HIGH SOCIETY
Cetatea Albă, August, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
The case assignment room was full of noise; rowdy younger detectives arguing about this or that, the overhead fans clicking erratically as they threatened to fall on the room below.
“Márton and Pavlenco! Another day, another Euphorenol death.” Said Lieutenant Mandruleanu. “Captain wants you to check this one out, and he wants it handled with great care. The victim, Lili Németh, was –”
“The Lady Chancellor’s sister?” asked Márton.
“I’ll be damned.” Said Pavlenco.
The Lieutenant gritted his teeth.
“Yes, Márton. The Lady Chancellor’s sister. Now go, you don’t have all day!”
Pavlenco lit a cigarette as they left the station.
“My car, my rules Márton.” Pavlenco said with a grin as they stepped into his convertible.
“You know… you sure could save some time if you didn’t give the same spiel every time.” Márton said with a smirk.
“Shut up, Márton.” Pavlenco said, laughing. “How much you wanna bet this ‘Euphorenol’ is cocaine too?”
Márton laughed.
“Nothing, Pavlenco. It’s cocaine, 100%. Well, not 100% cocaine, but there’s cocaine in it guaranteed.”
“You don’t think Mrs. Richie-Rich could get the good-good?” asked Pavlenco.
“No, I don’t think she could get the ‘good stuff.’ Otherwise, she would probably be alive right now. The cocktail that killed Mrs. Gilca was the perfect storm, and if the additives match, we can go from there.”
The detectives walked into the mansion – a massive, three-wing estate made of stone and brick covered in moss and lichen.
“She lived like royalty,” Márton said.
“Benefits of being the Lady Chancellor’s sister, I suppose.” Replied Pavlenco.
The coroner was waiting for them, next to Mrs. Németh’s corpse.
“She was found by her maid, Mrs. Dorota Albu. She’s in the other room talking to Officer Bunea, I recommend you speak to both after this.”
“Got it. What are we looking at, doc?” asked Pavlenco.
Dr. Yonescu scrunched his nose.
“Your day to drive?” he asked.
Pavlenco grinned and nodded.
“I can always smell. Anyway, she shows signs of an overdose detectives. And here: her prescription. Take a look.”
Márton took the pill bottle.
“Euphorenol – 90 pills, 15 mg each, two a night.”
“Look at the prescribing physician.”
“Dr. Gergő Barta.”
“Son of a bitch.” Pavlenco said.
“It’s looking like Dr. Barta may be more involved in this scheme, rather than it being a rogue pharmacy.”
“We should pay the doctor another visit. I need my blood pressure checked anyway.” Said Pavlenco.
“First, the witness.” Said Márton.
The detectives walked over to the maid, a woman in her mid-forties by the looks of it.
“Detectives,” said Officer Bunea. “This is Dorota Albu, the one who found the body.”
“Hello Mrs. Albu. May we ask you some questions?” asked Márton.
“Of course, detectives.”
“What time did you find Mrs. Németh?”
“About fifteen minutes before I called. She looked like she’d be dead awhile, though.” Mrs. Albu said. “She came home around one this morning, from a party at that ambassador’s house.”
“Ambassador?” asked Márton.
“Yes. She was very well connected through her sister. She often went to parties at the ambassador’s house.”
“What nation’s ambassador?”
“Narikaton and Darnussia. She talked about him often, she was infatuated with him. He’s married, but that never stopped him from returning her advances.”
“Ambassador Michiel Beudeker. And you believe they were in a sexual relationship?”
“Believe? Detective, I don’t just work here, I live here. I know because I can hear.”
Pavlenco chuckled.
“Did this ambassador come by often?” asked Márton.
“Yes. And he always brought ‘party favors.’”
“What kinda favors?” asked Pavlenco.
“Some prescription. She couldn’t get it, so the ambassador got it for her.”
“Courtesy of Dr. Barta.” Said Pavlenco.
“Dr. Barta? Mrs. Németh saw him. He didn’t prescribe her the Euphorenol, though. They… didn’t get along.”
“How so?” asked Márton.
“I don’t want to spread rumors, as I only heard pieces. But from what I could gather, the doctor is wrapped up in some shady things. Something about giving poisoned drugs to people who think they’re getting real medicine.”
“Shifting from dealing drugs to addicts to peddling it to actual patients? God.” Said Pavlenco.
“You said she was well-connected, any other notable friends or acquaintances?” asked Márton.
“Or enemies.” added Pavlenco.
“Oh, she knew just about everyone who is anyone. Ambassadors, Ministers, Senators, the list is inexhaustible.” said Mrs. Albu.
“And did they all enjoy ‘party favors’ from the ambassador and Dr. Barta?” asked Márton.
“Oh yes, detective. I kept my mouth shut because my job required it. But now… I’m finding a new one anyway.”
Pavlenco laughed.
“Every politician and socialite strung out on the same supply – gives a new meaning to high society.”
Particracy Forum
A Battle Unseen
Re: A Battle Unseen
by BananaZebra » Sat Mar 09, 2024 11:01 pm
Hizb al-Ishtiraki al-Dimuqrati (Badara)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
- BananaZebra
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Jan 10, 2017 9:07 pm
Re: A Battle Unseen
by BananaZebra » Sun Mar 10, 2024 10:41 pm
AT NEEDLE POINT
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
Detective Iulia Hutopila lay face down on her living room floor, her head resting in her folded hands. Pills were scattered around her, and Márton had seen enough of them in the past few months to know what they were immediately: Euphorenol.
“Another overdose?” Márton asked Dr. Yonescu.
“It seems like it,” he said. “I’ll run some tests on the pills and do an autopsy by this afternoon. Approximate time of death is about 1 a.m.”
Márton turned to Pavlenco.
“Let’s see if the neighbors heard or saw anything, or if they know anything we don’t about Detective Hutopila.”
“I can’t imagine her on the stuff,” Pavlenco said, frowning. “It doesn’t seem like her.”
“Me neither, Pavlenco. But it looks like the most obvious answer.”
Márton knocked on the apartment door next to Hutopila’s.
The door opened to reveal an older woman, small and thin, with a wiry frame and thin grey hair pulled back in a bun. Her sunflower dress was worn and faded, and her eyes sat behind thick lensed bifocals connected at the back by a chain.
“Yes, detectives? Is this about Ms. Iulia?” the woman asked.
“Yes, Miss…” Márton said.
“Mrs. Illés. Dóra Illés.”
“Did you know Iulia well?” Márton asked.
“Not very well, but she was a friendly neighbor. We talked in the hall or on the stairs often. Nice girl.” she said.
“Were you home last night?”
“Of course, detective. I haven’t had a night out in years.”
“Did you hear or see anything odd last night?”
“Ms. Iulia did come home rather late, around 2 a.m. I think.” Mrs. Illés said. “She made an awful lot of noise, I thought she was drunk at the time, but even that felt odd.”
“Why’s that?” asked Pavlenco.
“She was a straight-and-narrow type. Not uptight, just… upright, I suppose. I can’t imagine her in some bar.”
Pavlenco nodded.
“Did she seem strange recently, strung out or droopy?” he asked.
“No, detectives. She was sharp as ever.”
An officer came over, his hand raised at his waist.
“Sorry to interrupt, detectives, but this man says he saw something.”
Márton nodded quickly.
“Thank you, ma’am, you’ve been very helpful.” he said, following the officer down the hall.
In front of the stairwell access door stood a man, about 5’5. Bald and pot-bellied, he was squeezed into a stained palm patterned shirt and cargo shorts that fell past his knees.
“Detectives, this is Márk Csonka.” The officer said, pointing to the man. “Now, sir, tell them what you told me.”
Csonka breathed heavily, wiping his palms on the front of his shirt.
“Last night – well, this morning, really – I saw a man leaving Ms. Hutopila’s apartment.”
“Did you recognize this man?” asked Márton.
“I recognized him, yes. But I don’t actually know who he is. He just visits – visited, I suppose – Ms. Hutopila often.”
“How often?” asked Pavlenco.
“Most nights. I wouldn’t mention the relationship, but this morning felt strange.”
“How so?”
“Well, they’re usually arguing nonstop. This morning, I only heard the man. He was either talking to himself, or he wasn’t alone. But I only saw him leaving, so I assume it’s the former.”
“What were they arguing about?” asked Márton.
“Well… lots of things. Sometimes money – she owed him quite a lot, by the sound of it. Sometimes…” Csonka trailed off, his face red and puffy.
“Go on, spit it out.” said Pavlenco.
“Their relationship was… intimate. I heard far more than I would have liked to, detectives.”
“Oh really – the man who comes around to her apartment nearly every night is having sex with her? Who would’ve thought.” Pavlenco said.
“Pavlenco.” Márton said, as Pavlenco sighed indignantly.
“Did you hear what he was speaking?” Márton asked. “When he was talking to himself, was he speaking Zyldavian or Kizenian?”
“Zyldavian. It was too quiet to make out the words, but it was definitely Zyldavian.” Csonka said.
“Let’s go ask the nosy neighbor if she’s got a name for this mystery guest.” said Pavlenco. “She may have been holding out, not wanting to accuse a proper lady and whatnot.”
“That’s… actually a fair point.” Márton replied.
“You almost sound surprised,” Pavlenco said, pouting dramatically.
Márton shrugged silently.
Mrs. Illés stood by her door, watching the detectives come back over.
“Yes?” she called.
“Mrs. Illés, I understand this is sensitive and you may be hesitant to share,” Márton said. “But we need to know if you knew of any men in Ms. Hutopila’s life.”
Mrs. Illés sighed.
“There were quite a few.” she said.
“Can you give us a highlights reel?” asked Pavlenco.
“That Kizenian boy… Vasile. Vasile Mihai, in fact. Always said his first and last, every time. Creepy little fellow, thin as a twig and quick as a fox – though he only used that skill to steal. I don’t know why Ms. Iulia tolerated that man. Though they were not romantic, from what I gathered. Rudolf, on the other hand. Ms. Iulia was enamored. She wanted to marry him, but Rudolf never even got close to mentioning marriage. I told her she was wasting her time, being used. She didn’t listen.”
Pavlenco tilted his head.
“Rudolf?” he asked. “Tall, hairy as a caveman?”
“Yes, officer. Strong, too.” said Mrs. Illés.
“Son of a bitch,” Pavlenco said. “He was at the factory, working nights with our buddy Hendrikzen.”
“We need to get back to the station, figure out where Rudolf is now and try to pin down this Vasile character.” Márton said, walking towards the stairs.
Pavlenco pulled out a cigarette and followed him down the stairs.
The secretary greeted them as they walked into the station.
“Detectives, how can I help you?” she asked.
“We need an address on a ‘Rudolf Apród,’ apprehended and booked here during the Well-Corp shootout, and a one ‘Vasile Mihai.’ Both were associates of Detective Hutopila.”
“Vasile Mihai? He was one of Detective Hutopila’s contacts, in the Euphorenol case. As for addresses… Mihai has a last listed address of 1743 Gardonyi St.; Rudolf Apród is listed as 589 Floris Av.”
“Mihai was Hutopila’s Euphorenol contact? Let’s get going, Márton.”
“Before you go, the coroner needs to speak with you urgently.
The detectives stood before the corpse of their colleague.
Her body was pale and matte, drained of energy and vibrancy.
“Was it an overdose, doc?” asked Pavlenco.
“Well, yes. But,” Dr. Yonescu said, pulling Hutopila’s hair back and pointing to a red-black dot at the edge of her neck. “Not on pills. Barbiturates can be delivered in either pills or liquid injectables. Whoever killed Detective Hutopila held her down and forced a needle into her neck. The angle makes no sense otherwise. The pills are just for staging, to make it look like she overdosed herself."
“She was murdered.” Pavlenco said.
Dr. Yonescu nodded slowly.
“Márton, it’s either Rudolf or Vasile for this.” Pavlenco said.
“And whoever they work for.” Márton replied.
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
Detective Iulia Hutopila lay face down on her living room floor, her head resting in her folded hands. Pills were scattered around her, and Márton had seen enough of them in the past few months to know what they were immediately: Euphorenol.
“Another overdose?” Márton asked Dr. Yonescu.
“It seems like it,” he said. “I’ll run some tests on the pills and do an autopsy by this afternoon. Approximate time of death is about 1 a.m.”
Márton turned to Pavlenco.
“Let’s see if the neighbors heard or saw anything, or if they know anything we don’t about Detective Hutopila.”
“I can’t imagine her on the stuff,” Pavlenco said, frowning. “It doesn’t seem like her.”
“Me neither, Pavlenco. But it looks like the most obvious answer.”
Márton knocked on the apartment door next to Hutopila’s.
The door opened to reveal an older woman, small and thin, with a wiry frame and thin grey hair pulled back in a bun. Her sunflower dress was worn and faded, and her eyes sat behind thick lensed bifocals connected at the back by a chain.
“Yes, detectives? Is this about Ms. Iulia?” the woman asked.
“Yes, Miss…” Márton said.
“Mrs. Illés. Dóra Illés.”
“Did you know Iulia well?” Márton asked.
“Not very well, but she was a friendly neighbor. We talked in the hall or on the stairs often. Nice girl.” she said.
“Were you home last night?”
“Of course, detective. I haven’t had a night out in years.”
“Did you hear or see anything odd last night?”
“Ms. Iulia did come home rather late, around 2 a.m. I think.” Mrs. Illés said. “She made an awful lot of noise, I thought she was drunk at the time, but even that felt odd.”
“Why’s that?” asked Pavlenco.
“She was a straight-and-narrow type. Not uptight, just… upright, I suppose. I can’t imagine her in some bar.”
Pavlenco nodded.
“Did she seem strange recently, strung out or droopy?” he asked.
“No, detectives. She was sharp as ever.”
An officer came over, his hand raised at his waist.
“Sorry to interrupt, detectives, but this man says he saw something.”
Márton nodded quickly.
“Thank you, ma’am, you’ve been very helpful.” he said, following the officer down the hall.
In front of the stairwell access door stood a man, about 5’5. Bald and pot-bellied, he was squeezed into a stained palm patterned shirt and cargo shorts that fell past his knees.
“Detectives, this is Márk Csonka.” The officer said, pointing to the man. “Now, sir, tell them what you told me.”
Csonka breathed heavily, wiping his palms on the front of his shirt.
“Last night – well, this morning, really – I saw a man leaving Ms. Hutopila’s apartment.”
“Did you recognize this man?” asked Márton.
“I recognized him, yes. But I don’t actually know who he is. He just visits – visited, I suppose – Ms. Hutopila often.”
“How often?” asked Pavlenco.
“Most nights. I wouldn’t mention the relationship, but this morning felt strange.”
“How so?”
“Well, they’re usually arguing nonstop. This morning, I only heard the man. He was either talking to himself, or he wasn’t alone. But I only saw him leaving, so I assume it’s the former.”
“What were they arguing about?” asked Márton.
“Well… lots of things. Sometimes money – she owed him quite a lot, by the sound of it. Sometimes…” Csonka trailed off, his face red and puffy.
“Go on, spit it out.” said Pavlenco.
“Their relationship was… intimate. I heard far more than I would have liked to, detectives.”
“Oh really – the man who comes around to her apartment nearly every night is having sex with her? Who would’ve thought.” Pavlenco said.
“Pavlenco.” Márton said, as Pavlenco sighed indignantly.
“Did you hear what he was speaking?” Márton asked. “When he was talking to himself, was he speaking Zyldavian or Kizenian?”
“Zyldavian. It was too quiet to make out the words, but it was definitely Zyldavian.” Csonka said.
“Let’s go ask the nosy neighbor if she’s got a name for this mystery guest.” said Pavlenco. “She may have been holding out, not wanting to accuse a proper lady and whatnot.”
“That’s… actually a fair point.” Márton replied.
“You almost sound surprised,” Pavlenco said, pouting dramatically.
Márton shrugged silently.
Mrs. Illés stood by her door, watching the detectives come back over.
“Yes?” she called.
“Mrs. Illés, I understand this is sensitive and you may be hesitant to share,” Márton said. “But we need to know if you knew of any men in Ms. Hutopila’s life.”
Mrs. Illés sighed.
“There were quite a few.” she said.
“Can you give us a highlights reel?” asked Pavlenco.
“That Kizenian boy… Vasile. Vasile Mihai, in fact. Always said his first and last, every time. Creepy little fellow, thin as a twig and quick as a fox – though he only used that skill to steal. I don’t know why Ms. Iulia tolerated that man. Though they were not romantic, from what I gathered. Rudolf, on the other hand. Ms. Iulia was enamored. She wanted to marry him, but Rudolf never even got close to mentioning marriage. I told her she was wasting her time, being used. She didn’t listen.”
Pavlenco tilted his head.
“Rudolf?” he asked. “Tall, hairy as a caveman?”
“Yes, officer. Strong, too.” said Mrs. Illés.
“Son of a bitch,” Pavlenco said. “He was at the factory, working nights with our buddy Hendrikzen.”
“We need to get back to the station, figure out where Rudolf is now and try to pin down this Vasile character.” Márton said, walking towards the stairs.
Pavlenco pulled out a cigarette and followed him down the stairs.
The secretary greeted them as they walked into the station.
“Detectives, how can I help you?” she asked.
“We need an address on a ‘Rudolf Apród,’ apprehended and booked here during the Well-Corp shootout, and a one ‘Vasile Mihai.’ Both were associates of Detective Hutopila.”
“Vasile Mihai? He was one of Detective Hutopila’s contacts, in the Euphorenol case. As for addresses… Mihai has a last listed address of 1743 Gardonyi St.; Rudolf Apród is listed as 589 Floris Av.”
“Mihai was Hutopila’s Euphorenol contact? Let’s get going, Márton.”
“Before you go, the coroner needs to speak with you urgently.
The detectives stood before the corpse of their colleague.
Her body was pale and matte, drained of energy and vibrancy.
“Was it an overdose, doc?” asked Pavlenco.
“Well, yes. But,” Dr. Yonescu said, pulling Hutopila’s hair back and pointing to a red-black dot at the edge of her neck. “Not on pills. Barbiturates can be delivered in either pills or liquid injectables. Whoever killed Detective Hutopila held her down and forced a needle into her neck. The angle makes no sense otherwise. The pills are just for staging, to make it look like she overdosed herself."
“She was murdered.” Pavlenco said.
Dr. Yonescu nodded slowly.
“Márton, it’s either Rudolf or Vasile for this.” Pavlenco said.
“And whoever they work for.” Márton replied.
Hizb al-Ishtiraki al-Dimuqrati (Badara)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
- BananaZebra
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Jan 10, 2017 9:07 pm
Re: A Battle Unseen
by Mbites » Wed Mar 13, 2024 4:17 pm
Peace and Quiet
Narikaton & Darnussia, Alkavon, Woodlands, Luthori Border Station, a warm 5453 July night:
Two bored soldiers guarding a less used street through the forest on the border to luthori were sitting around and staring through the air. Barely audible radio music filled the small room of the border station the two sat in.
One of the two swiped on his smartphone when he suddenly stopped to say something.
"Heast, did you see that?" He pointed on his news feed showing reports about the Kirlawan gas attack.
"Damn... would not want to be a Kundrati right now."
"Yeah, same here, well.. back to work, I'll go around and see if the fox family from before is planning to invade the dual-republic."
"Have fun." The soldier staying lit a cigarette and exhaled. "Thank god that I live in a country capable of diplomacy."
Narikaton & Darnussia, Alkavon, Woodlands, Luthori Border Station, a warm 5453 July night:
Two bored soldiers guarding a less used street through the forest on the border to luthori were sitting around and staring through the air. Barely audible radio music filled the small room of the border station the two sat in.
One of the two swiped on his smartphone when he suddenly stopped to say something.
"Heast, did you see that?" He pointed on his news feed showing reports about the Kirlawan gas attack.
"Damn... would not want to be a Kundrati right now."
"Yeah, same here, well.. back to work, I'll go around and see if the fox family from before is planning to invade the dual-republic."
"Have fun." The soldier staying lit a cigarette and exhaled. "Thank god that I live in a country capable of diplomacy."
"It looked like a silly semi-cliquey thing between a few players to me. Following around a troll called Mbites like he was some sort of god... which wouldn't have mattered so much in the scale of things, except one of them was a Mod."
-
Mbites - Posts: 710
- Joined: Sat May 07, 2016 11:15 am
Re: A Battle Unseen
by Luis1p » Fri Mar 15, 2024 3:57 pm
Queen's Royal Bedroom, Palace of Lights, Lac des Lumieres, Lourenne. 11:56 PM
_______________________________________________________________________________
Intense commotion and noises are heard from the bedroom... then silence
"I've never seen something so small give me so much pleasure. Please come again some time."
"Well, you might not see me for a while. Yishelem calls.... it is also a very long flight every single time."
"Fine! I'll call my maids to clean this mess up... before my joke of a husband gets here. Ah no! its all over me. I need my wipes can you get them?
"Of course"
"You know we need to be careful." wipes his body and groin area. "One day we'll end up with a major accident."
"Don't worry about that. I'll take my pill don't you worry."
"I must go, I am getting calls from Ariel already. See you at the party?"
"See you at the party."
The door opens, the person leaves, and the door is shut.
"Bye bye, Gabi."
_______________________________________________________________________________
Intense commotion and noises are heard from the bedroom... then silence
"I've never seen something so small give me so much pleasure. Please come again some time."
"Well, you might not see me for a while. Yishelem calls.... it is also a very long flight every single time."
"Fine! I'll call my maids to clean this mess up... before my joke of a husband gets here. Ah no! its all over me. I need my wipes can you get them?
"Of course"
"You know we need to be careful." wipes his body and groin area. "One day we'll end up with a major accident."
"Don't worry about that. I'll take my pill don't you worry."
"I must go, I am getting calls from Ariel already. See you at the party?"
"See you at the party."
The door opens, the person leaves, and the door is shut.
"Bye bye, Gabi."
-
Luis1p - Posts: 1991
- Joined: Tue Jun 27, 2017 6:01 pm
- Location: Chicago, USA
Re: A Battle Unseen
by BananaZebra » Sun Mar 17, 2024 11:18 pm
DOCTOR’S ORDERS
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
Márton pulled the car up to the curb outside Vasile’s apartment.
The building was in shambles, with broken windows and cracking foundations.
Márton knocked on the door to apartment three.
“We don’t have all day,” Pavlenco said, taking a step back.
He threw himself at the door, busting it off the hinges and forcing it open.
Inside, the apartment was a mess. It had been ransacked, drawers pulled out and turned over, papers and clothes strewn on the floor.
Laying on a pile of bills, letters, and laundry was the corpse of Vasile Mihai.
“Damn it, too late.” Pavlenco said.
Scattered behind the body were shards of glass from the window behind it, which had been broken to open it.
Márton went to the body, kneeling over it.
He pulled back Vasile’s collar.
“The same injection mark as Hutopila.” he said.
“And no pills… they didn’t even bother to cover it up this time.”
“You should go call the coroner, and technical services.”
Pavlenco nodded.
A crash rang out from the bedroom of the apartment.
Márton ran to the room, getting knocked back as a man ran out of it at the same time.
“VND! Stop, right now!” Márton shouted.
The man kept running, going out the open window and onto the fire escape.
The detective followed, sliding down the fire escape ladders as his palms burned and tore.
The man ran into the crowded sidewalk, knocking over a food cart owner as he reckless hurried away. Márton stayed close behind, doing his best to avoid the pedestrians on the sidewalk with him.
“Out of the way!” Márton shouted.
The man ran out into the intersection diagonally, where a car swerved to avoid hitting him and crashed into a delivery van in the middle of the intersection. Crates of bottled soda crashed onto the street, bottles bursting and flooding the street with sugary water.
Márton’s shoes squelched beneath him, sticking to the pavement, and slogging through the rising puddle of soda.
The man slipped in the puddle, and the driver of the van got out.
The driver laid into the man on the ground, kick after kick.
“Hey! VND, stop right now. This man is under arrest.”
The driver grunted.
“He’d better be, look at my damn van!”
Pavlenco pulled up in the car, getting out as back up cars arrived to surround the intersection.
“Holy Hell, Márton.” he said.
“What?”
“That poor sap is Rudolf Apród.”
“What were you doing in the apartment, Rudolf?” Márton asked.
The interview room was bright, the fluorescent light drowning the whole room in unforgiving, hostile brightness.
“Suppose I do talk, what’s in it for me?” Rudolf asked, arms crossed.
Pavlenco leaned forward.
“How about –” he began.
“Pavlenco,” Márton said.
His partner sighed and sat back in his chair.
“We can speak to the judge, arrange for a lighter sentence. Conspiracy and second-degree homicide, instead of first-degree homicide.”
Rudolf looked down.
“Alright. Vasile was talking to Hutopila. He was giving information to avoid jail time over a drug charge.” Rudolf said. “The doctor hoped to keep him silent with a steady stream of ‘Euphorenol,’ but he still went and squeled.”
“Dr. Barta, you mean?”
“Yeah, him. The doctor told me to go to Vasile’s apartment and... give him his medicine.” Rudolf said.
“Cut the shit, this isn’t a joke.” Pavlenco said.
Rudolf shrugged.
“Vasile was a low life, a junkie. Those are the people the doctor usually targets, like that broad he was in love with. Except for Németh, but that was because the ambassador got in with her and she found out about the experiments. She was threatening to go the cops and report Dr. Barta, so he and the ambassador…”
“Got you to deal with it, like Hutopila and Vasile.” said Márton.
“What broad? Clara Gilca?” Pavlenco asked.
“That’s the one.”
Pavlenco leaned in.
“Trust me, kid. Ms. Gilca did not love the doctor. So, he wanted to bang the broad, but she was just using him for the pills?” he asked.
“She was? I didn’t know that. Dr. Barta said they were in love.” Rudolf said. “Though I guess that makes sense. The doctor was angry with her towards the end. Especially that night.”
“What night?”
“The night he shot her.”
Accompanied by two officers, with another five surrounding the other exits, Márton and Pavlenco kicked in front of Dr. Barta’s practice.
The secretary stood.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Sit down, darling.” Pavlenco said, as he and Márton marched to the office.
One more gratuitous door kick later, Pavlenco stood in Dr. Barta’s office with a smirk.
“There was no reason for the aggression, detectives.” Dr. Barta said, sitting at his desk. “Surely I could have been of help without the threats.”
“Of help?” Márton asked. “You’re under arrest, Dr. Barta.”
“For what?”
“The murders of Clara Gilca and Vasile Mihai.”
“That’s ridiculous! Me, a murderer?”
“Well, not you. Rudolf’s the muscle, isn’t he?” Pavlenco asked.
The doctor went white.
“Rudolf? I fired that man long ago, detectives.”
“That’s not what he says, doc.”
“The barbiturates used to kill Ms. Gilca and Mr. Mihai were both prescribed by you, Dr. It’s not absolute, but it’s enough to bring you in.”
The doctor sighed.
“I suppose it is. But if you are thinking you’ve found your mastermind, I hate to tell you, but you will be sorely disappointed.” Dr. Barta said. “Do you think I could move millions of Francs worth of cocaine into this country undectected?”
“No. I think you had help from Ambassador Beudeker.”
Dr. Barta smiled.
“Very good, detective. A worth opponent, truly.”
“Do you ever get sick of yourself?” Pavlenco asked.
“The ambassador provides the cocaine; I prescribe it and test new formulas on some of my more… forgettable patients. I have nothing to do with the production, that is Rudolf and Hendrikzen.” Dr. Barta said.
“Alright, we’ve heard enough for now.” Márton said. “Let’s take the doctor back to central and book him and go pay the ambassador a visit.”
“Detectives,” the secretary said as they walked into the station. “Ambassador Beudeker is here to see you, in room three.”
“The ambassador?” Márton asked.
“He came in about fifteen minutes ago, of his own volition. Says he wants to give an interview and ‘clear the bad air’ surrounding him and his office.”
Márton and Pavlenco went to room three, where a tall and muscular man in a neatly tailored tan suit waited for them. His brown hair was trimmed short, and his demeanor oozed charisma.
Sitting across from his magnetic energy, Márton understood what Németh and so many other ladies saw in this guy, and how he had managed to get so far in politics and get away with so much.
“Detective,” Ambassador Beudeker said in a warm voice.
“Ambassador?” Pavlenco asked. “You’re awful young, aren’t you?”
“Thirty-seven, detective.”
“What is it, rich father? Uncle?”
The ambassador grinned.
“My father was the ambassador to New Endralon decades ago, yes. But I’d like to think I earned it, detective…?”
“Pavlenco,” he replied. “And I’d like to think a lot of things, that I’m not balding, that I don’t owe the government back taxes from the last two years – like I said, a lot of things. They’re still not true, though, buddy.”
The ambassador’s smile faltered somewhat, a slight downward twitch as its edges. He turned his eyes to Márton.
“Detective Márton,” he said, as he sat down next to Pavlenco. “Do you know a Dr. Barta, ambassador?”
“Dr. Barta? I know of him, of course. His interview in Nemzet was quite sensational, wasn’t it? Really launched Euphorenol into its current popularity.” Ambassador Beudeker said.
“Funny you should mention Euphorenol, ambassador. Are you aware of a criminal conspiracy to pass cocaine products off a prescription Euphorenol?”
The ambassador laughed.
“I apologize, Detective Márton. It’s just, that’s – it’s ridiculous, is what it is.”
“How close were you with Lili Németh?”
“Lili? She came to my parties; we had some drinks together. Not much else.”
“Really? Her maid, Ms. Albu, recalls a sexual affair the two of you had.”
The ambassador smiled.
“Old women love to gossip, don’t they? No, we did not have a sexual relationship, detectives.” the ambassador said.
“So was Mrs. Albu also lying when she said you gave Ms. Németh the ‘party favor’ that killed her?” Pavlenco asked.
“Party favor?” asked Ambassador Beudeker.
“Cocaine-laced Euphorenol, ambassador. It was the additives that killed her.” said Márton.
“God, that’s terrible. I had nothing to do with that, detectives.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Pavlenco said.
“Now, I think we’re about done here, detectives.” the ambassador said. “If not, I’m sure my lawyer would love to hear that you kept me here against me will, without a warrant.”
Pavlenco rolled his eyes.
The ambassador left, getting into a sleek black sedan, decorated with flags of Narikaton and Darnussia.
“Let’s go talk to the doctor again, Pavlenco. I think he’s holding back.”
The two walked to room six, where the doctor was being interviewed by another VND detective. After Detective Jakab finished, they entered the room.
“Ah, detectives. Good to see you again.” Dr. Barta said.
“Do you have anything that could link this to the ambassador? Anything else to go on?” asked Márton.
“On my part in the affair? No. I killed them, yes. But the ambassador? He set up the pharmacies. Only he had the capital available to do it. The shares of the corporation are split between him and I as majority holders, and then minority fractions to the rest of those involved.”
“What is the pharmacy called?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of them, detective.” Dr. Barta said, pointing to the bottle of acetaminophen they had brought at his request, a generic label from RejuveNow pharmacy.
“RejuveNow? Holy Hell.” Pavlenco said.
Dr. Barta nodded and folded his hands on his lap.
“Which locations? There must be hundreds by now, surely not all of them.” asked Márton.
The doctor smiled.
“All of them, detective.”
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
Márton pulled the car up to the curb outside Vasile’s apartment.
The building was in shambles, with broken windows and cracking foundations.
Márton knocked on the door to apartment three.
“We don’t have all day,” Pavlenco said, taking a step back.
He threw himself at the door, busting it off the hinges and forcing it open.
Inside, the apartment was a mess. It had been ransacked, drawers pulled out and turned over, papers and clothes strewn on the floor.
Laying on a pile of bills, letters, and laundry was the corpse of Vasile Mihai.
“Damn it, too late.” Pavlenco said.
Scattered behind the body were shards of glass from the window behind it, which had been broken to open it.
Márton went to the body, kneeling over it.
He pulled back Vasile’s collar.
“The same injection mark as Hutopila.” he said.
“And no pills… they didn’t even bother to cover it up this time.”
“You should go call the coroner, and technical services.”
Pavlenco nodded.
A crash rang out from the bedroom of the apartment.
Márton ran to the room, getting knocked back as a man ran out of it at the same time.
“VND! Stop, right now!” Márton shouted.
The man kept running, going out the open window and onto the fire escape.
The detective followed, sliding down the fire escape ladders as his palms burned and tore.
The man ran into the crowded sidewalk, knocking over a food cart owner as he reckless hurried away. Márton stayed close behind, doing his best to avoid the pedestrians on the sidewalk with him.
“Out of the way!” Márton shouted.
The man ran out into the intersection diagonally, where a car swerved to avoid hitting him and crashed into a delivery van in the middle of the intersection. Crates of bottled soda crashed onto the street, bottles bursting and flooding the street with sugary water.
Márton’s shoes squelched beneath him, sticking to the pavement, and slogging through the rising puddle of soda.
The man slipped in the puddle, and the driver of the van got out.
The driver laid into the man on the ground, kick after kick.
“Hey! VND, stop right now. This man is under arrest.”
The driver grunted.
“He’d better be, look at my damn van!”
Pavlenco pulled up in the car, getting out as back up cars arrived to surround the intersection.
“Holy Hell, Márton.” he said.
“What?”
“That poor sap is Rudolf Apród.”
“What were you doing in the apartment, Rudolf?” Márton asked.
The interview room was bright, the fluorescent light drowning the whole room in unforgiving, hostile brightness.
“Suppose I do talk, what’s in it for me?” Rudolf asked, arms crossed.
Pavlenco leaned forward.
“How about –” he began.
“Pavlenco,” Márton said.
His partner sighed and sat back in his chair.
“We can speak to the judge, arrange for a lighter sentence. Conspiracy and second-degree homicide, instead of first-degree homicide.”
Rudolf looked down.
“Alright. Vasile was talking to Hutopila. He was giving information to avoid jail time over a drug charge.” Rudolf said. “The doctor hoped to keep him silent with a steady stream of ‘Euphorenol,’ but he still went and squeled.”
“Dr. Barta, you mean?”
“Yeah, him. The doctor told me to go to Vasile’s apartment and... give him his medicine.” Rudolf said.
“Cut the shit, this isn’t a joke.” Pavlenco said.
Rudolf shrugged.
“Vasile was a low life, a junkie. Those are the people the doctor usually targets, like that broad he was in love with. Except for Németh, but that was because the ambassador got in with her and she found out about the experiments. She was threatening to go the cops and report Dr. Barta, so he and the ambassador…”
“Got you to deal with it, like Hutopila and Vasile.” said Márton.
“What broad? Clara Gilca?” Pavlenco asked.
“That’s the one.”
Pavlenco leaned in.
“Trust me, kid. Ms. Gilca did not love the doctor. So, he wanted to bang the broad, but she was just using him for the pills?” he asked.
“She was? I didn’t know that. Dr. Barta said they were in love.” Rudolf said. “Though I guess that makes sense. The doctor was angry with her towards the end. Especially that night.”
“What night?”
“The night he shot her.”
Accompanied by two officers, with another five surrounding the other exits, Márton and Pavlenco kicked in front of Dr. Barta’s practice.
The secretary stood.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Sit down, darling.” Pavlenco said, as he and Márton marched to the office.
One more gratuitous door kick later, Pavlenco stood in Dr. Barta’s office with a smirk.
“There was no reason for the aggression, detectives.” Dr. Barta said, sitting at his desk. “Surely I could have been of help without the threats.”
“Of help?” Márton asked. “You’re under arrest, Dr. Barta.”
“For what?”
“The murders of Clara Gilca and Vasile Mihai.”
“That’s ridiculous! Me, a murderer?”
“Well, not you. Rudolf’s the muscle, isn’t he?” Pavlenco asked.
The doctor went white.
“Rudolf? I fired that man long ago, detectives.”
“That’s not what he says, doc.”
“The barbiturates used to kill Ms. Gilca and Mr. Mihai were both prescribed by you, Dr. It’s not absolute, but it’s enough to bring you in.”
The doctor sighed.
“I suppose it is. But if you are thinking you’ve found your mastermind, I hate to tell you, but you will be sorely disappointed.” Dr. Barta said. “Do you think I could move millions of Francs worth of cocaine into this country undectected?”
“No. I think you had help from Ambassador Beudeker.”
Dr. Barta smiled.
“Very good, detective. A worth opponent, truly.”
“Do you ever get sick of yourself?” Pavlenco asked.
“The ambassador provides the cocaine; I prescribe it and test new formulas on some of my more… forgettable patients. I have nothing to do with the production, that is Rudolf and Hendrikzen.” Dr. Barta said.
“Alright, we’ve heard enough for now.” Márton said. “Let’s take the doctor back to central and book him and go pay the ambassador a visit.”
“Detectives,” the secretary said as they walked into the station. “Ambassador Beudeker is here to see you, in room three.”
“The ambassador?” Márton asked.
“He came in about fifteen minutes ago, of his own volition. Says he wants to give an interview and ‘clear the bad air’ surrounding him and his office.”
Márton and Pavlenco went to room three, where a tall and muscular man in a neatly tailored tan suit waited for them. His brown hair was trimmed short, and his demeanor oozed charisma.
Sitting across from his magnetic energy, Márton understood what Németh and so many other ladies saw in this guy, and how he had managed to get so far in politics and get away with so much.
“Detective,” Ambassador Beudeker said in a warm voice.
“Ambassador?” Pavlenco asked. “You’re awful young, aren’t you?”
“Thirty-seven, detective.”
“What is it, rich father? Uncle?”
The ambassador grinned.
“My father was the ambassador to New Endralon decades ago, yes. But I’d like to think I earned it, detective…?”
“Pavlenco,” he replied. “And I’d like to think a lot of things, that I’m not balding, that I don’t owe the government back taxes from the last two years – like I said, a lot of things. They’re still not true, though, buddy.”
The ambassador’s smile faltered somewhat, a slight downward twitch as its edges. He turned his eyes to Márton.
“Detective Márton,” he said, as he sat down next to Pavlenco. “Do you know a Dr. Barta, ambassador?”
“Dr. Barta? I know of him, of course. His interview in Nemzet was quite sensational, wasn’t it? Really launched Euphorenol into its current popularity.” Ambassador Beudeker said.
“Funny you should mention Euphorenol, ambassador. Are you aware of a criminal conspiracy to pass cocaine products off a prescription Euphorenol?”
The ambassador laughed.
“I apologize, Detective Márton. It’s just, that’s – it’s ridiculous, is what it is.”
“How close were you with Lili Németh?”
“Lili? She came to my parties; we had some drinks together. Not much else.”
“Really? Her maid, Ms. Albu, recalls a sexual affair the two of you had.”
The ambassador smiled.
“Old women love to gossip, don’t they? No, we did not have a sexual relationship, detectives.” the ambassador said.
“So was Mrs. Albu also lying when she said you gave Ms. Németh the ‘party favor’ that killed her?” Pavlenco asked.
“Party favor?” asked Ambassador Beudeker.
“Cocaine-laced Euphorenol, ambassador. It was the additives that killed her.” said Márton.
“God, that’s terrible. I had nothing to do with that, detectives.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Pavlenco said.
“Now, I think we’re about done here, detectives.” the ambassador said. “If not, I’m sure my lawyer would love to hear that you kept me here against me will, without a warrant.”
Pavlenco rolled his eyes.
The ambassador left, getting into a sleek black sedan, decorated with flags of Narikaton and Darnussia.
“Let’s go talk to the doctor again, Pavlenco. I think he’s holding back.”
The two walked to room six, where the doctor was being interviewed by another VND detective. After Detective Jakab finished, they entered the room.
“Ah, detectives. Good to see you again.” Dr. Barta said.
“Do you have anything that could link this to the ambassador? Anything else to go on?” asked Márton.
“On my part in the affair? No. I killed them, yes. But the ambassador? He set up the pharmacies. Only he had the capital available to do it. The shares of the corporation are split between him and I as majority holders, and then minority fractions to the rest of those involved.”
“What is the pharmacy called?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of them, detective.” Dr. Barta said, pointing to the bottle of acetaminophen they had brought at his request, a generic label from RejuveNow pharmacy.
“RejuveNow? Holy Hell.” Pavlenco said.
Dr. Barta nodded and folded his hands on his lap.
“Which locations? There must be hundreds by now, surely not all of them.” asked Márton.
The doctor smiled.
“All of them, detective.”
Hizb al-Ishtiraki al-Dimuqrati (Badara)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
- BananaZebra
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Jan 10, 2017 9:07 pm
Re: A Battle Unseen
by BananaZebra » Mon Mar 18, 2024 5:26 pm
REJUVENOW
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
The detectives arrived to the location of the RejuveNow pharmacy, 363 Szent Lazslo Dr. A small building, a brightly colored neon sign flashed outside saying:
“RejuveNow: Building a Better You!”
Márton and Pavlenco walked into the store, a bell ringing softly as they did.
The store was empty.
Not just the shelves, but of people too.
“Hello?” Pavlenco yelled.
A door in the back swung open, and a man in overalls and a work jacket stepped out.
“Hello? May I help you?” he asked.
“Detectives Márton and Pavlenco,” Márton said. “We’re investigating a link between RejuveNow and a drug ring active in the area. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
“Name’s Vilmos Budai, and I’ve got no problem with that.”
“What happened here?” asked Márton.
“Shut down. Pretty sudden, honestly. Overnight, almost.” Budai said.
“Shut down? RejuveNow is raking in the dough, why now?”
Budai shrugged.
“I don’t get paid to know that. I get paid to move stuff.”
“Speaking of moving stuff, mind if we take a look?” Pavlenco asked, pointing to the pallet jack behind Budai.
Budai paused.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Pavlenco grabbed a crowbar and cracked open the crate’s lid.
Inside were two compartments; one with finished Euphorenol pills, the other with bags of what looked to be cocaine.
“Hmm… didn’t think cocaine was still used as medicine.”
Budai threw his hands up.
“Again, I don’t get paid to know things. I get paid to move them.”
“Where are you moving this crate?” Márton asked.
“The port, there’s a warehouse owned by RejuveNow down there. 1541 Veres Palne St.” Budai said.
“I think we should follow this schmutz, see if he can’t lead us to the rat’s nest.
Bodai’s truck pulled into the warehouse parking lot.
An unmarked and drabby building, the warehouse was possibly the largest on the block.
“How much storage would a pharmacy need, Márton?” asked Pavlenco.
“Probably not this much.” he replied.
Bodai got out of his truck and helped the warehouse crew unload.
They cracked open the boxes, and held up the cocaine to inspect it, bringing out scales to weigh it as well.
Márton turned on the sirens and he and Pavlenco exited the vehicle, guns drawn. Backup vehicles pulled into the parking lot, officers exiting guns drawn as well.
“VND, get down on the ground, now!” Pavlenco shouted.
Some of the crew dove to the ground, while two of them grabbed machine guns and began firing.
Pavlenco took out one with two shots to the chest and one to the cheek, and the other fled inside the warehouse. The officers got to work arresting those who remained, while the detectives and a few officers entered the warehouse.
Pavlenco and Márton crept along the edges of the warehouse shelves, peeking between the stacks of crates to try to see the gunman.
A barrage of gunfire blasted the crates next to Pavlenco, and a bullet that ricocheted off the metal frame of the shelves hit Márton in the upper arm.
“Damn it!” Márton shouted, and another volley of bullets was launched their way. Pavlenco fired blindly around the corner of the shelves, but judging from the returning gunfire he didn’t hit the gunman.
“Here,” one of the officers said, while he ran to a nearby forklift. “Out of the way.”
Ramming the forklift into the shelves, the officer knocked it over and like dominoes, one by one, the shelves fell across the length of the warehouse. A brief spatter of gunshots and screams ensued, followed by silence.
“A lot of the dead ones are employees of the consulate, and associates of the ambassador. We found stocks of forged passports, work visas, and about fifty million Francs worth of cocaine in total, with more crates of additives than of cocaine found.” One of the officers said. “And that one – ” he said, pointing at one of the men in cuffs, “is Roelof Lucks, Ambassador Beudeker’s personal assistant.”
Pavlenco smiled.
He and Márton walked over to Lucks.
“Listen,” Lucks said. “I’ll talk. Just don’t send me to jail.”
“Well aren’t you a loose-lipped son of a bitch.” Pavlenco said.
“Enough.” Márton said. “What can you tell us?”
“The ambassador is meeting the doctor, tonight. They meet every weekend, to exchange product. This time, they’re discussing withdrawing the product, laying low; too much attention, obviously.” Lucks said.
“Ending the operation? So soon?” Pavlenco said.
“Say what you will, but the ambassador isn’t stupid. You don’t make it this far career-wise if you are.”
Márton nodded.
“Where is the meeting?”
“The new RejuveNow development site, 4032 Moricz Zsigmond Av.”
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
The detectives arrived to the location of the RejuveNow pharmacy, 363 Szent Lazslo Dr. A small building, a brightly colored neon sign flashed outside saying:
“RejuveNow: Building a Better You!”
Márton and Pavlenco walked into the store, a bell ringing softly as they did.
The store was empty.
Not just the shelves, but of people too.
“Hello?” Pavlenco yelled.
A door in the back swung open, and a man in overalls and a work jacket stepped out.
“Hello? May I help you?” he asked.
“Detectives Márton and Pavlenco,” Márton said. “We’re investigating a link between RejuveNow and a drug ring active in the area. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
“Name’s Vilmos Budai, and I’ve got no problem with that.”
“What happened here?” asked Márton.
“Shut down. Pretty sudden, honestly. Overnight, almost.” Budai said.
“Shut down? RejuveNow is raking in the dough, why now?”
Budai shrugged.
“I don’t get paid to know that. I get paid to move stuff.”
“Speaking of moving stuff, mind if we take a look?” Pavlenco asked, pointing to the pallet jack behind Budai.
Budai paused.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Pavlenco grabbed a crowbar and cracked open the crate’s lid.
Inside were two compartments; one with finished Euphorenol pills, the other with bags of what looked to be cocaine.
“Hmm… didn’t think cocaine was still used as medicine.”
Budai threw his hands up.
“Again, I don’t get paid to know things. I get paid to move them.”
“Where are you moving this crate?” Márton asked.
“The port, there’s a warehouse owned by RejuveNow down there. 1541 Veres Palne St.” Budai said.
“I think we should follow this schmutz, see if he can’t lead us to the rat’s nest.
Bodai’s truck pulled into the warehouse parking lot.
An unmarked and drabby building, the warehouse was possibly the largest on the block.
“How much storage would a pharmacy need, Márton?” asked Pavlenco.
“Probably not this much.” he replied.
Bodai got out of his truck and helped the warehouse crew unload.
They cracked open the boxes, and held up the cocaine to inspect it, bringing out scales to weigh it as well.
Márton turned on the sirens and he and Pavlenco exited the vehicle, guns drawn. Backup vehicles pulled into the parking lot, officers exiting guns drawn as well.
“VND, get down on the ground, now!” Pavlenco shouted.
Some of the crew dove to the ground, while two of them grabbed machine guns and began firing.
Pavlenco took out one with two shots to the chest and one to the cheek, and the other fled inside the warehouse. The officers got to work arresting those who remained, while the detectives and a few officers entered the warehouse.
Pavlenco and Márton crept along the edges of the warehouse shelves, peeking between the stacks of crates to try to see the gunman.
A barrage of gunfire blasted the crates next to Pavlenco, and a bullet that ricocheted off the metal frame of the shelves hit Márton in the upper arm.
“Damn it!” Márton shouted, and another volley of bullets was launched their way. Pavlenco fired blindly around the corner of the shelves, but judging from the returning gunfire he didn’t hit the gunman.
“Here,” one of the officers said, while he ran to a nearby forklift. “Out of the way.”
Ramming the forklift into the shelves, the officer knocked it over and like dominoes, one by one, the shelves fell across the length of the warehouse. A brief spatter of gunshots and screams ensued, followed by silence.
“A lot of the dead ones are employees of the consulate, and associates of the ambassador. We found stocks of forged passports, work visas, and about fifty million Francs worth of cocaine in total, with more crates of additives than of cocaine found.” One of the officers said. “And that one – ” he said, pointing at one of the men in cuffs, “is Roelof Lucks, Ambassador Beudeker’s personal assistant.”
Pavlenco smiled.
He and Márton walked over to Lucks.
“Listen,” Lucks said. “I’ll talk. Just don’t send me to jail.”
“Well aren’t you a loose-lipped son of a bitch.” Pavlenco said.
“Enough.” Márton said. “What can you tell us?”
“The ambassador is meeting the doctor, tonight. They meet every weekend, to exchange product. This time, they’re discussing withdrawing the product, laying low; too much attention, obviously.” Lucks said.
“Ending the operation? So soon?” Pavlenco said.
“Say what you will, but the ambassador isn’t stupid. You don’t make it this far career-wise if you are.”
Márton nodded.
“Where is the meeting?”
“The new RejuveNow development site, 4032 Moricz Zsigmond Av.”
Hizb al-Ishtiraki al-Dimuqrati (Badara)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
- BananaZebra
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Jan 10, 2017 9:07 pm
Re: A Battle Unseen
by Robert F. Kennedy » Mon Mar 18, 2024 7:24 pm
Bernshire Cottage, Grand Duchy of Erneshire, Holy Luthori Empire, February 5456
The Duke of Threwiford had 4 children, and three sons. One of them became a senior officer in the Imperial Army, his son, Randolph, older siblings, pride of family and an example for his two other brothers. Then there was his second son, Henry, who had gone into the private sector to avoid having to depend on his father’s money.... And then there was his third son, Robert...unlike his brothers, he wasn’t an entrepreneur, he wasn’t a loyalist, he wasn’t a military, no, he was known in the high public sphere as a very great playboy and a conqueror of women’s hearts, that he was not hiding from breaking a few minutes later. Like many other days, the noises coming from the Duke’s salon were an argument between him and his 21-year-old son.
"When will you finally grow up? Damn it..."
"The day you stop being on my feet, old man."
"The old man" was very enraged and made it known in his words.
"The old man, as you call him, needs to be on your feet to prevent you from doing more fucking bullshit," he said.
"But I don’t give a shit, I want to live my life, leave me free!"
The old man sighed and said, "Your mother would be very discouraged by your behavior, young man."
The young man did not let go and said to him: "You know what Mom would have wanted? It’s that you let me do my life, instead of holding me like a leech."
The old man sighed again and sat down on the couch in the mansion and said, "Listen to me well, either you take your life in hand, stop making mistakes and I do not know me...become a good patriot...or you lose your shares in the inheritance. Is that clear enough?"
"Good! Keep your shitty money and your dirty old shit title!" The young man left the room trembling with anger.
As the old man sat alone, he wondered to himself, 'Emily, when will Robert finally grow up?'
The Duke of Threwiford had 4 children, and three sons. One of them became a senior officer in the Imperial Army, his son, Randolph, older siblings, pride of family and an example for his two other brothers. Then there was his second son, Henry, who had gone into the private sector to avoid having to depend on his father’s money.... And then there was his third son, Robert...unlike his brothers, he wasn’t an entrepreneur, he wasn’t a loyalist, he wasn’t a military, no, he was known in the high public sphere as a very great playboy and a conqueror of women’s hearts, that he was not hiding from breaking a few minutes later. Like many other days, the noises coming from the Duke’s salon were an argument between him and his 21-year-old son.
"When will you finally grow up? Damn it..."
"The day you stop being on my feet, old man."
"The old man" was very enraged and made it known in his words.
"The old man, as you call him, needs to be on your feet to prevent you from doing more fucking bullshit," he said.
"But I don’t give a shit, I want to live my life, leave me free!"
The old man sighed and said, "Your mother would be very discouraged by your behavior, young man."
The young man did not let go and said to him: "You know what Mom would have wanted? It’s that you let me do my life, instead of holding me like a leech."
The old man sighed again and sat down on the couch in the mansion and said, "Listen to me well, either you take your life in hand, stop making mistakes and I do not know me...become a good patriot...or you lose your shares in the inheritance. Is that clear enough?"
"Good! Keep your shitty money and your dirty old shit title!" The young man left the room trembling with anger.
As the old man sat alone, he wondered to himself, 'Emily, when will Robert finally grow up?'
Luthori, 
HulstriaConstitutional Democratic Union, Hosian-Dermcratic Union
Controller of the Luthorian Monarchy (House of Orange-Villayn Armstead)
-
Robert F. Kennedy - Posts: 559
- Joined: Mon Oct 04, 2021 5:11 am
- Location: Somewhere in Paris.
Re: A Battle Unseen
by Robert F. Kennedy » Mon Mar 18, 2024 8:48 pm
CIty of Alchester, Grand Duchy of Erneshire, Holy Luthori Empire, February 5456
As he came out of his father’s sight to Bernshire Cottage, young Robert went deeper into the caused night town of Alchester. There were his contacts within the city because of his associates who could be called "unattractive" and because of his reputations within the night world of the city. For him, a few drinks, a night with some girls and everything should come back in order - which he thought before seeing his old friend - Emil.
Seeing him in one of the many nightclubs in the city, Robert could not help but go see him, but a small twist between friends should cheer him up.
Arriving near Emil, the two young men began to discuss at length, for one, two, three, Robert could not keep the time count on his side this day-there, before Emil announces a news that would make his whole little world crumble like a house of cards.
"I’m leaving, Rob..."
"Huh? What is it?"
"Yeah, you heard me, I’m leaving."
"But where?"
"But in the army."
"But why not?"
"And why not? Besides serving this country is a value that my old people have taught me, I think it would be time to return the apparatus to my old" He says with a small laugh.
Robert was with his head down, having sworn to hear one of his father’s phrases. After this shocking announcement, the two continued their discussion before Robert decided to leave, to another nightclub to "have fun", but the words "serve his country" of his father and one of his friends, left him perplexed.
Regardless, he went to the "Martha’s Nightly Club", one of the most respected houses in the city and fell in love with a young lady dancing like a queen in the middle of the dance floor, after joining her to make her dance. He took it and started a flirting process, which turned out to be...for once, unsuccessful, the girl not being impressed by her status as a nobleman and her wealth that does not impress her. But she said a few words to him that made his heart bow.
"Hmph...it will take more to impress me, handsome." She said that when she got up from the table where they had both settled.
"But..." she said, stopping.
She writes on a small piece of paper her phone number and says "Try better next time."
As she got closer to the door, she said, "By the way, my name is Alice, try asking me that the next time you try to hit on a girl, idiot."
For the first time in his life, Robert was speechless as Alice left the nightclub.
As he came out of his father’s sight to Bernshire Cottage, young Robert went deeper into the caused night town of Alchester. There were his contacts within the city because of his associates who could be called "unattractive" and because of his reputations within the night world of the city. For him, a few drinks, a night with some girls and everything should come back in order - which he thought before seeing his old friend - Emil.
Seeing him in one of the many nightclubs in the city, Robert could not help but go see him, but a small twist between friends should cheer him up.
Arriving near Emil, the two young men began to discuss at length, for one, two, three, Robert could not keep the time count on his side this day-there, before Emil announces a news that would make his whole little world crumble like a house of cards.
"I’m leaving, Rob..."
"Huh? What is it?"
"Yeah, you heard me, I’m leaving."
"But where?"
"But in the army."
"But why not?"
"And why not? Besides serving this country is a value that my old people have taught me, I think it would be time to return the apparatus to my old" He says with a small laugh.
Robert was with his head down, having sworn to hear one of his father’s phrases. After this shocking announcement, the two continued their discussion before Robert decided to leave, to another nightclub to "have fun", but the words "serve his country" of his father and one of his friends, left him perplexed.
Regardless, he went to the "Martha’s Nightly Club", one of the most respected houses in the city and fell in love with a young lady dancing like a queen in the middle of the dance floor, after joining her to make her dance. He took it and started a flirting process, which turned out to be...for once, unsuccessful, the girl not being impressed by her status as a nobleman and her wealth that does not impress her. But she said a few words to him that made his heart bow.
"Hmph...it will take more to impress me, handsome." She said that when she got up from the table where they had both settled.
"But..." she said, stopping.
She writes on a small piece of paper her phone number and says "Try better next time."
As she got closer to the door, she said, "By the way, my name is Alice, try asking me that the next time you try to hit on a girl, idiot."
For the first time in his life, Robert was speechless as Alice left the nightclub.
Luthori, HulstriaConstitutional Democratic Union, Hosian-Dermcratic Union
Controller of the Luthorian Monarchy (House of Orange-Villayn Armstead)
-
Robert F. Kennedy - Posts: 559
- Joined: Mon Oct 04, 2021 5:11 am
- Location: Somewhere in Paris.
Re: A Battle Unseen
by BananaZebra » Tue Mar 19, 2024 11:26 pm
HOSTILE DIPLOMACY
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
Márton and Pavlenco sat in their car on the ridge, looking down at the meeting place Mihai had told them about.
Already, three cars were parked around the perimeter. This seemed promising.
A long black sedan pulled up, sleek black.
Opposite it pulled up a silver coupe.
“That’s the ambassador.” Pavlenco said, pointing to the man exiting the black sedan.
“And that must be Dr. Barta.”
Ambassador Beudeker opened the trunks of the three cars that had been parked there before his arrival: all three packed full of unmarked boxes.
“Let’s get ‘em.” said Pavlenco.
Márton threw the siren on, and soon a defeaning chorus of police sirens was wailing as police cars emerged from their hiding spots surrounding the meeting ground.
The ambassador sprinted to his car, which peeled away from the group. Swerving and dashing around erratically, the ambassador’s car swiped the side of a police car on its escape from the park and onto the street.
“After him!” shouted Pavlenco.
Márton sped the car down the edge of the ridge, the front bumper slamming into the sidewalk with a crunch before the tires could catch up.
Falling behind the fleeing ambassador’s car, Márton kept his foot on the gas and hoped people would get out of his way in time.
Honks and tires squealing quickly filled the street around them.
The sedan’s back window rolled down, and a Baum rifle emerged.
The windshield cracked as bullets rained at them.
“God! They’re gonna kill us!” Pavlenco shouted.
“It’s not much further to the diplomatic compound, they don’t have much longer to run.” said Márton.
The ambassador’s car pulled into the compound, the security gate closing swiftly behind it. Márton rammed the car through the gate with a great crash, and the car spun out on the other side, crashing into a brick wall.
Márton and Pavlenco got out of the car as back up arrived, over ten cars pulling into the driveway.
Rifles were firing from every direction, as the whole compound lit up like a battlefield.
A guard ran up to Pavlenco, and Márton shot him quickly – twice in the chest.
Pavlenco vaulted over the brick wall, firing at the three guards on top of the hill above. Márton followed him up, the two sneaking along the bush line at the bottom of the hill and firing shots from the safety they provided.
“How many guns does this place have?” asked Pavlenco.
“A lot, it seems.” replied Márton.
Making their way along the hill’s edge, the detectives arrived at one of the compound’s entrances. Officers of the demolition squad rushed up, setting a charge on the door.
“Stand back!” one of the officers yelled.
The blast blew the door back, cracking the supporting walls around it and pushing the middle of the wall backwards.
Márton rushed through, followed by Pavlenco.
From the doorway of an office up ahead, a guard began firing his rifle.
Pavlenco and Márton ducked into the staircase beside them, and rushed up the stairs.
A sign at the next level read:
“AT FLOOR ONE.
BASEMENT: ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES AND RECORDS DEPARTMENT
FLOOR ONE: LOBBY AND ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES
FLOOR TWO: OFFICES OF THE AMBASSADOR AND THE CONSUL”
“We need to go up,” Pavlenco said.
The two rushed up the flight of stairs, bursting into a large office with lush carpeting. The walls were lined with priceless art, busts of ancient monarchs and scholars.
In the middle of the office was a solid mahogany desk, and in the velvet trimmed chair behind it sat Ambassador Beudeker, an empty bottle of Euphorenol in front of him on his desk.
“God damn coward.” Pavlenco said.
The hall was bustling with reporters, the sounds of overlapping questions and camera shutters drowning out any other sounds.
“Quiet down!” Yelled Captain Szekeres. “I present Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division, the one who broke this case. He will be providing a statement on behalf of the Division.”
Márton stepped up to the podium, flattening the front of his crème coloured suit.
“In the process of investigating suspicious deaths as a result of counterfeit Euphorenol prescriptions, we uncovered the operation of one Dr. Gergő Barta. Handing out the counterfeit prescriptions to addicts, and even to unsuspecting patients, Barta contracted with Ambassador Michiel Beudeker of Narikaton and Darnussia, who moved the drugs to New Endralon through a vast international criminal network spanning multiple continents. It is unknown at this time to what extent the government of Narikaton and Darnussia was involved, as the investigation is still on going. The Vice and Narcotics Division will be handing this case over to the Crown Security Service, who will be continuing the investigation into the source of the cocaine.
“The Vice and Narcotics Division would also like to take a moment to dispel the rumors surrounding Well-Corp because of this incident; Well-Corp was not involved in, nor did they have any knowledge of, this conspiracy. The investigation has completely cleared Well-Corp of any involvement.”
Márton stepped back next to Pavlenco, who slapped him on the back.
The case had an end, and New Endralon had a hero.
Cetatea Albă, September, 5450
Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division
Márton and Pavlenco sat in their car on the ridge, looking down at the meeting place Mihai had told them about.
Already, three cars were parked around the perimeter. This seemed promising.
A long black sedan pulled up, sleek black.
Opposite it pulled up a silver coupe.
“That’s the ambassador.” Pavlenco said, pointing to the man exiting the black sedan.
“And that must be Dr. Barta.”
Ambassador Beudeker opened the trunks of the three cars that had been parked there before his arrival: all three packed full of unmarked boxes.
“Let’s get ‘em.” said Pavlenco.
Márton threw the siren on, and soon a defeaning chorus of police sirens was wailing as police cars emerged from their hiding spots surrounding the meeting ground.
The ambassador sprinted to his car, which peeled away from the group. Swerving and dashing around erratically, the ambassador’s car swiped the side of a police car on its escape from the park and onto the street.
“After him!” shouted Pavlenco.
Márton sped the car down the edge of the ridge, the front bumper slamming into the sidewalk with a crunch before the tires could catch up.
Falling behind the fleeing ambassador’s car, Márton kept his foot on the gas and hoped people would get out of his way in time.
Honks and tires squealing quickly filled the street around them.
The sedan’s back window rolled down, and a Baum rifle emerged.
The windshield cracked as bullets rained at them.
“God! They’re gonna kill us!” Pavlenco shouted.
“It’s not much further to the diplomatic compound, they don’t have much longer to run.” said Márton.
The ambassador’s car pulled into the compound, the security gate closing swiftly behind it. Márton rammed the car through the gate with a great crash, and the car spun out on the other side, crashing into a brick wall.
Márton and Pavlenco got out of the car as back up arrived, over ten cars pulling into the driveway.
Rifles were firing from every direction, as the whole compound lit up like a battlefield.
A guard ran up to Pavlenco, and Márton shot him quickly – twice in the chest.
Pavlenco vaulted over the brick wall, firing at the three guards on top of the hill above. Márton followed him up, the two sneaking along the bush line at the bottom of the hill and firing shots from the safety they provided.
“How many guns does this place have?” asked Pavlenco.
“A lot, it seems.” replied Márton.
Making their way along the hill’s edge, the detectives arrived at one of the compound’s entrances. Officers of the demolition squad rushed up, setting a charge on the door.
“Stand back!” one of the officers yelled.
The blast blew the door back, cracking the supporting walls around it and pushing the middle of the wall backwards.
Márton rushed through, followed by Pavlenco.
From the doorway of an office up ahead, a guard began firing his rifle.
Pavlenco and Márton ducked into the staircase beside them, and rushed up the stairs.
A sign at the next level read:
“AT FLOOR ONE.
BASEMENT: ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES AND RECORDS DEPARTMENT
FLOOR ONE: LOBBY AND ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES
FLOOR TWO: OFFICES OF THE AMBASSADOR AND THE CONSUL”
“We need to go up,” Pavlenco said.
The two rushed up the flight of stairs, bursting into a large office with lush carpeting. The walls were lined with priceless art, busts of ancient monarchs and scholars.
In the middle of the office was a solid mahogany desk, and in the velvet trimmed chair behind it sat Ambassador Beudeker, an empty bottle of Euphorenol in front of him on his desk.
“God damn coward.” Pavlenco said.
The hall was bustling with reporters, the sounds of overlapping questions and camera shutters drowning out any other sounds.
“Quiet down!” Yelled Captain Szekeres. “I present Detective István Márton of the New Endralon Vice and Narcotics Division, the one who broke this case. He will be providing a statement on behalf of the Division.”
Márton stepped up to the podium, flattening the front of his crème coloured suit.
“In the process of investigating suspicious deaths as a result of counterfeit Euphorenol prescriptions, we uncovered the operation of one Dr. Gergő Barta. Handing out the counterfeit prescriptions to addicts, and even to unsuspecting patients, Barta contracted with Ambassador Michiel Beudeker of Narikaton and Darnussia, who moved the drugs to New Endralon through a vast international criminal network spanning multiple continents. It is unknown at this time to what extent the government of Narikaton and Darnussia was involved, as the investigation is still on going. The Vice and Narcotics Division will be handing this case over to the Crown Security Service, who will be continuing the investigation into the source of the cocaine.
“The Vice and Narcotics Division would also like to take a moment to dispel the rumors surrounding Well-Corp because of this incident; Well-Corp was not involved in, nor did they have any knowledge of, this conspiracy. The investigation has completely cleared Well-Corp of any involvement.”
Márton stepped back next to Pavlenco, who slapped him on the back.
The case had an end, and New Endralon had a hero.
Hizb al-Ishtiraki al-Dimuqrati (Badara)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
Uniós Párt | Partidul Unirii (New Endralon and Kizenia)
- BananaZebra
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Jan 10, 2017 9:07 pm
Re: A Battle Unseen
by Mbites » Sat Mar 23, 2024 4:03 pm
A Dark room somewhere in the Dual-republic
"TELL ME"
"What am I supposed to tell you Peter?"
"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"
The sounds of manic screaming, laughing and whining are noticable throughout the halls of the blacksite.
"I WANT TO BE STRONGER, RICHER, MORE POWERFUL, I NEED TO FULF-"
"I am afraid.. Peter.."
"I WILL PROTECT YOU."
Suddenly the door opens.
"Boss here is yo-"
A gunshot penetrates the office worker's head.
"TELL ME"
"What am I supposed to tell you Peter?"
"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"
The sounds of manic screaming, laughing and whining are noticable throughout the halls of the blacksite.
"I WANT TO BE STRONGER, RICHER, MORE POWERFUL, I NEED TO FULF-"
"I am afraid.. Peter.."
"I WILL PROTECT YOU."
Suddenly the door opens.
"Boss here is yo-"
A gunshot penetrates the office worker's head.
"It looked like a silly semi-cliquey thing between a few players to me. Following around a troll called Mbites like he was some sort of god... which wouldn't have mattered so much in the scale of things, except one of them was a Mod."
-
Mbites - Posts: 710
- Joined: Sat May 07, 2016 11:15 am
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