Thread: Hell in Paradise (xana X QB)

Karel Delamarcis - Human trafficker and slave market mogul Rafael 'Daz Bones' - Contractor, Leader of the Hell's First Dates mercenary contingency Jones Lowenthal - Mercenary Captain, CIA operative. Leader of the 178th Private Army battalion NAME HERE - Slave, 0105 Nina Smith - Novice reporter and Slave, 0039 Joanna Bates - Slave, 0093 Kim Hyung So - Slave, 0042 Melissa Ashford - Slave, 0056 Natalie - Amelia Sm ith - Slave 0109 Not many would certainly see Karanes Island as the place where some would go to Trees uprooted and mud in almost every path, the ground was rocky and the route seemingly unsafe. Was this really the reason why the tour guide had stopped despite their insistence to drive there? En route the appearances of trees toppled left and right did present the reality of the conditions at Karanes. A small island, it had long served as a trading post for the English during the Imperial Age, now left mostly inhabited by natives and workers in the docks and naval yards. World powers scrambled frantically to try and save the little Island's failing infrastructure, in hopes of re-establishing the freight train routes. The only island close enough to the USA, able to circumnavigate through the pacific did present a security insurance otherwise unavailable sailing through Pirate-infested waters near the horn of Africa. Lately, the Gorge, typically undisturbed by both industrialism and it's natives remained that way, mostly. However, under the cover of night...an illegal business had sprung up almost overnight. Taking advantage of loose laws pertaining to shipping and handling, human traffickers had stationed themselves in the valley, hidden under thick canopies. With the Hurricane having passed, ships containing human cargo could be easily lost to ships returning back to their home countries having delivered aid, a perfect cover under the guise of humanitarianism. However, that wasn't very much apparent to the two girls as they tracked a small boat that sailed there. A few men wearing a variety of uniform holding Kalashnikovs stood watch as the boat soon stopped near what would ordinarily seem like any other dock. There, a man walked out of a small building, hailed the two and went on. The guards then took out a few girls in cages, four in all and began to tie them up. One brown-haired girl tried to scramble away, but was caught after a few moments of wrestling she was brought in line with the others. Standing just a few inches apart, what looked like a giant pliers made out of wood was assembled, each notched appropriately as the girls were then stockaded to it, their wrists at neck level as they were locked in. Every second prisoner would have their hands bound behind them. The girls wore an assortment of attire one had tattered remains of a dress, another wore what was left of a business suit and the other didn't wear anything at all. With a few zaps of something like a cattle prod, the line was then led by a few guards as they waved out from the boat as it zipped away... However, of interest was the girl at the very back, the blonde-haired girl wearing a short blouse and cargo shorts. No one could possibly miss that Natalie-Amelia Smith, 20 years old. She was a Journalist student who had went over with an organization that vowed to show the truth about Darfur. She was supposedly taken away by the Janjaweed insurgents in a UN hospital at a village just a few months ago, held at ransom only to vanish entirely from the face of the map in as little as 3 days before the ransom was paid. What would a hostage taken from Africa end up here, halfway across the world? She could only keep walking, bound as she was forced to move along with the train into the thick foliage. Of course...one thing was apparent. Were these men slavers? But stuff like that had been illegal...sure human trafficking existed but not like this! However, the line of girls began to move and their guards seemed rather well armed, almost like those rebels you'd see posing with their guns and dictating their cause. However, footsteps could be heard as one silver-haired man wearing a baseball cap not too far off from where they were placed his rifle around his shoulder as he began to undo his zipper to take a piss. He wasn't too far, but there was a chance he could hear them...even so, he whistled Beethoven's 9th Symphony as he took a tinkle, obviously unaware of anything around him...