The Algerian Traverse

[Cody Seb]

OOC: I accept OOC comments on my writing, constructive criticism only helps. This'll be slow, as I'm on vacation in British Columbia.

First, there are some terms that will be unique to this RP.

The Algerian Traverse- The Algerian part of my territory, it is made up completely of desert and is the wildest part of The Maghreb. Think of it as the Colorado of the early 1800's. There are homesteaders and more freedom from law, but doesn't have the benefits of the civilized parts of the nation. There are natural and human dangers in the area, including the desert climate, lack of water, raiders and others yet to be revealed.

Raiders- There are small bands of outlaws who operate in the Algerian Traverse who do just what their name implies. They raid settlements and homesteads, often times killing the inhabitants and stealing their supplies and amenities.

The Maghreb-This is my nation and the nation of this RP. Contrary to the RL setting of Libya, my nation is technologically modern, close to 2000 Canada and U.S. However, the Algerian Traverse, while not quite backwards, is significantly less advanced than the rest of the nation, much like rural Minnesota and Idaho of today.

Unfortunately as I was writing this, I ran out of time. The RP will begin tonight.

[Cody Seb]

IC:

Ahmed Haddid kneeled by his crop. He was one of the very, very few who had a good irrigation system in the Algerian Traverse. He inspected the leaves of one of his cannabis plants, it was going to be a good year. As he stood, he caught the silhouette of his date trees in the setting sun. Beyond them, the flat desert landscape stretched uninterrupted for miles. He slide his work gloves off and wiped his hands off on the dirty hand-towel tucked into his belt. He walked back towards his home, hundreds of yards back away from him.

Haddid wasn't like the other cannabis farmers. The business had largely been taken up by large corporations in the east, but out here in the west and the Traverse, small farms and businesses prevailed still. Cannabis and dates were raised on his farm. Every so often he would make his harvest, hire a few hands from the village ten miles down, load up their trucks and drive it up to Illizi where it would be taken to the coast by train. The next trip was coming up soon.

As he approached his homestead, he took the time to survey it. It was made of adobe, but was still well built, staying true to cultural architecture. He walked under his makeshift awning and under the arch to his sunken in doorway, entering.

The house was dimly lit by oil lamps, with a fire place in the living room, just past the hardened mud stairs leading to the second story. He took off his tool belt and sat down on his sofa which sat before the fire place. After resting there for several minutes, he rose, took what wood he had, and started a fire.

He spent a quiet evening, as he lived alone. He made himself a meager dinner and readied himself for bed. As he drifted into sleep, he thought about the next day. It would be an eventful one, although not in the sense he figured.

[Cody Seb]

IC:

Ahmed awoke early, made a small breakfast, dressed and went outside. As he trudged through the dust, he looked up to the horizon, viewing the rising sun. He hopped into his closed cab jeep and went into town. He had always had luck recruiting the aging, washed-up Euros as they were called. Old french, german and english military men or immigrants that never got on their feet. Most of them simply sulked around town or in bars looking and waiting for work from the farmers and mines.

After he had rounded up a few englishmen who owned trucks, he led them back to his farm. By the time he'd returned, the sun was up and full daylight prevailed. "Pull them here," he ordered in strained english as he stepped out of his jeep and waved to them.

"Aye sir," one shouted out his window. They all exited their vehicles and gathered around.

"Alright," Haddid began, "we've got a lot to harvest, it be best to not break for at least seven hourse. We need...be quick and...what is it?"

The others seemed to be captivated by something behind him, out towards the fields. He turned, there was a large cloud of dust, seemingly approaching. He spoke to them without turning, "Do any of you have any weapons?"

"I've got a pistol," one replied.

"Yeah, me too," chimed in another.

"Well, we're screwed." Haddid ran into his house, bolted up the stairs and threw open his bedroom closet. He pulled out an old AK-47 and two spare mags. He pulled the receiver back and let it slam shut, chambering a round. He quickly made his way back outside, grabbing a pair of binoculars off his night stand. He put them to his eyes once he was outside. What he saw only confirmed his suspicions.

"What do you see?" one of the workers inquired.

"Raiders," he replied.

Indeed they were. He raised the binoculars back to his eyes and got a better look at them. There were several low ranking clansmen. The rookies traveled on what were known as dune skimmers, motorcycles with oversized tires that can travel on sand. There were some single seaters, some double, the raider riding on the back brandishing various rifles or machetes. There were also legionaires, four-wheeled, three-seater atv's. They held a driver, a passenger with a gun, and someone to man the turret mounted in the back.

"Alright, grab those pistols." The two men rushed to their trucks. Haddid took aim as the legionairres and dune skimmers closed in. Just as they came in range, Haddid opened fire. The automatic rifle spewed out rounds. He didn't pay too much attention to his aim, but he was able to hit one of the dune skimmers in the front tire. The rounds severed the connection from the front wheel to the handle bars, sending the bike tumbling end over end.

It didn't take long for the legionairres to open fire. There were only two, but the turrets had an impressive rate of fire. Two of the workers were cut down as the rest retreated behind the line of vehicles. Haddid used the hood of his jeep as support to fire his rifle. The pistolmen opened fire, but had little effect as the strafing raiders inched closer and closer.

A brave dune skimmer made a pass behind the line of vehicles. This one had a passenger armed with a machete, who brutally slashed his way through the englishmen. The second pistolman was quick enough to put two in his chest, but not before he decapitated the other gunman. The driver spun out of control, the massively oversized bike putting a large hole in his wall.

Haddid had dried up his second magazine and replaced with his third and final. He fired potshots at one of the legionairre gunners, but to little effect. He was able to put down another dune skimmer, but it was already too late. The raider now flanked them freely and as Haddid cooked off his last few shot, he was struck hard in the back of the head.

[Cody Seb]

IC:

Ahmed finally awoke, only to find his vision blurry. It slowly cleared, but what he saw was even more disheatening. He was chained to a post, the sun shining high above him, around noon. Around him were others, but none of the englishmen, all chained to posts. He looked down the rows to see an armed guard. He wore the typical dress of a raider, swaddling tan cloth that covered him from head to toe, save for his boots, though this particular one had lowered the portion around his mouth to allow him to smoke. He also sported sand goggles over his eyes and had an AK slung at his side, ready to fire.

Haddid sighed and looked down at himself. He was now wearing just his pants, his shirt had been stripped away, and dirty sandals, apparently given to him by the raiders. It was customary for them to take anything and everything of value. He heard the roar of the monstrous motors that propelled the raiders' vehicles. He heard them come to a stop behind him but he could not turn to see. He heard heavy footsteps on the dry ground behind him. A couple more raiders walked up around him, but with a few from another clan. The apparent leader of the ones who captured him was also present, a Desert Eagle tucked into the front of his belt.

The talked quickly in Arabic, "How much for this one?"

"$1500, up front"

"I don't think so, $1100, no higher."

"He was a farmer, used to hard work. $1300."

"$1100, no higher."

The clan leader stroked his exposed beard, "Alright, alright."

The buyer pulled out his money, counted out $1100 and handed it over to the seller. The seller looked over to the others and tilted his head towards Haddid. They immediately obeyed, walking over to him and painfully pulled him up by the chain around the post, unlocking it and handing it over to the buyer. The buyer tugged harshly on the chains, almost pulling Haddid over onto the ground.

He felt weak, like he hadn't had fluids for too long. His lips were dry and cracked, and his limbs felt faint. He was dragged into a cage on the back of a large vehicle and after being thrown in, watched as the cage was slammed shut behind him and locked. He wasn't alone, three other arabs sat there with him in similar condition.

The engine roared and the vehicle began moving. The last thing he saw before passing out was the clan leader pull out his .50 cal pistol and kill the others chained to the posts.

[Cody Seb]

The prisoner car made its way across the desert. Haddid was given a little water, but was still more thirsty than he had ever been. The terrain outside never changed, just sand, sand, sand. Eventually, the car passed by some vehicle tracks, which led to a desert outpost.

The walls were made of old scavenged sheet metal and lumber, with some impromptu guard towers stationed at the front gate, which seemed to be made of discarded rebarb. Haddid heard voices, and then the raising of the gate. The vehicle pulled slowly in, turning down a few alleys and passing by makeshift houses made of adobe or salvaged junk. The car eventually pulled in to another set of gates and finally came to a halt.

The transporters jumped out and walked around to the back of the cage. The took the lock off, opened the door and threw out all the occupants. Haddid hit the ground on his stomach, cringing as the whole side of his body now had sand sticking to it. With his adrenaline kicking in, he was able to think and perceive more clearly. He looked around as he stood. There were tall barbed wire fences topped with coiled razor wire forming a complicated compartment system, inside: humans.

He was surrounded by guards, all with automatic rifles. This band of raiders seemed better equipped than the other one, these had more advanced weapons, like M16's and G36's and all had a sidearm. One of them came down with his rifle slung, but in his hand held a red-hot, twisted metal rod.

Before Haddid could react, he was restrained from behind by two men. The man with the rod walked up, grabbed Haddid's arm and shoved the rod onto the inside of his arm. Haddid cried out in anguish, but could not move. Once he had finished, the man with the rod withdrew it from Haddid's forearm and moved on to the others. The two men who had ahold of Haddid pushed him along towards the barbed wire cages. They found a cell open and threw him in and he found himself hitting the ground once again.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: I have to say that you're a good writer. The only thing wrong I saw in any of those posts was a single spelling mistake, and that was obviously just a type-o.

[Firestorm]

OOC: poor haddid.. they just sold him into slavery.

[Cody Seb]

OOC: Thanks guys. I know it's in kind of choppy portions, but I'm on holiday right now. My time will be less sporadic when I'm back in the states.

[Cody Seb]

IC:

Haddid was allowed to sleep for his first night, the first reprieve he had been granted since his farm was attacked. His arm still burned, but that was negligible as his thoughts were preoccupied with his current situation. Where was he, why did they take him and what came next? He pondered this as he rose from the ground, but then realized he was not alone.

A woman cowered in the corner of the barbed wire cell, holding her legs to her chest. Bitter about the situation and not bothering to conceal his discontent, Haddid spoke to her sarcastically, "What's up with you?"

She did not reply, only looked back at him, her eyes wide with fear. He coninued scowling at the situation, "Well whatever."

He walked over to the metal gate of the cell and supported himself on it with his hands. It looked like raiders from yet other clans were walking around, inspecting prisoners and purchasing them. However, to his surprise, there were a few Germans inspecting as well. They were most likely from the old days, or sons of men from the old days, when European armies marched over these lands.

He looked back at the woman, "You know where we are?"

She hesitated, but eventually spoke, "Near the border."

"Which one? The Imperial Alliance? Gebiv?"

"No," she replied shakily, "The Republic."

Haddid muttered an obscenity, that far south there was no law or order.

[Cody Seb]

Haddid sat uncomfortably in a corner opposite of the woman for the better part of the day. They were finally served a meal, just slop in a bowl, no utensils. He finally spoke up again, "So, what's your name?"

Sensing his more stable tone, she decided to reply, "Zahra."

"Any family name? A husband? Anything?"

"No, no family. I was an orphan, never married."

"Where you from?"

"I, I remember being in Tripoli as a child, but moved to a coastal village here in The Maghreb."

"The raiders picked you up all the way up there?" Haddid asked, shocked.

"N-no. I was to be married off to a man down here, they do that with all the girls who reach 18 in the orphanage. On the way down here, our caravan was hit," she replied, still speaking shakily. Haddid could not tell if she was traumatized, scared of him or scared of where she was.

"Hey," he took a sip from his bowl, "don't get too worried. I'll make sure nothin' happens to you."

She smiled weakly at him and sipped from her bowl.

"I'll tell you though," he continued, "I don't plan on being here long. If I get sold or moved or whatever, I'm out."

Her faced turned into a mixture of fear and surprise, "How will you do that?"

"Ha, I deal with cannabis, not the most innocent of jobs."

"Cannabis?"

"You know, weed, pot, the Americans call it marijuana."

"Oh," she said, realizing.

"Yeah, so I know how to handle myself. Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Zahra"

She just smiled and sipped.

---

A few days passed, neither Haddid or Zahra was made to work. Slave traders came and went, a few even came and inspected the two, but none showed an interest. That is of course, except for the Germans. They kept coming around, but the raider would only speak to them in their language, so Haddid was never able to understand what they were saying.

However, the guards did come around, quite often. Never being much of a pacifist in the face of opposition, Haddid showed little respect. He would hang on the barbed wire, jeering, cursing and generally being a verbal pain to them. To his surprise, they only stared back, never even retorting. Any time they would make a pass at Zahra, he'd put a stop to it as best he could. Those were the only occasions on which he was beaten. Still, he saved her from what could be much worse than simple passes. That is, until one day.

Haddid went about his usual, waiting for meals by calling the guards by their opposite genitals. On this particular day, the Germans had returned. He saw one of the guards who greeted him look in his direction and smile. The party walked up, but he didn't back down from the gate. The raider guard drew a club and smacked it across Haddid's fingers.

"S***!" Haddid cried in surprise.

"Back up, ya berber dog," the guard ordered.

"Why don't you make me? You some kind of !@#$%?"

The guard sarcastically laughed as he opened the gate. Right as he cleared the threshold he took the club and swung it into Haddid's knee, hard. As he fell to the ground, the guard struck him again in the temple. Haddid fumbled his way to the floor, his vision slowly blurring all the while. The Germans walked in just as he lost conciousness.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: hoo boy, from bad to worse. This is shaping up to be an story!

[Cody Seb]

OOC: Thanks!

IC:

"Zahra!? Zahra!? ZAHRA!?"

When Haddid had come to he had realized he was still in the same place, but Zahra was missing. For the days to come, his incessant nagging at the guards only increased. Something had changed, however. They now took physical, and quite brutal, action against him daily. Haddid was beaten time and time again, but his resolve never diminished.

One day, the time Haddid had been waiting for had come. The clan leader of the raiders approached his pen, alone. Through his time there, Haddid had found out his name. He simply went by Mustafah.

Haddid was hanging on his gate as usual when Mustafah approached. The chieftain halted before the gate and faced Haddid, then began to speak. "Why do you do this?"

"I'm not going to waste my time explaining myself to !@#$%*^ like you."

Mustafah's face contorted in anger, "What did you just say to me!?"

"Look, you have your little henchmen come in here and beat me every day, really it's just insulting," Haddid continued in a sarcastic tone.

"Why you little-"

Haddid interupted, "I mean, aren't you supposed to be the toughest guy out here? I see right through you, you really are just a !@#$%."

"Shut up! Get back from the gate!"

Haddid chuckled, "Haha, no."

Mustafah scoffed and drew his keys, he fumbled in his anger but was eventually able to open the lock. Haddid took a step back, but Mustafah drew his club. He struck Haddid in the side of the neck. Haddid fell to his hands and knees, facing away from Mustafah. Unbeknownst to Mustafah however, Haddid was grinning. As Mustafah brought the club down, Haddid rolled onto his back and grabbed Mustafah's arm, using the raider's momentum against him. In one quick motion, Haddid had pulled Mustafah face first into the ground and was on his back.

Without missing a beat, Haddid did what he had been waiting to do for two weeks. He quickly grabbed the Desert Eagle from Mustafah's belt and shoved the barrel onto the back of his skull.

"You picked the wrong guy to screw with," Haddid curtly jeered. Without hesitation, Haddid pulled the trigger. The blast blew Mustafah's skull in two. Knowing that the others would hear, Haddid scavenged Mustafah's body quickly. He found three spare clips for the Desert Eagle and a combat knife with a sheath. He strapped the knife to his belt and then ran out of the cell.

As he rounded the corner out of the prison area, he ran right into the rest of the raiders, apparently responding to the gunshot. However, none of them had their guns ready, and Haddid emptied his clip of .50 cal rounds into them. He left one alive, however. The one who was apparently the captain, or second in command. The bullet he had received struck him in the knee, effectively amputating the lower half.

Haddid kicked his weapon away from him, reloaded his pistol and knelt by the captian, pointing the gun at his face.

"Where's the Zahra!? Where's the girl!?"

"I-I don't know!?"

"All you raiders, you act so tough but once someone else has a bigger gun, you're all just !@#$%*^." Haddid grabbed the captain's collar and shook him, "Now, where is the girl!?"

"I-I don't know! I don't know! We're just the middle men!"

"Did you sell her? Did you sell her!?"

The raider was breathing quite heavily now, "Yes."

"Who'd you sell her to?"

The raider didn't respond.

"Who did you sell her two!?" Haddid pressed the barrel hard into the raider's forehead.

"Alright! We sold her to the Germans! They took her yesterday!"

"Where'd they go?"

"North, that's all I know, I swear!"

"Too bad that's all you know," Haddid replied. He then fired the pistol, killing 'the captain.' Haddid went about collecting ammo. He stuck with the Desert Eagle, but grabbed a few canteens, clothing and a bullet-proof vest, and ration packs. He went to the barracks and found their crude file systems, pulling the ones on the Germans and Zahra. He then found a set of keys and went outside. He found they went to one of the dune skimmers and he revved the engine on.

He jumped on, disengaged the brake and sped off into the dunes.

Edited May 28, 2009 by Cody Seb

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Hmm...is there a part of the post cut off there at the end, or is it supposed to end with him having "sped off into the dunes?"

[Cody Seb]

OOC: Yeah, that wasn't supposed to be there. Fixed.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Yeah, that wasn't supposed to be there. Fixed.

OOC: Ah, better. Glad to help!

[Firestorm]

OOC: Did poor Haddib wake up with a sore bottom???

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Did poor Haddib wake up with a sore bottom???

OOC: Oh, shsush you... Nah, jk. Cody Seb obviously wants us commenting so he knows we're reading this and not ignoring it.

[Cody Seb]

IC:

Illizi, The Algerian Traverse

The streets of the capital of the Algerian Traverse were bustling. Vendors sat behind counters under portable awnings, all competitively shouting about their products. A small, european car criss-crossed the winding streets past the marketplaces and cramped apartment buildings.

It found its way to the main streets and headed downtown, stopping in front of a bar. The car door swung open and a tall, white man stepped out. He shut the door, straightened out his suit, and walked into the bar.

The interior was smoky and somewhat loud. The bar's population was mostly what were labelled as 'outlanders' or 'outsiders,' meaning foreigners, especially non-arabs or berbers. This was because muslims were forbidden to drink by there religion. Berbers however, were not.

The man sat down at the bar counter, right next to Haddid, "I'll just have three fingers of scotch please, thank you."

After receiving his drink and taking a small sip, the european swivelled to face Haddid, who was hunched over on his elbows. The european spoke arabic, though with a slight german accent, "What's your name?"

Haddid didn't turn to face him, "Qarim."

"Really? I don't think it is. Ahmed, Ahmed Haddid."

Haddid turned but did not show his surprise, "What do you want?"

"I know what you're going to try and do, Haddid. I'm here to warn you that it can't be done and if you try, you'll end up dead. So let me spare you that by telling you to back off now."

Haddid retorted, "Huh, seems you don't know me as well as you put on."

The german grinned, "So you're really going to save the whore huh?"

Haddid's face showed obvious anger at this, "What have you done with her?"

"Nothing..well, nothing yet. She's good at cleaning floors, but she is young and quite striking. Looks like she'll be goo-"

Haddid stood up quickly, "Shut up, SHUT up!"

The german, still smiling, opened his suit coat to reveal a 9mm in a holster inside, "Woah, woah, calm down boy, wouldn't want this to get...messy."

Haddid made a short laugh and then pulled out his .50. The european's face turned to shock right before Haddid blew a massive hole through his chest. The german's body fell of the stool awkwardly to the floor. Haddid holstered the pistol, drank the remainder of the man's scotch, tipped the bar tender and walked out.

---

Up town, there was a man standing on a roof top. His apartment was the first one down from the roof. He was tall, had short, buzzed dark brown hair and a full beard of stubble. He wore a gray canvas jacket under a black bullet-proof vest with various things attached, a radio, a .45, pistol clips and larger magazines. He also had a G36 slung over his back. His pants were of a modern military style, save for they were also dark grey instead of any type of camoflauge. As he looked out over the city, his cell phone rang. He drew it out and flipped it open, speaking in English, "Hello?"

"Dallas?"

"Si," he replied sarcastically, his accent showing.

"You know the man we talked to you about?"

"Yeah."

"He killed one of ours. You're a go."

"Alright, no problem. Dead or alive?"

"What do you think?"

"He'll be cooked by sun-down tomorrow."

Dallas pressed end and shut the phone, pausing to look at the city as if pondering something, then put it in his pocket and headed inside.

All his gear was already readied. He slipped on a baklava and aviators, pausing to look in the mirror. His apartment was small and messy. Guns and knives laid out on a coffee table between a small television and sofa. He picked up a Kabar combat knife and clipped the sheath to his vest. He then slipped on some fingerless, knuckle-less leather gloves. He looked down at a picture wedged into the side of the mirror. He kissed his index and middle finger and pressed it to the photo, then turning and walking out. locking the door behind him.

The picture was of a younger Dallas, five years ago on his 21st birthday back home in Southwest Missouri. He had a slightly longer beard with long hair. He was smiling, hugging his now deceased wife. She was strikingly beautiful, and smiled back at the camera. It was the last photo taken before her death.

[Cody Seb]

Haddid had been walking through the streets for quite some time after killing the german in the bar, although he was walking somewhere and with a purpose. He was going to the 'North Side,' where the 'Scourge of the Traverse' hung out. This was the place where all the least desirable of the city's population preferred to congregate; slavers, raiders, bounty hunters, mercenaries, smugglers, assassins, the whole nine yards.

Upon arriving, he searched the area for a familiar sign, and he found it. He had an old friend, a smuggler, who would get his cannabis to markets in places where marijuana was criminalized. Haddid found his car parked in front of a bar, and then went inside.

The interior was much the same as the one Haddid had just left. Smoky, loud and less than desirable. Looking around he spotted his old smuggler friend, Namir, sitting in a corner booth. Haddid approached him but did not sit, "Namir, it's been a while."

Namir looked up, then realizing who it was smiled, "Ahmed? Ahmed!" Namir stood up and shook hands with Haddid, "God I can't believe you're here and alive!"

Haddid looked puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"You were captured by slavers, I mean, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was. How do you know that?"

Namir laughed, "Haha, look where we are, the north side of Illium. I overheard some raiders talking about capturing a cannabis farmer from around where your land is, so I assumed."

"Well, you came to the right conclusion," Haddid's tone remained serious. "Sit down Namir."

Namir looked confused and slowly sat down. Haddid followed suit. "Listen, do you know of any germans who operate out of the Traverse?"

"Know of any? I've worked with them before."

"Well, how many different groups of them are there? I'm looking for a specific one, but I don't know if I could distinguish them from any other."

"No no, they're all connected. They're all one group that works together. Why? What do you need?"

"I need to know where they are."

"Praise Allah, Ahmed, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"Look, when I was in that slaver post, a bunch of germans came around and took this girl, just." Haddid paused in frustration. "Look, just tell me where they are, it's important."

Namir looked worried, "Ahmed, I'm your friend. Ok? But it sounds like you're really deep into something you shouldn't be. These guys aren't like us, they-"

Haddid took out his pistol and aiming it at Namir, rested the grip on the table's surface, "Shut up, Namir. You've got five seconds to point me in the right direction and so help me God if you mislead me, I'll come back and kill you and your wife."

Namir had his palms up and was about to speak as an explosion ripped through the wall adjacent to the booth. Haddid was temporarily shaken from the blast and Namir bolted for the door across the bar. Haddid jumped up, "Namir! NAMIR!"

Suddenly, a tall man clothed in a combat-style uniform stepped through the hole from the explosion, raising a pistol at Haddid. Haddid took a pot shot at the man as he jumped over the bar and took cover. The mercenary fired, but missed as Haddid erratically mantled over the counter. Haddid blind fired, forcing the merc took move to cover as well.

Dallas thought to himself, sheathing his .45 and unslung his G36. He began laying into the array of bottles behind the bar with automatic fire. He then took a beer bottle off a nearby table and sloched the liquid into a trail from where he was to the bar counter. Dallas took off his headgear and put a cigarette in his mouth. He pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette, taking a puff. "All too easy," he said as he dropped the lighter and made for the blast hole.

Haddid risked a peek over the bar and lept into action at the sight of the quickly burning alcohol. He lunged over the counter and made a break for the door. Just as he opened it, a blast rocked through the entire bar and the buildings surrounding it. Haddid was through 15 feet across the square on which the bar had been situated.

Back behind the bar, Dallas pulled out his phone and flipped it open, punching the redial as he smoked. The phone rang twice and then was answered, "Did you get him?"

"Yeah, but he was shouting at some guy named Namir. Mean anything to ya'?"

"Namir used to be a smuggler for us. Looks like he's become somewhat of an informant."

"You want me to take him out?"

"Please."

Dallas shut his phone and pocketed it. Another day, another murder.

[Cody Seb]

Haddid came to and struggled to his feet, the blast had knocked him uncouncious for a few moments. He was very disoriented, but as he came to, he realized that he himself and the ruins of the bar were surrounded by a rather large crowd. The people were simply bystanders and neighbors of the bar coming out to see what was happening.

Haddid's pistol was still in his hand and as he stumbled around, the people shouted, "Woah!" "Look out!"

Haddid didn't care, "Where did the first man go!? The FIRST man to run out!?"

The onlookers remained silently stunned. Haddid enunciated, "Where, Did, He, GO!?"

One man finally replied, "What did he look like? Two strange men ran back towards the south."

"He's an Arab. He's got a goatee, about 35, wearing desert clothes and a sand scarf."

"Ah yes! He was one of them! If you hurry you might catch him!"

Haddid didn't even take time to thank the man. He immediately bolted southward, the crowd of people clearing a path for him in panic. Haddid ran and ran, but the streets of this part of town were a dizzying maze of alleys and side streets. He was still a slightly disoriented, and the labyrinth before him was not making it easy. He pressed on, however and was eventually greeted with the sight of Namir running across his peripheral vision.

"Namir, NAMIR! You had better stop running you S.O.B.!" Haddid quickly ran after him, he was lucky that he was faster than the smuggler. The chase was twisting and challenging. Just as Haddid thought he'd lost him, Namir ran out of a side passage face to face with Haddid. Namir face popped into one of surprise when all of the sudden a door in the alley behind him flew open with the crack of a lock being kicked open. Out stepped a tall white man dressed in military style clothing. He raised a pistol as Namir turned to look and put a bullet right between the smuggler's eyes.

As Namir's body fell to the ground, Haddid took cover on the wall perpendicular to the one Dallas had just stepped out of. Simultaneously, Dallas realized that his first target had just shown his face again, and he quicly moved to close the distance. As Haddid turned to fire, his gun was batted away by the mercenary, who stood a full four inches taller. Haddid quickly grabbed his wrists and forced his pistol up, as Dallas fired off a round into the sky.

The two struggled and as they did so, toppled to the ground. As the two contested for control of the firearm, Dallas punched Haddid in the face. Haddid quickly returned the favor, noticing that the mercenary was now devoid of any helmet or headgear. Dallas was so strong though, stronger than Haddid. When Haddid released one hand from the pistol to punch him in the face, he was able to wrest the pistol from the Berber's grip. However, Haddid was quick. He swiveled his body around and sharply kicked the handgun, sending it tumbling out of Dallas's grip.

As they both seperated and got to their feet, Dallas made the first move, lunging forward at Haddid, grabbing him around the waist. He pushed him back, lifting Haddid off his feet and throwing him through a window. Dallas sprinted for the door he had kicked open and entered the apartment he had just deposited Haddid in. He ran around the corner and promptly had a picture frame smashed over his face.

By now, both combatants were bleeding from the cuts on their faces, but neither backed down. The two once again engaged, Dallas laying savage blows into Haddid's ribs. With the merc's bulletproof vest, Haddid could only concentrate on his face, which was helped by the cuts incurred from Haddid's last attack. Dallas cried out in pain, but made his move.

With his left hand, Dallas grabbed strongly to the side of Haddid's neck. With his right, he punched as hard as he could three times into Haddid's left side, then once in the side of the face. Dallas then released him and savagely striaght kicked Haddid in the sternum, sending him flying and eventually coming to a rest by sliding across the floor and impacting the wall at the end of the hallway.

Dallas walked to about the halfway point between them and unslung his rifle, aiming at Haddid while chambering a round. Haddid looked back up at him, locking eyes and not letting go. Blood was slowly running out of the corners of his mouth, as more seeped down from his brow ridge down the side of his nose. "Why are you doing this?"

Dallas laughed, "'Cause I get paid."

"No, why are you killing me? Do you even know?"

"Who cares? The stories are all different but ultimately excuses. You slept with the wrong guy's wife, you defaulted on a loan from some other low-life, you killed some smugglers and their boss wants revenge, I don't care."

"Well you should."

"Enlighten me why," Dallas replied coldly.

Haddid smiled, pulling out a grenade he had pulled from Dallas's vest.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: ooh, nice twist! Now the guy HAS to listen...

EDIT: Oh, and you rock at writing action sequences...

Edited June 3, 2009 by Subtleknifewielder

[Cody Seb]

OOC: Why thank you, lone commentor

IC:

Dallas smirked, finding the circumstances a tad comical, "Alright boy, I'll bite." After he said this, he punched the emergency dial on his radio. The Germans would then receive a call to come to his location. They would not know the situation, they would only know they would need to come packing.

"I'm just trying to find someone."

"The guy I capped in the alley? Looks like you're done then."

"No not him, a girl."

"Well isn't that cute, but as it happens, I've been contracted to kill you 'cause you were 'interferring with business' and killed one of my employer's men, not 'cause you can't find your girlfriend."

"Right, the 'interferring with business' part isn't exactly just that."

If there was one thing Dallas loved more than money, it was leverage to make more money. "Then what, exactly, is it?"

"I'm just a farmer, I raise dates and cannabis. Several weeks ago some raiders attacked my homestead and sold me to some slavers. While I was at their outpost, I met this girl..."

Dallas's grip tightened on his assault rifle, his eyes burning holes in Haddid's skull. Little did the Berber know, he had hit the merc's soft spot.

"The Germans came in, I was knocked unconcious and when I woke up she was gone."

Dallas was now clenching his jaw as hard as he could. His face didn't show emotion, but he was thinking a mile a minute.

"I promised her I would get her out of there. I promised her she'd be ok and not you or those !@#$% Euros are going to stop me."

Dallas didn't back down, "I still can't let you walk away."

"She's being forced into a life no one would want, a life of servitude, a life of sub-human nature. We all only have one life and it's so short as it is. How many lives have you ended? How many men have you killed over simple misunderstandings or because of a wealthy man's ego? How many women?"

Dallas lowered the rifle and relaxed his stance, "You're willing to risk your life to keep your word to this girl? How do you know she even remembers you anymore?"

"I don't, but saving her life can't hurt."

Dallas thought to himself, then nodded. He approached Haddid and crouched next to him, "I've sinned a lot in my life, but I figure now is as good as anytime to take a step in the right direction." Dallas extended his hand to Haddid. Haddid smiled and clasped it, allowing the mercenary to lift him to his feet. "Oh, and I think I'll take that back now." Haddid reluctantly handed him the fragmentation grenade.

Suddenly there was the sound of many footsteps from the front of the building. "Oh sh-, the distress call," Dallas said under his breath in surprise, "Quick! Duck into that bathroom." Haddid didn't take time to question and rushed into the bathroom across the hall. Dallas stepped down the hall as five Germans rounded the corner, all in suits, Rugers drawn.

The first spoke, in English with a heavy accent, "We got your call, where is he?"

Dallas sighed. "He got a away," he lied, pointing to the busted out window in the open apartment next to the group. The Germans went one after another into the apartment to inspect. The apparent leader of the pack spoke, "But, the glass is broken from the outside."

Dallas fake smiled at them then pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it in. He slammed the door and held it shut with the weight of his body. 3...2...1...then there was a blast. The force blew the door off its hinges and Dallas slammed into the hallway wall. He fell to the floor, dazed. There was shouting in German from outside.

Haddid jumped out of the bathroom to see Dallas lying on his back as two more Germans rounded the corner. Dallas sprung into action and put his rifle into the firing position while remaining on his back. He put two in each of their chests. The men were knocked to the ground as Dallas struggled to quickly get on his feet. He made sure they were dead and put one more in each of their foreheads. He turned and managed a weak smile at Haddid. Just then a bloodied German crawled out of the devastated apartment, firing his pistol.

The round caught Haddid in the stomach and his attacker was quickly silenced by automatic fire. Dallas limped over to Haddid as quick as he could and pulled him to his feet, "If anyone's gonna kill ya, it's gonna be me." Dallas slung his rifle and supported Haddid's weight. He made all speed outside. Just as he had hoped, the keys were still in the ignition of one of the Germans' Mercedes, and he deposited Haddid in the back seat.

As quickly as he could, Dallas hopped behind the wheel, threw the shift into drive and sped out of the back alleys. "Don't worry!" he reassured Haddid, "I've got first aid supplies in my apartment, it's not too far from here!"

The car ripped through traffic. Time was of the essence and Haddid was getting pale.

[Cody Seb]

It seemed early in the morning and the sun burned Haddid's eyes. He sat up to find his abdomen extremely sore. As he looked down, he noticed he was lying on a couch in a cramped, messy apartment with bandages wrapped around his stomach. He swung his legs over and sat up. The coffee table in front of him was covered in gun peripherals and knives of various sizes.

Haddid stood, well, as best he could. Just then, Dallas walked into the room, wearing only his BDU pants and a white tank top.

"How's your abdomen feeling?"

Haddid let out a short laugh, "Better than yesterday."

"Good. Listen, are you sure you want to go through with this? Do you even have a plan? I probably know more about their set up than you and I've only been to the mansion once."

"Yes, I'm sure. As for a plan, I really don't know. I don't suppose we can just go in, guns blazing can we?"

"'Fraid not, they've got pretty good security. Why don't you help yourself to something in the fridge, I'll clean this pistol while I think."

Haddid complied. The kitchen was conjoined to the living room where he had woken up. Dallas sat down and dropped a pistol on the coffe table and went to work. Haddid opened the fridge and found it rather bare, but picked up an apple. As he walked around the only thing that seperated the two 'rooms,' the counter and cupboards, he saw a mirror and peered into it. It had been a long time since he had seen his own face. He noticed the cuts from his fight with Dallas and just a general grimy-ness. As his gaze slightly dropped, he noticed a picture in the corner of the mirror. "Who is this photo of?" he inquired.

Dallas hesitated, continuing to tinker with the handgun, "Me and my wife."

"She's beautiful, and look at that long hair," Haddid joked, "So, where is she? Is she here?"

Dallas stopped what he was doing but didn't turn his head. He finally answered, "She's dead." After a brief moment he went back to work.

"Oh, I apologize. I really am sorry."

Dallas simply grunted in acknowledgement. A long and uncomfortable silence ensued, eventually broken up by Dallas.

"So, I think I might have a way to get inside."

"How so?"

Dallas smiled toothily and held up some handcuffs, "Ever seen Star Wars?"

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Star Wars, eh? I get it. Clever...

[iamthey]

OOC: Not that I have a problem with you Rping a character in Algeria, but I was confused as to where you had territory that controlled a part of it, I thought only Gebiv and myself controlled parts of it? Other than that I like the RP.

EDIT: Nvm you do have territory on part of Algeria.

Edited June 9, 2009 by iamthey