Gang war superiority in a possible future

There are in principle two schools of warfare. Those that play Chess and those that play Go. Tablet top pen and paper role playing games are not on that list.

Both classic games that train war strategists minds for centuries are all heavy on strategy and give little room for tactics. Military planning is also made at office desks and the executing soldiers in the field have little space for tactics, while no control of the overall strategy. 

That kind of warfare is based on strict hierarchical societies and a system in clear order and therefore enfavors hegemonial politics, while the dark future and fantasy RPGs all play in rather anarchic societies or at least such parts of societies.

Even a special forces military platoon, that already has roughly the size of a gang, does only get a certain set of information from the intelligence service that also created the strategy and even gives tactical guidelines.

Shadowrunners, which are the highest level of gangs existing only in Sci-Fi games are different. They are closer to private security contractors, if they'd also exist for secret services hiring Delta Force like teams and simply do not exist today.

In the dark future worlds they are hired by a manager of a major company, that took the place of todays nations, who is providing a budget, hands over a set of information on the target or the job and meets either the middle man or the gang directly somewhere in the dark and anarchic parts of that world.

The information is comparable to a file today a secret service would have and on a hit job would have information on the target and his whereabouts including life style and friends, if it was about steeling information as much intel as available to find the server or hard disc in an office of a competitor and how the file or documents are electronically and physically protected.

The difference to the real world is, beside being a sophisticated gang over soldiers, that a major part of the shadowrun is gaining more information, checking the given information and creating a plan and plan b on both strategic and tactical level by the executing entity itself.

The shadowrunners have their own hacker, while today no platoon has a hacker outside an office, they have their own driver or pilot, while today special forces are transported by pilots not directly part of the platoon and of course magicians don't exist and all as close as it gets would be PsyOps most certainly not being part of a Delta Force platoon in a battle.

This means that the shadowrunners in dark future RPGs are both related to todays secret service operations, yet way more sophisticated on the platoon level which is only possible in a chaotic almost anarchic world that lost today's system of orders and lines of command that can be used by secret services working next to the top dogs to keep the order alive and instead the world is beyond an oligopol of powers a manifold of thousand of entities all in competition and ever changing unions or disputes in which gangs called shadowrunners are the new elite in warfare.

Trench Warfare

 The peak of trench warfare was Verdun during the first world war that had the British military develop armoured chain vehicles today known as tanks to over come them.

In Ukraine the trenches shown on TV are anything near the level of sophistication of those in the early last century. Trenches are known for way longer than most would expect and supported existing walls of castles and fortifications against close range artillery fire and advancing rifle or swords man creating additional barriers that were often flooded and in peace times used for farming purposes.

Today in Ukraine the trenches look like this:

They are quickly digged out using tree lines as cover and are used by light infantry using them as cover to attack or hold positions that are easy targets for artillery fire and most likely wont survive a major rain season with heavy rains, but do well in summer months to give shelter and rest to the soldiers by providing a feeling of security as a hideout.

That in opposite is a proper defence trench line that must be build using solid strong materials from concrete to thick wood or wood plates. It does not know long straight lines to keep lines of fire short. Most of the trenches are deep enough that even a tall soldier can find cover when standing or running and the soil digged out is piled up towards the enemy. It has fixed lifted positions for MG and Anti Tank weapons along the trench line and forward positions to give covering fire in between the trenches. 

The commando bunkers are connected by telephone wire and are in a backward position, are proper bunkers against artillery fire and have the escape routes out of the all covering barb wire system that gives enough space in between wire and soil to have a soldier stay below moving around trees and in excavated spots created by piling up little hill lines created form the soil digged out when creating the trench line.

This form of trenches is used to connect artillery positions and is also covered by longer range artillery further away to hit just before countering attacks reach the barbwire system.

In case the enemy enters the tranches the straight lines have solid doors that can be locked creating cells like in a ship or submarine that in the same way keep the trench line from sinking into enemies hands. The defenders will use the barbwire system heads down using cover crawling to counter attack or have the part the attacker took over hit by their own backward artillery to retake and later rebuild the positions.

In case of being overrun the soldiers use the second line accessible by the commando, storage and rest bunkers to get out of the trenches and onto an escape street possibly by using armoured personal carriers or helicopter pick up landing spots. 

The trench system was the birthplace of the infamous MG nest and most soldiers in the battles of first world war did not die by artillery fire being in up to four meter deep trenches, but when they were forced to run against the enemies MGs. Those orders were a war crime.

#killyourofficer #thereisadifferencebetweensuicideandsacrefice #thereisnoshameinsurviving

A real long war Vs a Dystopian second Blitzkrieg

In the Shadowrun introduction novel "Der Weg in die Schatten" <link> that in English is titled "The Way of Shadows" the downfall, which describes the collapse of our known order that is base for the dark future dystopian society, beside a mutation causing Virus, also a new Blitzkrieg destroys the society we know today, for ever.

The fascinating aspect of dark future over classic Sci-Fi is that it is very close to reality and takes like good comedy reality on, but in a surrealist way. There is no magic around, but we keep speaking of magic moments, there is no enhancing biotech implants, but grand dad just go a new artificial hip and gangs are usually not operating on a special forces platoon level, but most street gangs have six to twelve members and even use military grade weapons in some parts of this world.

Corona has implications and long Covid already is a topic in the medical news even so the disease is not even around for five years, which is the minimum time for a long term clinical study. Basically, there is no scientific knowledge what Corona does in a human body and bigger human population.

We know that organisms mutate, that diseases also can make stronger in the long run and that after the Pest mankind needed only 200 years to reach the same level that it needed all time before, beside first time ever noting down human rights. For me this is proof that the pest changed mankind for the better, but the hard way, but it is no proof that Corona is doing the same today. But, to not consider this theory is as ignorant as having ignored Bill Gates statement that there is no vaccine for many different potential epidemical viruses out there - as we know today the hard way. 

All of this is part of the Dark Future Cyberpunk Sci-Fi genre no matter, if in Shadowrun or Cyberpunk table top role playing games or in novels and movies, and is the nightmare version of Star Trek where mankind manages to hit a bar full of alcohol, all no money charged, but having no need for an ambulance in stand by.

The war that started while the Virus is around that hits like no other at least in infection rates is the war in Ukraine and that was just recently declared to be long lasting.

That does not mean there will be no fast striking and quick ending major war, because the western rhetoric against Russia remains insulting, and Russia is well capable of rocket attacks we have not seen yet in military warfare. When Putin came into power after Jelzin and started to bring prosperity back to the nation he also had a military company founded, a hundred thousand employees strong, that entirely specialises in building rockets, which is since the "Stalinorgeln" called ballistic rocket systems of second world war an infamous Russian speciality like the famous AK-47.

If our top dogs push to hard, the conflict in Ukraine, that appears to me as a warriors paradise conflict, might trigger a large scale rocket attack unprecedented in military history. 

I remember that in the early 2000s an American student published a home work in which he proofed based on analysing trace rout ping information, that it would need only about a dozen or two points eliminated to take out the entire western internet.

What he did is to use a command available on every MS-DOS and Windows computer to send a ping to a server that lists all visible servers on the way between sending computer and receiving server. That's like shouting out "Hey, Joe" in the school yard, and back you get a list of all pupils that past on the "Hey, Joe" and the time they needed to get the message in between them.

Generally speaking, the student found the most important knots in our most important communication net using his student computer.

All our systems that are basis of our order and system have such knots, from the electric grid, to highways, to railroads and even in organisations like law enforcement or supermarkets knots exist that can be taken out by rockets carrying conventional war heads by destroying bridges and cross roads or important Police stations or logistic warehouses in harbours and airports. 

I am not sure about the exact number of knots the student identified, but it was in the lower two digest at about two dozen and I for sure can not be bothered to check which motorway crossroads are needed to be destroyed to create a major traffic collapse, but I am also not the FSB....

#cyberpunkcoltoure #dropit #WW3stayscold

Dark Future Short Stories - Fifteen - The Real OG

All chapters in order

Dark Future Short Stories - Fifteen - The Real OG

 The Real OG

Striker had used his ultra-light jet to exit his stronghold and landed just a bit north of the banking centre of the sprawl to check on the latest news and to prepare a hit against the hidden dark monastery he had found. He had a save house and switched to a motorcycle to enter the sprawl. The ultra light plane did not need any recognisable track to land and would take off on a 10 meter strip easily. 

He was in good touch with one of the most dangerous, yet rather small neighbourhood gangs in the sprawl and they dropped him a message through the astral space called dream world that, became even more important during the downfall.

Striker was a lot older than most would believe and changed more than most during the downfall even further pushing the effect of the human mutations triggered by several virus diseases that cut through mankind by gene therapy. Beside being in Marseille he also was, as he never told anyone, a major OG. A true original gangsta being part of a seven head high-profile gang busy in ripping of racist groups, bank heists and pushing containers of high-end weed that sold only per kilo and for ridiculous high prices into a major chain of affiliated underground coffee shops all over Europe.

Yet, the turmoil hit so hard that he turned homeless during the downfall.

He knew Gangs from the inside out and more than one copied his way to walk. Back than they called him the Panther and even being a master of all trades in a gang that had no leader or real head his actual expertise was closed quarter small arms attacks and driving everything that moved. He was a master of movement that also had the talent to ask the right questions making their hackers jump up and run to the computer equipment regularly dropping all and everything.

The crew had made it all on their own, splitting up when pressure got to high during the downfall and are today just a dropped message away all having new lives even in corporate world as a banker. Corporate Face, always was a charmer.

Internally they had given themselves nicknames from an old TV show, but always relative to the job. He was usually either BA or Baracus or Crazy Inmate or Murdock depending, if violence, extreme violence, freaky distraction or just driving was required to get the job done.

The piles of cash they generated were not spend on a luxurious lifestyle and even before the falldown authorities not even had ever a real grip on them, they neither did see a motive nor did they when coming to close actually feel any motivation to take 'em out. The Robin Hood strategy worked and they were in for the challenge of strategic planning, tactical execution, adrenalin high, the satisfaction of hurting ambitious bullies and the smile of those they invested in using an international system of cover bank accounts and companies enabling them to directly and quickly keep even millions in cash move without the need to create stock piles of bank notes lying around in storage as their toxic drug victims.

The trick was to bring the cash to areas way out of the sight of law enforcement and organised crime looking around themselves where business was still cash business and a Dollar moved a lot more than in the rich world, while using only a tiny fraction on top of the cover business living a small profile, but sleeping so much better knowing that the last heist taking out an underground toxic party pills factory without leaving any witnesses or trace just created several hundred small shops and workshops by small investments of no more than a hundred dollars in cash each. The tiny companies anywhere from the poor quarters of Lagos, Abidjan, Cairo to Mumbai and Jakarta European law enforcement would not enter fuck ever bought stuff considered trash here and create profit of which they would transfer a small share in a set of investment companies that themselves were owned by companies registered in save harbours with little taxes. 

Sometimes it is quantity over quality, if you can ensure the quality is not impacted.

There was nothing a rich wankers villa did have they could not sell. From the watch collection in a Bangkok small, but exclusive jewellery, to the furniture in a Cape Town exclusive used interior design shop, to the cars in a used car dealer in Buenos Aires and the wardrobe in Abidjan and Nairobi second hand shops, there was a place, that would keep many hands busy and many mouth feeded.

The gang he met was a locals gang that controlled a few streets and was living on a small tax they charged for the provided security and safety, selling MegaCon food truck loads to the inhabitants beside running a few not that underground, but well secured coffee shops where many of the neighbouring MegaCon gated community kids would spend their Sundays.

One of the coffee shops was the meeting place and Striker would spend a few hours having a smoke to only ride back after he was almost sobered out being of the high, but still in the calming effect of the hemp. They played a tape of a neighbourhood indie band they also promoted and had the corner lounge area reserved, just so the other guest could see them a bit creating more gossip good for the business all wondering who that troll of a mutant was that walked like a panther on his toes, had real horns and fangs like no second mutant all around as an effect of the gene therapy rather than the virus mutations.

The coffee was also real good and appropriate to the ConSlave kids standard beside a great, but cheap classic hamburger. 

He'd drive back after the night before dawn being all up to date about the recent movements in the gang world of the sprawl and predictions. The junky gangs got message to pick up guns, but to keep the peace. So, they either expected a major attack onto the local turff or an expedition corps was about to be created. Word goes, they'll hit the beaches.

MEMES - True Heros

 

Dark Future Short Stories - Fourteen - Darkest of all Leather Latex Fetish

All chapters in order

Dark Future Short Stories - Fourteen -Darkest of all Leather Latex Fetish

 Darkest of all Leather Latex Fetish

Here he was god. The stimulant cocktail, in his leather latex fetish suite, all his loyal boys on chain and the dozen kidnapped broken in already, now willing slaves in the cages of this all in dark red and black cellar, full of the smell of artificial moshus, in the moment when the orgy was about to break out. 

The banker was not only the banker that ruled by fear and force, that took strength in torturing and sacrificing especially woman, but the grand wizard of the clan that hid entirely and fully from all and especially light.

He knew whom to persuade slowly into his ritual sex organisation of quite muscularly build, well trained toxics. No woman had, as so many men too weak, survived the cages to make it into his black and chrome chains onto a top dog position.

His erecting started to hurt, his breathing got heavier and heavier, but he had not made up his mind yet who would die tonight after serving him and shooting him away, climaxing on a drug cocktail that was so strong he needed regular kidney cleaning therapy, at the moment after he came.

It was an honour to be killed by him biting out the prime servants throat towards the end of a part of the orgy in which one in the cages would take the open position, all open and willing to serve with absolute loyalty his direct orders and to be the enforcer in the chaos all around his MegaCon order.

These men were all a part of the generals of the con forces special operations, and each commanded a hundred con soldiers. They had build the most dangerous and lethal force that ruled all gangs by fear and mayhem. You would only nod and do as told, if you managed to be visited directly by one of the soldiers and no one would survive laying eyes on a general.

The soft version of these men ran a network of clubs called irreversible, known for drug influenced fetish sex parties that regularly got our of hand and ended it sheer excess. Actually, not too many died in those clubs, but many broke mentally. It was a rapist place with its very own rituals that turned gang rituals from before the downfall into childs' play.

And there was no music. Only, an algorithm based mixture of human and animal sounds based on a heard beat rate scanning microphone system, to make all sane, but drunk lost turn around before even closing the door, if they have not heard yet what everybody knew in the sprawls.

After the dark occult ritual he showered and went to the spa part of the villa, to in a few days come back to sun light and go back to the office like his servants would with him. Only the slaves stayed back going further in their toxic and genetic therapies receiving implants  awaiting their position.

It was time to stream line and recruit cannon fodder from within the sprawl to push them against the south beaches and he was curious to see the first plans on his table with numbers and calculations from his intelligence think tank.

But, know he would pretend to enjoy the morning sun being driven in his escort of top end luxurious wheel tanks, today saver than planes in a world that changed all rules and form of living during a total system collapse that created this world he was claiming to be a god like creature in which his will is. Most of the time it was better to be firm but nice, but soon he would directly attack commanding his tank division this cockroach hiding right next to his empire to crush him for ever.

RFC - The Real Fight Club - bringing holy to the wood through that hill

 8 rules to give passage out of 7 sinns of death if the 10 commandos don't cut it, yet. 

Guess what the 9th unspoken rule is. In this blood sport paradise.

Barrabas....Barrabas...you will be in heaven tonight, because you now see what is good, he told us.

http://www.diggingforfire.net/fightclub/

Bringing holy to the wood through that hill. Thanks for your services. We don't need you anymore. Sparta is gone and we need to rule the cash ourselves. Its Cyberpunkcoltoure 

Dark Future Short Stories - Thirteen - The King Diggler

All chapters in order

Dark Future Short Stories - Thirteen - The King Diggler

 The King Diggler

They were the masters of double meanings and pushed Cogney onto another level of total security, in opposite to the military recruits who went into sounding like trash talk joking, from whom they adopted that form of communication.

Cogney was more than an accent, it was a way to speak in double meanings that ideally would be only understood by the counterpart in the conversation based on common knowledge using common references based on the shared experiences relative to the situation. If they talked about another person that person had in different conversations hardly ever the same nick name, but one relative to the actual topic.

King Diggler was the most secret of all Kings that rose after the downfall into power in the shadows. Even before the downfall gay men were corporates world most favourites. Willing to do extra hours, elegant and well mannered and they won't take maternity leave every, every manager had them on the carrier path in pole positions, right after himself.

So, KD made it up onto Senior Partner level of an international law firm and head manager of the three floors, 200 employees branch located in the Rhine Sprawl centre. He worked with the two other managers of two more branches in the Sprawl usually using a virtual meeting room, in which he of course always had the most sophisticated and impressive Avatars with never the same accessor, thanks to the creative partners from his little more than dirty secret of being King. A king as gay a gay king of gays can be. Promiscuous beyond recognition that even if someone would step sober into their King Dinga-Long Club, they'd in no way recognise him in those few moments he'd be fishing for others to guide them in to the dark room labyrinth below the place that was main meeting point and most legendary gay party place in at least Europe.

They had bought an advanced security system from this super sexy dude, that kept just ignoring their advances by changing topic after a long second of silence, in which that hillbilly old school special forces piece of trained muscle meat must deal with his sweet confusion, and always was hiding his face behind a helmet with a darkened visor, to be safe from religious extremists groups that kept throwing bombs at all and everything they thought was sin. It was. That was the hole purpose. And the entire street was known for that. So, as the huge sign said: 

Open Gay Playground. 

All kinkiness served.

Stay out if you don't like it. 

Or scream mayday and we escort you out. 

Regularly someone actually started screaming, except The Striker, which was his official name in the shadows, who usually only came to pick up someone quite against his will. He came and left never through the gates, which would be appreciated, but using a jet pack on his back and a big sack, usually after staring at a security guard for an even longer moment, that all get horney when he is around, to just leave straight vertically out. Like...Anyway. Magic.

And it was not to be overlooked in illuminated pink neon with appropriately the venue dressed go go dancers on both sides of it pointing at it all night long.

An even bigger secret was that they were the most important diplomatic group, in the sprawl that lived in constant conflict, between the groups always aggravated by the big bank aka BB aka The Paintballer aka the lender aka context baby.

In opposite to all other groups busy in the chaos next to the ordered and structured MegaCon world The Pinks, as the were called officially, they did not make 'em bigger, but first tried to sweet talk them selfies out and if this did not work...well, promiscuity can be way more fun being fit and able to move, like dancing or combat sports and since most of the members had jobs, they well could afford an impressive arsenal and major high-end level job on an active security system including AI autonomous recon and armed air and ground based drones. But most went into the furniture for pleasure.

Against a fee they would turn judge for any dispute between the thousands of little gangs in constant struggle in the sprawl and also be able to enforce the sentence, if required. Just the big players took care of them self. From all girl bikey gangs that were mainly busy as motorised couriers in a world that had no laws anymore to gym testo cooking all men gangs power lifting until the infarct and everything else like small grocery shops that had hired the local gang running half the block pushing weed to protect against robber gangs looking for pray, all and everyone knew them and was willing to pay, if the other side also agreed to use their services. They were known as fair. Not cheap, but fair and worth their price being the solution to avoid to much losses in blood and cash.

Even so no one had heard of anyone doubting their neutrality in the Sprawl, there was a certain risk that their position of being on the pay role of BB in heir real lives and having had past and present business relations in the shadows with the Black Stallion might become difficult as both sides tend to loos their good countenance granted and always when ever they went directly against each other having all others run for cover as fast as possible. What ever had happened in the past, both are not over it yet and far of being forgiving or shaking hands in not even that stupid press as hard you can press game, some went into making sure the sentence will have to be enforced.

-You remember, I borrowed some time ago to invest into a protect small car.

-MMmmh? The red one?

-Yes. But I have changed color to a super sexy shiny black just perfect for a security car.

-Ohh.

-Yeah, I am afraid the lender won't like it, even so it looks amazing.

-Yeah. So many don't share our obsession. How was he last time you met?

-As always. No big deal, realy. Calm and easy. nice chit chat before the business. He made me some offer on a new investment plan. A real estate complex further south. Vacation rentals. I am sooo not sure.

-Maybe wait a bit and sleep over it. Such decisions must be made with confidence, darling. 

-You are the best. I thought so, too. Uuugh. Coffee break is almost over and I stil have to check with Gina, her mini skirt is from another planet.

Fuck me, he had no other car, but a convertible and there was no Gina at all, beside he relied on a pension fond and would not invest into boring real estate.

So, in real English: War was about to go off between the two most dangerous all around. One side was furious in anger and he would check with Squeezy, who was one of the big players that worked autonomously, for more intel. Puh. That was bad. Real bad. He felt stress crawling up onto him hoping the first wave would not go against Marseille, but maybe - Nice. He needed some joy.

-Hey John. You have time. No. NOW. You are done, bad boy.

BB and BS go for Big Boys Bull Shit anytime soon erupting hot.. 

Sanctions and war, but Cyberpunkstyle

The West established sanctions against the Russian economy to combat the illegal war in Ukraine. If this was fought in a dark future utopia this would happen:

Either the secret service of Russia leaves it up to the department of economy and the MegCons that are impacted by the conflict on the national level to basically just copy e.g. the spare parts for imported high-end machines or ...

In order to keep the local MegaCons off actively pushing towards a final end of the nations and it's institutions by turning them factually out of power and influence, the same way that ICE-T stopped the LAPD from searching his Hollywood house in the 90ies based on a search warrant: Fire power and a convincing: No. 

This would do:

A small company in a friendly or neutral nation, such as Hong Kong, gets set up to create another direct owned trade company in Cypress within the EU. They buy the sanctioned spare parts in a bulk along with some not required products, badly covering the real obvious reason creating a mid-size ship load of about two dozen full size standard shipping containers. The Cypress company direct sales them to a Nigerian import company. They split the load to further sell the containers in full to other trade companies in Africa that require transport by both land and coastline sea logistic companies preferring Chinese owned once. 

The more important and more difficult gear gets lost somewhere on the truck route that was a tiny bit too close to the new Wild Wild West and basically receives new shipping and production labels from a not even existing company in Brazil producing OMG copies, to be put on small Chinese build harbours shipping the containers to Dubai where they get sold to an Iranian based company and driven straight into Russia as soon put of the ships onto trucks.

The containers on sea get sold to South Africa and from a Singapore based company to Vietnam to be directly bought by a Russian import company.

Next thing happening is that the other side, in this respect the CIA, will start investigating the network to check which companies actually do have offices with manpower and send someone to check 'em out who will be welcomed by Russian payed contractors and that's where the pen and paper run starts:

-Do you take the contract?

-Yeah. We make you an offer as soon as we have the calculation done. Come back next week.

Mr Smith left the back office next to the VIP room in the club the Killer Hit Gang ran in Panama City, but without the hard copy file printed on easy inflammable paper giving all they had on the Russian financed Nigerian office in the trade quarter of Lagos. It would get hot. 

Dark Future Short Stories - Twelve - Old School Rockers

All chapters in order

Dark Future Short Stories - Twelve - Old School Rockers 

Old School Rockers

Geronimo, the chef tain of the Satan's Robbers was still in a hang over when he heard the news. The other club, that during the downfall went straight into MegCon asses ruling their party and drug supply and all dirt work based on a solid revenue stream going richer than ever, was about to ran trigger happy into a major war. 

He closed his leather biker trousers and crawled out of in between the four groupies that still slept deep after the appropriate ending of a rockers festival making it up to the chef tain's private rooms here deep in the woods of what is still the darkest of all forests.

During the downfall nature claimed back a lot of territory and many villages were wiped out by either the diseases that spread or by all and everyone moving out and away to look for a more prosperous future in the now in population exploding sprawls. Basically, the territory from the Rhine and just south of central Europe's biggest sprawl, straight down to the big lake and to the east hitting the old motorway lost about 90% of its population and agricultural industry.

Somewhere in the mid mountains next to a ski slope hill they took their ground when they had to retreat out of the sprawl that now was ruled by a group that everyone called The Rhinos being known for toxic drugs only. The Robbers where as their name stated living of robbery runs through the gated communities of the rich corporate world gated villages, pushed fine quality out door grown from their protected farms all around the castle village they had build up and kept expending, they were running a ski slope system in winter and several major festivals giving all those living next to corporate world a few days out and off the concrete and tarmac world. Raiding deserted German and French Army barracks and taking over a small arms factory during the downfall ensured along with their military knowledge from a very different time that even corporate forces thought twice about even considering trespassing their territory.

Geronimo rolled up from their indoor grown high quality and before firing up prepared a nose of some powder that was Satan's Robbery special. It was a stimulant and extracted from a plant growing at the equator, but in no way as strong or toxic as most other substances. A toxic from the sprawl would not even feel any impact, but their supply guaranteed a fragile peace and steady source of goods out from the sprawl. Business is business and personal is personal.

He sat in the rebuild shed of the farm that was in the centre of the village half way up the mountain that was surrounded by several new walls, little towers and had received a full upgrade turning it into a rockers club house dream come true. The large bed, ready to take on a harem of women, was well prepared to welcome party hungry women all up for pleasing the bad boys needs and desires of pleasure in all white with mosquito nets, even so no mosquito was seen around ever. 

The table was a full solid gold plate and Turkish style cushions created the chill sofa surrounding it. The ceiling was high and had large windows along with a huge fire place a bit away and thousand of candles no woman coming in would be able to resist the chef tain and his officers. At the wall a few private rooms would help to persuade the shy, but willing and both bar and kitchen were as open as the huge jacuzzi and shower bath. Just a Turkish steam bath like Striker had in his Sahara home he visited when he cleared the deal for the purple powder supply, was a bit too much. Oil and two hours to heat up an area that has at noon 45 degrees 0 humidity onto about 70 and 100 was .... like Striker....

She drove down to tell him in person. Squeezy had a crush on Geronimo and his blokes since god dam ever. They were allies and lovers. Best friends and sometimes siblings. The message made it from a stripper working as a half naked waitress in the top dogs prime club and biggest competitor to the squash place of the street sport division and through a private Peer News Network channel right onto her roof top office screen.

They will attack Marseille.

Geronimo kept staring at her and she was not sure if she should repeat it. He sat there. Had a good morning nose, fired up the joint, leaned back only wearing is trousers, inhaled and still did not say anything. If he would not start speaking, squeezy would be all about jumping at him making sure he would not get a full phrase formulated, except dirty talk, for all of this Monday.

Do you...

Yes. I do. --- I just wonder, if Striker will this time use the howitzer battery that we helped him hiding in range from the banks main tower. He said it was for a special moment.

Howi..??

Cannons, pre-downfall build, 150mm calibre, 50 kilogram high explosive shells. Six of them with 100 shells each in hidden bunkers and he upgraded them practically full auto remote controlled, military high end tec freak he is with a favour to fucking out of mankind minds overkill when ever he just fucking can. They are sitting already aiming in a lost village that he said he would have secured by breeding genetically modified rats, that he would also have to control by a system of traps in a circle around the village.... As soon we are back gone out on our way home and stressed to not come back as in ever - ever. 

Uaahhg. The 10 kilo monsters?

Yeah. Good leather he said. Good meat he said. And the teeth he can sell as Chinese medicine he said. 

Puuah.

I wonder if he actually understands that this is real earth, not a biblical place known as hell, that is clearly not on this planet according to the book he keeps referring to in the weirdest moments.

So....

We wait and warn the bathtube. Maybe they trespass on the old motorway and the toll business could need a new spark, really. ---- But, how are you? It's been while...

I wondered, if you'd  never asked. Who is that red head there?

I introduce you.

No. Let her come, she won't need a lot of time. 

Mmmmhh.....

Squeezy slowly opened her blouse and came over having and enjoying their impact.

The forbidden use of a book - A mystic oracle

 An oracle is per the definition of the Cambridge dic:

(especially in ancient Greece) a female priest who gave people wise but often mysterious advice from a god, or the advice given. 

Someone who knows a lot about a subject and can give good advice.

In the forbidden way, it is a dark scary ritual like moving the Ouija board, except crazy me is there too, to screw the fallen priest by moving, as soon asked to put the hands off and below the table, the board with an electro magnet build in device (but building that table is a pain in the ass and the occults keep gossiping turning it into a one use only...anyway).

Or you use it as a psychologic self reflecting tool using e.g. the Bible. The Bible makes sense because of the mystic power and cultural importance here.

This is how to do it, but you'll be possibly facing excommunication: 

Think and phrase a question and write it down. Take a copy of the Bible and open it randomly, like taking a part of a set of cards form the card giver during mixing cards, and put your finger onto one of the most likely four rows on the open double page.

Note down the part of the bible, the word your finger is on, the phrase and possibly the paragraph and maybe even the entire chapter.

The trick is to than create theories and concepts how the word or phrase and paragraph might relate, based on your own assumptions and understanding, onto your question using your very own creativity and understanding of the situation, being a random kick-off-point to self-reflect from a book that is an entire metaphor from the first to last page anyway.

....and don't take it too serious...just like life...we are all food for the worms.

Dark Future Short Stories - Eleven - All under Angelo's palm called for action

All chapters in order

Dark Future Short Stories - Eleven - All under Angelo's palm called for action

All under Angelo's palm called for action

"Yes, Sir, consider it done." Angelo hung up. He was standing up as soon as he felt who was calling even before he answered the call in his back office in the most exclusive of all table dance venues in pretty much all of Europe. He was the loyal servant of the boards of corporate world and in opposite to the biggest of all sprawls sitting in a pocket surrounded by chaos in which he kept up order.

The City of London was divided in the part he ran and those that did not entirely separate from the trash. They even played squash, a form of tennis played in a closed room that was first played in the old dock lands and prisons, an aggressive, fast game without mercy for bad condition or a lack of coordination, as no other no contact sport, - with them.

Those, his venues, the Gold Pot Clubs, not only had the most exclusive combination of interiors, bars and DJs, but required an enterprise level ID to get in. They were only located within the closed parts of MegaCon world and who came was called a ConSlave by those living in the chaos that took the world during the down fall. Most lived between gated communities in their small houses and villas with a garden, high risers they worked in and airport hubs they travelled from, beside especially protected vacation beach and mountain resorts. They even controlled a few historic small towns, but most of this earth was lost to chaos and run by gangs. A situation that could just too easily be ignored from within his world of order.

The call he got was an order call of action. It was war again and this time they faced the most scary of all possible enemies. He would have way preferred to go against his biggest competition, the clubs and night time go out places of the chaos that had contracts and agreements with the MegaCons he belonged to, but ... it was a personal vendetta he got ordered to take part in. And that was always and ever bad for business.

These two assholes, the boss of the biggest bank and this freak in all black swinging an axe when ever he could, were up on each others throats since he could remember. Every time the boss made a hit against the freaks affiliates he could buy a new coupé from the money he left in one of his places and every time the freak created a massacre in between MegaCon world someone needed catering for a large funeral. It still was no good for business, because both occasions tended to be excessive beyond any profit.

For a decade he and his special occasion security army stood with eyes wide open next to the constant conflict of bombs and bombing runs, assassinations even in high security spots, hacker attacks wipeing data and really important records and closed coffin funerals, in a war nobody understood what for, fearing to one day having to become active in.

Angelo took a seat to look at his first officer: "A whisky." While the officer passed on the wish to the always waiting in silence stripper waitress exclusive to his needs and those of is first office staff, he changed to "a triple Vodka, in a Russian glass" which was a medium sized water glass turning the single shot into a 4cl one.

As soon she left the room to the home bar room next door, he said to his officer what they would do now:

Angelo: "We are going to land from the island back again at the beaches of the poor south beaches. But not directly north of the vacation island. Instead he just told me to attack straight into the harbour town, wiping out every street sport activity, flooding our party pills on discount and taking over all places in the old quarter."

The officer took his phone and called the waitress still in the other room: "Make it two glasses"

Angelo: "Does this crazy asshole know who is buying our product?"

Officer: "He does not care. Ever. Things have to happen his way."

Angelo: "He is using us. He must know that this is a suicide mission, when pushing us straight into their main town. Marseille is basically their capital and biggest small trade hub. Every run away runs to Marseille. No run a away ever was kidnapped back by any contractor from Marseille. Instead Marseille sends them back to us in always 13 boxes. Each body cut into 13 pieces. Always."

Officer: "Mmmh. I can make a list of some we can exchange easily and keep the losses down. Maybe we should push some of the over ambitious lower managers that are up for action in there, too. You know. Those were asked to get on the needle to keep them compliant on their floors."

Angelo: "That's a good point. Them with some junky hit units. Lets check for hotels we can book entirely and have them drive down stacked with pills and powder. Than we see how long they make it and watch by their mobile phones. That's a good first wave. 20. Nah. Lets make it 30"

Officer: "I create a list"

The waitress came back just to hear the last few phrases and would send a message to the woman she cried out at the weekends to, as soon as possible, already hoping that Marseille would run out of boxes quickly.

Officer: "Did you see their latest toy? The street sport divisions' ?"

Angelo: "No. What is it this time? Bungee form high risers or helicopters?"

Officer: "Haha. Check this vid. They uploaded onto one of the channels in the P2P network they run, a vid from a hovercraft the size of a snowboard a guy is standing on. It's got a mini jet engine creating forward momentum and if it jumps it can actually fly for some meters. Like a hundred. That thing got so much power it vertically lifts 20 meter straight up"

Angelo: "And our soldiers need a double shot calmers when just mention parashoot low altitude urban ..."

Officer: "The vid is from Palermo, the analysts from security said and they have had it extracted from one of our girls who had their hidden app on her mobile phone to access the P2P network."

Angelo: "Peer News Network....what a pain. A free network from a free world. PNN. Peer News Network"

Officer: "Yeah. pathetic"

Angelo knew where this phrase came from and he was not sure what scared the shit out of him more: The chaos with their constant references to the world before the falldown, like to a public radio station in cold war Berlin, the fact that in his world nobody seems to remember what was before the downfall or that nobody knew who actually did understand here- but kept up the lies.

Angelo: "What are you waiting for?"

The officer drowned the glass and walked off reaching for his mobile phone. 

Hackers in my live

In the company I worked for they had a picture competition and I took part. I uploaded a picture I carefully selected and a few days later the picture was altered. It was still the same motive, but someone took all the effort to sneak into the garden and retake the picture, but with the flowers changed so the entire picture would look less intense.

I call this strategy mind fuck and the idea is to create a scenario in which I give into a psychiatric therapy based on psychopharmaka that influence the creativity parts of he brain and change the metabolism in a way that body builds up fat reservoirs. 

This mind fuck happens again right now, first in small doses in which little mistakes are build into my creative work and at this point I want to make you aware, that we are beyond any possible peaceful solution.

There will be blood.

I call them freeloaders, the dark order, Gestapos, CIA PsyOps, the system and I do not care how they call themselves when they believe no one is listening. 

My future is either by living from my creative products such as music and all other art or in violence.

Until now, until Corona is swiping through mankind I only defended and never attacked, if their theft of my copy right material was accompanied by violence. This has changed. Take it, and therefore my freedom, and watch me go Amok until God decides to take me off this existence.

Death before dishonour. 

The rich kids Sprawl - Liga Nord Alternativo

 

This is Italy at night and at the very north at the foot of the Alps is a huge carpet of lights that shows one of the richest Sprawls in Europe. The flat lands inbetween the hillside coast line with ancient rough harbour towns like Genoa and the actually rather poor first mountains of the always rebellious for self-rule and even bilingual areas like the western Italian-French region and Austrian-Italien north:

The Turin-Milan-Venice-Bologna region.

Turin is a major industrial town and Milano the centre of both the Italian high-end luxurious industries and the financial centre of the region, most likely influencing beyond the boarders of Italy into the competitive Mediterranean cargo trade and the eastern neighbour of former Yugoslavia. 

If you are looking for toxic-trade criminal organization blood, this is your rat nest to feast in.

The very coast line from the French boarder across Genoa stretching to the east, is an economically and socially different area, creating a different character. Genoa is as charming rough, but smaller, than Marseille or Toulon, was harbour to Italian Pirates centuries ago and the smaller villages along the cost line live of tourism, but only tourism and only in summer time, being all placed in a mid-range mountain geography, while the TMVB-Sprawl is as flat as it can get.

Guess where you wanna hide as a partisan....and where the enemy will enjoy posh live.

This shows the gross domestic product in Italia showing impressingly the huge difference of citizen of the north and south and the money they create each year each. The more you make per year, the richer you are in capitalist terms.

Italy is the sum of different towns that always had been competing peacefully and violently over its long history and in the 60ies the conflict between left and right was on a comparable highly sophisticated level as the Troubles in Ireland, but way more complicated and undercover, as also several different Mafia organisations, the neighbouring socialist nations and some internationally operating secret services were all in on ruling the nation that cuts the Mediterranean see in half from north to south, creating a connection between Europe and Africa that you can literally paddle on a quite night being fit. 

Beside Gucci and Cocaine associates there is also a major alternative scene in Italy. Check this playlist to hear some of  Europe's finest oeuvres of alternative rock music:

If I was a classic Rocker organisation looking for new areas of activity off plata o plombo from areas and organisations way out of my comfort zone with the beautiful outlook of steady mainly legal cash flows, official sweet support and relocating into a zone of pro-active protection from those in the real shadows having the same enemy, but without being in touch.....too directly...

I'd use available spaces and connections to create a platform and space for that alternative dirt affine scene from unknown to chart affiliated, in a style of the very roots of the own movement, like today in Woodstock Poland (aka Poland Rock) as the modern peak main event of rock music nation, just tiny and every god blessed weekend, creating the soft high end of the god dam week. 

PS: There is still head money for Mussolinies for all those to broke to pay the ferry man. #centurions

Thanks Distrokid - Old Times is on Spotify

 

Old Times peview

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 J4v - Old Times

In memory of underground GI parties

if we ever come together again there will be no freeloaders

but we dance on their graves with the devil

#gfyCIA