Spotlight: Boomslang, Issue 2

The Niger Delta! Rich with oil, natural resources, ancient culture, and man's inhumanity to man. Here in Ogodobiri village, about forty klicks east of Warri, the nearest city with an airstrip, the Ijaw people have their stronghold. The current leader of the Ijaw ethnic militia, ruthless warlord Mujahid Dokubo-Asari, recently released from prison under suspicious circumstances, makes his home here behind high walls and many dangerous men with crude but effective weaponry.

Porsche 959 is out to investigate rumours that a Nigerian warlord is trying to rig the election and get himself made president of Nigeria. This is why the Autobots never notice the giant Decepticon-symbol-shaped bases. Because Nightbeat spends his time doing this stuff. Granted, when Lord Chumley made all the royals disappear to make himself king, that was a pain for the Autobots, so someone has to keep tabs on these things. Muzzle has tried to diguise hmself in local garb, but it doesn't really help. He's still in a pristine blue Porsche. Along with Nightbeat are...

Aramasu Hikage, EDC Cover Ops specialist. If it never happened it probably was not him because he was not there. The guy's past is definately not white but he is trying real hard to make amends and help out the Autobots hoping they can see him as an ally rather than a former enemy. Hikage double checks his usual gear for this sort of thing. Lockpicks, knife, rope and a silenced Five-SeveN. "Tell me Muzzle-san or Nightbeat-san whichever can answer me. What did I get myself into?"

Muzzle answers Aramasu, because it's probably less disconcerting to be spoken to by the apparent driver of the car than by the car itself. He waves a hand dismissively and explains, "No need for the honourific. Seriously. Anyway. So. Nightbeat's underworld contacts told him that some Nigerian warlord is trying to buy his way into the office of the President here. So. Earth's your planet," or maybe not, but that is complicated and involves alternate dimensions. Close enough. Neither Nightbeat nor Muzzle were around for the Militant and benefactors in their heyday, so any dirt they know on those groups is second or third hand and doesn't matter too much to them. "Figured you might want in. 'sides, you seem like you know the meaning of 'quiet', something the both of us appreciate. Gonna try to talk to some of this guy's troops first, get a better handle on what the deal is. Maybe pretend that we're mercs who wanna sign on, get in while the getting's good, if this fellow's gonna be a big star."

The locals out enjoying the cool of the evening look with curiosity at Nightbeat as he cruises over dirt roads. That's not the sort of car they usually get around here. Normally it's light trucks or busses, not counting the elderly Mercedes that typically belong to headmen and government officials.

Aramasu Hikage listens to the plan and raises eyebrows "Simple but solid. We will roll with it. So we have a guy trying to buy his way into office...What are we looking for exactly? Paper trail from the office? Conversation recording? Photos and such?"

Muzzle takes one hand off the wheel to rap Nightbeat's dash with his knuckles, grumbling, "You, my friend, are much too conspicious. What is this alternate mode, your midlife crisis given shape?" Nightbeat doesn't bother to deign that with a response. "Well... see, I'm a bit interested in where he's getting the funds for the bribe. So I'm looking at the money trail, myself. Might wanna chat up the quartermaster at this joint. But you raise other good points. We'll see what we can get our hands on." The Porsche approaches closer to a known camp of the warlord, undeterred. He can pop out photon pistols and a plasma cannon, if things get too hairy.

The reaction is immediate: three guards get up as the car pulls close, all of them brandishing AK-47s which two of them train on the passengers while the third makes demands in Hausa. Nightbeat's dashboard translates it as "Who are you people and what do you want with Prince Dokubo-Asari? Justify yourself or begone!"

Aramasu Hikage keeps his hands visible as to not stress the guards without reason "You know...I speak about 6 languages...and Hausa is not one of them unfortunately. I hope your translator is well updated." While pretending to wait harmlessly Hikage makes a quick survey of the guards equipment. How many spare clips, grenades? big radio or tiny thing? Little details like that could come in handy at some point.

Part of the fun of binary bonding, if anything about binary bonding can be said to be fun, is that Muzzle shares his mind with Nightbeat, so he doesn't need to read the dashboard to see the translation, and he doesn't need to go for a pocketbook of phrases, like he might have needed to whe he was just a Nebulan detective. He can just have Nightbeat translate in real time and override his jaw and larynx to make the correct sounds to reply. Nightbeat rolls down his driverside window slowly, and Muzzle pts his hands up, though he looks calm, and replies, in Hausa, "I'm," and he says his name in Nebulan, which is half unpronouncable to a human, anyway, and certainly sounds like it comes from somewhere obscure. Mainly because he knows he'll reply to it. "and he," a glance over at Aramasu, "is Mr. Haida. We'e heard good things about the great Prince Dokubo-Asari. Thought he might have some work for us."

The guards, being a local militia, are not very well equipped by the standards of a regular army. To Hikage's trained eye, it's immediately apparent that the speaking one is off-guard, and the two covering the car with their guns are at least partly distracted by checking out the car and those inside curiously- they're not the usual visitors. Each militiaman only has one or two extra magazines for his Kalashnikov, only the speaker has one grenade, and he's also the only one with a radio- a Radio Shack model hooked through his belt loop. "Work?" asks the guard. "You want to work for Prince Dokubo-Asari? And what could you do, white man?"

Muzzle can't catch a break. In Europe, he ain't pale enough for Germany. (Maybe Rodimus Prime will move Metroplex to Spain soon. That would be great!) In Africa, he's too pale. But it could be worse. He could be green. Muzzle hedges, still in Hausa, coutesy of Nightbeat's mechanical mind, "Weell... even the greatest man has enemies. In fact, usually, the greater the man, the more the enemies, hmm? I'm a tracker. I find things. I find people. And then, if these things or people are inconvenient, I make them go away." And he's still not at all ruffled. He's smiling, even.

Aramasu Hikage smiles and nods to indicate he is in the same business as Muzzle and tries to motion something else and gives up hoping Muzzle's explanation will suffice.

Whoops. Yes. Nightbeat's dash keeps translating for Aramasu.

Aramasu Hikage says, "I am skilled at acquiring 'hard-to-get' items as well."

The gate guards look at eachother. One of the ones in the back shrugs and the speaking guard waves the other two back. "All right, you two can go through. Park by the garage at the end of the road." There is a palatial flat-topped stucco house, well-lit by generator power, and several outbuildings including the green-painted garage, at the end of the road. More guards are waiting up at the house.

Surrounded on all sides and above? Muzzle likes those odds. He can only hope that Aramasu likes them, as well. Muzzle can summon his *master armour with a single thought, and half his mind thinks with a machine's speed, and the organic half ain't too shabby, either. He parks Nightbeat where indicated, and if any of the guards are paying attention, there's no key for the ignition. The Porsche simply shuts its engine off at the appropriate point in time. Muzzle slowly, carefully opens the door.

They are paying attention, but they're not paying THAT much attention. The Ijaw militia just don't get challenged in that kind of way; they have no real training and learn mainly from field experience.

"So you want to see Prince Dokubo-Asari?" asks another young man, still speaking Hausa. This one is smoking a cigarette and wearing a battered-looking green legionnaire's cap. In addition to the ubiquitous Kalashnikov he's wearing a pair of Glock 9mms on either hip. "I have to check you. Put your arms up and stand against the car." He approaches with the intent to give the two men a pat-down.

Subspace. Subspace is a definite benefit to being stuck with Nightbeat for life that Muzzle is suddenly seeing. He replies, also in Hausa, "Got that right." Muzzle assents to the pat-down easily enough, putting his arms up and standing against the car, and would appear to be packing no heat whatsoever, just a small metal flask with some whiskey in it. Because he has to have /something/ on him. Muzzle's a bit worried about how Aramasu is going to handle it, however.

Aramasu Hikage leaves his weapons in the car and steps outside getting ready for a pat-down. If push comes to shove he will either have to shove harder or snatch a weapon from some poor bastard. "Indeed we are hoping to get some employment. This country is going through interesting times and interesting times are always lucrative times."

"What did he say?" asks the guard suspiciously, eyeing Muzzle and Hikage. He clearly expected, or maybe hoped, to have to take a gun off of them. He steps back and gestures to the house. "Looks like you're clean. I'll show you in. I don't know if the Prince will see you, but he's in a good mood. Two of his old lieutenants just got out of prison early, if you know what I mean."

Porsche 959 translates what Aramasu said, relaying his words as best he can. Then, the detective smiles, all teeth, and he replies, "Good news indeed." On all counts, really. He straightens his outfit sightly, and he then translates what the guard said to Aramasu. Note to self: next time he drags members of the EDC off to countries where they don't speak the language, he ought to grab little earbuds for them linked to Nightbeat, who is the one really doing all the translation.

"Hmph," mutters the guard. "Good profits if you don't get killed trying to get them." The inside of the house is garishly decorated with a mismash of Ijaw traditional masks and wood-and-bone sculptures and extraordinarily ugly rococo European furniture. "I shouldn't complain, the Prince pays me well. I'm lucky to have it." He stops outside another room and shares a few quiet words with the guard of THAT room, who disappears inside to check on something.

Muzzle says simply to the departing guard, "Thanks." Then, he asides lowly to Aramasu, now in Japanese, of all things, "Outta curiousity... just what /are/ the six languages you speak?" Because with Nightbeat's help, Muzzle can fake almost anything spoken on Earth, and he'd rather not banter away in English or even Japanese if Aramasu speaks Ainu or something. Now to play the waiting game.

Aramasu Hikage follows Muzzle and the guards inside checking out the small details on the way. Cameras, blind spot, armored glass company logo at the bottom of windows because there is nothing more embarassing then trying to flee a place through the window only to realise it's an Armourlite III. "Live enough to spend it? Is the work that dangerous or is the Prince that...demanding?" He turns to Muzzle "I speak Japanese, English, Spanish, Chinese, Russian, German and my French is still a work in progress."

Muzzle ponders those languages. An impressive array. Makes Muzzle feels like a dirty cheat, really. Out of those, he guesses he'll go with with Japanese. Muzzle sort of doubts there is anyone around here who speaks Japanese, aside from Aramasu and Muzzle's cheater car of a partner. "So. What's your take on all this so far? The guards don't look too well trained or armed, to me. Just a rinky-dink operation."

Aramasu Hikage nods "My assessment as well but these are probably just peons. I am curious as to what our Prince's elite guard looks like. Probably better trained, equipped, paid and such. It's always like that with those types. The inner circle gets all the money, cars and babes while the rest fight for scraps. Reminds me of some stuff I pulled in South America a few years ago. Financing a private war and army gets expensive."

After a while the room guard comes back out and speaks to the young militiaman who has been chain-smoking while he waits with Muzzle and Hikage. "The Prince has finished his dinner, you can go in now." He throws the door open and announces in his own language, "Mighty Prince Mujahid Zamani Dokubo-Asari! Two white men, scouts and assassins, are here to offer you their services."

The Prince, a lean man with a short grizzled beard and a deeply seamed face, is drinking a tall glass of ice water, and sets it down to wave the two in. "Come in, then, come in. You want to join the Ijaw struggle, is it so?" he says, speaking heavily accented English. "What are your names, man-hunters?"

The Prince is sitting at the center of a wide dining table, flanked by a few of who must be, by their camouflage being almost as festooned with medals as his own, his newly freed lieutenants. The ruins of a great repast are still on the table before them.

Aramasu Hikage bows to the Prince "I am Jin-Ke Haida your excellency." Hikage smiles and takes a quick look at how many empty bottles are on the table. This could give him an insight in their state of mind.

My my my. Aramasu over there just gets more interesting. But Muzzle won't hold it against him. Muzzle really honestly can't, not if he wants to be a hypocrite over his own background. And Nightbeat's background, for that matter. Actually, Nightbeat's background is a lot worse than Muzzle's, when Muzzle thinks about it. So he tries not to think about it, because it's show time. He looks over at Aramasu, nods, and then he moves to enter the door. That smart-alecky smiles leaves his face, and he straightens from his usual slouch, trying to appear a professional. He bows before the Prince respectfully once he's inside, and he greets, switching to English. English with an accent out of this world. Really. "I'm," and his nigh-unpronounceable Nebulan name again, "your excellency. And you'd have that right, of course."

Surprisingly enough there are no empty bottles on the table at all. Everyone seems to be drinking chilled water or fruit juice.

"Are you mercenaries, then, or do you believe in what we fight for?" asks Dokubo-Asari, conspicuously mildly.

Aramasu Hikage answers casually and truthfully "Mercenaries is such an impopular and dirty word these days. We prefer the term: Professional Security Contractors. What sets us apart is that once a price is agreed on we do the job. If your enemies offer us more, too bad for them. We do not go back on our word."

Muzzle would comment that being mercenaries who don't like to be called mercenaries is a horrible cliche. However, Muzzle himself is a horrible cliche. Also, he's trying to follow a cover story, so he nods along as Aramasu explains. If this goes poorly... he can armour up, he reminds himself. Armour up. Get in front of Aramasu, make sure Aramasu gets out, regroup with Nightbeat, and be gone. Nightbeat's stupidly fast, for a Porsche. Muzzle suspects Nightbeat can outrun anything here, short of an airplane.

These guys don't look like they have much of an air force. "That is," notes the Prince, "what they all say." He and his men share a deep laugh. "Well, what do you want, mercenaries? I am not so rich. I am far too generous with my people and my wealth is as a river, flowing into the land. I may dip a cup out for you if you impress me with your fervor."

Aramasu Hikage says, "Fair enough. You deserve a demonstration before investing which is totally understandable. Unfortunately we did not bring the powerpoint presentation but if you have a task for us that would make a suitable test. We're all ears."

Muzzle comments, almost sounding bored, "I must confess... I'm not so much interested in pay as a challenge." There's a hard glint to his eyes. See? That's why a crazy foreigner would come here. Because, aside from being crazy, he's so painfully bored that he'd like something to test him.

The Prince and his lieutenants share some quiet words before he replies, leaning back in his ornate chair. "The judge who sentenced me, Olayiwola Peters." He spits on the floor to his left as he speaks the name. "He is beloved of my enemies and has many police guarding his home in Abuja, which he does not leave for fear of my just revenge. Bring to me his head and you will each have as many of these as you can carry in your fist." He reaches into his breast pocket and takes out a large and beautifully sparkling diamond, setting it on the table in front of the 'mercenaries.'

Aramasu Hikage nods "Allright we'll get on it. If he is so famous we should not have any problem finding his address." Hikage performs a small bow which would border on insult in Japan but here? The is probably more used to military salutes. "Your excellency." He turns around and heads for the door thinking about a way to solve this 'challenge'.

Muzzle really doesn't look overly interested in the diamond. They're just little lumps of carbon. Good for grinding applications, he supposes, but Brainstorm and Arcana can just make them in a lab if the Autobots need them. That, and wurtzite-BN and lonsdalite both are superior for grinding applications. Now, the /interesting/ thing is that Nigeria, in particular, is not known for diamonds. These would most likely be imports. He squints at the diamond, but he does not approach. If Nightbeat was here, he could totally do a spectral analysis and maybe even nail the point of origin on the diamond. Muzzle doesn't have that kind of crazy super-senses. He echoes, "Your excellency," and he also bows - what? He's not from Earth. He's just doing as the human does. He tails after Aramasu.

"And not just some rotten head of another man!" comes the Prince's voice from behind them. "I will know the difference!"

The pair's escort is waiting outside when they get out. "Did things go well with Prince Dokubo-Asari?" he asks in Hausa as he goes to show them back to the car.

Muzzle translates the Hausa to Japanese to Aramasu, then replies in Hausa himself, "Interestingly. Is there a saying about interesting times here?" His eyes glances around, paying attention to doors, windows, and hallways.

Aramasu Hikage smirks "There is a Chinese curse that says: 'May you lead an interesting life.' I think we might have been cursed."

"No," replies the militiaman. "Not that I can think of, at least." The house is a spanish villa-type, not an entirely accurate one, but built in a rough approximation of that style by colonists in earlier days and then modified since then to make it larger and more secure. Its looks have not been improved by the process. The windows are barred, and the doors are framed in steel. Additional doors have been added here and there, obvious later alterations, to break up halls into fire lines. Wherever the Nigerian government captured the infamous rebel Dokubo-Asari all those years ago, it could not have been here.

The guards outside are standing around outside the car, smoking and talking and looking at Nightbeat, who is a pretty unusual vehicle even where Porsches are more common.

Oh, Nightbeat. The Porsche 959. Such a bad disguise. Last manufactured in 1989. A 41 year old vehicle, at the youngest, and yet looking in pristine condition. Flashy even when it was new. And with flame decos. Muzzle will never let Nightbeat live his choice of forms down, no. As Muzzle reaches for the door, it opens, just a moment before his hand clasps the handle.

Aramasu Hikage enters the car silently as to not be overheard. He picks up his pistol from the back seat. "Well we have quite a dilemma on our hands. How much is worth the information we are after? In other words...How many bodies before we draw the line?"

Muzzle sits down, closes the door, belts in, and switches to Japanese, which he is pretty sure any nosy guards won't understand, "Nightbeat, could you pull anything on that diamond out of my visual feed? Yeah, yeah, squishy meat eyes ain't up to your usual standard, but that diamond is the odd part, if you ask me. Nigeria's not exactly known for them." Nightbeat's engine rumbles to life as Muzzle pauses to consider Aramasu's dilemma. "Well. I gotta say, Nightbeat wouldn't do it. But I'm not Nightbeat. It's your planet."

The guards don't seem to speak anything that isn't spoken outside Nigeria. Most of them don't even speak anything not spoken outside /this part/ of Nigeria. If they did, they'd probably be officers, or not in a separatist militia in the first place. They filter away to return to their positions, just looking over at the car from time to time.

Aramasu Hikage says, "Our other option would be to go see this Olayiwola and talk to him. We can either try and get ourselves hired by him as well OR we can flat out tell him that the prince tried to hire us to kill him and see what we learn after that. We got three choices basicly and unfortunately none of them has a way back."

Nightbeat himself doesn't answer. As a goody-goody Autobot, even a shady, disruptiable Autobot, he's feeling distinctly uncomfortable about where this investigation is going. However, as soon as Muzzle asks the question, Nightbeat's thinking about it, and he can't keep the answer from his Headmaster partner. So Muzzle answers, "The diamond is African, no shock. Could be from any of several mines in South Africa, which is, unfortunately, a large area. Very likely a conflict diamond, but given that we were offered it in exchange for murder, it'd be a conflict diamond, anyway." He rubs his eyes. "There are more options, you know. Always are. For one, we /could/ sneak in and snoop around for more concrete evidence. Think you might be better at that than me."

Aramasu Hikage nods "That is an option albeit a temporary one. I doubt the prince will wait very long for us to complete this task. Still I suppose I could sneak into the building and bring us back a sample of the diamonds. If we prove they are conflict diamonds...then what? I doubt the local police will make a big case of this."

Muzzle folds his hands over Nightbeat's steering wheel, and he explains, "I'm still wondering where the diamonds're coming from. Why the Prince has them. It might indicate what kind of allies he has, who he's trading with - and I'm curious what it is that he has here that would be worth diamonds from elsewhere. Now, back to the judge. We don't know if he's even a decent person or not," though a bit of research will help on that matter, "or if he knows anything we want to know. The Prince may be trying to buy his way into office, but that doesn't necessarily make him worse that the legit ruler." Muzzle thinks back to Zarak and grimaces.

Aramasu Hikage nods "Allright we will do it your way." Hikage still has to get used to do things the 'Good' way and actually worry about collateral damage. "I'll get suited up and get in there tonight."

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===================== Autobot =================================== Message: 3/176                    Posted        Author Nigeria                           Sat Nov 14    Nightbeat -- Nightbeat appears, looking vaguely disgruntled. He puts his hands up in protest, and he reports, "I would like to preface this by saying that no, I did not murder anyone, okay? Neither did Muzzle. And I am pretty sure that Aramasu Hikage of the EDC didn't murder anyone, either." Well, not recently, anyway.

"So. Red Alert's report back on November 2nd indicated that the Decepticons are involved with insurgents in Senegal. Hearing that Dokubo-Asari, a warlord in Nigeria, was trying to buy his way into the presidency there, I decided to take a look-see. Now, I know we Autobots don't involve ourselves in human affairs. That's why I brought Aramasu Hikage of the EDC along. Besides, as it turns out, it's not exactly just human business, anymore."

"See, Dokubo-Asari traded some old chemical bombs called Mark-116 "Weteyes" to the MFDC, a separatist group in Senegal, in exchange for the diamonds he needs to bribe his way into office. The Weteyes were developed back in the 1960s by the USA and were supposed to be decommissioned. A lil' worryingly, though they were intended to carry GB and VX nerve gasses, bad enough as it is, they can be filled with pretty much anything you can imagine. So. Old bombs. Who would want those?"

Nightbeat's expression turns grim, and he cues a slideshow of various Earth-moded Seekers.

"Nearly all of the Earth-mode Seekers could be equipped to carry Weteyes, whereas most modern Terran militaries wouldn't even have the right hardpoints on their planes to think about it. A few outdated backwaters, maybe, but..."

"So, in summary, it sure looks like the Decepticons are providing assistance to the MFDC in Senegal, which is pumping money into the region, which is destabilizing other countries in the region, like Nigeria. What do we do? It's a thorny question. I just gather the facts, folks."

Blip

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