while Heron is none the wiser.
Well, what do you think? Have a sit-down with the people chasing us, and hope they forgive us? It's a fucking war, I say we stay alive, by any means, try to even the odds, and let the shrinks deal with us later.
I'm afraid it is to late for forgiveness. We must choose the right path from here, if our actions from now on reflects Allah's will, there might still be a place for us in paradise.
And what is the right path? Fying, and failing mission?
It might be, we bring nothing but sorrow to this place anyway.
I doubt the infidels paying us are a positive influnce on this region and the souls here
Then let's hurry up and get out of this aera, in that way we can stop bringing sorrow to this place.
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"I need it to talk to Maliki, Rachim," You bring the SVD up, look down the sight down the road, "You'll get it back soon."
"Soon- soon isn't good enough!"
"We might be heading in to a firefight, friend. Shouldn't you be finding cover?"

Rachim sputters a bit, before hissing, "I swear, if I find her pictures posted ANYWHERE-"

You try your best to suppress your laughter. You don't think Rachim hears it, as he stomps off back after Maliki. You keep your sight down the road. A gentle, sloping hill coming up, with plenty of brush for cover. You can see Layoune in the distance. No gunfire, nothing. Must be a peaceful town. Government forces would be coming up then.

You glance back to Shakir. He has the road covered, and he's covered fairly well. So long as he wasn't an idiot and got trigger happy, who knew, maybe they would just pass on by. You wait, quietly. A good fifteen minutes pass, before a buzz at your hip disturbs you. You grab the phone, bring it up, "Report." From Heron. You think about whether or not to reply, when you hear a rumbling from down the road that makes you forget about it.

BTR 80, coming up the crest. Armored. Too armored for the mark 19. Machine guns on it would tear you apart. Being caught in the ruins of a government checkpoint wouldn't make them stop and ask questions.

The viewing slot was open, however. You can see the driver, smoking a cigarette, weary eyes surveying the landscape. Could stop it in its tracks here. You had maybe four, five minutes before they came on your position. Time to think.

>[ ] Run deeper in the brush. Ditch the vehicles, but you might not be spotted. DC 75 and below.
>[ ] Reply to Heron. Wait in your position. Maybe he had some kind of string to pull? Maybe you won't be seen? DC 40 and below.
>[ ] Snipe the driver. Give you guys some time to run. DC 54 and below.
>[ ] Get in the trucks and drive. You will be spotted, but a lead might be all you need.
>[ ] Other.
Rolled 89

>>[x] Run deeper in the brush. Ditch the vehicles, but you might not be spotted. DC 75 and below.
Tell Heron we've made a dash for it. Hope they take the bait, then head back to Layoune to get new transportation.
Hold off on rolling until consensus is achieved.
>Rolled 89
Let the darkness embrace us, it is the will of Allah
This guy!
So, is that a second? Cause I can go with that if you'd like. I'd also need 3 separate rolls of 1d100.
Rolled 24

It is seconded

rollin wit Allah
Rolled 41

Rolled 33

Rolled 100

Right, successful so far. Writing.
Rolled 24

>Rolled 100

Allahu Akhbar
You dash off a quick reply, "Made a run for it." Then creep back for the truck.

"What'd you see?" Shakir, whispering over the mark 19.
"Trouble," You reply. You jerk your head, "Come on. Off of that. We grab our stuff, double back to Layounne. Get some cars that aren't hot."

He makes an unpleasant face, "What? And leave this behind?"

"We'll be back for it," Pure speculation on your part. You go to the cab, pull the door open, grab your duffel bag. You double check- laptop, broken cell phone, all still there. Zip it shut, "They have a BTR. The grenades won't pierce that thing's armor."

"Okay, okay," Shakir hops off, heads for his car, "I haven't even had a chance to try it out-"
"You will. Get to the brush, hide."

You go back to where Tahir, Maliki, and Rachim are. You tap in to the phone, "We're ditching the cars, going back to Layoune," hold it up. Maliki looks doubtful.

"What? We put all that effort in to avoiding them!"
"We need cars that won't be as easily noticed," You tap in, "And I don't see any cars left laying around here."
"Can I have my phone back?" Rachim. You wave him off. Tahir offers no complaints, just hefting his rifle and giving Maliki a shove to follow you.

A quick collection of food and water, an attempt to push the car and truck deeper in the undergrowth, then the five of you head down the slope, making for the town. About forty kilometers of hard terrain to get to the town. Walking along, you do your best to keep an ear out for the BTR- sure enough, six minutes later, you hear it rev up, pushing hard for where you just were. Might be a coincidence. Might not be.

Another buzz at your hip. "Report." From Heron. You wonder how Rachim had the patience to deal with this man. You tap back that you're running through the undergrowth. Not sure what your plans are at the moment. Not really lying.
A reply. "To Layoune?" He asks. You reply back that you're busy, and leave it at that. Rachim is watching you the whole time. He looks annoyed, but is otherwise silent.

It's not far from night when you get to the edge of the city. Probably just before time for afternoon prayers. You have maintained your prayers, but the formality of your words and deeds have been somewhat questionable. You hadn't had the opportunity to perform prayers in a properly clean space for quite some time. Shakir brings up the possibility of finding a proper place in town to answer your religious responsibilities. Tahir asks Shakir where they might hide the firearms. No reason to draw attention. Shakir is confident that God will provide.

You have had a strange relationship with faith in these recent days.

In the cold there's not much call for farmer's work. You push through empty fields, sticking to cover as you approach the town's outskirts. With naught but a farm house between you and the town itself, your men get a bit antsy. You do note that there is a car parked outside of it though- and the farm house is rather distant from the city.
"Hey, that's a nice looking car, no?" From the edge of a fence, he points it out to you, "Hyundai. Good cars those. What's a farmer doing with such a nice car? We should fix this."
"I don't think we should begrudge a farmer for having a nice car," Rachim nags behind you. Tahir though is looking up and over at the car.
"You hear stories about these farmers, y'know. I can tell you, when I worked from Morocco, these farmers, they'd be the best friends you could have. It's probably somebody else's car anyway. Stealing from a thief isn't stealing. It's justice."
"What? What's going on?" Maliki, again. You tap out the gist of the conversation, hold it up for him to see.
"We don't have to steal his car-"
"We don't? What, do you think they'll have a dealership out here?" Tahir laughs, "And do you think we have money enough to buy one? How else are we supposed to get a car?"
"I- well, maybe Heron might know somebody!" Rachim shouts a little loudly. Everyone shushes him, and he flinches as if struck, "Sorry, sorry. But Mr. Heron, he might be able to help."
"Wait, wait, who's Mr. Haroun?" Shakir raises a hand, "I'm lost here."
"He- well, he's a friend."
"I don't know anybody named Haroun."

You eye the car. Very isolated. You wouldn't know how to hotwire it. But Rachim knew. You'd seen him do it first hand back in Constantine. This would be the safest way to get transport, and you could all fit in it. Might be able to fit the Mark 19 in the back too.

How else would you get a car? You doubt even Heron could provide something- besides, being in even more debt to the weasel was not something you looked forward to.

>[ ] Give the order to steal the car. Get Rachim to hotwire it.
>[ ] Go sneak in to the farmer's house. Find the keys.
>[ ] Call up Mr. Heron, see about arranging transport.
>[ ] Head in to town. Find another opportunity.
>[ ] Knock on the door, ask to borrow the car?
>[ ] Other..
We need a four wheel drive. Which Hyunday is it?
Rolled 11

>>[ ] Other..
-Head into town with Shakir, find a mosque and pray.
-Tahir babysits Malik outside town
-Rachim Finds a car large enough for the five of us, with the capabillity to go offroad.

We will spend the time needed
Hyundai Accent. So, no four wheel.

Tahir just likes creature comforts.
Ok, so if its an Accent, i second this guy

>>>[ ] Other..
>-Head into town with Shakir, find a mosque and pray.
>-Tahir babysits Malik outside town
>-Rachim Finds a car large enough for the five of us, with the capabillity to go offroad.
>We will spend the time needed
Plan's a plan. Writing.
We need to:
A. Buy our own damn cellphone
B. Try and placate Rachim, he's getting pissy and I don't want him running off somewhere.
Yup, get a burner, and get some order in our lines.

I feel that we always seem to get into trouble, maybe Heron's playing both sides here.

We should try to end this contract asap.
"I need a four wheel drive, Tahir. Leave the farmer be," You sling off your SVD, set it on the ground, "Keep an eye on Maliki. Rachim, Shakir and I are going in town."

"Wait, what? Aw c'mon, I want to go in to town too!"

You stand brushing yourself off, "Tahir, what did I say when I hired you on?"
"Egh. Fine. I better get a good cut when this is over. Remember this, sir! Remember my loyalty!" Tahir grabs your rifle bringing it close to him. Maliki looks uncomprehendingly between you two.

You tap out, "Wait here. We'll be back," on the phone. Maliki opens his mouth to protest, then thinks better of it. He sits back heavily on the ground to shiver and sulk.

At least Shakir and Rachim seem more cheerful. You leave your pistol in your holster, suppressor in your pocket, but the rest of your arms you leave behind. Shakir and Rachim disarm themselves similarly, then follow behind as you walk along in to town

Layoune is small. Not a thriving metropolis. You find a mosque shortly- more of a converted town house really, but the faithful must make do. You hear the calls to afternoon prayer, and join the crowd- and it is a crowd indeed. Refugees. Hungry children, hollow eyed mothers, bitterly shamed fathers are separated into rows apart from one another. They crowd around and outside of the mosque, ragged lines forming behind the imam leading the prayer. You prostrate yourself before God, bow to Mecca, and rise as one. This process is repeated 4 times. You rise for the last time, and the people drift away from you, to approach the imam in back for bread. It's a moment of normalcy, in your headlong flight. Or maybe you have that the wrong way around.

You step away from the mosque to talk to Rachim about stealing cars.
"I saw some- I mean, there's some possibilities, but-"
"But you feel bad for stealing?" Shakir asks pointedly.
"Well, no. Not exactly. I've stolen plenty," Rachim thinks, "I just feel there's another option."
"The other option is to be gunned down by the army. We have to touch bottom before we can breathe air again," Shakir surprises you, "Rachim, you may not be brave in battle, but you are no fool. We do this for survival- that is no sin."

Rachim rolls his eyes, "Survival, and a fat paycheck."
"In this world Rachim, money cuts as deep as a sword. Money buys bread, medicine, and shelter- something that my family needs. Do you think my brother and I go out for the thrill of it? We hold no malice in our hearts when we do this. If we could, we would starve- but we can not see our family suffer for our lack of courage. We do this because the world calls for us to fight or to see our family starve. Do you have family?"

That cinches it. Rachim looks sidelong. Probably off to a distant home in Constantine.

"Then why hesitate?"
"...Alright," Rachim rolls his shoulders, jerks his head, "Four wheel drive, seats five, right? We shouldn't leave Tahir and Maliki back at the farmhouse. Take them down the road- leave a man by it so I know where to stop, okay? I'll be along shortly, don't tarry."

With that, Rachim steps off, going at a jog down the street aiming south. You look to Shakir.
"How did you know he would fall for that?"
"Family is important," Shakir says with a smile, "Easy to speak from the heart."
"I wouldn't know," You admit honestly. The pair of you tread back for the farm house, grabbing Maliki and Tahir. Tahir complaining all the while that he couldn't see what was in town.
You wait by the side of the road in the cold, with only your pistol for company. Cars don't pass this way- probably because they saw a BTR going out this way, and are in no hurry to see what it was investigating. Your phone buzzes again.


Heron. Naggy bastard. You rub your hands against the cold, and sigh.

Truck coming up. Shiny blue Toyota Hilux. Rachim waving from the window. You hear Tahir curse behind you. He pulls in hard, and hops out, leaving the engine running, jogging to you. Before you can get a word in, Tahir is up and complaining, dragging Maliki along.

"Another fucking Hilux! I was hoping you had better taste than this, coward!"
"Four wheel drive, seats five, bite me, I deliver what works," Rachim does a nervous head count, jerks his head back.

You step past him, pull open the truck door, and heft your things inside. Looks like a decent machine. Doesn't smell of blood or shit. And has government plates, and an officer's beret on the dashboard.

You root in the glove compartment, pop out the ID card, and an ivory handled Browning Hi-Power. You look back at Rachim. He gives a shrug.

"The guy was busy with a woman. I took an opportunity."

You leave it alone. Load the rest of the gear. The Mark 19 was going to be a question though.

>[ ] Ready the Mark 19 on the truck. Take an hour's worth of work.
>[ ] Leave the Mark 19. Dangerous.


>[ ] Ignore Heron.
>[ ] Feed Heron bullshit.
>[ ] Tell Heron the truth.
>[ ] Other.

Back on the road. Straight shot to Oran.

>By the by, you already have a spare cell phone. I just figured you might want to tamp down on Rachim's reports to Heron.
Rolled 51


>Thank Rachim!

>[ ] Leave the Mark 19. Dangerous.
there is no way we will be able to keep it hidden, if the army hasn't confiscated it already.(can't really see why they would leave it standing in the countryside...)

>[ ] Ignore Heron.

you might want to tamp down on Rachim's reports to Heron.
Also, pocket the Browning.
Straightforward. Writing.

>More inventory.
>I really need to get that pastebin going.
I also like how Shakir is turning out, he might be a bigger asset than his brother
You look over the Browning. Aside from the tacky decoration, it was very well maintained. Probably just a holster decoration rather than a gun meant to be fired in anger. 9mm. 13 rounds, including the one in the chamber. Eh, what the Hell. You push it back in the glove compartment, but make a note to remember it.

"Thank you Rachim. Good work. Right, load up. Take everything that we can. That doesn't include the grenade launcher."

Tahir mimes a fish for a few moments, opening and shutting his mouth, before getting a grip and shaking his head. He steps away from the mark 19, grumbling the whole while.

You load up, and set off.

It's another four hours until you can see the false dawn of Oran in the distance. Maliki perks up at this, asking how close you were until you push the phone in to his face letting him know that you're at the outskirts of Oran. He seems nervous and anticipatory about this, asking you repeatedly, "If things go south, you'll cover me, right? You'll make sure I'm okay, right? We're friends, right?"

Of course.

Heron sends another message.

"You're being very uncooperative, Rachim."

Guess he doesn't know you're holding on to the phone. He shouldn't have objections when the job gets done, you figure. Just get Maliki to his guy, confirm the target is giving him safe shelter, pass the information on to Heron, you're golden.

Lot of military around too. You can see a checkpoint coming up- avoiding it is going to be hard to say the least. Oran is important. They wouldn't just leave holes in their lines to let people sneak in.

You double check with Tahir and the rest. He's down well hiding the guns. Guns aren't illegal at least not when you were through here last time, but a curfew or martial law would mean a firearm was probable cause for an 'accident', especially at night.

>[ ] Go through the checkpoint. Be cool.
>[ ] Wait until day time. Heron be damned, this can wait a while.
>[ ] Try going around the checkpoint. Dangerous.
>[ ] Other.
>[ ] Go through the checkpoint. Be cool.
If the shit hits the fan: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=PoTNzMns-Wc
>>[ ] Wait until day time. Heron be damned, this can wait a while.
let us use the night to observe the entry points
Nyerrghhh. Giving it five more minutes, then 1d2.
I guess No.28946851 can wait until dawn.
yeah, if we wait we can try to enter if a checkpoint gets crowded, should make it easier if a caravan gets stopped. they need to spend manpower searching it
Okay, waiting for day light. Writing.
Good idea.
More delays. Not what you wanted to deal with. You turn back from Oran. Another buzz at your hip. You ignore it.

You find a field to camp out in. By camp out of course, you mean taking shifts sleeping on rocky, painful ground. Your phone keeps buzzing all the while. Eventually, you turn it off. Rachim was watching. Despite the look of worry on his face, he leaves it alone. Everyone has their fair share of sleep.

During your watch, Maliki approaches you. Not surprising. You're surprised it took this long to come up with some way to weasel out is all.

"Let's ditch the others," Straight to the point, him. At the edge of the field, far from the truck and the men trying to sleep shivering in the cold, he comes close to whisper to you, like a snake in the garden.

"Why?" You tap out on the phone. Four texts unread from Heron.
"It'll make my man suspicious. One man, one friend, I can explain easily," He's talking a little loud. You wave your hand for quiet, he goes back to whispering, "Sorry, one friend, I can explain easily. But to come with four? And on top of that, one of whom is Rachim?"
"They helped save you from the convoy," You tap back. Then pause, tap away, "And how would they know Rachim?"
"They know, they know he's been working with the westerners. I told them."
"Do they have his face?"
"Of course. I put a bounty out on him."

Right. The bounty. Frown, "You don't remember his phone number?"
"No phone numbers," Maliki spreads his hands sadly, "I'm sorry to say, but for these sorts of people, security is paramount."
"These 'sorts' of people?"

Maliki pauses, shakes his head, "No. I've given away too much. You work for money- this I know. Makes you very trustworthy, as long as I can pay. But the others, I do not know them. Just- later today, see if you can ditch them, hm? That's all I ask."

You tap out a reply, but Maliki isn't looking. Skulking back, in his bent over fashion back to the truck to sleep.
You don't like conspiracies much. You keep reminding yourself, one million euros. One million euros. When Shakir comes to replace you, despite your exhaustion you find sleep hard to reach.

The next morning, over a breakfast of cold bread and beans, Tahir suddenly perks up.

"Oh! I've got a friend in this city?"

You set aside your bread, "A smuggler friend?"
"You didn't think to mention this earlier?"
"I hadn't thought about it, frankly," Tahir sniffs, "Oran's not my kind of town. Now, Fez, that's the place to be-"
"Friend in Oran, focus."
"Right, right, so," Tahir leans forward, hands open like he were presenting a gift, "Friend of man, One Eyed Yahya, he runs drugs in to Oran- for the tourists, you know? He does dock work, knows all the dock workers- most important man in Oran if you have a fix that needs scratching. I happen to have saved his ass two years back."

"Shame we're on dry land," Rachim mentions.
"Well, stands to reason he'd have to know people who can operate on the dry, right? You don't get to be the most important drug dealer in Oran without being flexible!" Tahir stands, points to you, "Unload all the contraband, I'll drive in to town, talk to him, be right back. What do you say?"

"He's a blabbermouth."

You're surprised when you hear Maliki speak. He looks up at the ring of shocked men, shrugs, "I've learned to read lips. I'm quick like that."

"Huh. Coulda fooled me," Tahir mumbles, then looks back to you, "What else are we going to do? Going to risk getting shot over his moldy ass?" He jerks a head at Maliki, "They'll know his face. But Yahya will know a way to bring him in hid."

>[ ] Ditch the truck, approach on foot to avoid checkpoints.
>[ ] Take the truck. Mobility is key. Approach the checkpoint.
>[ ] Have Tahir go in to town, see if his contacts can get you a secret way in. He may tip off people on your approach though.
>[ ] Split up. Send Tahir, Shakir, and Rachim in via truck. You and Maliki can walk.
>[ ] Other.
>>[x] Split up. Send Tahir, Shakir, and Rachim in via truck. You and Maliki can walk.

meet up with them and Tahirs friend
maybe leave Tahir and Rachim there, take Malik and Shakir to the meet. Shakir seems like a coolheaded guy, unlike his brother
>[ ] Take the truck. Mobility is key. Approach the checkpoint.

Do it at the busiest hour. Remove officers beret, try to bluff through.
Another five minutes, then 1d2.
Alright, that's settled. Writing.
We just have to give Tahir a task in the city, so he won't act like a child when he can't come to the meet. He, Rachim and smugglerfriend can make a plan/route to escape in case/when shit hits the fan.
"Maliki is the problem here, right?" You down the last of the dry bread with water. Take a moment chewing it. You have to make this look like you put serious thought in to it, "Fine then. Tahir, you take Rachim and your brother in the truck. Go meet your Yahya. See if he can provide us a way out. Hide everything contraband- and here," You pull out your wallet, work a wad of cash out, and pass it to him, "Money in case you need to bribe anyone. Don't go nuts."

Tahir counts the money with practiced ease, and gives a quick nod of thanks.

>New dinar total, 20000 Algerian dinars.

"Go find your friend, Yahya. Me and Maliki will sneak in."
"How are we supposed to meet up then?" Shakir asks as he starts packing the gear in to the truck.
"You have a cell phone? I'll text you."
"Heh, yeah," Shakir takes out a phone, tosses it to you, "Hit the menu button, settings, info. Number's there."

You put the phone number in your own phone. Don't bother with Rachim's. Rachim for his part, raises his hand, "Ah, my phone?"
"Sorry, need to keep it a while longer. Anyway, when we get in to town, we'll contact you. Don't contact us. If you don't hear from us, check in at a hotel, uh, the Ibis Oran."
"Ibis Oran? Total tourist trap," Tahir raises a hand, "You want my opinion-"
"I don't. Ibis Oran is on a road straight to the port and more importantly, secure. Unless things have seriously gone wrong in Oran recently."
"Things have gone seriously wrong in Algeria recently," Rachim murmurs. You roll your eyes, clap your hands.
"Enough, enough waiting, get moving. I need you guys to go meet with Tahir's smuggler. And please, keep the gunplay to a minimum, hm?"

You have a bad feeling, so you disassemble your rifle and pack it in to your duffel bag. You might need this thing in town, and to be frank, you're not in your element here. Trying to coordinate people, you can't help but think of all the things that can go wrong. Later, you'd have to get Maliki after you both get in to town.
And it's done a wonderful job calming Maliki. He's all smiles, whistling a tune as he walks by your side. You double check your CZ in the holster- still there. Maliki is too cheerful for a man newly deafened.

"Good work, on that, friend," Maliki starts, "You're pretty clever at that."
"I'm using what I have, that's all. Where's your friend?"
"Rail station," Cold and bitter fields surround you, "Well, that is if you want to meet there. I mean, he still has his manor."
"I'd rather meet him at his work place where he has to worry about his cover, if that's all the same to you."
"Right, sure," Maliki pants a little as he slopes along, "Whatever you say. Say, about, about how far do you think we've got?"

Rachim's phone brings wisdom as you page it up, "Forty kilometers."
"Oh, hah, forty kilometer hike. Wonderful," Maliki has stopped whistling, "You sure we couldn't have-"
"I'm sure."
"Oh. Well, thank you then. Just, just what I needed to recover from captivity and near death experiences."

Ah, that's the old Maliki you knew so well. You hide a smile and forge on.
You're almost spotted twice- the first was when you strayed too near to a checkpoint, and the second when a man out for a walk with his child happened to come around the corner just when you were, but you managed to handle both situations without bloodshed. Soon enough, rural gives away to suburban, and urban gave way to an actual city. Oran. Not suffering the war torn fate of the rest of Algeria, evidently, but you do see heavy police forces on the streets, and military vehicles occasionally grind down the roads. You were following the railroads, but sure enough, it's heavily guarded. A pair of officers with MAT 49s hanging loosely off of them are at the nearest door, a sign hanging above them.

"Inspections now mandatory. Please have bags and identification at the ready. By order of the DRS, under the Emergency Powers mandate."

A quick look around the rail yard shows similar security precautions. You doubt they'd let Maliki keep his shemagh on, and you're fairly sure that the Algerians would have taken photographs of the man.

"You're sure he's in the rail yard?" The pair of you had retreated to a cafe. Maliki, around a cup of coffee nods sadly.
"Yes, that is so- ah well, surely there are other ways out of this country- though this man is good, I would rather not be shot."

At least not until you get paid.

>[ ] "We have to risk it then," Go in the railyard with Maliki, police be damned. Be ready to bluff.
>[ ] "Right. You mentioned a manor?" Get Maliki to take you to where he remembers his contact's manor was.
>[ ] "Then we wait for him to come out," Wait outside the railyard until Maliki's target shows.
>[ ] Text Heron. You've gotten Maliki near his contact. Heron can take it from here.
>[ ] Other.
>>[x] "Right. You mentioned a manor?" Get Maliki to take you to where he remembers his contact's manor was.
Railway station is to full of government. This mansion will be guarded to, but hopefully not by people who want to capture/torture/kill Maliki.
Get the adress/area from Maliki, call the boys and check if their contact know anything important about it.
Then try the doorbell
Right, writing- but first, eating. I'll be gone for quite a while. Completely unlike all my other posts, hurr hurr. Anyway, slow post coming up, sorry.
"Do you remember the address?"
"Address?" Maliki snorts, "No, of course not. I was taken there in a car. I'll know it by sight though!"
"You said it was by the coast?"
"Yes. Fairly far out of town. Ah, I think it was a ten minute drive or so?"
"Good thing we have the truck then," You tug out your cell phone to call Shakir, "We'll need a place to keep you in the meanwhile. I don't want you getting tortured or killed any time soon."
"Your compassion approaches that of angels, my friend. I thought we were leaving the others out of this?"
"I'm not going in blind," The phone rings once, "What's your guy's name?"
Maliki hesitates. You give him a hard look. He holds up his hands limply in surrender.
"Abu Da'wud al-Wakil," You give a nod of thanks. Like pulling teeth.

Shakir answers with a refreshing lack of sass, "Sir."
"Shakir, the train station is too crowded. We're going to have to take a trip out in to the country- as your brother met his man Yahya yet?" You jerk your head to Maliki, indicate it's time to walk. You leave money enough to cover meal and coffee on the table, and get going.

"Yeah, actually, we're waiting inside of his warehouse right now," He has worry in his voice. You turn direction, heading for the sea.
"Right. Ask him if he's heard of a man called Abu Da'wud al-Wakil?"
"Okay," Silence, you hear some muted conversation. A short bark of noise, "Well, Yahya doesn't like him."
"Must be either a monster or a saint for a drug dealer not to like him. He have anything else to say?"
"Says he's tried to deal with him before, but he's far too rigid and unreasonable. Considers the man eerie. Says he's real rich too. Has a big house outside of town- too much money for rail man."
"That's our next stop. Ask him an address. Where are you?"

He rattles off two addresses. You double check that he still has his weapons available. They're in the truck. Good news for you.
Yahya's warehouse is a sloping affair, too far from the docks to come under official attention. In the center of an asphalt parking lot, with a ring of trucks around it, it looked official. Even as you look now, you can see men loading a truck heavy with wooden crates, stamped with blandishments against rough treatment.

The truck that Rachim had recently liberated is parked out front- no officer's beret in sight to your relief. You decide not to test your luck, and keep your duffel bag with you as you approach. You veer clear of the men on the loading dock, surrounded by a ring of fellows with hands close to their coats, and make for the front door. An African man who looks to be the offspring of a tank and Mt. Kilimanjaro holds up his hand as you approach.
"Inspection sir," Speaks good French. Senegalese? You hold up a hand, respond in kind.
"Not going in. Picking up a friend- mind asking for Tahir?"

The bouncer frowns, his formula disrupted.
"This a trick?"
"Friend, if you had the month I've had, you wouldn't even be able to think of the word 'trick.'"

The man frowns, shrugs. With a hand to the pistol at his belt, he opens the door, leans in, "Tahir?"

Shortly, Tahir comes out, red eyed and bushy tailed, Rachim and Shakir following after him. On the way out, Rachim asks again for his phone back. You let him know the job is on the eve of finishing. Just have a little patience.

You get in to the truck. Tahir giggles as he taps at a cell phone. You get a buzz at your hip. Bring up the phone.

"Your friend's friend Da'wud is a terrorist. Yahya doesn't like him. We working for CIA? That's really cool. How much $$$?"

>Go alone to Da'wud's manor.
>Go to the manor with Maliki.
>Bring the whole gang to his manor.
>Before jumping in to things- find a store to recover this laptop hard drive.
>Before jumping in to thing- go find your Sicilian. Get your money you've got socked away.
>Before jumping in to things- find a store to recover this laptop hard drive.
Nobody knows we're here yet, let's use this time productively. No need to rush into things.
Gotcha. Writing.
Y'know, you've had this damn hard drive for a long time. Might as well check it out. Probably not in front of Rachim though, with the way he's been acting.

"Okay. Spend some time on your own. Let's meet up at the Ibis Oran in two hours. I want to do some shopping first."

They accept that easily enough. You let them borrow the truck, hop out, and head for downtown. Two hours was plenty of time to find an electronics shop that you could get this looked at. Shakir will keep an eye on them- and you give him express instructions not to let Maliki out of his sight.

It takes some finding- a lot of stores have shuttered windows these days. Eventually you find one- a placard waves in the wind, sheets of paper stapled to it. "MICROHELP ORDINATEUR." Cardboard covers the windows, but there is a sign on the door that insists that yes, they are open.

A jingling bell announces you, and two small, pale men look up at you from a CRT monitor. Dust is in the air, small dunes forming in the corners, and what was once a shiny display counter is dingy in the dirt. The light is too fluorescent, and it combined with the dirt gives a strange and surreal haze to everything in the room.

But the display counter shows expensive, high priced electronics- iPods and kindles, with shiny cases. Hanging off the wall, older electronics, a super nintendo, a spot repaired atari, speakers- no price tags. Just there to give the technological atmosphere, you guess.
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"Can I help you sir?" The man comes up. Short, crooked nose blazoned with red veins. A gap toothed smile. Large blue eyes behind his big glasses settle on your duffel bag, speak concern, "Ah- I hope your machine isn't in there sir? We have special bags for electronics, you have to worry about static-"
"That won't be necessary," You unzip the bag, draw out the hard drive, "I just need the files from this."

He frowns at the sight of it, "That's severely damaged."
"Hm. Joie?" He looks back to the other man, heavy set, hunched forward like a gargoyle on his office chair, "What do you think?"
"I think it's broken, Omar."
"Terribly broken Joie."
"Just terrible," Joie brings his tubby arms around his chest, and shakes his head, "Just terrible."
"We'll need our most advanced tools."
"Only the best!"
"A cathode ray tube."
"A microchip."
"At least twenty gigabytes-"
"I know what a hard drive is, and you're trying to pull this on me?" You ask. Omar looks shocked, raises his hands.
"Ah, well, if you knew the full trade you'd do that yourself, wouldn't you?"
"I'd say... 11,000 dinar. Not including expenses. If we get another virus, I'll not be held accountable for what I do," Joie sniffs daintily.
"Pay now, we act now!" Omar offers cheerfully.

More than half of your money.
>[ ] What the Hell. You'll be rich soon. Pay the fools.
>[ ] Haggle. DC 40 and below, takes up time.
>[ ] Pay nothing. Walk away- to the mission.
>[ ] Pay nothing. Walk away- to grab your savings.
>[ ] Pay nothing. Show the CZ. Make it clear exactly what you're expecting.
>[ ] Other.
>>[ ] Other.
Pull a spare magazine from our pocket, set it lightly on the counter,keeping a hand on it, and say to them, "Gentlemen, please stop trying to rob me. I would hate to have to," glance at the magazine, "resort to other methods of negotiation. "
Fuck it, just pay them. A place that nice must have some kind of security and we probably don't feel like raising any attention if things go south
Nrr. 1d2 in five I guess.
Seems like we are a little slow right now.
Rolled 2

To be far, I'm really damn slow. Not to mention far out of the timezone we usually play this in.

At any rate-
1=Make things clear.
2=Shell out the dosh.
Paying. Writing.
Highway robbery.

>9000 Algerian dinars remain.

But highway robbery you didn't have time to contest. You slap the money down. Omar and Joie look at the pile of bills and then back up to you.

"Faster the better," You remind them.
"Right, right, whatever you say sir," Omar smoothly nabs the hard drive and passes it to Joie, "And we'll throw in a 4 gig thumb drive for free! Eh, how big is this?"
"I'll find what's worth saving," You step around the counter, looking over the fat man's shoulder as he gets to work. Omar disappears and reemerges with an enclosure- to your surprise it works on the first try. It's hooked up to the computer, and after a few minutes of whirring and sputtering, the fat man gives a satisfied nod.
"Worked on the first try. Strong little thing."
"You got lucky sir," Omar intervenes, "We didn't even have to repair it."
"We'll see how lucky I am if the data goes through."

Sure enough a prompt pops up when Joie tries to access the drive. Not one you were expecting though.

"Hm. Password required," Joie looks to you, "You wouldn't happen to-"
"Can't remember it."
"Ah, of course," Joie dismisses the prompt, digs through some more folders, "They never do."

A dos screen comes up- some code. A big ascii piece of art depicting a skull. A few more minutes, a reboot, then Joie tries to open the hard drive again. Prompt appears again, but this time Joie types in a five character response. It grants access.

"Voilà! All done. Say, what'd you want to look at anyway-" Joie's cursor drifts to a folder called 'pictures' but you put a stop to his roving.
"That's all thank you. Omar, can I borrow this computer for a bit?"
"Eh, I suppose you can. Have at it. Joie?" Omar claps his rotund friend on the shoulder, who, after a great deal of grunting, hefts himself out of the chair. It's uncomfortably warm, and bit moist with what you hope is his sweat, but you take your seat.
This was Rachim's laptop, of that you could be sure. Everything on users/rachim/desktop. Three folders, work, stow, and personal, surrounded by a sea of notepad .txts. A lot of personal notes, 'birthdays,' 'todo monthly,' 'english words to look up,' 'good colleges,' 'french cities to live,' 'nice rhymes,' 'linux kernels look up,' on and on. All of Rachim's little thoughts that ran through his head seemed to end up on this desktop, along with shortcuts for minesweeper, crap cleaner, audacity, speedfan, and other arcane things you can't understand. Useless.

You start in the folder called work.

Empty. Try stow. There's some files, but more odds and ends that meant nothing. Personal was the same thing- though now you know Laurie's last name, and a remarkable amount of personal information about her.

You work your way through the rest of the hard drive, and most everything is fruitless. Here and there, a reference to Heron, and even in documents you find an IRC transcript of Rachim's conversation with Thomas, but the rest is an exercise in frustration. The IRC transcript revealed something interesting though.

[12:43] <R> they don't really like to talk about this stuff. can't you have a drone follow them around?
[12:43] <ThePolice> if we had the budget for drones we wouldnt be paying you.
[12:43] <ThePolice> they kicked us some more funding last year but all the good gear goes to bigjing and HK
[12:43] <R> HK?
[12:44] <ThePolice> need to know basis chum

Most of the rest is useless information on Maliki's men, trying to find his supplier. Almost definitely intelligence though.

Roughly twenty two gigabytes remain on the hard drive. Your search yielded almost nothing, but still you transfer the IRC convo just in case.

Maybe the nerds could do something else.

>[ ] Let Joie/Omar at it. See if they can recover any more data.
>[ ] Better to not start spreading this around. Put the best bits on the thumb drive, then take thumb and hard drive out with you.
>[ ] Other.
Must stretch legs.
>>[ ] Let Joie/Omar at it. See if they can recover any more data.
>>[ ] Other.
Close the open items, have the nerds poke around a little more. See if we can't get at more stuff.
pls make sure this thread gets archived sometime pls

this quest is too good to not be saved


Okay, I'm on it.
Seriously, why the ever-living fuck are we ignoring Heron? I don't get it.
You close all the open windows you have up, scoot back.

"Hey Omar? I've got a problem."
"Of course you do," Omar comes over, eagerly rubbing his hands together, "What might be it be?"
"A bunch of things were deleted. I'd like to bring them back."
"Have you already tried double clicking the recycle bin?" Omar is at your shoulder, putting his hand on the mouse, "That's where things go when you delete them-"
"Thank you, but I did. See this?" You point to the work folder, "It's all gone. See if you can get it back."

"Ohh, well," Joie comes lumbering out, a frown on his face, "That might be troublesome."
"You can't do it then?"
"We CAN- but it'll take some time. A lot of time really."
"Just do what you can to be quick, okay?" You push away from the chair, give them room, "I've got somewhere to be."
"Whatever you say, sir," Joie sits at the computer, starts tapping away- opens up another program, "We'll see about recovering those files you 'accidentally' deleted."

Omar gives him a hard elbow in the side, looks to you, smiles, "Hah, well, it also should be said that discretion is the most important pillar of our business-"
"See what you can recover."

They work. It takes about an hour, but they start dredging up a great deal. A great deal of encrypted files, along with more IRC chat logs. You keep an eye on them, make sure they don't take too deep of a look, but there are a few things that keep coming up. "Trajan sample," "Raytheon," "Sonatrach," and "Jaysh al-Tahrir al-Alami."

A whole lot of documents titled that, with oodles of video files attached. And apparently, a lot more was corrupted outside of that.

Another ten gigabytes recovered by the end of it. Ten gigabytes of very secretive information. Omar is turning very pale. Joie just works away, uncaring.

>[ ] Fuck it. Look now.
>[ ] Find a drive to stick it on, put it on, and go. Look later.
>[ ] Get Omar and Joie to put it out online with a password. Have insurance.
>[ ] Other.
Well, they might be worried about being spied upon. I don't know. I just went with the tone from a few replies.

Also, holding off on archiving at the moment purely because we miiiiight be able to make it to a pretty big plot point.
>>[ ] Get Omar and Joie to put it out online with a password. Have insurance.
"Okay, Omar, it seems you understand what this is. Let's try not to disappear or take a vacation to Cuba, what do you say?"

After this, unless you can think of anything, you have to go check on the gang.
Can they put it on an encrypted drive, maybe? I don't trust them not to try and fuck us given that Omar seems to have an idea of the value, so it'd be good to have it on something they can't just grab remotely (assuming they didn't already make a personal copy.....)

I'd go with the internet thing but even if we're inclined to trust them, I'd rather not leave access to something this important up to connectivity, who knows where we'll end up in the days to come
oh well, fuck it
Reasonable, incorporating.

Also, I might be going too fast with calling votes done window. Should I widen it from ten minutes? Lemme know.
"Okay, Omar it seems you understand what this is. Let's try not to disappear or take a vacation to Cuba, what do you say?"

"Me? Understand- oh please, not a thing, not a thing, I'm very discrete sir," Omar backs away, treating you as if you had drawn a gun on him, "I just know they're big companies, you can leave me out of this!"
"Top secret stuff," Joie mumbles as he pushes away from the keyboard, "Lotta encryption too. You don't seem like you know enough to do this. Whose laptop is it?"
"I need two things. First, a hard drive that can fit all of this- something I can take with me. Something encrypted. Second, just in case that fails, get this up on a sharing site. Password protect it. I need insurance.
"Run you twenty thousand dinar, but I can get you that," Joie is remarkably confident about this. Omar just stares aghast, raising his hands.
"I haven't agreed to anything!" Omar shouts. You shush him.
"Joie, I don't have that kind of cash on me right now."
"Then you'll have to come back with it," Joie says, reaching for a portable drive with masking tape on it marked 'musalsal,' "I'll load this one up. Omar, mind if I load your stuff on here?"
"Yes! Yes I do!" Omar turns to you, holding up his hands, "Ignore him, please, he's not right in the head, he's as weak in mind as he is in body, just leave us out of-"
A slightly greasy external drive is pushed in to your hand, "And done. Encryption code is musalsal. Gimme a phone number, I'll text you the code for the share site once it's uploaded."
"Thank you, Joie. I'll be back with the money."
"I'll charge you interest," Joie says in his level tone, swinging back to his monitor.

Omar turns between you and Joie as you walk out the door, taking the original laptop hard drive with you.

You get back to the place two hours sharp, and Tahir is, naturally, a half an hour late. He's apologetic, insisting that he was doing valuable research on Da'wud- but came up empty. Maliki is bitter and complains incessantly that Shakir and Tahir were treating him like a prisoner, and would you please get them in line?

Rachim for his part immediately asks you for his phone back again.

>[ ] "Rachim, I found something interesting..."
>[ ] Give it back to him.
>[ ] Text Mr. Heron.
>[ ] Ignore that. Just get to this manor.
>[ ] Other.
Egh. Another delay. Be back in a while.
>>[ ] Ignore that. Just get to this manor.
Fuck this, lets get the job done and GTFO
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>My eternal shame is that this isn't animated. Writing.
"I got what I needed done. Move over Tahir, I'm driving. We're going to find this manor of Maliki's."
"Ah, finally- but, we don't want to pressure him-" Maliki begins, but you hold up a hand.
"We'll deal with that-"
"And my phone?" Rachim butts in.
"-later," You finish your sentence with a look at Rachim, pushing in to the truck, "Let's just do this damn job already."

It's not far out from Oran. It's a cold day. Far from Ramadan or home. The coast doesn't look good in this weather- underneath the gray sheets of clouds heavy with rain, there's an oppressive dimness to the atmosphere. The world like a washed out old home video.

It doesn't take much driving along before Maliki starts pointing it out. And it is large. A great, hunched over giant of a thing, obnoxious with crenelations and domes and arches painted yellow and white, greedy for any attention it could get. It's like an old ksar with a mcmansion's sense of taste. Four stories tall, if you had to guess, with a great stone wall around it, large wrought iron gates closing it off, hunched on a cliff to look out on the sea, vomiting yachts and piers out in to it. Opulence in architecture. But it spoke of new money. Money that didn't plan well, and acted on impulse. As you crest a hill, you get a glimpse of the gardens within- overgrown grass, trees left rampant. A man seeking to show off with no good grace to maintain his possessions.

Definitely not a railroad worker's salary.

"See? Ah, it's gorgeous there. Da'wud is a good friend of mine. Maybe you can enjoy his hospitality too, my sniper friend?" Maliki seems proud as if by proxy looking on the building.
"God, does he shit gold?" Tahir is shocked, "That thing is huge! Probably as big as my home town!"
"Maybe, maybe we should let Heron know?" Rachim insists again as you get closer, "This, we're going pretty far off the map here."
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You ignore him for a moment, drive past the palace. You make for downhill, out of sight of any cameras or watchers, pull over on to gravel. The wind's picking up, as is typical, making you blink away the dirt.

A buzz at your hip. Heron again. You bring up the phone, check it.

"Talk to me, or I will find out what is going on, so help me God."

Heron's getting agitated. Good. Words spoken in anger are words thought in peace. Your motley band steps out after you, all eyes on the palace you're in the shadow of. Lot of money in that place. Lot of money you might earn soon.

That is if you can survive to spend it.

Heron's mission: Get Maliki to his contact. Confirm who he is. Let him know. Heron will take care of the rest. A simple job of intelligence.

You've known who Maliki's contact was for quite some time though, haven't you? Yet, you've been in no hurry to keep Heron abreast. Why? A conscience? Or a sense that you couldn't trust Heron? Maybe Maliki's man would pay for more. This 'prince' character sounded influential.

Tahir and Shakir are obedient. They're content to trust you, believing you'll pay them. They'll do whatever you say. But Rachim is getting increasingly upset. He might be an issue soon. Your only old friend in this merry band.

"We go up and ring a door bell or something?" Tahir drives to the heart of the matter. You take out your binoculars, sweep the windows- yes. There's men there. Talking, but next to gun barrels. Da'wud wasn't going to be soft. You'd have to tread lightly.

"We drop Maliki off, we get paid, right?" Tahir speaking, "Maybe I can do it, eh? I know these types of guys."

Million euros. But something wasn't right.

>[ ] "I'll take Maliki up there. Rest of you, stay here. Get in only when it's necessary."
>[ ] "Let's go knock on their door."
>[ ] "Maliki, go in. I'll cover you."
>[ ] Call up Heron.
>[ ] Pass Rachim's phone back to him. Wait for him to let Heron know.
>[ ] Other.
Let's just us and Maliki go together. Leave the others behind.

...Maybe I'll wait until tomorrow though. I think everyone is asleep. Hope the thread will last that long. I want to sleep too.
Bumping for grand finale tonight

>Do we se any patrolling guards, numbers?

>>[ ] Other.
-Text Heron;
>"On our way into the rabbit's hole now, if God is good you will hear from me shortly"
-Take Maliki and Shakir, Tahir and Rachim will be lookouts, and our cover if shit hits the fan.(give Rachim our phone, the burner in case he needs to contact us)
-Ask Maliki if there was any protocol/passwords, whatever that might ensure our safety the last tim he met this guy.

>This is it men, paycheck is in sight. Stay sharp and we might live long enought to enjoy it!
>Let's go knock on their door
Seems to cover all important bases even if it contains a massive death flag.

It will last. Good night.
>it contains a massive death flag.
This quest is so good it has given me a deathwish, so...
You and OP both.
Roboplegic wrongcock.
I'm happy to see you're reading this.
Back. Writing.
what sorcery is this
also for the love of god text heron
yeah, we might want to give Rachim back his phone, it was funny, then useful, and now its just stupid holding onto it
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You bring up Rachim's phone, go back to the car, grab an M84 stun grenade for each pocket. They'll probably search you, but you figure you could try any way. Send Heron a message. "About to enter lion's jaws. Follow up soon."

You put it away, point out Shakir and Maliki, "You and you, with me. Shakir, leave the rifle, grab your pistol. Tahir, Rachim, keep an eye out. Just in case, stay behind the truck, and-" You pass Rachim the other cell phone, "Here, just in case."
"Not mine," Rachim mutters under his breath.
"Look, I'm going to be going inside- if Heron needs a picture of this guy, I'll be the one to take it."
"Wait, why not-" He stops, shuts his mouth. He remembers the convoy raid. You give a slight nod to him, then look to the rest of the men. You should say something you think. You glance over the men, give a nod.

"Last step. We're about to be paid. Be careful. Tahir, don't let anybody sneak up on you or Rachim. Don't hesitate to get loud and flee- just make sure to keep an eye out for us. Shakir, keep an eye out for exits. If things go wrong, we don't do last stands, we live to fight another day. You bolt for a way out, I'll follow you. Come on," You jerk your head to Maliki and Shakir. They walk after you. You double check Rachim's phone. Already a reply from Heron. Irritation at being kept out of the loop, but confirmation of a message received. Maliki gives unhappy looks to Shakir. Shakir, for his part doesn't look exactly happy either. He's uncomfortably bereft of a rifle.
Walking across the road, you tap out a question to Maliki, "Any sort of protocol or passwords to worry about?"
"Da'wud, well, he doesn't like weapons."
"Great," Shakir doesn't sound optimistic.
"So, he'll pat us down. Man can't blame us for carrying guns in this day and age. What else?"
"Well," Maliki seems indecisive, then admits it, "I don't, I don't really remember all that well. If there was something important, I'd have remembered it, I'm sure. But-"
"But you were drunk and or high last time you came here," You finish for him, getting annoyed.
"Yes. Just so," Maliki nods, glad you're an understanding sort, "Da'wud is a very kindly host."

The wrought iron gate looms large as the three of you approach. You see a man lounging beside the entrance in a small guard booth. A shabby coat and AK 74 hang off of his shoulders.
"Hold," He raises a hand glancing between the three of you, "Who are you?"
"We're Maliki's guards-" You pass the message on to Maliki, holding the phone in his sight range, "And he wants to visit Da'wud."

Maliki brightens, starts frantically nodding, "Yes, yes, that is just so! You must remember me- I came through here last Ramadan-"
"A lot of people come through here. Maliki?" A bell seems to be going off in the guard's head. He nods, presses a button. A buzz, "Hey, sir, there's a Maliki here. Wants to see the boss?"

Little beady eyes watch you. Man takes his responsibilities seriously then. An electronic, grating voice replies.
"Hrn, Maliki? That's funny. Who are his friends?"

You see movement in your peripheral vision. Windows in the palace brightening and darkening, men taking positions.

>[ ] "Hired muscle."
>[ ] "Friends."
>[ ] Introduce yourselves honestly.
>[ ] "Jaysh al-Tahrir al-Alami."
>[ ] "Spies."
>[ ] Other.
>>[X] "Hired muscle."

>[ ] "Spies."
>[ ] "Friends."
we did rescue the cunt from a military convoy

also, its almost 5AM here in ausfalia, so I must sleep, good luck with the thread, I hope we don't die
I'm sorry my Australian friend.
Giving it five, then 1d2ing.
Rolled 2

2='We're pals.'
oh man
this is gonna be interesting
"We're friends of his."
The guard raises an eyebrow, relays that to the man behind the speaker. A considerate crackle, then a, "Let them in."

They're letting you keep your guns? You share a look of surprise with Shakir. The guard shrugs, hits a button, and you hear a buzz and clank as the gate unlocks, "Go on through. You're a lucky man, Maliki, reaching us first."

You're not really sure of that. A long walk awaits you as you approach the palace, a great wasteful crescent of shining white stone with a fountain in the middle- grey and french looking, with stone cherubs frozen mid frolic in the waters. Algae runs from their eyes. You don't like it. Plenty of open space, aside from that fountain- you'd need to sprint at least twenty yards to get from the end of the drive way to the front door, which currently has an armored limousine obscuring it. It has Saudi license plates. A man is immediately before the door in a striped, Berber djellaba and turban. He gives a low bow at the sight of you approaching.

"Da'wud is not in at the moment, Maliki, a fact for which he apologizes. He knows of your contributions to our struggle, and does not mean any insult."

Maliki points on a facade of grave indifference and gives a short bow back, "Me and my men require water."

He's a good guesser. The servant nods, "Of course, sir, we would only be too glad to provide this- if you would come this way?"

The servant turns to the great cedar doors, and pulls them aside to reveal a hallway of warm yellows, shaped screens, and friendly whispers. A heavy incense is in the air, thick and masking- which surprises you as you walk in behind Maliki at a flank, as you look at a side room to see a woman reclining on a couch in flagrante delicto- not a hint of shame on her, a pipe in her hand, and a man between her legs. You look to Shakir. You can see a blush seeping up from his neck as he stares. You give him an elbow, and he double steps to keep up.
You're led along some twists and turns to a great living room, wide open double width french doors shut to the outside. White concrete leading down to a chopping sea, where a pier jutted out and all the toys a rich man could ask for, yachts, jetskis, and speed boats tied up to it. The living room is uncomfortably large and empty, a big plasma screen TV (You guess he wasn't up to date on everything after all) hanging on a far wall, pillows and couches strewn pell-mell about. Fruit in a bowl left on a table near at hand. Up above though, you see other floors- just some wooden rails separating the second and third floors from this room. A fine point to rain fire down enfilade if they so desired.

"I will go fetch the water, sir," The servant says with a bow, before leaving out a door to the side, deeper within the mansion. You wait for the retreating footsteps to fade fully, before turning to Shakir, staring down. Overwhelmed by the sights, you guess.

"Ways out?"
"Huh?" Shakir blinks, then focuses, "Er, well- okay, to get out the back here, obviously we have the door-"
"Covered by balconies," You gesture to Maliki, put your back to a wall, "We're going through that maze. What were the turns?"
"Of course- he took a left, then a right, then another right, then there was that leaning hall-"
"Good, so long as you remember, that's all that's important," You hold up a finger. Slippered feet returning.

The servant enters again, young face creased with joyous lines, in one hand a pitcher gently ringing with ice water, and in the other a plate layered with glasses. Maliki stands, looking at him gravely.

"I am sorry for the delay sir," He sets pitcher and glasses by the bowl of fruit, "You will be pleased to know that my master is actually returning home now. There is an important guest he is playing host to- not to say you are not important, Maliki sir, but Master Da'wud would not dream of offending two such important persons."
The servant looks up at Maliki, glittering black eyes considering him. Maliki frowns, looks to you. You give a slight nod. Maliki starts vigorously nodding, "Good, good, just what I wanted to hear. You may go."
"There is nothing else you desire, Maliki?" The servant has a coy smile, "When last I remembered you here, your appetites were voracious-"
"Your iniquity and temptations make me sick, leave us be," Shakir hisses. Clearly trying to keep his mind from the sights entering. You give a hard look to Shakir. He shuts up, but the damage is done. The servant raises an eyebrow.

"My apologies, sir. I overstep my bounds. The master shall be here soon."

He bows, takes the plate and shuffles back out of the room, looking up only to shut the doors. Free of his false warmness he looked rather calculating.

You breath out, tap out to get Maliki up to speed. Maliki sits up at that, turns to Shakir, "You turned down his offer?"
"I am not like you Maliki, I'm not some venal-"
"Who cares? You are in his house, do not spurn offers of hospitality! Oh God," Maliki shakes his head, "And I was just thinking I needed a pick me up-"
"Calm yourself," You chide him over text, "It's just a servant."
"Just a servant? Please," Maliki shakes his head, beard quivering with upset- probably more at the wasted chance to indulge than any fears of offense, "We're to wait in this room God knows how long with nothing to do. He'll be suspicious if we're not balls deep in a whore or stoned out of our minds."
"I prefer not to rely on the good nature of strangers, Maliki," Shakir reminds. He glances back to the door the servant came out of, "I wonder what we'll find in this den of depravity, without a minder watching us."

>[ ] Call the servant back. Indulge as is expected- but only so far as it doesn't affect your abilities.
>[ ] Report to Heron. Let him know where you are, who this is, all that.
>[ ] Go sneaking about. Look around the mansion.
>[ ] Sit, and wait. Play it safe.
>[ ] Other.
Remind me who is actually paying us to do what, exactly?
>[x] Report to Heron. Let him know where you are, who this is, all that.
>[v] Sit, and wait. Play it safe.

End up in Gomorroa, not bringing Tahir. dammit
Heron just wants Maliki to get to one of his 'backers.' He wants to find out who Maliki's backers are. All you need to do is make the hand off, get Maliki in his backer's hand, and then let Heron know who/what it is so he can track him for the rest of the job.
What's our cover for helping Maliki?

Also, Maxim, this is probably the best written quest I've ever seen, and a damned good story. Do you have any background in any of the stuff here, or are you just pretty good at feigning it?

captcha: lemediv asceticism
I agree with your praise of OP, but how bout you read the quest, not bogging it up with obvious questions you can get all the answers to yerself?
The cover for helping Maliki is that he thinks you're his friend because you both served in Mu'awiya's militia in Constantine a few years back.

As for background- well. Not exactly. Just some relations.

To be fair, it's kinda complex, and I haven't made a recap pastebin or anything.

Anyway, writing fo realz now.
"Stay calm, keep an eye out," You bring out Rachim's cell phone again, "And don't let them-"

No signal. You had three bars just outside.


You put away your phone, turn to Shakir, "Shakir? Check your cell. See how many bars we got."

The look on his face tells you everything you need to know. The drum your fingers on your hip, take a look around. No one is around, either up a floor, in a room, or outside any of the windows. You rove over to the door, bring up your phone- nothing still.
"We won't be able to reach the outside then," Shakir pulls the HP Browning out of his belt, unloads the magazine to check the bullets, before shoving it back in, "Think we're in a little too deep?"

You wish you were on a hill a kilometer or two out, seeing the world through a scope. You set that aside. Wouldn't be worth a million euros if it was easy. Still, you check your pistol too, superstitiously afraid of losing control. 44 rounds across three magazines. Maliki, unaware, pours himself a glass of water.

"Okay. We wait. They're probably expecting us to trip up and-" You step past Shakir, take the glass out of Maliki's hand before it can reach his lips, "Don't eat or drink anything. Got it?"

"Don't need to tell me that," Shakir takes his place on a wall, scanning the floors above, "This place is poison."

You keep your gun holstered and set. Maliki settles down uneasily next to you. From warlord to bargaining chip. Things change rapidly in Algeria these days. You hear a few shots in the distance. Kalashnikov fire. You think those were too distant to be aimed at your friends.

Soon enough though, there's a knock at the door, and a familiar servant enters, smile on his face, "Hello there," He shuts it behind him, djellaba sweeping along as he enters, "Da'wud is here now- he would meet you in the dining room, if that's not any trouble?"

>[ ] "I need to make a call. Mind if I step out?"
>[ ] "Well, let's meet him then."
>[ ] "Were those gunshots earlier?"
>[ ] Other.
>>[x] "Well, let's meet him then."
It is to late to change our mind now.
Praise be Allah, our fate is in his hands now
>>[ ] "Well, let's meet him then."

If something happens, we can always fire a shot.
Meet n' greet. Writing.
You catch Maliki's eye, give a slight nod. Maliki nods vigorously, spreads his arms, "Of course! I am grateful you asked!"

The servant raises an eyebrow for a microsecond, before he is all smoothness once more, "You are very kind, honored sirs. If you would follow me?"

He turns, not waiting for a response, pulling open another door. With a nudge to Maliki, you follow after him. Maliki looks nervous. Pass him over. Job done. Million euros. You silently pray to God, while keeping your hand close to your gun.

At some point, you're aware the ground slopes, and there is a turn. Underground. Not helping your paranoia any more. You look to Shakir. He's frowning, eyes flickering about for landmarks. Maliki meanwhile, seems to be on the edge of a breakdown. You'd rather not engage him in conversation. He couldn't control his voice very well, with his damaged hearing.

The spiral ends, and you're disgorged in a room far more familiar, and the source of the sweet smelling smoke. It's saccharine, goes through your nose and sticks to the back of your throat, gives a bad taste. Lends an occult air to the room, a ring of softly burning sticks, a stinging mist in the air. A great, black rectangular table of shining stone, surrounded by eight high backed, ebony chairs. On the walls, tapestries and rungs hung- occasional shifting to reveal that there's more room out there than just this uncomfortable pen. And there is a wind, somewhere. Has to be some sort of surface access out there then. No comfort here-

A sunken eyed man with a permanent frown and bare cheeks is at the table. Not at the head of the table. A western business suit, with an Algerian flagpin in his lapel. Close cropped hair and a look of disdain. Hands clasped on the table. Looking like a judge. You dislike him at the instant you see him.

"Da'wud," Maliki starts with a smile, spreading his arms for a hug- but Da'wud holds up a hand.
"Not a step further, Maliki."
Maliki might not be able to hear very well, but he can read body language. He freezes, face crestfallen.

The servant takes a step behind you and to your left- just in eye sight, but out of comfortable reach. He looks calm. Not an iota of fear.

The carpets tug and shift, and you can see the shadows of men there. You wish you had your night vision goggles almost. You're in another ambush situation. You eye the room. Aside from the table, you had no real cover. Three of the four 'walls' were just tapestry and carpet. Precious looking, but you doubt they'd stop a 7.62mm bullet.

"Da'wud?" Maliki lets his arms drop, "Is there something wrong? Please, you remember me! The good times, last Ramadan when-"
"I remember you," Da'wud reclines, pawing at his ring, "But, I remember also my place. You come, so brazenly to my home?" He sneers, stands, and spits at Maliki's feet, "You should curl up and die of shame! You bring strangers to my home, bring unwanted attention! Do you remember the sacred vow you promised?"

Da'wud has an impressive amount of volume to his voice. Even a deaf man can hear him. Maliki bends low, holding up his hands, pleading.

"Of course I do, but are we not brothers? Have we not shed blood toget-"
"Be silent!" Da'wud puts a hand to his chest, "I am a holy warrior and you- you are just another parasite. You let yourself get caught-"
"But I broke out-"
"You did no such thing! You were lucky, you imbecile. What have you said then, eh? What have you said about our prince? Count yourself fortunate he is not here! He would flay you, cut you from balls to throat!"

The servant brings a hand up to his face. He's hiding a grin.
"I say nothing!"
"You're wrong- You're soft, decadent. I know the sort of man you are, Maliki," Da'wud's eyes flick over you and Shakir, "And I don't know these men."

>[ ] Stay silent.
>[ ] Introduce yourself.
>[ ] Sell out Maliki to curry favor.
>[ ] Draw a gun, take a hostage.
>[ ] Call out Da'wud on his hypocrisy.
>[ ] Other.
>>[ ] Stay silent.

For the love of god, don't do anything rash just right now.
>>[x] Stay silent.
silence is golden

pray to Allah that Rachim have called Heron with the burner we gave him
>silence for now
until/if we are spoken to
mention our long relationship with Maliki, even the details of them, but only if needed. no need to seem like a bragging pig or untrustworth employee
Mum's the word. Writing.
You wisely don't rise to Da'wud's provocation. Maliki speaks first.
"These are my friends- they saved me!"
"Saved you? Who would save you? After you got greedy on that hostage job-"
"I was directed from above to do that, damn it!" Maliki shouts, "I got my orders directly from al-Najjar in Dubai!"
"You think that somebody would go over my head for you?" Da'wud sits back heavily in his chair, shaking his head, "You sap. You've been played. Still are being played."

Maliki blinks, leans in, "I- What? What are you saying?" Da'wud interprets this as confusion, rather than honest inability to communicate.
"Al-Najjar has only spoken to me twice- and I'm playing host to Prince Kassad shortly. Mohmar's mouthpiece wouldn't speak to you of all people."

Maliki is unable to pretend any longer, raises his hands, "I- I am sorry, Da'wud, my friend, I can't hear you. Can you speak up?"

An incredulous look from Da'wud. Then, for the first time a smile appears on his face. He laughs, a loud, baritone laugh as he leans back, shaking his head amused, "You're DEAF? Oh this is rich, this is truly rich," He lowers his voice to a whisper, smiling mischievously, "So, you think that we would have any use for a deaf man? How naive are you, my friend?"

"I, I can't hear you if you talk like that, please-"
"You're dead. You're dead and you don't even know it," Da'wud looks up to you, "You can hear, right? Of course you can, I see you perk up at that. He paying you? You know you're surrounded by men the prince entrusted to me right now, don't you? Hand chosen and trained. The finest soldiers in our army. They will not miss, and they shall shoot at my slightest signal."

The servant frowns at this.
"I snap my fingers, you're all dead," Maliki meanwhile, is leaning in, trying to hear. Da'wud rises from the table holding a hand up. Thumb and forefinger but an inch apart, "I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone that would willingly follow Maliki for this long. So, tell me- give me a reason that I shouldn't shoot you all right now."

"Master," The servant speaks now, tipping his head, "Forgive the intrusion-"
"I shall not," Da'wud says with a scowl, "Servants should not speak unless spoken to."

The servant's eyes narrow to slits, but he keeps his head bowed, "I forget myself. I say things that I can not back up. Forgive me."

Da'wud grunts, and with that noise, the servant is forgotten again. He keeps his eyes on you, "Well then? Beg for your life. My hands itch."

Maliki is starting to get the gist he raises his hands, "Wait, wait! I can tell you where Ra-"
"I'm not talking to you right now," Da'wud hisses. His eyes don't leave your face. Da'wud is relishing this.

"Tell me why you should live."

Shakir is looking at you. Sweating profusely. His hand is not far from his HP Browning. You think.

One man, not far from you. You could shoot him quickly- at least to die taking someone with you. Perhaps in the chaos Shakir could get away. The servant- he is at an uncomfortable stretch. It'd be a risk, but you might try for him as a human shield. Maliki is closer. Keep him between you and the bullets, and...Well, you'll still be hit, but you might be able to crawl upstairs before bleeding to death.

Da'wud is an egomaniac. And mad at Maliki. Perhaps an execution would do the trick for him. Maliki was dead anyways- Da'wud would not tolerate him living. His reputation seemed to be on the line for that.

What to do.

>[ ] Other.
>>[x] Other.

>I can give you the western striketeam that hunts you and your superiors.
>on a silver plate
>They tink I am working for them, how little they know.

>Allahu Akhbar
I am not sure I mean it as a bluff yet... But it might buy us time to create a confrontation, and increase our chance of survival. Let Heron and his crew take the hit.
We stay on with whomever emerges victoriously.
What a pickle. I don't think we can shoot our way out of this, so we'll have to persuade him. We won't beg, though. I don't think that's our thing.

I think you should tell him that you saved Maliki because you owed him a favor. Plus, there's no point in killing you. Imply that you're more than capable of killing him right here, but you won't, because you just want to get out of this country.


This 'prince' character they all serve? I think it's the servant. He's getting pissed that Da'wud is getting too big for his britches.
Selling out Heron then? Gotcha. Writing.
goodbye one million euros
goodbye life out of algeria
though i guess we get to live at all
If we play this shit the right way we might get Heron and his pig-eaters out of the way as well as this terrorist cell.
The winners will be our country... And our eternal soul.
If God is willing, is possible.
Let us cleanse the path we have thread. Our life can be forfeited for the greater good is Allah wills it.
-Keep an eye on the servant to confirm/rule out this anons >>28967259 idea.
-Lure Heron and friends into a trap, but try to tip them of so casualties will be huge on both sides
-Kill the rest
-Use Maliki as our frontman
-Become Prince #2
-Make this area a better place laik good terrorist
There's no real tactful way you can start in on this. 'Hey, you shouldn't kill me because these other people are trying to kill you, I should know, I was working with them.' 'I came under false pretenses, but don't worry about it- this time, I'm telling the truth for real.'

The servant is watching Da'wud. Very calm. Strange young man.

Da'wud inclines his head, and raises his hand. He's not very impressive. You imagine he's not the sort of man that could stand to see his manicure spoiled. He's an oaf. But an oaf with all the cards now. All on you.

"You know a man named Heron?" The servant's eyes go to you.
"You're not starting well," Da'wud's fingers meet.
"He's looking to kill you."

He puts on a grimace, raises an eyebrow. Doesn't snap his fingers.
"Threatening my life is not a good way to start."
"I'm not threatening you, I'm warning you. I've done work across North Africa- you've done your research," He hadn't, "You know that."
"Words. Not worth the air you breathe," Nonetheless, he brings his arm down. Fingers still together. He was flattered.
"Why do you think Maliki's convoy was so poorly guarded? Why do you think the army kept him alive, and sent him north?"
"If you to list me every time the government has fucked up, we'd be here all day."
You take a blind leap, "And how about the Trajan sample?"

Da'wud frowns, "What?"
Well, shame he doesn't know about that. You're curious about it too, "I can tell you where they are. Western spies. Coordinate an ambush, take some heads. Get the recognition you've long deserved. Be a hero to the people."
"I already have hostages in my house, western hostages. I don't need more."
"How about bodies and equipment?"

He doesn't have an immediate answer to that. Da'wud turns his head left and right, considering.
"How did you know this?"
Tricky part.
"I made them think I was working for them," You give a shrug.
"A traitor then, twice over?"

His frown splits again, and he nods, chuckling:
"Kill these fools."
He snaps his fingers.

Silence. Painfully loud silence. He snaps them again, looking around.
"That was the signal, idiots. Shoot them!"
"No, Da'wud," The servant speaks, inclines his head, "This is the signal. Slipper."

Hands emerge from the carpets, and grab Da'wud, clamping over his mouth, his arms, and dragging him behind the curtains. He struggles, gives a muffled shout- and then all is quiet again. The servant at your shoulder glances over to you, tips his head, and takes his seat at the head of the table.

"I am sorry you had to see that," He looks between you, Maliki, and Shakir, then focuses on you again, "I suppose I should speak to you?"

"Who is he? What's he saying? What happened to Da'wud?" Maliki is behind again. Shakir claps a hand on his shoulder, looks to the servant.
"Er, he-"
"Go upstairs. Take the deaf man with you. I want to speak to your employer, alone."

The servant waits for Maliki and Shakir to disappear upstairs before he speaks again.
"I'm sure you're already aware of who I am."
"The prince, I presume?"
"Kassad, if you'd like. You mentioned a Heron, didn't you?"
"Always with the bird names, that one. Can you bring him here?" The man looks around, "Not here specifically, though that's where he'll end up. No, just to this area. Coordinate with me. Make sure he's found. How much was he paying you?"
"Million euros."
"Hah!" The prince shakes his head, smiles, "Too good to be true, my friend. He was going to sell you out to Interpol as soon as he was done with you."
"Trust me, I know these sorts, terrorists, criminal syndicates, governments, it's all the same. Obey or die. Only difference is how much they talk to you before doing the deed. Da'wud and Maliki, birds of a feather. Both once useful, now useless," Kassad considers a moment before speaking again, "You have a cell phone, no? You were checking it earlier. Give it to me, I let you, and your friends, and the men at the truck outside walk away. How's that for a deal?"
You're surprised.
"That's it? A cell phone?"
"A cell phone," Kassad nods, "That's all we need. He doesn't trust other numbers- I figure we have a shot with this one. If he does trust you."
"Surprisingly generous."
"You're clever. Clever, calm, and unafraid. Aside from that, I've seen the work you do. Unlike Da'wud, I use my time wisely to research."
"If I don't give you the cell phone?"

Kassad thinks. Shrugs, "Well, I guess you'd still walk away. Just not all your friends. And if you warn Heron, what of it?" He chuckles, "He still has nothing on me legally aside from the eyewitness testimony of a murderer who broke a terrorist out of army custody."
"You don't have any evidence."
"I'll make it."

Oh, no big deal then. Carpets and curtains twitch with men behind them. These are the prince's men. They're not going to hesitate in shooting you this time. And the prince has a table between you and him. Still, you've got a good bargaining position. You know things that he doesn't. You'll need more money if you want out of Algeria.

>I'm thinking of going with free answers, if you guys don't mind. If you want to bring back choices, I can. I just liked the spontaneous planning last choice.
let u think for a short time, if we draw short, give us some choices
Try and make a deal. You're useful. What can you do to make some cash, enough to start a new life elsewhere? Or enough to escape Heron once he knows you've betrayed him, at least.

-I'll contact Heron tell him I got you, bind and gag Da'wud, use him as the scapegoat, take his tounge out if that's what it takes. This way I'll get my payment before you take him out, and we both win.

-I keep the phone, you monitor my communication and choose the location of course.

-Any chance you could get me and my friends out of the country? I would grant you a favor for a favor.

anons, pls add
Okay, we'll go with that.

...I think I'll go back to choices next chunk.
b-b-b-but muh plan?>>28968815
aghhh. I gotta wait longer. Sorry. I'll go with that, since it's last choice but more detailed.
Rolled 11


>waiting 14 minutes for choices, makes us wait hrs.

jk op, your writing is better than ours
You think. Money. Money would be nice.
"Are you going to kill Da'wud?"
"I haven't yet. I was going to though- he's already been compromised, and he knows the price of failure," Kassad thinks, then nods, "Burying him alive. Yes. That would be best."
"Okay. I say I did extraordinarily. Bind and gag Da'wud, I drag him out. Say I need extraction to bring him back to interrogate- I'll message you where we are. You can bring your men in, and take out Heron. I get my payment, you get Heron off your back. Win win."
"And if Da'wud breaks under interrogation?"
"He won't break THAT fast. And if you must be secure," You mime scissors on your tongue. Kassad grins.
"You've been in this business a while then, have you? We'll need to break his hand too- fuck it, both hands. I find anything gets out about my operations-" His grin fades, "I will come for you. And I don't give speeches or warnings before I kill you, and whoever you care for. That is, if you care for anyone."

"Speaking of friends," You move along, lean in, "Can you get us out of the country?"
"All of you?" Kassad is surprised, "God be good, you are greedy eh? Can't your friend Yahya help you with that?"
"Don't worry about how. Right now, THAT is out of the question I'm afraid. I have loyal soldiers in line to get out. No offense, you have my admiration, but not my trust."

He rises from his chair, scraping on the ground, waving off the incense with annoyed hand, "You get me Heron, I'll pay you a million euros. But anything that is at Heron's lair is mine, clear?"
"Good," He jerks his head, "Go find your friends before they piss themselves in here. I have an assassination to plan. Pull your truck by the front door. We'll get Da'wud in the truck. And I am not Da'wud- I pay attention to the faces of everyone I meet, and kill strangers. No tricks."

You nod, and go upstairs. Kassad pulls aside a curtain, and you hear him start, "My master, how good to see you..."

Upstairs, Maliki and Shakir are by the entrance, looking confused. Their relief at seeing you is palpable. Maliki for his part, keeps murmuring, "I'm alive? How did I live?"

"Come on," You jerk your head to the front door, "Let's get going."
"We're going, right? Where are we going actually? We'll need to get out of Oran," Shakir is mumbling to himself.

>[ ] "-you're right. We're getting out of here."
>[ ] "-not yet. I haven't been paid yet."
>[ ] "-Shakir, don't get too settled. We're going back in with guns real soon."
>[ ] Other.

>I AM way too damn slow though. One more post, then I gotta get going.
Rolled 5

>>[x] Other.
>Allah has shown me the way out of this mess Shakir, and how to obtain the means to support your family to. We just have to have faith for a little while longer. Put your trust in God, and in me.
>Get the trap going

get heron to bring the cash to, maybe we'll get paid twice
Writing. Then, I'm going to stop for a time cause I gotta go do Christmas shopping- honestly, I'll probably not be back until tomorrow, but we'll see.
"-God is kind today, Shakir."
"Kind?" Shakir frowns.
"We're going to get out of this mess, and make more than enough money to take care of you and yours. Just have a faith a while longer. Put your trust in God, and me," You don't feel very inspirational when you finish that. You don't know how much trust you feel like you deserve but-

Shakir claps you on the back, "Hah, of course I trust you my friend! The Most Merciful shall provide!"
"What? What was that?" Maliki speaks loudly, confused, "Is everything alright?" You tap out the plan on Rachim's phone and show him it. He balks visibly, but continues to follow you. Trust is contagious, apparently.

You actually feel pretty good when you step out and make for the front gate. No bullets in you at the very least. Tahir and Rachim are having a spirited debate about who can use the radio when you finally get to the truck. Rachim looks up, visibly relieved.
"I'm glad you're not hurt. You were taking an awful lot of time."
"There were some debates," You pull yourself up in to the truck bed, point to the gate, "Pull in front there. We're picking up a package."

You text Heron, "Good news. Met Maliki's contact. Tried to kill us, got one over on him. Captured him. Slightly hurt though. Can you pick up?"

The truck pulls closer to the mansion, and you see two balaclava'd men heft the bound and gagged Da'wud. Rachim hesitates at the sight of them. The AKS-74Us hanging off of their arms don't help either. They wave you closer, and you approach. The pair heft the men in to the truck bed next to you. Da'wud looks terror stricken. Still in his suit. Tahir takes the opportunity to liberate him of his Rolex.

Reply from Heron.

"I did not tell you to capture him," You tap back.
"Things went wrong. You might be able to use him still, no?"
"This is irregular."
"If you don't want him, fine. We can release him."
"I did not say that."

A good ten minutes pass, then another message.

"Out of Oran. North of Mers El Kébir. Meet there."
Don't spend all of our 1 million euros! We still got that Dragunov.

Just sayin'
"Details? North is vague."
"Text me when you're in Mers El Kébir. We talk then."

"Uh, who is-"
"Da'wud, contact of Maliki's and terrorist," You show Rachim Heron's messages, "Worth one million euros. We go to Mers El Kébir."

One of the men formerly hefting Da'wud into the truck stops, pulls out a nokia hands it to you.
"Third contact," He offers with nothing else. He waves you off. Your truck pulls around, heads out of the mansion's grounds. After some time, Tahir speaks up.
"I have to hang around you more often sir, people just throw cell phones at you and I haven't even got one."

You make your way to Mers El Kébir. Possibly to be gunned down, branded as terrorists, branded as traitors to Algeria, or walk away stinking rich. You're not sure. You assemble your Dragunov. all up to God now.

The clouds above rumble with thunder, and the rain starts to pour.

>Anyway, to be continued when I get back.
The first thing we're going to do with all that cheddar is buy Maliki a hearing aid.
Bonne nuit, Op. Bonne nuit
Man, we're so fucked. There is literally hundreds of things which can go wrong with this plan...
Jarmen Kell?
Nah, fuck him. Let him go buy his own damn hearing aide. Lets get us a boat ride to and a hovel in Crete or Corsica, nurse down a kilo of hash, then perhaps work on the penensula or as maritime security to make ends meet. We need to look out for ourselves and perhaps Shakir and if we are feeling like getting brownie points with Allah, Rachim, the Maliki is scum.
Quick bump.
That's the beauty about it.
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We are beautiful
Angelic you're scaring me.
Internet is a poet of fuck you. Don't know when I will be back, but probably not for tonight. Feel free to let. Thread die. Don't want to post from stranger computer.
I say Bosnia & Herzegovina, not Croatia or Corsica. Easier to hide.
I will be waiting OP

Ok, you got me there. Still a pretty area. Probably more work for us in that area too.
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Shit, I was thinking of the coast areas in Croatia. Oopsie doodle.
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Well, we probably don't want to cooperate with this guy.

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