tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40364700701638918182024-03-05T07:13:15.380-05:00Official Drakov Kinski Author PageAuthor and VO Actor. Creating unique stories focusing on G.I.Joe, Fantasy, Dragons, Mythological creatures, Science Fiction, and more! 80s toy collector. Welcome to my Realm. thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-77550495227581999022023-08-04T11:41:00.004-04:002023-08-04T11:41:56.167-04:00Book 2 in the Lancer Revival Series has a name, Chaos Rising!"<p>Hello everyone,</p><p>It has been quite some time since I've posted anything here. I guess that the goings-on of life have gotten in the way. The past five years have been rather depressing. I have lost my mother, mother-in-law, first dog, and most recently, my dad. COVID lockdown and the backlash of virtual teaching have made my day job more challenging and less fulfilling. I have been in a deep funk since losing my dad unexpectedly in December. Nevertheless, writing has been far from my desire. The good news is that I am slowly moving forward and have regained the desire to write again. Many of you have read my fantasy novel, The End of Realms which was meant to be the first book in a series, but unfortunately, I lost the desire to continue writing after its less-than-stellar launch. But much like any author, we write because the stories are in us and they need to be told. So, I have recently rekindled my writing, and Jeff, Draconeth, Mamatar, and Debra are back for an even more epic story. </p><p>Book two has a Title!!! Chaos Rising and believe me the title alone hints at a lot. I have penned 54 pages so far and have been adding words daily. If all continues to go well I am hopeful that I will be seeking beta readers in the next four months. </p><p>Anyways, thank you for checking in on me and I will have more to share soon.</p><p>Cheers,</p><p>Drakov</p>thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-64732860875209061092021-11-17T21:38:00.004-05:002022-07-24T10:30:43.039-04:00update<p> Hello everyone,</p><p>I know it has been a while since I regularly posted on this page. Truth be told, life has been tough. And before you start with your criticism, I know, everyone's life has been. And I just want to let everyone who has been popping in to read posts and chapters from my previous books that I appreciate each and every one of you.</p><p>This COVID-19 epidemic has really turned the US, no wait the world onto its side. Remote teaching, losing my second longtime job, family deaths, and my mental health struggles have prevented me from being literarily productive. The words, ideas, and stories are still there, but the desire, time, and enthusiasm have been greatly hindered. I know this is by no means an excuse, but I felt that I owed you all an explanation. </p><p>Thank you for reading my work and I promise there is more to come.</p><p>Cheers!</p><p>Drakov </p>thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-12257800474470815972021-07-06T09:31:00.004-04:002021-07-06T09:31:30.637-04:00Checking in<p> I have been really busy as the world has fallen into chaos over the last 15 months or so. A lot has happened that has not only been out of my control, but the control of everyone else as well. I have lost family members, much like a lot of you, to this horrible pandemic. I have felt alone, depressed, and enraged by the restrictions placed upon our world, jobs, home life, etc. As a result, my writing has been virtually nonexistent. I have not padded a thought in my blog, to a manuscript, or even read a book in over a year. Well that's not completely true, I read one pleasurable book from my favorite author, but that is all. So, I guess what I am really doing here is checking in with all of you.</p><p>How has your pandemic-based life been? Feel free to vent.</p>thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-51698951013593225442020-03-11T14:09:00.000-04:002020-03-11T14:09:28.095-04:00"Society's Cesspool," Book 3 Chapter 8<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Chapter 8</b></div>
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The terrorist organization, known as Cobra had been gaining traction and a threshold worldwide. They had already infiltrated some minor governments in the Middle East, succeeded in forming an alliance with the Dreadnoks, and were in trade negotiations with both M.A.R.S. Industries and the Red Shadows. The serpent-like organization was slowly wrapping its coils around some very important areas and filling their coffers with the investments of some prominent factions. Cobra was everywhere in a short period of time and oddly enough most of the world didn’t even know it. Operating under the guise of some well-known manufacturing corporations, investment firms, and ammunition suppliers, Cobra Commander was easily sinking his fangs into the economy while creating the need for the services his corporations provided. It would only be a matter of time before he had injected himself into some of the richer and more influential governments of the world.<br />
Brexit had created an opening for him in the UK, election interference an opportunity with the Russians, and withdrawal of U.S. troops from Syria and Afghanistan created an opportunity for a Middle East presence. Civil unrest in the United States government, a resurgence of white supremacy, as well as their withdrawal from the Paris Agreement and NATO was setting the stage for the dissemination of Cobra propaganda and the installation of operatives in their government. His plans were slowly but surely coming to fruition and he had barely spilled an ounce of blood. If the current trends continued, world domination from the shadows seemed more and more obtainable.<br />
The door to the commander’s throne room opened and a rather common-looking man entered dressed in a three-piece suit. <br />
“Hello, Fred VI. Ssso nice to see you.” The man made an extremely low bow before the seated commander and kept his eyes averted. “Pleassse rise. What have you to report?”<br />
The gentleman rose slowly and allowed his gaze to fall upon the supreme leader. “Permission to approach.”<br />
“Granted, pleassse make yourself comfortable.” At that statement, the commander pressed a button on his left armrest and a chair appeared from a concealed compartment on the floor. “I trust your position within BACRO Indussstries has been interesssting?” The man nodded enthusiastically.<br />
“I believe I have two things that you will find of great interest, Commander. They have a very talented young scientist by the name of Frankenstein that has been working on creating lifelike AI. The technology is topnotch and can fool even the most discerning of eyes. I believe he is someone that we should actively recruit to our cause. And if he resists, we should simply steal the technology for ourselves.” The commander put up his hand to temporarily silence the man.<br />
“A scientissst of this caliber needs to be convinced that Cobra offersss more than his current employer. But if he should resist working solely for us...one could always work for both interested partiesss. And what of his employer. Speak to me of Dr. Vincent D’Alleva. Would he be interested in joining usss?”<br />
“That brings up another interesting dilemma, Commander. It seems that the good doctor has gotten himself involved in some unsavory characters. Namely, Declan H.Mann.” Cobra Commander leaned in, showing that he was interested.<br />
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thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-12020708138266301762020-03-02T10:16:00.002-05:002020-03-11T14:15:46.165-04:00"Society's Cesspool," Armed and Dangerous Book 3 Chapter LinksThe road so far. The end of 2019 and 2020 has been rough so far. Family illnesses and other life circumstances have cut into my free time and pleasurable writing. What time I do set aside for writing I tend to devote to possible publications over fanfiction. But, there is just something about the opioid war and some of these Cobra characters that keeps me coming back to write more. So with that said, here are the links to the current rough chapters in book 3.<br />
Cheers!<br />
Drakov<br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2019/03/book-3-exclusive-first-full-chapter-and.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 1</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2019/05/societys-cesspool-chapter-2-book-3.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 2</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2019/05/chapter-3-lolita-and-carlos-completed.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 3</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2019/06/societys-cesspool-book-3-chapter-4_3.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 4</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2019/08/societys-cesspool-chapter-6.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 5</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2019/09/book-3-societys-cesspool-chapter-6.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 6</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/2020/02/societys-cesspool-chapter-7-book-3.html" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 7</a><br />
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<a href="https://thedrakovkinski.blogspot.com/b/post-preview?token=APq4FmCQMeezcS32gNq8yPd18HgX9rDFnuqzkn2xT_L1aLyMfDnMzdgKmZHNSY7mTccp6r_a4d1vvRMeGE_qHtSprHEYCzoGVlugCPiSKtDSzndL8r3vPE8wL6rO4cqQBi52Z0En3JIB&postId=5169895101359322544&type=POST" target="_blank">Society's Cesspool Chapter 8</a><br />
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<br />thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-50661240770583714202020-02-19T13:45:00.002-05:002020-02-19T13:45:49.203-05:00"Society's Cesspool," Chapter 7 Book 3<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Chapter 7</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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It had been nearly three months since the Dreadnok known as Burnout had taken a job at Bacro Industries. The company was thriving and the adrenaline junky was having a hard time justifying any actions that would financially-impact the corporation. As far as he had been able to ascertain, the Headman had been very hands-off in his dealings with the main company. He had not seen him in or around the lab. He had observed the shipping terminal behind the main building on several occasions and even the operations there seemed on the up and up. To the casual observer, all operations seemed Kosher. <br /><br />The encrypted message from Zandar was specific. He had wanted to know what the situation was and whether the Dreadnoks could benefit from it. The initial plan had been to ruin the Headman and to overrun his drug operation, but new information had come to light which portrayed him as being a shrewd businessman with a genuine concern for the welfare of his clientele. Perhaps rubbing him out would not be necessary. If he could simply arrange a meeting with the cartel kingpin, he might be able to successfully broker a deal between the two criminal organizations. But if things went south, he might just end up at the wrong end of a well-trained pistol. The original slighting of the Dreadnok nation had been worthy of retribution, but in reality, it was Gristle, not the Headman, that had verbalized the threat. <br /><br />The corporation is profitable, to say the least. There has been little, if any, illegal activity conducted in the main buildings of the corporation. The CEO, Doctor Vincent d’Alleva runs a legitimate company and has been welcoming and appreciative of his employees. Ties with this corporation could be quite lucrative to us. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement with the Headhunters that will be of mutual benefit to each of us and does not involve either faction shedding blood or losing face. <br /><br />The acting leader of the Dreadnoks read over the message several times. At the end of the day, he was excellent at brokering profitable arrangements and he really didn’t want to wage a turf war with an upstart drug cartel that was over nine thousand miles away in the United States. The more he thought about it, the more he preferred a financial solution. And if the Headman was really the boy scout that Burnout was making him out to be, then there could be other perks as well. He padded off a terse response. See what you can arrange. The biker gang member got the mobile notification a short time later. The door to the lab opened and the CEO entered. <br /><br />“Good morning, Doctors. I trust that everything is going well?” Without missing a beat, Burnout changed between open windows on his laptop and stood up to shake the man’s hand.<br /><br />“Good morning, Doctor d’Alleva. Always a pleasure to see you.” <br /><br />“And where is my favorite prankster, Dr. Frankenstein? He knew I was coming down to visit, did he run off to lunch in order to avoid my observation?” Just at that moment, the door to the lab’s biohazard room opened and Hotwire emerged wearing a mid-range hazmat suit. The security door locked after him and he removed his helmet and gloves, hanging them in the appropriate containment area. He kept the loose-fitting jumpsuit on and extended his hand towards the CEO.<br /><br />“Good morning, boss. So good to see you again. Is everything copacetic today?” Vincent remembered their previous conversation and thought to push the envelope a bit further. “Everything is great, I’m just waiting for my Metamucil to kick in so I can have a healthy bowel movement without soiling my Depends.” <br /><br />“Really boss?”<br /><br />“No, not really, but since you’re always implying that I’m an old man I thought it might add to your level of discomfort if I provided you with a little TMI.” Hotwire’s expression didn’t change. He could still not gauge the man’s level of irritability, or sincerity for that matter. Vincent was a difficult read when he wanted to be. <br /><br />“Didn’t I tell you to pack up your stuff and go home?” He let the statement hang there for a moment before he started to tap his foot impatiently. “Well? Didn’t I?” <br /><br />“Umm...well Doctor. You didn’t instruct me to go home, but you had asked me to submit my late reports on our progress. And I did that as soon as I got off the phone with you.”<br /><br />“I see. So, you thought everything between us is O.K.?” He continued to tap his foot the entire time staring at the brilliant but rude scientist standing before him. Hotwire began to sweat. He had never seen the CEO this perturbed. <br /><br />“I’m sorry sir...Dr. d’Alleva sir, for my previous conduct. I was out of line and shouldn’t have made the comments that I did. Please, don’t send me home.” The next twenty seconds passed uncomfortably, the scowled expression remaining plastered on the CEO’s face. <br /><br />“Well Randal, you leave me with little choice than to…”<br /><br />“Please Doctor, I was only kidding.”<br /><br />“Than to…”<br /><br />I said I was sorry boss.” By now the arrogant scientist had made his way to his knees and was pleading for forgiveness.<br /><br />“To...award you with an extra week of vacation.”<br /><br />“Huh?” The CEO laughed out loud before slapping the young scientist hard on the back.<br /><br />“I got you, Hotwire! Do you need a bathroom break now? You look like you just had an accident.” He sniffed at the air loudly. “Smells like it too.”<br /><br />“Hardy Har! Har! Real funny, gramps. I..I...mean Doctor d’Alleva You got me. Alright, are we going to talk about my current project or continue with the middle-school humor?” Vincent continued to laugh at the irritated scientist’s expense for several more seconds before straightening his tie and composing himself.<br /><br />“Yes, of course, Dr. Frankenstein, I am eager to hear about your recent breakthrough.” The two consulting scientists exchanged glances and Burnout removed a large manila folder from the lower desk drawer which he then handed to the CEO. <br /><br />“I think you’ll find the information on page sixteen to be of great interest to you. It explains the changes made to our newest plant suppressor. It doesn’t kill off the weeds by poisoning them. Instead, it interferes with their reproductive cycle rendering them infertile. In a single generation’s time, we will be able to eradicate 79% of all annual weed species. This will be a huge breakthrough in lawn care as it will wipe out crabgrass, nettle, knotweed, purslane, and carpetweed. But it doesn’t stop there, boss. It will never wipe out all of the pesky plant species so the thirty or so percent that survives will have to be treated again the next season. Add in the plants that undergone annual mutations and we will never be out of business.”<br /><br />“That is good news. But what is this that I hear about it rendering some perennial species incapable of reproduction as well?”<br /><br />“I kind of figured that you would have caught on to that. That’s good news because the plant suppliers will need to produce more flowers for sale to replace the ones that died off. Kind of a one-hand-washes-the-other mentality.”<br /><br />“I see. Is the percent high enough that we need to fully disclose it to the customer?”<br /><br />“Surprisingly enough, we are under the threshold for mandatory disclosure.” <br /><br />“That is awesome news!” The CEO paused for a moment before removing a post-it note from his pocket. “Oh yeah. Now I remember. What about the asexually reproducing species?” <br /><br />“Well, those are still presenting a problem that we’re working on, but once again, this also ensures that we stay in business?”<br /><br />“Fair enough, but I am hopeful that we can create a product combination that is equally as effective against the bryophytes, pteridophytes, and those ever troublesome Taraxacum.”<br /><br />“Yeah boss, but just remember that vegans like to eat dandelions.”<br /><br />“True, but they’d rather buy them at some millennial supermarket than pick them off their back lawn.”<br /><br />“A valid point Doctor.”<br /><br />“OK, well we can toss around some formula modifications later on. I understand you also have a huge breakthrough regarding F.A.C.E.” While Dr. Dd’Alleva waited for a response, he heard a familiar voice coming from the back of the room. He looked up and stood awestricken as a second Hotwire emerged from the back supply room.<br /><br />“You see gramps. The project is so convincing that you didn’t even realize that you were conducting a conversation with an AI.”<br /><br />“What? What?!”<br /><br />“That’s right doc. You were talking to pseudo-me the whole time. Did you really think I would grovel after your diaper joke? Please, the program is slightly flawed because it is designed to make the best decision, not necessarily the one I would have chosen.”<br /><br />The CEO nodded only half-listening to the scientist’s explanation. The gears in his head began to formulate a plan. One that could possibly get him out from under the thumb of the drug kingpin and give him back some semblance of a life.<br /><br />“So, Randal. How do we go about producing one that looks like me?”<br /><br /><br /><br />“Great idea boss! I thought you’d never ask.”thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-33945082832943180532020-02-06T10:35:00.001-05:002020-02-06T10:35:45.590-05:00Supernaturals by Tonka<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The 1980's were chock full of innovative and unique toylines. Children of this time period experienced toys with unique play-action features, some having never been seen before in a toyline. One theme that popped up in several toylines was that of holograms. A hologram is an image that is only visible under light from certain angles. Visionaries added this feature to the shields that their action figures carried with them. Tonka took the gimmick one step further by creating an action figure line that used flip holograms for the actual character's face and body.<br />
Each character had two distinct forms one being more human in nature, the second being more of a monster. Children could imagine the figures changing form and could see these changes by altering the angle at which the holographic images were viewed.<br />
There were six large action figures produced representing the good and the evil Supernatural characters. Each one had only four points of articulation but did come with removable glow-in-the-dark weapons, a chest plate, and some time of head attire. The good guy assortment consisted of Lionheart, a knight or paladin with an inner lion, ThunderBolt, a Viking with an inner Lightning Warrior, and Eagle Eye, A Native American warrior with an inner eagle. The bad guy assortment was made up of Skull, a warrior with an inner Skeleton, Burnheart, a warrior with an inner fire, and Snakebite, evil warrior with an inner serpent. Each action figure also had a holographic shield with a 3D attack.<br />
The toyline also included a ghostling line that had movable arms. These were meant to be companions or minions for the various factions. The faction was composed of eight individual characters each depicting a different inner monster. There was Spooks, the court jester with an inner ghost. Vamps, the vampire, with inner bat, Hooter, the wizard, with an inner owl. Rags, the Egyptian, with an inner mummy. See-Thru, the scientist, who becomes the invisible man. Mr. Lucky, the magician who becomes a giant rabbit. Scary Cat, a witch, with an inner cat. And Finally Weird Wolf, a punk with an inner werewolf.<br />
The line also had two larger, hard to find, animal companions. The evil Dark Dragon and good Lionwings. In addition, there were two vehicles in the collection and a larger Tomb of Doom playset.<br />
There was a Bat Bopper and the Ghost Finder both were vintage cars with a tow truck like feature.<br />
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Here are some pics from my personal collection.<br />
Cheers!<br />
Drakov<br />
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thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-31807236661275905652019-10-22T16:31:00.001-04:002019-10-22T16:31:23.777-04:00<br /><a href="https://clipchamp.com/watch/Steam-Town-PA-pYZzZt" target="_blank">Steam Town, PA</a>thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-80862079675479717262019-09-16T10:27:00.000-04:002019-09-16T11:01:03.537-04:00"Society's Cesspool," Chapter 6 Book 3 <b> </b><br />
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<b> Chapter 6</b><br />
<br />
Vincent D’Alleva continued to spiral deeper and deeper into his depression. The longer his relationship with the Headman existed, the more he felt sickened. Vincent had developed severe indigestion and found himself ingesting at least a dozen antacids daily. He had almost hoped that the encounter reported at the Newark pier would list the narcissistic man among the casualties, but instead, the newspaper only named members of the Vargus Syndicate amongst the deceased. He could not deny the fact that his business was once again prosperous. Nor could he deny the fact that his company was being inventive and productive, but the fact that there was a known drug syndicate operating on his property continued to gnaw away at him. He tried to accept things as a mere business arrangement. At the moment, no one had died, and the mysterious Headman had made good on each and every one of his promises. <br />
He had kept an extremely low profile and not even been seen on the property in the past week. The only thing he had insisted upon was testing out some of the larger pharmaceutical machinery in the main plant to process and purify his new, safer strain of fentanyl. The opioid product, labeled as extremely hazardous to its handlers, was on the verge of becoming safe to the touch, but still as addictive as ever. Vincent along with his best chemists had been invaluable at making the drug safer. Their new benefactor was unlike a common drug dealer in the fact that he preferred his clients to stay alive and forever chasing their original high. It had not been easy, but the chemists had been successful at taking apart the fentanyl molecules and reassembling them in a form that was not as easily absorbed through the body’s mucous membranes. This less dangerous form still provided the user with favorable therapeutic effects and was less likely to cause an overdose.<br />
In addition, Vincent had had continuing success with the development of his new plant fertilizer, as wells as some other products previously in prototype form. The company had applied for sixteen new patents since the start of their four-month relationship and ten more waited in the wings for submission. Several international product developers had already expressed interest in three of them, and all that needed to be done was to discuss a profitable relationship between the new partners. Everything was returning back to a state of financial profitability for Bacro Industries. The name D’Alleva was on the road to becoming a household name associated with some of the newest and cutting-edge technology in the nation. But none of this mattered to the CEO. He could not allow himself to be happy knowing that his financial gain was backed by the blood money of a drug cartel. He needed to break away from the Headman’s influence, but everything he had concocted to date had failed. The first time he envisioned shooting the arrogant man, the experienced drug lord had seen the ruse for what it was and threatened the life of his children. The Headman had forgiven the Vincent’s lapse in judgment and had remained cordial even attempting to develop a friendship with the CEO. The work being performed on the once defunct shipping terminal had also benefited his bottom line, cutting the costs of paying outside companies to transport his products across the state and the country.<br />
Just then the phone on his desk rang. He lifted the receiver to his ear to hear the familiar sound of his secretary’s voice. “Mr. D’Alleva, you have an important call on line two.”<br />
“Patch it through Vivian.” He muted the phone and sighed loudly before clearing his throat. He had become familiar with the verbal clues provided by his personal secretary in regards to the identity of the caller. The drug dealer had asked that he not be identified by name over the phone lines ever and the two had honored his request. He unmuted the phone. “Hello, Dr. Skee.” The Headman had used the alias in the past, he had even earned a bachelor’s degree under the auspices of that name. As far as the world knew, Doctor Charles Romley Skee was a fine and upstanding pharmacist who had worked with several world-renowned pharmaceutical companies. The man had been quite successful at living a double life.<br />
“Hello, Vincent. So good to hear your voice again. I was wondering if we could meet up for some lunch. There are several things I would like to discuss face to face. How’s your upcoming calendar?”<br />
Vincent knew that the request was part truthful and part suggestive. The drug lord was inquiring about his availability, but in reality, was telling him that he wanted to see him that day.<br />
“I have some time this afternoon old friend. Does 2 o’clock work for you?”<br />
“That would be divine. I’ve got a hankering for Antonio’s fettucini alfredo. what do you say?”<br />
“Sure. Would you like me to have Vivian make the reservation?”<br />
“No, that’s quite alright. I’ll phone it in. See you at two. Cheers!”<br />
“Will do.” He hung up the phone receiver and slumped back in his chair. What could the drug dealer possibly want now that he didn’t already have access to?<br />
What the current CEO was unaware of was that the Headhunter scientists had been working closely with Hotwire in order to utilize his recently-developed F.A.C.E technology. The design was solid and the neural net was more than suitable for completing basic physical tasks. Declan had envisioned the technology being incorporated into cyborg security guards and possible drug mules. These androids could walk directly into rival gang regions in order to forcefully remove the lower-quality drug dealers. They could also collect funds from potential buyers, or simply supervise product deliveries. None of the Headman’s agents would ever need to fear an attack on their life with the indestructible android troopers, and if the language software improved, they could soon take on more sentient speaking roles as well. At the moment, Hotwire’s best idea was using wifi and two embedded optical cameras in order to link the android’s surroundings with an actual person. The tech operated similarly to facetime and until the robot became more autonomous, it would allow the seller to communicate with the buyer face to face, instead of over a mobile phone line that could be hacked by the feds.<br />
The artificially-created organic skin had also developed to a point where it could remain intact for over 150,000 repeated movements. The skin from a distance of six or more feet looked realistic and oddly enough, human. It was only upon closer inspection from several inches away that someone could ascertain its artificial construct.<br />
If Vincent knew that Hotwire’s technology would soon be employed to increase drug sales in the smaller communities all along the east coast, it would surely push him over the edge. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was only eleven a.m. and he still had a lot of stops to make in the building before his impromptu lunch with Dr. Skee. He scoffed at the man’s chosen alias. Did he really think that everyone was oblivious to the fact that his name was a slang term for the smack he was peddling? Surely his name had to set off alerts somewhere on the government servers. Was he truly that brazen?<br />
Vincent shook the thoughts from his mind. He hated and loved the Headman at the same time. If it hadn’t been for the man’s intervention all those months ago, his body would be lying in the cold dark earth, and his children would be fatherless. Now. his company was once again prosperous. He was even expanding overseas and into India. His stockholders were ecstatic and no one could rival his new innovations, but the stigma of it all being funded by the blood money of the opiate trade weighed heavily on his conscience. He was tired of lying to everyone, but mostly to himself. He would rid himself of this cancer soon...or die trying.<br />
The phone rang a second time on his desk. The extension lighting up reminded him that he needed to make his rounds and check progress on some of the newer projects.<br />
“Yes, Hotwire. I’m actually on my way over now.”<br />
“Oh, good pops. I thought you may have forgotten. I know how absent-minded people your age can get.” The CEO had grown accustomed to his inappropriate jokes. Had even come to expect them, so he was ready this time.<br />
“You keep missing deadlines and you’ll be lucky if you even make it to my age. I’ll be down in ten minutes.” Without waiting for a response he hung up the phone. That should set him straight and keep him guessing. He laughed to himself, buttoned his upper jacket button and headed for the elevator.<br />
“He hung up on me. He’s never done that to me. To me of all people. Does he know how important I am to this company’s success?” The young scientist was beside himself. Caught in between rage, disbelief, and doubt.<br />
“I’m sure he’s just messing with you, Dr. Frankenstein. What you said to him was a little rude.” The scientist was far from being calm.<br />
“Listen, Perez, I bust his balls all the time. This was nothing out of the norm. Gramps knows I’m kidding.” He paused a second. “You think he knows that I’m kidding right? Right? I mean... he told me I missed my deadlines. He’s never cared about me being a day or two late before.”<br />
“Maybe he’s having a bad day.”<br />
“I don’t know something seems off about him lately.”<br />
“Don’t overthink it Hotwire, I’m sure everything will be fine once he sees the progress that we made.” The eccentric scientist found himself nodding in agreement. He simply couldn’t disagree with the statement just made. Not only had they been successful at improving the tensile strength of the Bio-skin, but they had also synthesized a new plant food that increased growth rates by six-fold and was safe to the groundwater and nearby lakes, rivers and streams. There was no way the news could be ill-received as long as the FDA was quick to issue an approval. Stock prices would certainly skyrocket.<br />
<br />
<br />
thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-17070709264131692422019-08-29T13:03:00.000-04:002019-09-16T11:13:26.477-04:00"Society's Cesspool" Chapter 5 Book 3<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<b> Chapter 5</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Cobra agent known as Ghost Bear had successfully infiltrated the terrorist cell known as the Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia. They were a smaller and lesser-known group but no less radical or dangerous. They had allies in Mauritania, Mali, and Libya and were active sellers in the arms trade. Cobra Commander wanted to keep the more radical Islamic groups on a short rope as he did not agree with the ways in which they chose to deal with their opponents. The emerging terrorist leader was ruthless, but he did not condone the killing of women and children. He did, however, recognize a potential scapegoat when they presented themselves. By having Ghost Bear gain the confidence of the al-Sharia, he, in turn, gained an ally in the Middle East without direct ties to the Cobra Organization. If things went south for some reason he could sever ties and deny any association with the group. Add in the Kenyans and the recent deals struck with the Aum Shirykiro and the Chechnya, his political power was growing worldwide. Soon Cobra would be in a position where they could strike out at the Americans, the British, and the Russians in one unexpected precise and crippling strike. The rulers of these superpowers would be forced to yield to his demands and pay their fealty to him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The video-conferencing device alert vibrated slightly on the agent’s wrist-link. Ghost Bear excused himself and moved to his private quarters using personal prayer time as his reason. The monitor came to life as the chromed face-plate of the Cobra leader appeared before him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Yes, supreme leader.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Ah, Ghossst Bear. It isss so nice to see you again. How go thingsss with the Tunisiansss? Are they ready to sssign our agreement?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Things have been going very well, and I am close to brokering an alliance that will be favorable and profitable to both parties.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Ex-sssellent. Perhaps they are smarter than I gave them credit for. Seal up the deal as soon as possssible. I will be requiring your services elsewhere. You have three daysss.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“I will not let you down.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“I would hope not.” The screen went dark and Ghost Bear turned his attention back to the situation at hand. His timeline and his mission had changed, but he was up for the challenge. He would close the deal ahead of time and move on to where his services were needed. It really didn’t bother him too much. He only hoped that his next assignment would be someplace cooler and with better cuisine.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
* * * * </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Gristle parked the car in an obscure corner. After exiting the vehicle, he opened the door for the well-dressed man and accompanied him around the back of the car. Their precious cargo should be awake by now and after the last shock treatment, they would be more cooperative.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakie.” As the trunk rose, the two passengers rubbed their eyes in order to see their captors. “How was the ride?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Terrible, not like you care!” Lolita was quick to respond, her voice dripping with venom.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Now, now. No need to be so excited. Let me help you out of there.” He reached out his hand in order to grab the woman’s bound wrists as she scooted her legs into a hanging position outside of the trunk. Gristle assisted her brother, Carlos, from the confines of the trunk, but he decided to stay tight-lipped. The Headman produced a pair of cutting pliers from his coat pocket and cut the binds on both individual’s wrists.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Alright. So, can we start over? I’m the Headman and your new business partner.” The woman looked at his outstretched hand then over to her right and left where two heavily-armed Headhunters stood. Their guns were at their sides, but she knew in a seconds notice that each man could easily put a bullet in her skull. She didn’t like the current arrangement, but she had worked for worse people in her past twenty-two years of life. She looked to her brother then back to the Headman’s hand. She clenched his hand firmly in her own.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Nice to meet you, partner. I’m Lolita and this is my brother Carlito.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Excellent! Welcome aboard. Now that that’s all taken care of, we have a train to catch. Follow me.” The dapper don led them along the back wall until he came across a fire extinguisher cabinet. He opened the front door and pulled down on the extinguisher which caused a hidden passageway to appear as a section of the wall moved back and to the left. “This will get us into the subway system without having to pass through the various video camera checkpoints. Once we catch the C train, we’ll be in the clear.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Lolita pondered the situation. It didn’t make much sense. Where exactly was he taking them? It didn’t line up with any known bases of operations for the Headhunters that she was aware of. The subway doors closed and the four individuals rode on through the next three stops then exited and took the L Train for another five stops. The subway platform where they exited the train car was abandoned, and the Headman led them all into the men’s bathroom.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“I’m not going in there, you pig.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Calm yourself, my dear. It’s simply a means to an end. The drug lord moved a sign on the wall which opened another secret passageway to a hidden tunnel. “Follow me please.” He tipped his fedora at the woman then bowed as she walked past him. The tunnel was dimly-lit but easy to navigate. It ended at a dead end, but Lolita knew it was merely another concealed doorway. Gristle undid the lock this time and the group exited into an underground garage.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Welcome to my home away from home. He led the three to a construction elevator that took them down to a subterranean level. It had been nearly two months since he had come to the Irvington base, but he wasn’t yet ready to trust his new partners with the Connecticut branch. He would set the two of them up here in his wake and have the Headhunters keep tabs on their activities. If they cooperated and proved their loyalty, all would be forgiven in due time. If anything seemed questionable or out of line...he’d simply end them. He didn’t come into the power that he had by being a patsy. The Headman was no one’s floor mat. Things may have been a little shaky in the beginning, but he had learned from some of the best in the business. He had continued to grow his influence right under the noses of the very individuals who had mentored him and he had expected the recent turn of events to occur sooner or later.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“So what? You expect my sister and me to just join your little organization? Are we just supposed to act like the massacre at the pier just never happened?” </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The well-dressed man did little more than shrug. “That my dear Carlito is up to you and Lolita. I will benefit one way or the other. If you join me, then I will gain your connections and network of buyers and sellers. If you should choose not to entertain my offer, that’s just as good. I’ll still assimilate your territory and your connections. The two of you on the other hand…” He paused dramatically and grinned widely. “Won’t be as fortunate. If you catch my drift.” He ended his statement with a wink. Lolita was the next to speak cutting off her brother before he could offer a rebuttal.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“So, should we join the Headhunters, what’s in it for us?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Well, for one thing, you and your brother get to live, but that’s not the only perk I offer. You will simply work for me, but out of this location. I will provide you with a base of operations and products. I will also supply you with a security task force. I am even willing to offer you and your brother twenty-five percent of the profit. But...I have rules.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The woman did her best to conceal her disapproval but entertained his last proclamation. “What do you mean rules?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“It’s very simple. We only sell to adults. You avoid the grammar schools. And, you don’t sell anything except what I provide. Steal from me or sell your own product and our agreement is over!” Lolita eyed him oddly as he continued outlining his rules. “And one more thing. From here on, none of our clients die. Got it?” </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“What do you mean? No one dies? We sell drugs. People die.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Not anymore. The only good drug addict is one that stays alive and continues to buy from us.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Now you have my attention.” The Headman smiled.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“So, do we have an agreement?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-86852179930420125152019-06-14T08:46:00.000-04:002019-06-14T08:46:21.945-04:00New Book Available on Amazon Today!!!!!Hello everyone.<br />
I am ecstatic to share with you that my new book, "The End of Realms," Book 1 of the Lancer Revival series, is available for purchase on Amazon. If you like fantasy, Dragons, zombies, mythological creatures, all with a modern-day flare. <br />
<br />
You should check it out!<br />
<br />
As always thank you for your continued support!<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
<br />
Drakov<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1073677125/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=drakov+kinski&qid=1560515807&s=gateway&sr=8-2" target="_blank">The End of Realms</a><br />
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<br />thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-8390226528402154582019-06-12T08:33:00.000-04:002019-06-12T08:33:08.663-04:00Fantasy Novel "The End of Realms" Book 1 in The Lancer Revival"The End of Realms" Book 1 in The Lancer Revival will be available soon. <br />
Final revisions are being made on the server and the eBook will be ready for purchase by the end of the week. More information available soon!thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-55733405005071186812019-06-03T10:29:00.002-04:002019-09-16T11:14:46.157-04:00"Society's Cesspool" Chapter 4 Book 3<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Chapter 4</b></div>
<br />
Stalker and the other Joe recruitment officers had taken a liking to Lieutenant Alkeenen. He was a promising young officer with an outstanding dossier. He came from a military family extending back for the last four generations and his commendations were numerous for someone so new to the service. He was almost too perfect. How had he missed garnishing the attention of the Joe team sooner? The army ranger was starting to have some reservations.<br />
<br />
“Alkeenen, gear up I’ve got an interesting little adventure set up for you today.”<br />
<br />
“Sir, yes sir!” The lieutenant hustled over so that he was standing in attention before his Joe mentor. <br />
<br />
“Today’s training mission is based upon a recent event overseas. You’re going to need to infiltrate a Tunisian crime family without weapons, a lift a laptop from the oldest son’s personal safe house replacing it with a dummy unit. Are you up for it?”<br />
<br />
The undercover master of disguise scoffed to himself. Was he up for it? Really? Is this what America’s highly-trained special missions force did on a daily basis? This would be child's play for him. He tried feigning nervousness and excitement as he saluted the ranger.<br />
<br />
“Absolutely sir. When do I roll out?” <br />
<br />
“Bus leaves at 1300 hours. Be back here and ready to go.”<br />
<br />
“Sir, yes sir!” Zartan had been deep undercover for nearly a year trying to gain access to the G.I.Joe's inner circle, but despite his hard labors, he had not granted anything more than probationary status on the team. There had been little chatter on the Cobra front and he began to wonder if he had been wrong concerning the threat that the terrorist group presented. It might be high time to plan his egress and take back control of the Dreadnoks back home. Perhaps, he would see to it that this latest training mission would be Lieutenant Alkeenen’s last. <br />
<br />
It had bothered the undercover mercenary that his exemplary efforts had been ignored while the upstart Armed and Dangerous had been made a full-fledged member of G.I.Joe. He didn’t understand how this was possible. Could someone be on to him? He had been careful to tie up any and all loose ends. He had even held back from being too good at what they asked him to do. Was he now being paranoid? He pushed the thoughts from his mind and began to focus on the importance of the laptop he was being asked to obtain, in Tunisia no less. If he died in Tunisia, he would be considerably closer to his home in Australia. But why Tunisia?<br />
<br />
Stalker had a final meeting with Duke and Hawk concerning the mission. He had voiced his opinions both positive and negative about the probationary recruit before. The two ranking officers had agreed that it would be prudent to keep the unusually-talented lieutenant on restricted clearance until they could be sure that he was for real. Something smelled suspicious to the veteran ranger, but it could simply be the result of recent ongoings around the globe concerning terrorist attacks. If Alkeenen could successfully carry out this newest mission, the team would be resigned to reevaluate his abilities and possibly recommend full membership. Stalker had been played out before. Several times in his past, there were outstanding soldiers who ended up being nothing more than elaborate spies or turncoats. He had fought both against and on the side of the Oktober Guard. Tommy Arashikage had once been a trusted member of his platoon overseas before his reinvention as the ninja Storm Shadow. Another time, the Baroness had posed as a high-level army operative and stolen top-secret plans from G.I.Joe headquarters. Each time he had had a gut feeling about the person in question, but Alkeenen was different. The ranger felt like the man was holding back purposefully at times and couldn’t understand why. The other thing that bothered him was the fact that he associated with no one, ever. While the other recruits were using their free time to call home or hang out in the mess hall, Alkeenen was nowhere to be seen. What was he hiding?<br />
<br />
The bus pulled up at 1230 hours. It was driven by a seldom-seen G.I.Joe by the name of Skidmark. Stalker was nearby watching as Alkeenen and two other recruits walked up. <br />
<br />
“So Alkeenen, are you ready to do this?” The man’s face was stoic as he turned to regard the ranger.<br />
<br />
“I’ve never been more ready, Sir. So, who will I be meeting up with once I get to Tunisia?” Stalker handed the man a sealed manila envelope and a small briefcase. <br />
<br />
“Everything that you need to know is in that envelope. It will need to be decoded using Epsilon-Zeta protocol, and once you’ve deciphered it, it must be destroyed. I suggest reviewing the material during your flight. When you touch down, you will be a civilian tourist. The dossier contains recent photos of known Tunisian radicals and their aliases.”<br />
<br />
“Got it. So, I’ll be on my own?”<br />
<br />
“Not exactly. We have an internal asset, but it’s above my clearance level. That info is also in the paperwork. Good luck soldier. Make your nation proud.” The ranger saluted and the lieutenant was more than happy to oblige before tossing his bag in the rear of the humvee and climbing on board.<br />
<br />
“Welcome aboard soldier.” Alkeenen gave a half-smile then moved back a row in the vehicle. The other two operatives jumped on board a few minutes later. He didn’t know either of them but studied their faces nonetheless. The master of disguise couldn’t help himself. He was a constant thespian, always searching for his next mark. He would make small talk on the way to the airstrip, find out the nature of their missions, and tuck that information away into his mind’s Rolodex for the future.<br />
<br />
Skidmark started the engine and put the truck into drive. “Alrighty, everyone. We’re off. If you look out the window to your right you can wave to all your friends as we ride off into the mountains up ahead. To your left, as the crow flies, you can see the scenic Cascade Mountains. They are home to Bufo boreas and Taricha granulosa. For those of you not fluent in herpetology, those are the scientific names of the western toad and rough-skinned salamander. Believe it or not both species are known for their ability to secrete toxins through their skin so that predators leave them alone.”<br />
<br />
Zartan mumbled under his breath. “No one cares about your lizard fetish.”<br />
<br />
“Well, just to be clear here, son. They’re not lizards. Each one is an amphibian. Reptiles like lizards have scaly-skin and claws. Amphibians don’t. Listen up. You might actually learn something.”<br />
<br />
I can’t believe this lamebrain heard me. I know what he’s trying to do. He’s keeping us from talking to each other about our missions. The Joes are craftier than I thought. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“Now, if you want to know about some reptile species, here’s a fun fact. The Cascades are home to both the Northern and the Southern Alligator Lizards as well as the Northern Pacific Rattlesnake. Their genus and species names….” Skidmark continued to drone on and on. It was going to be a long trip.thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-82309744120713614012019-05-29T09:47:00.000-04:002019-09-16T11:05:47.178-04:00"Society's Cesspool," Chapter 3 Book 3<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Chapter 3</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Lolita and Carlos completed their car ride with the Headman in silence while tied-up and locked in the trunk of a Lincoln Town Car. The Headman needed time to think about his next move and also wanted to be sure that his Headhunters had cleared the basement of the Vargus Syndicate’s apartment building before doing anything else. He had become paranoid about a possible hit on his life ever since the sniper attack at the loading dock. The Vargus’ are dead. Gristle and I killed them ourselves. But who else were they working with?<br />
He had more questions than answers at this point in time and wasn’t sure where he should go with his soon-to-be new business partners. He knew that the feds were probably checking traffic camera footage as he drove and he needed to find a secure location in which to lose their surveillance. Then he remembered the tunnels. He knocked on the glass partitioning between the front and back of the limousine. His second in command promptly lowered it.<br />
“Yes, boss?”<br />
“Take me to the place Danimal.” His chauffeur knew the code to be for the network of tunnels connecting his old neighborhood to the subway system. The place also had an underground garage to ditch their car and egress to safety away from the prying eyes of the feds.<br />
“Right away maan. Shall I call ahead for an escort?” The Headman chuckled every time he heard the word “escort” as it elicited memories of many of the trashy girls he had been with over the years. Then he refocused on the real meaning.<br />
“Just request Alpha and Epsilon in plain clothes for our rendezvous.”<br />
“Will do boss.” The silence was broken suddenly by the sound of pounding in the trunk.<br />
“And would you do something about the rats in the trunk?” Gristle nodded and pressed a red button on the center console. The Headman heard a groan come from his passengers hidden behind his seat and then silence.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * * *</div>
It had taken Burnout several days to weed through his contacts and gather some useable intel of the Headhunters organization. His latest bit of information led him to the parking lot of Bacro Industries in a small suburb of Hartford, Connecticut. It seemed like an odd place for the Headman and his cronies to set up shop, but it had been his most promising lead to date. He parked his Harley in a numbered spot and proceeded to enter the building through its main entrance. He was greeted by an upbeat and mildly attractive receptionist seated behind a higher-than-average hardwood desk.<br />
“Welcome to Bacro Industries sir. How can I assist you today?”<br />
The Dreadnok spy had taken measures to blend in with the area trading in his gang attire for a two-piece suit and designer sunglasses. He flashed a charming smile at the young woman before introducing himself.<br />
“Good afternoon to you as well. I am here in reference to the advertisement placed on your webpage regarding a ceramic engineer. Am I in the right place?”<br />
“Let me check into that for you Mr..?”<br />
The name is Jones. Doctor Walter Jones.” The secretary took down his name and searched through her database to locate the correct contact liaison.<br />
“OK, thanks. You’ll be meeting with Doctor Randolph Frankenstein.” The twisted look on the man’s face spoke volumes. “Oh don’t be concerned. That’s the normal response to his name. And yes, we do actually have our own resident Doctor Frankenstein, but he prefers to be addressed as Hotwire.”<br />
“Got it.”<br />
“Have a seat and I’ll let him know that you’re here. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?” The well-dressed man waved her off with a smile and sat down to peruse the latest issue of Motorsport. A short time later a buzzer went off at the secretary’s desk. “Yes, doctor. I’ll escort him in to see you. Follow me, Dr. Jones.”<br />
The pair passed through the security door and down the hallway to a door labeled Conference Room. Upon entering, Dr. Jones was greeted by a younger man with wild hair wearing a white lab coat. “Welcome, Doctor Jones. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I am quite familiar with your work on the thermodynamics of organic ceramics. Please have a seat.”<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * * *</div>
The mechanic looked around the newly retrofitted assembly line. His expertise combined with the funding of the Headman had accomplished a somewhat impossible task in record time. The next stop on his checklist was to check the manufacturing machinery for the purification and refinement of the street drugs that the Headhunters were pedaling. His employer wanted to be able to synthesize his product as soon as possible since the costs of importing the raw materials or finished products from foreign countries were not only expensive but deadly to the overall life span us their potential clientele. As he passed through the doorway of the main processing room he was greeted by another familiar face.<br />
“Oh, good afternoon. You’re the Chemist...correct?” The man dressed in a white lab coat and donning a surgical mask pulled it down from his mouth to address the other man.<br />
“Yeah, that’s me. It’s been a while, Mechanic. Who would have thought ten years ago that we would still be working for Declan? I was confident that he would have caught a bullet by now.” The burlier rugged-looking man shrugged with indifference.<br />
“Honestly, it makes little difference to me. In this profession, you don’t get too attached to people and there will always be someone else willing to profit at the misfortune of another. So, what’s your assessment of the machinery? Does it meet your specifications?”<br />
“I’ve only just started to look them over, but this is leaps and bounds above anything I’ve observed with the competition. This is some high-end hardware.”<br />
“Well, the boss did say to spare no expense. So, can I assume at the moment that everything is status quo in the department?” The chemist picked up a clipboard from a nearby counter and glanced over it quickly before replying.<br />
“Do we have an ETA on the centrifuge and crystallization extractors? Without them, I can’t fully evaluate the workings.” The Mechanic nodded and checked the screen of his cellular device. After several moments of scrolling, he too replied.<br />
“DHL shipping report says they’re in transit with a delivery time between two and six this afternoon.”<br />
“Excellent!”<br />
“Alright, I’ll send someone up with the equipment to find you once they have arrived. So, if you would excuse me I need to see to some other things. Good seeing you.” The mechanic offered his hand to shake, but the chemist politely declined.<br />
“No offense buddy, but I don’t do handshakes. It’s a lab thing.” Once again the mechanic shrugged and exited the room. His checklist listed the lower levels, the wi-fi access, and the fueling station outside. It was going to be another long day. He closed his eyes envisioning how nice it was going to be once this project was complete and he was relaxing with a cold alcoholic beverage in hand on a beach in Bora Bora for the next three months. He loved his job.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * * *</div>
“So Doctor Jones, I am interested in hearing your thoughts on using industrial strength ceramics in an organic capacity. The job focuses on and around the development of biodegradable containers to store and deliver fertilizers and insecticides gradually over a typical growing season. We hope to be the first company to do this in an ecologically-friendly and conservative way. The idea is to make something that will leave behind no harmful contaminants.”<br />
Burnout tried to convey as much interest in the project as possible. The job sounded dreadful compared to the work he regularly did. The speed junky preferred automobiles and motorcycles and had dabbled in ceramic engineering to produce parts for weight reduction, but never in this capacity. He began to wonder if he would be able to feign his skills and actually land the job, but Zandar had successfully created a fully-searchable online persona just in case this opportunity ever arose. The Dreadnok nation was always planning ahead.<br />
“That is a truly ambitious undertaking on the part of Bacro Industries and something that I would be excited to partake in. I have done some research using chitin-based sealers that breakdown in the presence of 45% or more humidity. I could envision one of these substances being used to contain the substance. The challenge will come from the proper pairing of the container and the delivery system so that they don’t contaminate or deactivate each other.”<br />
“Interesting idea, but don’t worry Doctor Jones. Man, this is really weird. Do you mind if I call you Indiana?” The undercover Dreadnok infiltrator smirked...he almost expected the comment at some time from the overly eccentric interviewer.<br />
“Whatever, but if you start throwing a ball and asking me to fetch it, we’re going to have a problem.”<br />
“Fair enough. So when can you start? Is tomorrow too soon?” Burnout was partially surprised and it showed on his face. “I’m kidding, of course, I still have to run your credentials passed the big guy. He has the final say on all things hiring.” Burnout nodded his understanding while regaining his composure. “Give me a day or two and I’ll be in touch. I have a good feeling about you Indy.”<br />
The make-believe Doctor Jones extended his hand to his host. “I look forward to hearing from you.” The interview ended with the two men shaking hands and Hotwire showing him to the door. Chitin-based water-soluble sealants. That’s ingenious! Why hadn’t I thought of that? The biochemist was truly intrigued by the prospects. If this was his idea for the proposed agricultural project, what other ideas might he have in regards to the F.A.C.E. program?<br />
<br />thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-54660289222179154722019-05-14T10:41:00.001-04:002019-05-14T10:43:43.100-04:00Current worksGood day fellow readers,<br />
<br />
I am writing to you all today to provide you with some insight as to my current projects. My novel (working title) "the End of Realms, is still being reviewed by a potential publishing company. In the meantime, I have been working tediously on four additional manuscripts.<br />
Book Three of the Armed and Dangerous series in coming along nicely. I am trying to tie up all the loose ends that the previous two books have created. PFC Kordos is back, this time as an active member of the DEF, a division of the G.I.Joe team created to tackle the threat of the various drug cartels stationed around the world. The main threat is that of the Headhunters, led by the infamous Headman. Expect cameo appearances from Cobra Commander, the Dreadnoks, and even the Eco-Warriors. This will be the final chapter in the story arc and hopefully, leave room for future stand-alone stories.<br />
In addition to G.I.Joe fan fiction, I have also been working on a second book to continue the adventures of Jeff Larson, the last Golden Lancer, and the hero featured in my fantasy novel. My opinion is this: Once you finish one story, the next one is simply waiting to be written. With just over six chapters written, it is shaping up nicely.<br />
I have also been toying around with a Christmas Carol type tale as well as a new children's story about a pet tarantula.<br />
Well enough about me for now.<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
Drakovthedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-13743486182575490322019-05-13T10:27:00.001-04:002019-09-16T11:10:40.971-04:00Society's Cesspool Chapter 2 Book 3 <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chapter 2</span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-4e15ee93-7fff-5f90-70d3-643687b6fbe0"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hit had been thorough and after several hours of investigation, fifteen bodies were recovered from on or around the pier. Three additional bodies had been dredged out of the bay. Many of the victim’s remains showed fewer than two bullet wounds, and two of the cadavers had their brains splattered by what was most likely a sniper rifle. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This was a planned assault and ambush. Body armor or not, these men never stood a chance.” <i>Bulletproof </i>placed</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a laser-emitting device on the ground and adjusted its trajectory to match the suspected flight plan of the headshot that had dropped the body laying before him. “There were two well-concealed sniper nests. One there, the other one there.” He swung the laser beam and allowed it to land on the two sights while instructing </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shockwave </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Claymore </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to inspect the areas for any other clues as to the identities of the shooters. “They planned for every possible scenario. Including their enemy's possible escape plan.” He then pointed to a dead body slumped over the steering wheel of the speedboat still fastened to the lower pier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few minutes later, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shockwave </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">returned with several spent bullet casings in his hands. “I found several more of those distinct bullet casings up there. Each has the engraving </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">HH </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">on it.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">HH?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I’ll eat my flack vest if that doesn’t stand for the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headhunters</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Are they really that arrogant?” </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mayday </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">inquired. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’ve seen the footage pulled by </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bombstrike</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Do you need any other affirmation? The </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is a pompous and arrogant individual. He would want everyone to know that his organization had taken out the Vargus Syndicate. He’s sending them all a clear message.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’s that? That he’s a fashion disaster?” </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Muskrat’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">joke elicited a slight chuckle from those in attendance, but little more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Be that as it may. He clearly isn’t hiding this hit and truth be told, if this is his level of accuracy, then he’s more dangerous than ever.” The Major’s solemn response was supported by sheer body count alone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bulletproof</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I found some more of those DHM bullet casings behind these crates.” The team went over to investigate “This appears to be the escape route used by the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gristle</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. The trail of spent casings continues off to the left and then back into the center of the road. Tire marks match that of a Lincoln Navigator with twenty-two-inch tires. Luxurious, but still able to blend in easily with the neighborhood. The other vehicle as you can see, a top-of-the-line Cadillac Escalade, never left the meeting zone.” </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cutter’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">assessment made sense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If you ask me, it looks more like swiss cheese.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Again with the jokes </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Muskrat</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">? Did anyone find any identification on any of these other goons?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “What can I say, Major? It’s just who I am.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Anyone else?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Negative Major. The last guy didn’t even have fingerprints.” </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Longarm’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">response unnerved the veteran soldier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, we know that these two unfortunate souls are Manual Vargus and his little brother, Victor. These guys have been on the DEA’s radar for nearly a decade, but we have no record of the rest of these guys.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“They’re probably just hired muscle. Come on </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bulletproof</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, it’s not all bad. Maybe the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headhunters </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">did us all a favor by taking these guys out.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’d like to agree with you, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Muskrat</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, but this isn’t good. With the Vargus Syndicate out of the picture, the stage is now set for a turf war involving rival drug factions for control of their area. We also don’t know who, if anyone from the Vargus Syndicate, survived this bloodbath. Any survivors will most likely regroup and seek revenge. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would wager that the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is far from done here and will be making another play for</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> dominance over the region if he isn’t already orchestrating another hit as we speak. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bombstrike</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, where are we with the satellite tracking?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The attractive blonde-haired, forward observer looked up briefly from her computer screen to address the Major’s question. “Give me another couple of minutes to splice all of this together for you, sir.” She went back to clicking away on her keyboard. “Laserbeams! I got it! Take a look at this. By triangulating the signal of the twelve tactical and government satellites in the area, and downloading their content which I ran through using a face and vehicle-recognition algorithm.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Layman's terms </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bombstrike</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, please.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Alright, alright. I forgot that you guys don’t speak my lingo. I was able to piece together a time-lapse video of the Lincoln Navigator’s route after it left the gunfight.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, let’s see it. Where did our suspects end up?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The last piece of footage I was able to retrieve put the vehicle heading east on Route 80, crossing the GWB and heading into Connecticut. But, that wasn’t before they made a pit stop about eight blocks from here.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Excellent work, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bombstrike</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! Do you have a twenty?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, but what I do have is a satellite image of the building they entered and when they came back out.” The technical prowess of the computer hacker had given the team a clear view of the last place the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and his cronies had been. “Upon cross-referencing the image with real estate information and known databases of property sales, I was able to determine that the building landlord was none other than our dearly-departed dastardly drug demon, Manual Vargas. I love alliteration!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many in close proximity to the final comment rolled their eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The address please?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh yeah, 248 Port Street.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, that means one of two things.” </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bulletproof’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">glance was enough to refocus the team and</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was stern in his delivery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, that’s either the location of our next crime scene or where we’ll find </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">newest allies.” I was quick in my assessment of the situation and the other members of the D.E.F. nodded in agreement. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We’ll need to get a tactical team over to that address pronto. If there’s anyone there that’s still alive, they might be able to help us piece together the next steps in the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headhunter’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">plan.</span></div>
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</span>thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-1093947843703075072019-03-26T08:09:00.000-04:002019-10-24T13:26:29.302-04:00Fantasy novel, "The End of Realms," possibly moving forwardHello all,<br />
Great prospective news. I received a letter from a publishing company regarding a recent query letter. An Indie company I will not name presently has expressed an interest in reading my entire manuscript. I have in turn provided it to them for review. One of three things can happen from this point moving forward:<br />
1. The manuscript can still be rejected.<br />
2. It will be accepted pending recommended revisions.<br />
3. It will be accepted "as is" with edits.<br />
<br />
Either way, it is an exciting time for me as an author and I can not thank my audience, friends, and family enough for their support. Here's to staying positive.<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Drakovthedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-49595037444155945572019-03-22T10:24:00.000-04:002019-09-16T11:13:10.056-04:00Book 3 EXCLUSIVE!! First full chapter "Society's Cesspool"<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Chapter 1</b></div>
<br />
<br />
The Headman’s adrenaline was pumping. In between labored breaths, his mind continued to replay the events that had just transpired. Did I just take out the prime members of the Vargus Syndicate? This is insane!” Gristle looked over at his boss who was deep in thought. He was speaking, but the Headman wasn’t hearing him as his ears were still ringing from the barrage of close-range gunfire. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Boss? Boss?! Are you hearing me maan?” <br />
<br />
<br />
“What?” Declan cleared his thoughts and refocused on the situation at hand. By now his trusted chauffeur bodyguard was yelling quite loudly.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Where to now, boss?” <br />
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<br />
“We need to finish the job and quick.” His second in command nodded in agreement and knew exactly what he meant. The black SUV though speeding at first had now assumed the correct speed limit as it turned the corner leading into the industrial complex a half a mile away. They needed to blend in and not to attract any unwanted attention. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Turn left here. Then pull up into that driveway.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Right away boss.” They had driven through the complex in order to emerge in a more residential area. The building in front of them was little more than a run-down tenement building housing some forty section-eight apartments. The front of the building housed three small businesses: a shoe repair shop, a UPS store, and a family-owned bodega. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Seriously, who gets their shoes repaired in this day and age?” Old man Vargus was very traditional in his upbringing. His nostalgia for the ways of the old country had him establishing storefronts that were relevant back home forty years ago, but not so much here in the U.S.<br />
<br />
<br />
The shoe repair shop had been his intended entrance, but it was well past regular store hours which meant he would have to find another ingress. He walked around the back of the building until he came upon a service ramp and a security door with a keypad intercom. The ringing in his ears had almost subsided. One’s initial impression of the building would be that of a fortified business, but the Headman knew differently. Back in his younger years, he too was running product for the Vargus Syndicate and had become quite familiar with their operations. He flipped up the keypad and after trying several four-digit codes, the internal door lock clicked allowing him easy access inside. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Cover me.” <br />
<br />
<br />
He pulled out his chromed revolver and stepped one foot inside. Gristle instinctively reached for his employer’s shoulder.<br />
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<br />
“Are you crazy boss? You’re going to get yourself killed!” He took his pointer finger and made a small circular motion on the side of his left temple.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Please, Danimal. If anyone was going to shoot at us, they would have done it already. All of the Vargus heavy was eliminated back at the piers. The only ones that are going to be left here are his accountants and spies. You know...the exact kind of people we would want joining up with us.”<br />
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<br />
“And if they don’t?”<br />
<br />
<br />
The Headman released the locking mechanism on his revolver barrel in order to examine and count his bullets. After a brief pause, he spun the barrel and then flicked his wrist to snap it shut.<br />
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<br />
“Then they’ll be joining their former employers in the morgue. Enough talk, stay here and keep a lookout. Send in four stormtroopers as soon as they get here. Have the other headhunters follow regular deployment procedures and secure the premises.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Will do boss, but I still think you should wait.” <br />
<br />
<br />
The Headman scoffed at the thought, then slipped quietly inside. The interior was well-lit and littered with dozens of large cardboard boxes and several large wooden shipping crates. A card table was set up in the far corner with poker chips and three face-down hands laid out on the surface. The place seemed abandoned, but once more recalling his past experiences, the Headman knew better. Seconds later, his phone trilled with a new text message. They’re here. Less than a minute later, four heavily-armored stormtroopers entered the building to catch up with his current location which was no more than a yard or so away from the door. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Excellent! You guys were quick. Follow me and stay sharp!” He used the two fingers of his left hand to point at his eyes and the area in front of him. They immediately flanked their leader at his six, three and nine, but allowed him to keep the point. The floorplan was almost exactly as he had remembered it nearly eight years ago, and he had no problem finding and undoing the latch leading to the lower levels. He pushed the faux wall to his right which exposed a locked door. He stepped to the right of the doorway using the door frame to shield his body before knocking. Thud, thud, de thud, thud!<br />
<br />
<br />
The guard slid back the peephole cover. “Who is it? And be quick about it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Your new best friend.” The well-dressed man answered coyly although he still remained obscured from view.<br />
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<br />
There was a brief pause before the locked flipped and the door opened outwards. A familiar-looking man stood in the doorway with his firearm drawn. Immediately, the stormtroopers cocked their weapons showering the man with four well-placed green laser points. The guard wisely threw up his left arm while slowly bending down to place his pistol on the floor.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m unarmed!”<br />
<br />
<br />
The Headman stepped forward and placed the muzzle of his pistol into the man’s chest, but didn’t fire. After a brief moment, he removed the tip of his gun from the man and motioned for him to stand up.<br />
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<br />
“Well hello, Carlito. Fancy seeing you here. How long has it been? Five? Eight? Ten years is it?” The man shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, not sure of his fate just yet. <br />
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<br />
“Relax amigo, I’m not going to kill you. Well, at least not yet. In fact, I might not kill you at all if you can prove that you’re beneficial to me.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Carlito leaned forward to peer at the well-dressed man with the mask a bit more closely. “Declan? Is that you?” The drug lord once more placed the muzzle of his gun into the man’s chest and scowled.<br />
<br />
<br />
“It is, but I no longer go by that name. I’m the Headman now and you’d be smart to quickly learn that.”<br />
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<br />
“What...what are you doing here? Have you rejoined the syndicate?” The man holding him at gunpoint began to laugh.<br />
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<br />
“No, my dear friend. I AM the Syndicate now. So say hello to your new boss. The Vargus boys had an... unfortunate accident.” After a slight bow, he turned his gaze back to Carlito who seemed completely surprised by the proclamation. “You seem perplexed. You mean to tell me that you didn’t know?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“What’s to know? The Vargus boys rarely come here. Everything here is handled by Lolita and Chavo.” It was now Carlito’s turn to observe the look of surprise on the Headman’s face. “Should I let them know that you’re here?”<br />
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<br />
The Headman pointed towards the camera directly to his left. “I’m sure they already know.” A moment later he heard the faint click of a gun’s safety from among the shadows. <br />
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<br />
“I know you’re there. It doesn’t have to go down this way. We can all be allies, or the lot of you can all be dead.” Unbeknownst to his would-be-assailants, ten heavily-armored headhunters had silently made their way inside and already had their night vision sights trained on the mystery shooter. “Besides, if you were going to shoot me, you would have done so already. I’m sure you know of me and that I can be a more than reasonable employer.”<br />
<br />
<br />
From the shadows, a voice replied. “Fair enough. I’m putting down my gun. Please, don’t shoot.”<br />
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<br />
“Very well.” The remaining lights in the room suddenly went up and the Headman could now clearly see the person previously addressing him from the shadows. <br />
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<br />
“Chavo? I presume.” The man straightened up at the sound of his man. He stood roughly five foot eight and was dressed in a long leather trench coat. Most likely kevlar-lined. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five with barely a five o’clock shadow of facial hair. Perched on top of his head were what appeared to be night-vision goggles. He, in turn, offered his own bow to the Headman and a second later, the lights went out leaving the room in complete darkness.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Do you really think me that naive, that I would show you my face Headman and allow you to live?” This time the voice came from another corner of the dark room.<br />
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<br />
There was a single gunshot followed by the sound of at least ten silenced rounds. Thuck, Thuck, Thuck! Then there was a loud thud. A flashbang went off a second later and then the lights went back on. The Headman stood over the prone body of Chavo, his gun placed up against his left temple. Two stormtroopers in night-vision goggles held a Hispanic-woman with dark-hair and fair skin at gunpoint, while the would-be sniper laid dead in a puddle of his own blood in the far right corner of the room. <br />
<br />
<br />
“You would have been smart to shoot me when I entered the room instead of waiting. A pointless game of cat and mouse. Now, you’ll all pay with your lives for wasting my time!”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Mercy, mercy, please!” The cries came from the woman across the way. He’s my little brother. I’ll do anything, just don’t kill him.” The cartel lord turned to regard the attractive young woman never once removing the muzzle of his gun from her brother’s temple. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Senorita Lolita, I assume?” The woman nodded. “I’ve been told you use the moniker, Lethal Lolita. What happened darling? Did you think I was some two-bit punk?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Being held at gunpoint, she could do little more than shrug.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Bring her to me, but secure her hands first.” The two stormtroopers zip-tied the woman’s hands and patted her down for any possible hidden weapons before forcing her over to the Headman. “So, you’re this ugly, little thing’s sister? How did that happen? Different mother?” He eyed the exaggerated curves of her body then caressed the side of her face. She flinched at his touch, but wisely did not pull away from her captors.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Please, my brother knows not what he has done, but he can still be a valuable asset to you. You will need him if you wish to know the location of the Vargus’ other real estate and routing numbers to their offshore banking accounts.” The well-dressed man chuckled.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I don’t need him, just the thumb from his left hand and his right eye. Both of which can be taken easily from his cold corpse.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That is true Papi, but if you allow him to live, I can persuade the remaining members of the Syndicate to swear their loyalty to you and the Headhunters.” The Headman stared pensively at the young woman then back at the man at the end of his pistol. Without so much as a warning, he pulled back his arm and pistol-whipped the kneeling man, knocking him out cold.<br />
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<br />
“Tie the two of them up and search the location. We don’t have a lot of time before the feds are onto us. Take anything of value and torch the place!”<br />
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<br />
“No! Please. There are innocent families living above us. Women and children who know nothing of this organization. You would kill them all?” Lolita pulled away from her captors in an attempt to assault the arrogant, well-dressed man. Two semi-automatic gun muzzles were immediately pressed to either side of her head and a third in between her ample breasts.<br />
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<br />
“Do you seriously think I care?” The woman quickly halted her advance and lowered her voice to a seductive whisper.<br />
<br />
<br />
“But why destroy the place? It is actually quite lucrative. I can sign the lease over to someone in your organization. No one else has to die today.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He pondered her words for a moment. He was first and foremost a businessman and any additional collateral would be valuable. “You make a good point. Gentlemen, simply remove any trace of the Syndicate. Then we must definitely split.”<br />
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<br />
“Yessir Headman!” The stormtroopers all answered in unison and began the process of clearing the rest of the underground rooms. <br />
<br />
<br />
He turned back to the curvaceous young woman standing before him. “They live... for now. As do you, but you’re both coming with me. There are several things... that we need to discuss.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-89004263931233441582019-02-15T10:35:00.000-05:002019-05-13T10:27:56.342-04:00Book 3 "Society's Cesspool" Teaser (Extended Version)<span id="docs-internal-guid-85f7905e-7fff-989e-19cd-e5ebcbae7479"></span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-85f7905e-7fff-989e-19cd-e5ebcbae7479"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;">C</span></span><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: #cc0000;">hapter 1</span></span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-85f7905e-7fff-989e-19cd-e5ebcbae7479">
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">adrenaline was pumping. In between labored breaths, his mind continued to replay the events that had just transpired. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Did I just take out the prime members of the Vargus Syndicate? This is insane!” Gristle </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">looked over at his boss who was deep in thought. He was speaking, but the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wasn’t hearing him as his ears were still ringing from the barrage of close-range gunfire. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Boss? Boss?! Are you hearing me maan?” </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“What?” Declan cleared his thoughts and refocused on the situation at hand. By now his trusted chauffeur and bodyguard was yelling quite loudly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Where to now, boss?” </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“We need to finish the job and quick.” His second in command nodded in agreement and knew exactly what he meant. The black SUV though speeding at first, had now assumed the correct speed limit as it turned the corner leading into the industrial complex a half a mile away. They needed to blend in and not to attract any unwanted attention. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Turn left here. Then pull up into that driveway.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Right away boss.” They had driven through the complex in order to emerge in more of a residential area. The building in front of them was little more than a run-down tenement building housing some forty section-eight apartments. The front of the building housed three small businesses, a shoe repair shop, a UPS store, and a family-owned bodega. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Seriously, who gets their shoes repaired in this day and age?” Old man Vargus was very traditional in his upbringing. His nostalgia for the ways of the old country had him establishing storefronts that were relevant back home, but not so much here in the U.S.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The shoe repair shop had been his intended entrance but it was well past regular store hours which meant he would have to find another ingress. He walked around the back of the building until he came upon a service ramp and a security door with a keypad intercom. The ringing in his ears had almost ceased. The initial impression was that of a fortified business, but the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">knew differently. Back in his younger years, he too was running product for the Vargus Syndicate and had become quite familiar with their operations. He flipped up the keypad and after trying several four digit codes, the internal door lock clicked allowing him easy access inside. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Cover me.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He pulled out his chromed revolver and stepped one foot inside. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gristle </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">instinctively reached for his employer’s shoulder.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Are you crazy boss? You’re going to get yourself killed!” He took his pointer finger and made a small circular-motion on the side of his temple.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Please, Danimal. If anyone was going to shoot at us, they would have done it already. All of the Vargus heavy was eliminated back at the piers. The only ones that are going to be left here are his accountants and spies. You know...the exact kind of people we would want joining up with us.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“And if they don’t?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">released the locking mechanism on his revolver barrel in order to examine and count his bullets. After a brief pause, he spun the barrel and then flicked his wrist to snap it shut.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Then they’ll be joining their former employers in the morgue. Enough talk, keep a lookout and send in four stormtroopers as soon as they get here. Have the other </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">headhunters </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">follow regular deployment procedures.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Will do boss, but I still think you should wait.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">scoffed at the thought, then slipped quietly inside. The interior was well-lit and littered with dozens of large cardboard boxes and several large wooden shipping crates. A card table was set up in the far corner with poker chips and three face-down hands laid out on the surface. The place seemed abandoned, but once more using his past experiences, the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">knew better. Seconds later, his phone trilled with a new text message. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They’re here. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Less than a minute later, four heavily-armored stormtroopers entered the building to catch up with his current location which was no more than a yard or so away from the door. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Excellent! You guys were quick. Follow me and stay sharp!” he used the two fingers of his left hand to point at his eyes. They immediately flanked their leader at his six, three and nine, but allowed him to keep point. The floorplan was almost exactly as he had remembered it nearly eight years ago, and he had no problem finding and undoing the latch leading to the lower levels. He pushed the faux wall to his right which exposed a locked door. He stepped to the right of the doorway using the door frame to shield his body and knocked.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">The guard slid back the peephole cover. “Who is it? And be quick about it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Your new best friend.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">There was a brief pause before the locked flipped and the door opened outwards. A familiar-looking man stood in the doorway with his firearm drawn. Immediately, the stormtroopers cocked their weapons showering the man with four well-placed laser targets. The guard wisely threw up his left arm while slowly bending down to place his pistol on the floor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m unarmed!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">stepped forward and placed the muzzle of his pistol into the man’s chest, but didn’t fire. After a brief moment, he removed the tip of his gun from the man motioning for him to stand up..</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Well hello, Carlito. Fancy seeing you here. How long has it been? Five? Eight? Ten years is it?” The man shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other not sure of his fate just yet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Relax amigo, I’m not going to kill you. Well, at least not yet. In fact, I might not kill you at all if you can prove that you’re beneficial to me.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carlito leaned forward to peer at the well-dressed man with the mask a bit more closely. “Declan? Is that you?” The drug lord</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">once more placed the muzzle of his gun into the man’s chest and scowled.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It is, but I no longer go by that name. I’m the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">now and you’d be smart to quickly learn that.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“What...what are you doing here? Did you rejoin the syndicate?” The man holding him at gunpoint began to laugh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“No, my dear friend. I AM the Syndicate now. So say hello to your new boss. The Vargus boys had an... unfortunate accident.” After a slight bow, he turned his gaze back to Carlito who seemed completely surprised by the proclamation. “You seem perplexed. You mean to tell me that you didn’t know?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’s to know? The Vargus boys rarely come here. Everything here is handled by Lolita and Chavo.” It was now Carlito’s turn to observe the look of surprise on the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">face. “Should I let them know that you’re here?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Headman </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">pointed towards the camera directly to his left. “I’m sure they already know.” A moment later he heard the faint click of a gun’s safety from among the shadows. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">.”</span></span></span>thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-38616395677609838862019-02-01T14:21:00.000-05:002019-03-12T10:09:30.423-04:00Book ThreeHello everyone,<br />
I have been busy as of late in terms of my writing. I am working through final revisions on my fantasy novel, "The End of Realms," and will hopefully be getting my query and sample chapters out to prospective publishers in the next week or so. But since all work and no play makes Drakov a dull boy, I have also been indulging myself in some fun-filled G.I.Joe fan fiction. I have decided that even though Kindle worlds is no more, I will still be writing the third book in "the Armed and Dangerous" trilogy. The current title for this WIP is <i>Society's Cesspool, </i>and you guessed it. It will be picking up right where "Enter the Headhunters," left off.<br />
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<i>The DEF task force has been called out to investigate a recent hit on the Vargus Syndicate, a powerful drug cartel prominent in the tri-state area. All the team has to go on is some blurry surveillance footage and spent bullet casings engraved with the initials HH and DHM. The stage is set for an epic turf war on American soil. Will anyone be able to stop the Headman and his band of ruthless Headhunters? And what of the super secretive Cobra organization slithering in the background? Only time will tell in this action-packed conclusion to the series.</i><br />
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<i> </i>The story has been coming together nicely with roughly three chapters already written and my fingers have not been able to keep up with the thoughts running through my mind. If all goes well and time permits in my busy schedule, I envision this new book being available by early August. I will post more information on this and my other projects as it becomes available.<br />
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As always, thanks for your support because without each and every one of you reading these stories, I would be nothing more than an unknown, but highly-entertained unread author.<br />
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Cheers,<br />
<br />
Drakovthedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-66764151486150868552019-01-18T08:11:00.000-05:002019-02-01T10:40:19.899-05:00The history of "the End of Realms." I understand that most of my readers associate me with G.I.Joe, but I am also a fantasy writer who is an avid admirer of authors like Tolkien, Salvatore, Cunningham, Gygax, King, and Greenberg (to name a few). I started writing the above book at the age of seventeen while working nights as a gas station attendant in Glen Rock, NJ. The original hand-written manuscript is a total of thirty-seven pages and still in my possession after all these years. I did an initial edit of the piece about four years later and typed it up on my computer at the time, save it to at least three floppy discs, and forgot about it. I revisited it about two years ago and it has grown into a two-hundred and fifty-page novel and roughly 50,000 words.<br />
I have created at least five new noteworthy characters and feel that I have further developed the main characters to a point where they are no longer just fictitious people, but ones I feel others can connect to on other levels.<br />
This has been a labor of love for me as I would really like to have this published the traditional route by someone who markets fantasy books similar to the Forgotten Realms. I will be spending the next month or so editing it chapter by chapter in an attempt to further polish and improve it. I am currently revising chapter four. The prologue and chapter one have been posted for review and comment if anyone would like to share their thoughts. first impressions would be greatly appreciated.<br />
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<b>Synopsis</b>: <i>When Jeff Larson landed a dream date with the most desirable girl in his high school class, he could never have imagined that his date would end in him being transported into another world. One where an evil blue-eyed beast has been awakened and forming an army of magical creatures hell-bent on complete domination over all the realms. In the midst of the chaos, Jeff's link to an ancient line of heroic paladins known as the Golden Lancers will be revealed, and with the help of the wizard/warrior dwarf, Mamatar, and some other newly found friends, be called upon to be their champion.</i><br />
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Cheers!<br />
Drakovthedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-1138922931339746812019-01-14T07:30:00.000-05:002019-01-14T07:30:05.714-05:00Enter the Headhunters Epilogue<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: 200%; mso-border-shadow: yes; mso-padding-alt: 31.0pt 31.0pt 31.0pt 31.0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Epilogue<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The man known as <i>Ghost Bear </i>stepped off his plane carrying a duffle bag and the case given to him by <i>Cobra </i>high<i> </i>command. A small 80</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">’s style jeep was parked over to the side of the airport brandishing the flag that had been described to him by <i>Major Bludd</i>. Two men in traditional Arab head-garb sat behind the wheel. He had started to grow in his facial hair prior to his deployment and after dying it, he took on a more Arabic-look. The makeshift airstrip he landed at did not require him to register his entry into the country and this made him feel even less safe. The man behind the wheel stepped out of the jeep and raised his hands signaling for him to walk on over. <i>Ghost Bear </i>acknowledged the man and made his way towards them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Are you the <i>Ghost Bear</i>?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The man spoke in broken English but could be easily understood. The <i>Cobra </i>emissary nodded and also answered in broken English. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, it is I. You speak Farsi? Arabic?” The man smiled a big gnarly, toothy grin at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, welcome my brother! As-Salaam-Alaikum!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“As-Salaam-Alaikum.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The other two men exited the vehicle and offered to assist the younger man with his luggage into the jeep. He did the correct thing and thanked them, but loaded his personal items into the vehicle himself. The four men then began their journey away from the airstrip and onto a barely recognizable dirt road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> * * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The D.E.F. team arrived on the scene in Newark </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in under an hour using the team’s helicopter. They immediately began investigating the area for ballistics evidence and drug paraphernalia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Major, these spent casings are not like anything we’ve seen before. Whoever orchestrated this hit has access to some pretty high-tech artillery.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">As the team continued their investigation two more bodies were retrieved from out of the bay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Looks like these two guys tried to abandon ship and were shot dead in the water.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">By the time the team was done with their preliminary search, they were left with more questions than answers. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was clearly a turf war, but the identity of the second player was still unknown. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“So what are you thinking Major? Negotiations gone bad? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Or a random hit?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“This was clearly a planned assassination since each faction came prepared. The level of accuracy here leads me to believe that we are dealing with a very organized and disciplined drug cartel. This was deliberate, and it doesn’t appear that there was a single casualty on the other side. The wrist tattoos clearly identify all the dead as members of the Vargus Syndicate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 200%;">Bombstrike </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">continued clicking on her tablet as her teammates discussed the possible players. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Guys, you’re going to want to see this. I was able to tap into the security feed of a ship anchored off to the right side of the pier. It appears all other nearby cameras were dismantled prior to the firefight, but I was able to get this.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The forward observer turned her tablet to show a freeze frame of two men holding handguns trained on the Vargus family. One of the men was wearing a ridiculously-colored forest-green suit with a white fedora and a face mask. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Can you zoom in on that and clear it up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Give me a minute.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Her fingers padded away on the tablet improving the resolution and size of the image.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“I know who we’re dealing with now. Ladies and gentlemen this isn’t good. The man pictured goes by the street name of the <i>Headman, </i>one Declan H. Mann. Once a sleazy, two-bit drug pusher now, one of the most notorious organized drug lords in all of North America. We thought he was dead due to the fact that he’s been off the radar for several years. He runs a group of radicals known as the <i>Headhunters</i>. This hit indicates that he’s finally ready to take his small-time crim</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">inal band and enter into the big leagues. Things just got interesting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-36469295581634756882019-01-11T07:30:00.000-05:002019-01-11T07:30:02.149-05:00Enter the Headhunters Chapter 25<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: 200%; mso-border-shadow: yes; mso-padding-alt: 31.0pt 31.0pt 31.0pt 31.0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Chapter 25<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Several hours had passed and Vincent d’Alleva was more than halfway through mixing up his newly modified plant food formula. He had gathered up some germinating seeds to use in the later stages of the process. Using a dissecting scope and live seeds, he could apply the finished solution and directly observe its effects </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">at the cellular level. His excitement level continued to grow the closer he came to completion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“All I need to do now is distill the crystals and add them to the existing mixture. The fractionalization process always takes so long.” He instinctively looked at the clock on the wall as his stomach began to grumble. “I can’t believe that I worked through dinner again! Is it really a quarter to ten? Where did the time go?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Vincent walked to the rear of the lab where he had a small personal refrigerator and opened the door. Several containers of Greek yogurt greeted his hungry eyes. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He picked one up and checked the expiration date.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, it says its still good. Might as well eat something while I wait.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The crystallization chamber continued to crackle and pop as the chemicals continued to combine on a molecular level releasing small amounts of heat and condensation in their wake. A preset timer indicated that the process was near completion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The caravan of various delivery </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">trucks did their best to blend in with traffic along I-95 South. They were already in New Jersey and less than fifteen minutes from their desired target. The Newark docks were a congested area with a lot of activity. The chosen rendezvous point was the same pier that had once housed the <i>Headman’s </i>supply house only months ago. The <i>Headman </i>managed to maintain his composure as the meeting site emerged. He did not want a turf war, but he would not be attacked or insulted. He had worked too hard and come too far for that. <i>Gristle </i>stopped the car when the pier was in clear view. It was not well lit and it appeared that the arranger of the meeting was already on site as a large black SUV with running lights on was parked near the corner of the dock. The vehicle had a large push bar and was turned around and facing in their direction, ready to make a quick getaway or to ram an oncoming vehicle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “It </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">appears that Vargus and his cronies are already here. Instruct the ground troops to get their night vision goggles on and to get into position.” His second in command gave the order through a Bluetooth comlink. A moment later there was a response.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Alpha, Beta and Epsilon teams are in position, sir. Delta team is floating in the bay. We await your orders, sir.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The <i>Headman </i>nodded into the rearview mirror and instructed his driver to proceed onto the dock. They parked the car roughly thirty yards from the black Expedition, whose hood logo could now be clearly identified. The doors on both sides of the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">luxury SUV opened and several men in long trench coats emerged holding their hands up in a non-threatening manner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> <i>Gristle </i>exited the car and opened the rear door so the <i>Headman </i>could </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">join him on the outside. The two parties then walked to the center of the area between both vehicles which was illuminated by the parking lights of both cars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I didn’t know if you would actually show Declan. It’s truly been too long.” The <i>Headman </i>now recognized the voice to be that of Manuel Vargus, a street peddler from back in the day when they both ran product for the Sinaloa cartel. Both men had at one time been acquainted and close allies</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">, now the man was a mere customer who occasionally purchased large amounts of drugs from him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Manuel, so good to see you again. Although if you wanted my attention there were other ways to do it than killing my </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">informant.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Jimmy was a snitch and working with the feds. I did you a favor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “And what about the firebomb at the bar? Were you doing me a favor there too? Several of my associates were gravely injured by your arsonist and that is NOT an acceptable way to do business</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The drug lord’s voice was stern and intimidating, but there was no movement from the four men standing before him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Maybe, we’re done doing business with you. Maybe, it’s time for a change. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Too long has Vargus taken orders from you. We want the northeast. It’s time for you to take orders from us.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Gristle </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">made a slight move to reach for his handgun, but Declan put his hand </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">on his shoulder to stop him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I came here tonight to try and broker a</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> reasonable agreement and keep the peace between our two organizations. If you want to challenge my leadership of the streets I understand, but are you really ready to back up that statement with blood? I can still be a reasonable man. It’s up to you now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “We’re done taking orders from you and your band of miscreants.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Have it your way then. Your </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">‘blindspot’ will be your own undoing.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">As the words left his lips, several red targets appeared on the chests of the four men standing before them. The <i>Headman </i>and </span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gristle </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">both pulled their own weapons and fired at the four men </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">while dashing for cover among a pile of crates. A barrage of bullets began to rain down upon both parties. Vargus had also come ready for a firefight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Get down boss! Let the <i>Headhunters </i>take care of this.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Alpha and Beta team</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> snipers made short work of the men brandishing guns who had emerged from among the steel canisters and alleyways. Several of Vargus’ men tried to jump off the pier into a waiting getaway craft only to be mowed down by Delta team. The whole firefight lasted no more than six minutes, and all members of the Vargus Cartel laid dead or were dying. Manuel Vargus was barely clinging to life when he tried to crawl to safety under his SUV. The <i>Headman </i>ran over to the man’s prone body and grabbed him by his right leg preventing his escape. He then turned the man over to face him as three well-armored stormtroopers flanked the man from key sides. Manuel Vargus put up his hands in surrender.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please Declan, we were friends once. Show some mercy. I made a mistake. You win. Please, I have a family.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Leader of the <i>Headhunters </i>smiled at the carnage around him and at the bloodied man lying before him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Oh, I</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’ll show you mercy. I’ll make sure your family is lying next to you in the morgue in the next twenty-four hours. I reject your proposal and hereby put you and your upstarts out of business.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">He placed his gold-plated pistol between the defeated crime lord’s eyes, then squeezed the trigger. As the final shot rang out, he announced once more. “The <i>Headman </i>reigns supreme!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He used Vargus’ tie to wipe the blood from his handgun then surveyed the fallen bodies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Did we lose anyone?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Alpha indicated that everyone was present and accounted for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Excellent! Clear the area of any incriminating evidence. The cops will be here shortly, we need to make ourselves scarce. Move!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The activity on the pier ended almost as quickly as it had started. The <i>Headman </i>placed his handgun back into his shoulder holster before getting back into his limo and </span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gristle </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">chauffeured him far away from the pier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Major you</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’re going to want to see this.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Bulletproof </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">jumped up from behind his desk and came over to the monitor. “Satellite imagery just </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">revealed several random delivery trucks in route to the Newark piers an hour ago. Local police chatter has just alerted us of multiple shots fired in the same area.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Bulletproof </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">slammed his fist hard against the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Dammit! I knew something was brewing. We need to get out there pronto.” <i>Bombstrike </i>removed her headset so that everyone in the room could hear the audio. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Local police are reporting multiple rounds of gunfire coming from the main shipping pier outside Newark Liberty International Airport. At least twenty alleged drug cartel member’s bodies have been retrieved with other</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> casualties expected. The lone abandoned vehicle was registered to Manuel Vargus, supposed head of the Vargus Syndicate. It appears rival drug gangs participated in a turf war leading to the multiple homicides. The FBI and other specialist groups are being called in for further investigation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> No sooner had the broadcast occurred that the phone on Major Morris’ desk rang. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hello. yes, this is he. Why weren</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’t we made aware of this sooner? It’s already all over the media. We’re on our way.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">He hung up the phone and turned to face his team. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Everybody gear up. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We got a hot crime scene to investigate. Looks like it’s going to be a late night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-35975865050040040832019-01-09T07:30:00.000-05:002019-01-09T07:30:07.536-05:00Enter the Headhunters Chapter 24<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: 200%; mso-border-shadow: yes; mso-padding-alt: 31.0pt 31.0pt 31.0pt 31.0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Chapter 24<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">After his benefactor’s departure, the CEO of Bacro Industries decided to spend some time on his own experiments. <i>Hotwire’s </i>stunning spectacle left him feeling the need to prove his own creativity and ingenuity. It had been several days since he sprayed the plants up in the greenhouse and he could really use some fresh air and tranquility. He took the elevator up to the rooftop and unlocked the doors to the large glass enclosure. How he loved the place! The smell of flowers, the relaxing sounds of the cascading fountain, and the soft melodic buzzing of the bees. It was truly one of his happy places and an escape from the hustle and bustle of running the corporation. He crossed through the main garden area to get to the laboratory </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">where he swiped his security card. Upon entering, he traded in his suit jacket for a white lab coat and a pair of canvas gardening gloves, before walking over to check on his previous test subjects. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">To his ultimate dismay, all but one species of the</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> vegetables he had sprayed were dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“I don’t understand it! Why is this happening? How can it kill the tomatoes and not the corn?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The frustrated scientist pounded his fist on the table and sat down in a slump with his face held in his hands. He didn’t remain in that position long before he jumped back up to his feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“I</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> need to get back to my laboratory and check my notes. <i>Hotwire </i>must have mixed it up wrong. Then I’ll simply prepare it myself this time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Not wanting to be disturbed or observed by other employees, Vincent exited the greenhouse and took the elevator down to his private lab. Few in the complex knew of its existence as it was located in a secured wing on the maintenance floor. His personal lab gave him access to all the components needed to create the various types of fertilizers on the market. A copy of his original notes and formula were safely locked away in the room’s computerized safe. He punched in a combination made up of both of his children’s birth dates and extracted his notebook in order to peruse the transcripts of his latest formula. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh! How did I miss that? By combining the organophosphates before the nitrates I’ve inadvertently created a form of diquat. This is quite troubling. Perhaps if I reverse steps sixteen and twenty-seven, I can counteract the reaction and stabilize the formula. No wonder that little upstart called it a weed killer. He probably saw the problem as he was mixing up the batch. I’ll have to talk to him about that later.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Vincent </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">spoke out loud as his mind began to further process the written organic equations. He had originally created the mixture when he was depressed and severely sleep deprived. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He circled the error in the formula and labeled the step “herbicide.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll make a note here just in case I decide to market a weed killer later on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">He t</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">raversed the room in order to procure the chemicals needed for the first steps of the process. His creative juices were flowing now and his mind was racing a mile a minute now. If all went well, he could have a test batch ready for use by the end of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The bar room arsonist had adeptly escaped out the back of the structure and shielded himself with an old refrigerator from the blast. He then slipped through a hole cut in the chain-link fence at the rear of the property and hopped on his motorcycle riding off into obscurity. When he was more than a few miles from the blast zone, he pulled his rice rocket into an underground garage and retrieved a cell phone from a zipped pocket on his left pant leg. He pressed the power up button and dialed the preprogrammed number. The line trilled only once before the voice of his employer answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Well hello <i>Wraith</i>, I trust you sent the message?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I asked you not to say my name out loud.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Relax! I’m in my private safe room. Did they agree to the merger?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Not exactly. The <i>Headman </i>decided to push the envelope and after agreeing to meet with you tonight, exited the building before I dismissed him. No one was killed, but I highly doubt he’s pleased with the encounter.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">There was a pause at the other end and a long sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “So, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I assume that our meeting at the pier will not be a civil one, not that I had expected it to be anyway. Charles can be quite pig-headed. But, no matter. You did your job. I’ll be in touch if I should further require your services.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “And my payment?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The man on the other end of the line pressed an audible key on his phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Check your account now.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Wraith </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">swiped down to expose a second screen which indicated a rather large cash transfer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Pleasure doing business with you. Try not to die.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">He then disconnected the call. Afterward, he removed the sim card, melted it with a lighter and smashed the burner phone on the ground. He looked around the garage for suitable disposal and found it in the form of a large garbage barrel.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> The mercenary then rode off in the direction of the main street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The <i>Headman </i>returned to the security of his new warehouse behind Bacro Industries. He was a little bruised and dirty, but far from beaten. He had sent a message to all available foot soldiers prior to his arrival, and a legion of seventy-five highly armored soldiers stood at the ready in the center of the warehouse. The Mechanic had already handed out lightweight assault rifles modified with laser scopes and silencers, as well as </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">magazines of ammunition. It was only several hours before the scheduled meeting on the pier in Newark, and it would take a minimum of two and a half hours for the complete unit to complete the drive into the Garden State.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Gentlemen, today there was a</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> vicious attack on your leadership. We were fortunate in the fact that no one lost their life, but several of the Weasel’s operatives were severely injured in a blast meant to kill all who were in attendance. The act cannot go unchallenged! This act cannot go unnoticed! And this attack Will Be Handled tonight! This act was an act of war against our organization and it will not be left unanswered! Tonight, I will give this Vargus one opportunity to rectify the situation and surrender. If my demands are not met, vengeance will be swift and severe. We will leave the bodies of our adversaries littering the piers and bloodying the waters. This will be the night that the <i>Headhunters </i>will truly rise!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The soldiers in attendance cheered loudly at the proclamations of their leader.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> “And the <i>Headman </i>shall reign supreme!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The room once again erupted in a chorus of cheers. The squadron leaders were brought into their supreme leader’s private quarters for a briefing, and the warehouse was soon a bustle of activity. Stormtroopers loaded weapons and ammunition into the back of at least a dozen heavily armored box trucks. The <i>Headman </i>had his personal bulletproof limousine brought out for the drive into New Jersey. He outfitted himself with a kevlar vest and secured his personal sidearm to his body. He then dressed in a mint-green suit and fedora.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Gristle</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">, his second in command and personal bodyguard, also prepared for the upcoming skirmish strapping on a kevlar vest and a second gun ho</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">lster. At 1930 hundred hours, the convoy of delivery trucks headed up by the <i>Headman’s </i>personal limo exited the property after which split up in order to travel several different routes to their destination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> * * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> The <i>Dreadnok </i>speed enthusiast, known as <i>Burnout</i>, stepped off the tarmac. The private jet that he had flown on to the metropolitan area had </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">made the trip quicker than any commercial airline could have. He was eager to get into the city and check in with some of the old gang. The encrypted message sent prior to his arrival to one of his old patch brother, Cletus, had resulted in a tricked out Harley being left for him in the visitor lot of Kennedy International Airport. He hated the airport because of its congestion and the fact that it’s under constant construction, but he preferred it to LaGuardia. The motorcycle was equipped with fingerprint recognition in place of a key, something he had developed across the pond and shipped here for a patent prior to his arrival. Arriving on a private jet, allowed him to skip the long lines at customs and immigration. His passport was valid, but he didn’t need or want unwanted attention. He preferred flying under the radar. There were many individuals in the area who might still be bitter about losing their cherished tricked-out rides to the speed junky in past races.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">The Harley started right up and purred under his fingertips. He opted for quieter pipes on his ride and removed a helmet from one of the custom fabricated saddlebags and placed it over his dreadlocks. He then proceeded to ride off on to the JFK Expressway heading into Manhattan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4036470070163891818.post-12693552219657140342019-01-08T10:25:00.001-05:002019-10-24T13:31:54.713-04:00Thundercats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zo1jbEUhmLIkHnGIOEWFZIPsAOeYk1o2VGC8pRUkF2G0om0IeAQej9SBMhU2hfH4SdcjwbpYSCwyn0KYrXJMKNf-XYJgFjyjOdOEeZu_hivi68B4I9iqLXJ7XApUtx3I5kI1NyGSWDM/s1600/thundercats1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zo1jbEUhmLIkHnGIOEWFZIPsAOeYk1o2VGC8pRUkF2G0om0IeAQej9SBMhU2hfH4SdcjwbpYSCwyn0KYrXJMKNf-XYJgFjyjOdOEeZu_hivi68B4I9iqLXJ7XApUtx3I5kI1NyGSWDM/s320/thundercats1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Thundercats have to be one of my all-time non-military toy lines from the late 1980s. Not only that, they were paired up with a really great cartoon series that I still enjoy to this day. Back in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I set out on a mission to obtain all the characters from the Thundercats toyline for a reasonable price. To this day they are still some of my prized action figures due to their cartoon realism, their vibrant colors, and their unique battlematic action features. Distributed by LJN, they carried with them a lot of the similar action features seen in the Dungeons and Dragons toyline from the same company. By activating a lever on the figure's back, one could move the arms to simulate sword slashing, punching or grabbing. The Berzerkers, a band of evil pirates, had some even more unique features like spinning or zipping across the floor on an embedded wheel in the chest. The vehicles from the toyline are a little cheesy and large but do resemble their cartoon counterparts as well. To this day, I do not own a Cat's Lair and probably never will due to its size and lack of playability features. I actually prefer Mumm-Ra's Tomb playset as it has the transformation chamber and two of the four Ancient Spirits of Evil from the cartoon.<br />
An unfortunate side effect of the plastic used to manufacture this series is that over time they may yellow in color, become speckled with brown spots, or suffer from stickiness. ( I recommend displaying them in a case and not handling them. This kills me because they really are an awesome toy line.)<br />
In the above pictures, you can see the entire figure run. The top shelf shows all the good Thundercats and their allies and companions. The middle shelf focuses on the Evil Mutants and their allies. I have even been fortunate enough to obtain a MOC Stinger and a Driller figure (Two of the harder figures to obtain from the third series).<br />
I will add names at a later time. Until then, enjoy a trip down memory lane with the Thundercats.<br />
Thunder! Thunder Thundercats Ho!<br />
<br />thedrakovkinskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844363535061023573noreply@blogger.com0