Blotting Paper: A life of sex and drugs

[Lindblum]

This is a story whether real or fake, I leave it in your hands to decide. My stand is that it is FICTION. I am a Pick Up Artist; do not PM me for "anything" other than your love and sex life.

=============================================

You right there, the person reading this right now. Quit looking around and pay attention. Feeling insignificant, unappreciated, and always felt you could have achieved something greater? So your life took a detour, skewing off the great plan you once set for yourself. Because if you know what I'm talking about, then you are just like me. I know what you're wondering; who am I? Lets start with who I was. I was what you are when you look into a mirror right now; I was you. And if you looked hard enough, I promise you'll see the same amount of disbelief like I had at what you'll be able to accomplish on your own. If you even think you needed a doctorate in Physics, a bank vault full of money, or some special training from the government to be someone significant, you cannot be more wrong. How you choose to use this innate ability, is entirely your choice. If you're even remotely interested in how I used it to rattle the entire establishment, then boy do I have a tale to tell.

Chapter 1

Because for the longest time in my life, it wasn't always this way. For the first half of my life, I have been running someone else's race. Going to school, getting good grades, making it to Junior College, and I wasn't very good at it. I was someone else the government of Singapore wanted me to be; a product of the system. It seemed that if I wasn't good at Math and Science, I was stupid. In the end, I had to pursue an education in the United States.

September 2012, New York

The house party was typical; booze, college kids, underage college kids, and marijuana. Everything that I have questioned for the past 20 years of my life seemed to ended with my stay in the United States. The first time I did Marijuana in the United States, it made me question the morality my actions. The very line of right and wrong seemed to have blurred with the buzz of the THC, an active chemical in marijuana. I was well educated in Singapore; "say No to Drugs", say "No to underage sex", "Americans are too liberal", "Do not corrupt the Asian values". All these things were constantly reinforced by the Singapore government. Even in my time as a police officer, everything I learnt about drugs and narcotics was fed by the government.

Rewind back a few Months,

One day a friend visited from Los Angeles, a fellow Singaporean, Jay. He was on his Spring Break and decided to travel to the East Coast to visit. We drank, we talked, and then he brought up the topic on narcotics.

"Whoah Jay, you know it's wrong right. Marijuana, MDMA, what? You're scaring me right now."

"I knew you would say that L, but before you judge me, you should do your own research into it and determine which is right and wrong"

We went on talking, and after he left, I hit my computer. Research paper after research paper all the way into the morning. In a single night, I became an expert on marijuana, LSD, Cocaine, and MDMA. I immediately knew which were bad. Suddenly I felt I was lied to my entire life; I was taught that all drugs were addictive, causes mental problems, causes broken families etc etc. Right in front of my eyes were medical reports on the chemistry of marijuana and its actual recorded historical use that dated back to 1000BC. I began to formulate my own judgement to good and bad drugs as Jay suggested. Cocaine, Heroin, MDMA, Meth, they are all bad; I knew right from the research papers. One thing was clear: I had to get myself some Weed, and LSD, and I mean to try it.

At present, September 2012, New York.

All the months of partying, getting to know new people, building networks, exchanging contacts finally paid off. I was living the life. Here I was, at a party of college students from prestigious universities, and it was just one of the many parties I go to, and get invited to. It made me realize how hypocritical the whole world was. All we did the whole night was booze and getting stoned from marijuana. Addictive? Definitely not. You'll always hear someone having sex in the bathroom, or see a couple making out by the window. Cocaine, Marijuana, MDMA, name it. There'll always be somebody in the room who sells it. Ivy League university student by day, drug dealer by night, nothing new. The modulus operandi was always the same; sell to first hand contacts, exchange nothing more than your number, and name. Basic rule of thumb is: don't ask questions. The less you know, the better; just pay, Shut the fuck up, and enjoy.

"L, come meet my friend, David. David, L, L, David." Steven gestured with a Bud Light in his hand. Introduction was short, chill, and simple. David was a Korean American. A little taller than me, he wore a beanie, and had that typical swag about him when he talked. Smart dude, Economics major. We shook hands, made small talk. If there's one thing unique about David, it was that he was a drug dealer part time.

"Steven's been telling me all about you, how he gets his stuff from you. He shares it with me sometimes, but I pay him for a few grams of marijuana that he gets from you. Good stuff, the sativa buzz was light, and I didn't feel heavy from the indica cannabinoids."

"I'm glad you like it, L. You certainly know your stuff. Take my number xxxxxxxx, just let me know if you need more. You know I only sell to real enthusiasts who know the nitty gritty details of the bud, instead of wannabes who just want a smoke"

"Cool, thanks, you know what; Cheers. I'm actually looking for LSD, do you know where I can get some of those?"

"Try Silk Road"

Silk Road back then was the eBay and Amazon of the drug dealers. You use a secure program called TOR, log in, it directs you to an even deeper part of the web, and you key in the website Silk Road url and there you go. Money is exchanged through an online currency called Bitcoins which you have to pre-purchase beforehand. It's simple: you search your drug, see the dealers and their country of shipping (usually Canada), and then read the reviews and ratings about them from other buyers, and pay. Scammers and bad "products" are usually revealed through the reviews. You can buy anything you want on it, from Cocaine, to crystal Meth. Dealers receive their Bitcoins, they ship their product to you within 7 days in the most ingenious methods. It could be a bag of Godiva chocolates addressed to you as the "sweetheart", or a hollowed-out candle; it could be anything.

[prettymannequin]

Camping bro. Can't wait to see how it unfolds. :)

[Lindblum]

- Continued

It didn't take long for me to start hitting the keypads on my computer after I got home. Silk Road? The eBay of the dark underworld into any narcotics? Sounds a little too good to be true. Whatever it is, I had to give it a shot. I went on Reddit and read so much about Silk Road that I was beginning to get a clearer picture of how it worked. Whatever, lets try it.

"Lets see. BlueViolet99, most trusted Dealer for LSD, 5 stars for quality.. Hmm. Lets try it."

10 hits, $100 USD equivalent. So I waited for the mail. It came after 4 days, talk about speed. I opened the package; in it was a brand new wallet of some brand I never heard of before. There was even a card addressed to me wishing me and my family a Happy Birthday. I was touched. Hold on, was I scammed? It didn't take me long to realize that it was all part of the stealth act. Within the wallet was a strip of Blotting Paper, about the size of a name card. There were 10 squares, I suppose thats where I rip it off and eat it. Who cares, I felt like I was a hippie now in the 60s in the revolution of sex and counterculture. More importantly, I knew the science behind it - Im a science student. Organic chemistry is my life.

"Vivian, you gotta come over to my apartment tonight." Vivian was someone who is in that special zone where we like doing stuff together, drunk or sober. She was Asian, had long black hair with a slight curl. Nothing out of the ordinary if you see her on the streets. She majored in Art, and was a fellow pot smoker. According to her, smoking pot gives her the creative surge. She came, we talked, got relaxed and put a blot in our mouth.

After 20mins we were still talking. I knew it. It was a fake. There goes a 100 dollars, completely unrefundable. "Wasn't that where Annabelle met that White dude who said she - whoa, i think i just saw my fingers distort"

Vivian was laughing so hard and she said "I swear I saw the chairs move in the painting!"

Ok it was real. We felt connected to universe. I had all the answers, life, death. I found a way to fit 300 cows in a room, did that make any sense? Amazing, we lay down and rubbed against each other looking at the ceiling. Suddenly her hair felt so soft, like black mush mellows that I had to have it all over my face. She kept put her hands in my pocket and kept swirling it around and said it felt like the depths of eternity.

"If pockets were deep enough, it is possible to reach in and pull out anything you want.."

And I just thought to myself, that is so true.. Wow, the world started making sense now.. We just wanted to cuddle and feel the universe..

[SammyNewbie]

Wow Even Lindblum is here to write stories. Yay! ^^

Edit : Regarding Drugs, what they say is true about why artists use drugs. I tend to get those juices flowing after a good bonk or when I am stuck in a mental block. Never tried hard drugs yet though.

[hustlaV]

This...is something interesting!!
Camping for more! :D

[Lindblum]

- Continued

There we were on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly we didn't feel like talking anymore. The whole feeling of being in harmony with everything else around was just overwhelming. Although I remembered dimming the lights down, the whole place seemed to light up with as if someone spiritual was in the room. I felt transcendent. It was unlike Marijuana, where you either stone in a couch locked state, or get filled with creative energy and find everything around you funny. This time, it was pure imagination.

The acid "trip" intensified as the minutes went by. Out of the blue Vivian started counting while lying against my chest with my arm inside her shirt.

"One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six.." and on she went counting. I kept my silence and smiled at the ceiling where I could see rotating tiles switching positions like those old school tile games, where you had to move tiles to form a picture, except it was much more transcendent and interesting now. I knew we were losing track of time, thats why Vivian started counting. Even with marijuana, depending on the "trip", time distortion is a typical occurrence, where you feel like you've slowed down time to a crawl. The clock seemed to be stuck forever at 9:57pm. Was there something wrong with the clock? I could swear I knew we were tripping for at least 15 to 20minutes, but why is the clock indicating that only 2minutes had passed? Relax, I gotta relax. I let this new energy take me and told my consciousness "Now, take me places!"

My fingers were so sensitive, I didn't realize I was gently kneading Vivian's belly and her new found sensitivity seemed to have set in as well. Her arms were now wrapped back around my neck as she pulled my face down to feel my breath on her neck. Whatever sensation sex typically held when sober, this right now was at least heightened exponentially. I wasn't horny, but I really in all honesty wanted to take in the texture of her skin as it glided against mine. I wanted to achieve a spiritual connection with Vivian where we could be one in spirit and mind. We slipped out of our clothes slowly and continued our skin to skin bonding rubbing my chest against her breasts. I needed to smell more of her breast; I don't know why, but I just wanted to take in every scent her breast gave out. I could feel the molecules around her and her skin respirating and hear it in subtle hisses. I moaned. She moaned. Then as we glided against each other, the bedsheets crinkled and wrinkled. I saw an ocean on the bed! Clean to the seabed, and wavy on the surface. I was on top of Vivian, and she was my boat. We were swimming. It was the most amazing feeling ever achieved. I had to make love to her on the sea surface. We couldn't sink; apart from her warm skin, I could feel and hear the waves all around as we were love making. I was inside her, thrusting in slowly and pulling out. Were we moving? Now I know where the phrase "sex is the motion of the ocean" came from. It was a revelation, and it made me happy knowing we were making love to the motion of the ocean waves.

Almost there. I felt a surge inside; it was so sensitive that I could feel my semen flowing through every vein and loaded into the barrel. Finally I came. Jet after jet of semen came bursting out and made their run to freedom inside her pussy. She started moaning and gasping.

"I can feel it. I can feel everything being shot inside. I can feel it clinging on to my walls. L, I feel your sperm swimming!"

I know she wasn't lying. She wasn't alone in that feeling. I could feel a part of myself inside her even though it left my body. It wasn't an intense sex, but it was in every way a spiritual connection where all life and the universe was in harmony achieved through our bodies. And it was also a new revelation: sex on LSD was the best.

To be Continued -

[Lindblum]

Hi all, I appreciate your PMs and inquiries. You must have a lot of questions to why this write up doesn't feel like fiction. I will not answer it. As I stated earlier, I will only answer PMs relating to girls, and nothing more. Please do not ask me for anything "else" . I believe in harm reduction, and do not condone breaking the law

[Lindblum]

Chapter 2 - The Magic Dragon

I was an enthusiast. Ever since I did Marijuana, it was a life altering experience. A man can call himself a lot of things, social smoker, social drinker etc. The truth is, I don't buy that bullshit. A smoker is a smoker, period. However being an enthusiast is different. Ever since I experienced this new found freedom, I had to know more. The US had its own fan clubs dedicated to Marijuana, LSD, and they were huge. Every bud I smoked, I knew its content, right down to its name. Almost every college kid who does Marijuana here know what they are getting. We talk about it at parties, and nobody is clueless.

Marijuana is a general term, it is broken down into a Sativa, and an Indica. From there, there are thousands of strains (think of it as species). It could be a Sativa (characterized by a head buzz, creativity, energy, giggling ), it could be an Indica (characterized by time distortion, couch locking, body numbing). Certain people liked different things, and every time you approach a dealer, you just have to tell him your preference, maybe a Sativa dominant strain. He'll give you the name of the strain he has in stock, you'll go online and check the data bases. If you like the reviews and the content breakdown, you'll buy it. Thats the way it works in the US: You tell him what you want, he quotes his stock and his price, tell him when/where to meet, you pay for it, he gives you what you want. People usually buy a gram at a time. Nobody in school wants to hold a large amount because it is a felony. The unspoken rule is: Let the dealers deal with the law. Even if he rats you out to the cops, the cops won't even bother about you - they go after the dealers, and the kingpins. Possession laws in New York are 25grams, and a $100 fine if police catch you with for the first time. Who the hell carries 25grams ? Even for home consumption, 25 grams is a lot.

I can't help it. I used to be a Police Officer in SPF, so how the drug network runs in the US really intrigues me. The ironic truth is, most dealers don't even know their dealers. It's an intricate network that stretches all the way to Columbia, Canada and Mexico, and needless to say, run by cartels. These are the guys the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration) are interested in. In University grounds, the student dealers buy just enough from their sources to sell to their first hand contacts. They generally avoid using Smart Phones - most I've seen use analog dumb phones. There isn't 1 big dealer; there's a dealer, another dealer, and another, each with their own network who are completely unrelated, and from different sources. Most don't even know each other. Contrary to what movies portray, these people are non-violent, and non-aggresive especially the Marijuana dealers. Geeky looking, long hair like Jonas Brothers, wears glasses, Honor roll students, typically spends most of his time in the library studying. Some are fat as fuck like Seth Rogan, some are scrawny looking who look like they can get blown away by the wind. They probably even know more games than you.

[fatfella]

Bro where you copying this story from?
It's obviously not yours.
Why you plagiarise?
You Shia Lebeouf is it???!!! Haha.

[Lindblum]

Bro where you copying this story from?
It's obviously not yours.
Why you plagiarise?
You Shia Lebeouf is it???!!! Haha.

feel free to Google it. I wrote this. What else is there to say. Anyway, Thanks for indirectly saying its really good. I needed that.

If anyone can find this story elsewhere, I will pay you money for it.

[SammyNewbie]

OMGz! I wantz to buy Acid from somewherez. It sounds awesome to try at least once! ^.^

Edit: Crouching SN, Hidden Lindblum.

It seems there are alot of untapped hidden talents in this forum =)

[Lindblum]

- Continued Chapter 2 (Epiphany)

Somehow the game changed with the discovery of Silk Road. I don't need to go and meet someone deep inside GAP, H&M, or a Clothing Store to do the exchange. I didn't need to risk showing my face anymore. Simple, easy of use, and most of all, anonymous. I didn't care if DEA found a way to hack into Silk Road and extract its database. I bought small, and even if they got to my house, it'll be long gone. Dealers were comfortable too; they could sell to anyone now, and people could rate their services and product quality. Everyone was happy with the new system. Needless to say, this created a new problem for the law enforcers, but more on that later.

Of Rainbows and Magic Dragons

Vivian and I knew this was the shit. Its no wonder the hippie culture of the 60s involved the greatest social revolution in the US. It brought about an explosion of expression and art forms; scientists were using it and testing it in military applications, doctors saw it as a treatment from headaches, to anxiety - everyone was in on the action. It had a reason to be big, and I knew why now.

The 10 tabs I bought from Silk Road soon ran out, not by my own consumption, but I gave half of it to Vivian who wanted it for creativity and inspiration. I got to admit, her ideas were pretty good. She wasn't the first art student I know. I know plenty of Art and Music student all around. Singapore is probably the only place in the world with the highest concentration of engineering students. You can hardly find an engineering student at a social event or a general University event. Apparently Americans would rather pursue hard sciences like Chemistry, and Biology or the Humanities that involved a lot of expression. That's probably why marijuana and LSD are popular among these students.

"L, anyone in the Arts can tell you they would kill for inspiration," quoting Vivian.

She was right. It wasn't long before she started buying stuff from Silk Road, and we would trip together with some friends over the weekends either over smoke, or a Blot. We never mix the two - I told them myself, its a huge unknown and you never know how they may combine in your body to form a poison. Ask me, I should know; HCl in your stomach reacts with an alkene hydrocarbon in the LSD formation. Who's to say how THC and LSD will react together. There was Josh, Coby, Jessica, and Melissa. All of us were enthusiasts in our own right. Whenever I was in doubt about the THC content in the Weed that didn't measure up to the dealer's claim, my first reaction is always "Ask Melissa, she would know." For the record, Melissa was Singaporean; ironic isn't it. Soon, instead of talking in-terms of THC and cannabinoids percentages, we were talking in micrograms. 150ug, 250ug, 300ug, became our reference to LSD. Some dealers claim to provide 250ug per Blot, but sometimes shit happens, where claim doesn't measure up to reality. Were we addicted? Definitely not. I felt I drank more coffee and tea in the morning even before I came to the US.

Like me, Melissa was completely disillusioned with Singapore. We were typical products of the government, fed with whatever they wanted us to think and behave. Every testimony from government approved sources we grew up on centered around a drug addict who went on a life of crime hurting himself and his family, until he "changed". So stereotypical it was, I can even predict their next storyline, with new faces, new races, and new bloodshed. It was ironic because, as a scientist in training myself, I had to know what that glorified addict was on before - I had to know his circumstances. For the record, from my own studying. Almost everything else under the umbrella of narcotics is bad. The psychedelic content claimed by dealers can only be proven through chemical testing. Psychoactive drugs like Cocaine and MDMA are typically infused and mixed with cheap and dangerous fillers in its form to cause a bigger "high". In Singapore, there was no room for question. Take what the government tells you, and shut up. I remember even doing a test in school about drugs that certified us as "experts" at the end of it.

[zserty258]

wow woo wow! Another great story in the making! Hope to see more of it coming!

[SammyNewbie]

Since when ever was there such a test? I remember anti drug talks... but tests? ^^"

[Lindblum]

Since when ever was there such a test? I remember anti drug talks... but tests? ^^"

There was. Wasn't a spaced sitting or a serious test. took place in Civics and Moral Education class.

[SammyNewbie]

Most of mine were used up for Math or English Lessons instead. After all, they are non gradeable or simply not part of KPI.

I am your most loyal fan waiting here, but take your time and no pressure :)

[Lindblum]

Most of mine were used up for Math or English Lessons instead. After all, they are non gradeable or simply not part of KPI.

I am your most loyal fan waiting here, but take your time and no pressure :)

thanks dude. will make sure you're well entertained.

[Lindblum]

To all, I'm amazing , but please don't take a story too seriously lol . It's like watching a really good movie and wondering if it's true

[SammyNewbie]

LOL, have u been getting to many PMs about how to get teh goodz? ^^".

[Lindblum]

Cold Rain Drops

December 2012:

Daylight Savings Time in the United States made me exactly 13 hours behind Singapore. Finding time to communicate with family and friends back home was a challenge. That night in my apartment, I received an Email from Raymond Lee.


From: Raymond Lee ([email protected])
To: [email protected]
Subject: Long Term Leave

“Dear L.,
How are you? To update you, I took over from Zamri as TL as of June 2012. We have a few new members in our NPC. Just reminding you that you have to be back before Aug 2013 or you might have to go for retraining again. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
INSP(V) Raymond"


I was already a Volunteer Special Constabulary (VSC) in SPF. I had been in it since my NS ORD in 2008. It was 9 months of training in everything and we were paid a meagre $3.60 an hour just for allowance. The Police Command wanted to keep it that way to preserve the nobility of the volunteer police officer. We were thrown right into the frontlines to complement the Regulars in the execution of their duties. We did everything from plainclothes to patrol duties under close supervision. I was posted to Tanglin Police Division. Being a VSC was the best deal ever. We get to choose our duty dates and most people come in when they are free. You want to know what's even better? Our ranks and power are the same as the Regulars. SPF standardized the ranks a long time ago and endowed us with equal powers. In 2011 after I got my university acceptance letter, I decided to try my luck and just apply for leave. I didn't want to quit. By then, I was already familiar with police work and criminal activity.

“Fuck, I have to go back!” Retraining was a really nice way of saying, if I don't come back, I'll be kicked out.

That Email was a problem. I had to do my undergraduate major in the US, and I was far from completing it. How can I possibly go back right now when I’m barely 1 year into my studies? Earlier that month, I got a reply from Harvard and Yale’s financial office, stating I could apply for financial aid but the outcome is discretionary if I got into their Medicine School. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? My prospects were limited with a Chemistry undergraduate degree. Sure, I could find a job, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do in life. I wanted Medicine, and if any country were to offer me an opportunity to go to Medical School, it would be the US. My own country, Singapore, already denied me any dream of wanting to go to Medical School the moment I entered JC. I wasn’t the A*Star student the country wanted. In the US, people get into Medicine even with just a 3.3-GPA. All you need is a shit load of money, and a kick-ass Resume that really sets you apart from the competition.

I wanted status, I wanted to return to my country with glory, and my head held high; to show everyone who looked down on me before what I have achieved in life. Being rich isn’t my goal, but if everyone in my country sees a doctor as the very epitome of individual achievement, I will get it. This dream, albeit distant and unrealistic, gave me hope; that if I worked hard, I will get it – the very essence of The American Dream.

There were a couple of problems: My dad’s business into food catering was failing. His regular customer switched to a different caterer, and he had trouble finding new ones. His business model was looking for factories and industries in far off areas, providing food catering to the workers. In the good old days, he used to boast about supporting me until I finished Professional School, either a PhD, or Medicine. Now, I was about to get kicked out of the Singapore Police Force. My hope in getting a kick ass resume was starting to fall apart. Initially, the grand plan was to get recognized in the Force, rise so far in rank and appointment so that when I apply to Professional school, they would see me as a unique and high flying candidate. Fuck my life..

[blade]

Like your writing style.. Carry on pls.

[Lindblum]

Like your writing style.. Carry on pls.

thanks bro . stay tuned . this isn't a typical story , i guarantee you that .

[Lindblum]

- Continued.

Chapter 3 - Hidden Treasure

December 2012

Taurine, Google, and Red Bull were my best friends for the past few days. Whatever problem the world lay before me, had to be cast aside. My world froze for this period. I haven't replied INSP(V) Raymond Lee for 3 days, my friend's Frat house had been converted from a party place into a studying utopia, and all I did was study. Whatever decision that needed to be made had to be done soon. That Friday night, I was staring at my Silk Road browser.

"Damn," I thought to myself. So far I've been buying my Blots of LSD from BlueViolet99 for at least $15 to $20 a Blot. My usual order was 5 hits which usually came disguised inside a little voucher book. The vouchers were real, but I wasn't interested in buying furniture. His reviews were astronomical, coming from LSD enthusiasts who gave him nothing but praise for quality and speed. 250ug LSD was my favorite although I started out with 150ug. It was so convenient and stealth. Believe it or not, 1 drop of LSD on a Blotting Paper is all it took, and the effects lasted for hours. It was odorless and colorless. A random thought came in, "Why don't I just buy in bulk." I shrugged it off, but sent a Private Message to BlueViolet99 anyway.

"Love your wares, dude. High quality. Interested in bulk buying, what's the catch?" Away the Private Message went.

Finals were finally over, and every one was happy. Even the hippie couple who obviously didn't study was happy. The following Friday night, there was another party, I was invited, but what's new. I took a few days after the Finals, just relaxing at home, and jogging around Central Park to think things through. One thing was certain; I had to go back to Singapore. I needed an awesome Resume, and I needed money for Professional school.

"Why don't I just bring LSD back and sell it to Art students?" It echoed through my head, followed by a reminder of Singapore's harsh drug laws. Wait a second. If it's odorless, colorless, formless, then theoretically speaking, I could bring in a bottle and make at least a 100 hits of LSD on Blotting Paper or anything that can absorb a drop. The street drug price in Singapore was typically $30 SGD for 0.1grams. That's how ridiculous street drug prices are in Singapore because of the harsh penalties. That is a lot of money. Ideally, if I was able to sell 100 hits of LSD at $40 a hit, I could be making $4000. Awesome idea, but I know it's going to take a lot more to stay alive and elusive in Singapore. Ask me, I should know; I was, no, I AM a Police Officer. Nobody knows the law and operations better than me. I have seen cases go unsolved, I have seen Investigation Officers (IOs) scratching their heads, and I have seen how the underworld worked. Suddenly the sky looked clearer than before; I looked up, squinted at the sun, and smirked.

[Lindblum]

- Continued .

That Thursday before the party, Google became my best friend once more. I went through all the news the internet contained regarding to Singapore's drug bust, and how people get caught, internationally, and domestically. From all the readings, I came up with the following observations of how people get caught:

1) They are idiots
2) They carried pills and powders around with them, strapped to their body, or luggage.
3) They tried to beat the system which was created to sniff people like them out, especially at the Airport.
4) There was first hand and unintentional second hand contact with undercover agents.
5) There was a tip off. I speculate, a dealer got caught, and in exchange for clemency, he tipped off the DEA/Police.

It made me so excited I nearly shit in my pants. It was a challenge to me; Challenge Accepted. Maybe that's why I'm a scientist in training. I observe, hypothesize, and work on challenges. If there's a problem, I will find a solution to it. Each time I read a drug bust article, I took deep breaths and told myself, "Use your head, not your fear".

"Trust no one; betray every one." Those were the rules to staying alive and elusive. In that same day, after days of waiting, I got a reply from BlueViolet99. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. It read: "Depending on order, I will instruct."

The game was on. Even though BlueViolet99 wasn't specific, I knew he was interested in bulk orders. After all, LSD sellers on Silk Road are typically underground chemists with the right equipment to synthesize LSD. You needed an intimate knowledge of chemistry to make LSD, much less down to specific micrograms. It wasn't like Cocaine, where farmers in Colombia could do the job with microwave ovens and gasoline. I did enough research into underground LSD manufacturing to know these underground chemists prefer to run their operations on their own, meaning there was no Dealer involved. No dealer involved, less risk. With Silk Road, they were literally on a roll.

I did the math on paper. To make my time worthwhile in bringing back to Singapore, I needed at least 500 drops. A single 5ml dropping bottle could dispense 100 drops, which translated to 100 hits. Supposing I sold it at $40 SGD a hit, I could be making close to $20,000 SGD for 500 hits. No way was I going to bring Blotting Paper back; carrying 500 pieces of Blotting Paper is clearly asking for trouble from any security department. If I was going to bring it back, It was going to be in eye drop bottles, preferably medicinal eye drop bottles with authentic labeling and branding to be more convincing to security agents and the police if ever check me; thats IF they ever check me.

BlueViolet99 typically sells a hit for $15 to $20 USD. I'm sure bulk orders would be a lot cheaper.

"Thanks for replying, I really appreciate it. I've been buying from you for some time now. Am looking to buy at least 500 hits - No tabs, no blots. Preferably fluid. 250ug. I propose $2500. Please quote your price and instruct."

I was just trying my luck. My proposition was $5 USD a hit. One thing I learnt from my mom about haggling, is first cutting the price down to its lowest and slowly increasing it until the seller is comfortable. Thank my mom, thank Queensway Shopping Centre.

[Lindblum]

latest post has been updated and edited.

[Lindblum]

To the person who Upped me , thanks a lot ; it was encouraging

[Lindblum]

- Continued Chapter 3

Blueprints

To me, if there was any take home lesson from the previous drug busts that incarcerated and executed dealers, it would be the following:

1) Minimize all contact. Never meet a customer; he could be followed or he could be an agent of the law.
2) There was a need for an undetectable medium for package drop off and pick up for customer.
3) Leave no paper trail (credit cards, phone bills, bank statements)
4) Secure mode of payment

Being in the United States taught me a few things about old school drug dealers. First, nobody will approach you to sell and buy drugs unlike how movies portray it. That stereotype where there would be a Black dude with a beanie and a bling standing by a street corner who anyone could approach to buy drugs from simply does not exist. Second, it isn't difficult to work your way out from your inner circle of friends to their extended network to locate a dealer whom he also considers a "First Hand Contact."

The first time I bought my drugs from dealers, I did the exact same thing. I scanned my network, attended events and parties, profiled people who would most likely be involved or had contacts to Dealers. Was it difficult to profile people? No, the answer is No. In college, all you needed was to identify the dudes who walked into the lecture hall/event and had a few people from various cliques and social circles saying "Hi" or fist-bumped him. Take note who they are, find chances to sit next to them next and initiate conversation with a simple "Hi," play it cool, and back off. Every time you see the same person anywhere in school, go up say "Hi" and say "Catch you later," until one day he wants to talk. That was how I got initially invited to various parties and exposed myself to their networks.

If I could do this, so can undercover agents.

"No meeting customers," I told myself.

I needed a platform like Silk Road under a secure network like TOR Onion to mask myself and my customers. TOR essentially bounces your IP and servers off almost every worldwide server at random making it a nightmare for security agencies to track you down. It would be ideal for every one. The thing is: I'm a science major, not an IT expert. I needed a partnership; a partner who could manage such a system and website under TOR Onion, and I needed to make his time worthwhile. Secondly, I needed that partner, whom I know and trust, to stay in the US for me to funnel money to and fro, and more importantly, away from Singapore where there was little room to hide.

"Coby's brother, Phillip Kyung." That was the first name that came to mind. IT major, and the only one I know who wasn't afraid of breaking the law, and most importantly, meticulous.

That's the thing about doing crime; it has no room for mistakes. The police have thousands of people cracking their heads trying to piece a case against you, while you are one man. People who got busted always made a mistake somehow. They were careless. Either they met an agent who followed the drug and money trail, or they were betrayed by someone who got caught. In Singapore, the Police and CNB always never declare in the papers how they busted the Dealer, but if you sit down and think about it, it will not take long to realize that all they needed was to catch one customer for Possession, make him cry in the interrogation room, strike him a deal of co-operation, and make him reveal the contacts/networks, then trace the phone numbers and stake out patiently while figuring out where the Dealer hides his stash and cash. "Be smarter than the police, and you will live one more day," a philosophy I held all the way especially in Singapore.

No meeting customers, no first hand contacts, I told myself repeatedly. The difference between me and the busted dealers? I'm smarter than the Police.

[Lindblum]

Dear all, please UP me if you like my story, or post comments if you're not able to. It motivates me to write more, because i know someone is reading it, if not ill lose motivation and stop writing

[Sen5eS]

of course there are readers Bro ... probably most of em are lost in the milky way having a helluva trip waiting for your updates hahaha :)

Keep em coming :)

[Lindblum]

of course there are readers Bro ... probably most of em are lost in the milky way having a helluva trip waiting for your updates hahaha :)

Keep em coming :)

thanks dude, appreciate it

[donkeykong99]

its a great script for breaking bad singapore version

[blade]

thanks bro . stay tuned . this isn't a typical story , i guarantee you that .

I get that drift ;)

Anyway I like stories like that. been reading alot of Al Steiner stuff.

[smellycatt]

came here to plus one,
or rather, plus 6!

great story, please continue

[Tailsman]

TS very good writing. Pls continue.

[Spikerman]

sex on Drugs :) very rock and roll ! haha

[Lindblum]

-Continued Chapter 3

Blueprints (II)

Things were getting serious. There was a plan; it was to utilize TOR Onion's deep web to set up a market place where I could receive orders, money, and showcase my products without detection from law enforcement agencies. My plan was to have my partner run the whole operation here from the United States, while I stationed myself in Singapore to ship the goods domestically to customers in covert ways through the mail. That way, even if CNB and CID wanted to trace any IP, it wouldn't be possible. My partner will be running it overseas, bouncing the IP from server to server. CNB and CID would then engage Interpol, after determining it came from an overseas address. Even so, it would take a long time to even figure out where it was coming from.

Failing to plan was planning to fail. To beat the cops, I would have to think like a cop.

My operation was based on a single assumption on where CNB, CID, and Interpol would start looking. The way I saw it, CNB, CID, and Interpol would access TOR Onion like any user. They would see our username, and track where was this IP and server coming from. I called this Channel 1, and this would be where I would be sending them on a wild goose chase. Based on this, it wouldn't take long for CNB and CID to realize that there had to be a local contact (me) doing the shipping.

CNB, and CID, has no lack of experience catching drug dealers. But their very pride would be their downfall. So far, all the drug busts that they pride themselves over in the newspapers involved a dumb dealer with the standard old school drop off, pick up, and money exchange tactics. "So crass.. so unrefined.." Shaking my head. Never have they encountered someone who was educated, who would blatantly ship drugs over SingPost domestically in the guise of gifts, vouchers, advertisements, books, pamphlets, and greeting cards. All I needed was to slot Blotting Paper into one of those, stick a stamp, and drop it off in the mail. There are thousands of Posting Boxes all over the country, I would love to see them stake every one of them out. Since LSD is odorless, and colorless, they would have to open every single mail just to find my LSD Blotted Paper, and face national outrage. The more I planned, the more the excitement I felt. I could beat the whole system and tear their pride down. I was the master criminal..

I drew three lines on a paper parallel to each other. One line represented the order channel from Singapore to my partner, the second represented my communications channel to him. The third represented the money trail. All three lines had to run separately, and simultaneously. At that point in time, I haven't gotten it figured out. I needed to talk to Phillip Kyung.

[blade]

more pls...

[b0b0y]

nice .. nice .. pls continue

[Lindblum]

Thanks all for the support . I usually try to work on 2 story posts in a day . There'll be 2 posts tomorrow .

[Lindblum]

-Continued Chapter 3

Insomnia

My table was a complete mess. There were notes, RedBull cans, and books everywhere. Even my trash bin was surrounded by pizza boxes and sandwich wraps. Since the Finals, I never got down to cleaning my apartment. That thursday night I was swarmed with emotions. My gut was constricted, my head was buzzing from the Headband strain I just smoked.

"Too heavy on the Indica," as I got up from the couch. Simply put, I was high. My plans were not complete; there were tons of loopholes that could be easily exploited by security departments.

I logged on to Silk Road again, BlueViolet99 had replied, and was currently online.

" US$6000 for 45ml. You get as much as I can fit into the bottle. I will come down to NYC. Cash only "

Huh, how did he.. Right.. He knew my address, and knew I was in NYC. As expected of a Dealer cum Chemist, he kept a record of his dealings; a tactic typical of Dealers to get leverage over you.

Wait a second, that would mean US$6.66 a hit for a total of 900 hits, working on a 20 drop per mL assumption. Supposing I sold at $40 SGD per hit, I could be making $36000 SGD. Hell yea, I was in.

“ Deal is good, thanks a lot. Where and when do we meet? “

“ Soon. I will instruct via mail after you send me a copy of your State ID as insurance. Email it to 12cv99@mallinator com or deal is off “

Shit just got real; I drew back and sank into my chair. Should I, should I not? State ID? I only have a Singapore Passport. But it looks like he wouldn’t meet to sell unless I sent him a copy of some kind of identification. Till this day, I wasn’t sure if I was thinking straight that night; I was pretty high on weed to begin with. I took a picture of my Passport, and uploaded it to him.

Then there was no further reply.

As I sobered up from the Weed, I realized the shit I was in. I just fucking gave a copy of my Passport to a drug dealer, how intelligent was that. “Master criminal my ass...” I covered my face and lost count of the number of times I said “Fuck.” Truly an amateur.. I couldn’t sleep anymore.

For the first half of Friday, I was lost in my head. I kept asking myself “What could he possibly do?” He knew my address before, and now he knew everything about me down to my last name. There was no way I could stay anonymous anymore. If he got busted, the DEA will come looking for me, seeing from his records how much he sold me. Whatever it was, my life was in God’s hands. I hope he doesn’t get caught, and I freaking hope he’s as smart as he thought he was. Lets just hope he keeps his word and uses it as insurance..

All that stress had to come out somewhere. That night, I partied like there was no tomorrow; I couldn’t even remember what I did other than playing games with this girl from Queens and banging her in the bathroom doggie style then passing out on the stairs. “Did I use condoms?” I wasn’t sure, but I know I always make it a point to fuck with a condom when doing it with a stranger. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny that the bathroom had a little basket of condoms of all sorts sitting on top of the bowl; courtesy of the host.

One thing was certain; I had to leave the US as soon as possible in case he gets busted. Hopefully, just hopefully, the DEA wouldn't give a shit about me if they knew I had already left the country.

[Lindblum]

-Continued Chapter 3

Friends

Once the hangover from the previous night wore off, I ran to the bathroom, and splashed my face with water. “Get your shit together!” The thing about drug dealers was that you can never ever trust them. Who was BlueViolet99, I did not know, but since he had insurance, I needed insurance too. That’s the way this game worked; you got to have something on each other. Having leverage over someone is ideal, but if you don’t have leverage, then you would need at least an identification of some kind just in case. Trust was almost non-existent. Perhaps fate wanted me to learn this lesson in the US where the penalties were milder before going back to Singapore. In Singapore, one mistake could cost me my life. I became more optimistic; I will learn from this.

“Phillip, it’s me L. Could we meet to talk at my place tonight at 7pm? I’ll get beers and pizzas; all you need is to show up,” My text read.

“ I’m down dude.”

Phillip Kyung was second generation Korean American. One thing about Koreans was that they were really proud of their ethnicity, and they weren’t afraid to show it. He was about my height, 168cm, skinnier, had hair that extended beyond his ears, and never really had a sense of fashion. His jeans were baggy, and completely out of style. Who cares, he was a genius in his own right. Sometimes the Asian stereotype about being good at computers, math, and science was pretty accurate, but we just don’t like hearing it from non-Asians.

The bell rang at 7:15pm. We sat down and did small talk as always. I eased the topic on Silk Road, and my whole plan in. During this whole time, his face was expressionless, never saying more than the occasional “Ahh.” Somehow whenever he did that, I was reminded of an old joke about Koreans always saying “Ahhhhh,” Japanese always saying “Ehhhhhh,” and the Chinese always saying an incredibly sharp “Orh.”

“You’re fucking kidding me right?"

“I have already arranged a meeting with my dealer; I’m serious. I’m getting 900 hits"

“I.. I really don’t know if you’re fucking crazy or just plain stupid, L"

“$100,000 . That’s my target. We’ll split it 50-50. I’ll get 900 hits first, then I’ll return and get more from him. It’s so easy to come over with a Singapore passport. Clearing immigration is a breeze."

“You’re going to get caught, and we’re going to jail; I don’t like jail. I’m Asian, they’ll fuck my ass in there," rolling his eyes as Phillip chewed on his Pizza.

“That’s why I approached you. You were the one who explained TOR Onion to me. I NEED you, Phillip. To pull this off, I need someone who is paranoid, meticulous, and knows exactly what he’s doing. Look, I don’t care if you’ve been jobless for the past year; I need your skills, and you need my brains. Don't forget, I know the system"

Then the room fell silent.

I had said my bit, gave my business pitch, now it was in his hands. If he was against it, the whole Operation was off. Somehow I knew he liked the idea of using LSD. If there was one drug we could sell through the mail, walk through customs, and carry around without getting caught, it would be LSD. Odorless, colorless, and formless; these were the traits that would make it a success. While law enforcers spend their time and resources looking for pills and powders, we could just slip right past them, smile at their dogs, and walk out of the airport a free man.

That was the thing I learnt about being a Pick Up Artist; misdirection. When everyone was fixated on one thing, you do something else. Meth, Cocaine, Weed, ICE, Heroin etc - Those were the hard drugs the Police were looking for. Nobody would think about LSD, much less in Singapore where the dealers are dumb, their chemists are stupid, and the Police so acclimatized to that kind of stupidity. If dealers in Singapore had to mix glass pieces in the Powder to induce a better "high" by cutting small capillaries in your body for more absorption, their chemists must be pretty stupid. I could make LSD an epidemic, then when the Police start looking for LSD, I switch to something else. I wouldn't be a criminal, no, that would be an understatement; I would be The criminal.

“I’ll think about it L…"

“I gave my dealer a copy of my passport. There’s not much he can do with it, but whether you’re in or not, 900 hits of LSD will be coming"

“You’re fucking crazy, I swear to God."

Maybe I was. But my mind was fixated on beating the system instead of earning fast money. Everybody thought Einstein was crazy. Make no mistakes, and I don’t think I will seeing God anytime soon.

[Lindblum]

Latest post has been updated and Edited

[Tailsman]

Cool man. Better than the CLIF showing on the sillycrop 8

[Superjam]

Cool man. Better than the CLIF showing on the sillycrop 8

I agree man. Even though there arent much sex scenes in his story yet, these cliffhangers are really keeping me excited.

I swear I could feel just about as much as he felt when the panic sets in hahaha. A story well told!

[Lindblum]

-Continued Chapter 3

Friends (II)

The following week, a letter arrived addressed to me in a pink envelope. In it was a pop out card wishing me a good day and signed off, Violet. Violet? Who's Violet? Something peculiar caught my eye; a small SIM card slotted into the corner. It was BlueViolet99.

Ahhh, so that's what BlueViolet meant. Clever motherfucker.

For an underground Chemist, he was sure going through a lot of precautions to protect himself. First my passport, then a SIM card to communicate. If you asked me, it was a truly an ingenious idea. In this fashion, there would only be one way to communicate with him. Paranoid? Maybe, but it was a brilliant plan. Anyone who received the SIM card could figure it out. It was way too dangerous to exchange numbers over Silk Road; The DEA or FBI may have already infiltrated the system with their tech department. Best to work on the assumption that they already have. Even the email address he gave me was from an anonymous email service. That way, even if the DEA was actively monitoring Silk Road reading all the Messages, they wouldn't have a fucking clue that we would be communicating through a secure phone line, on a SIM card dropped off through the mail. It was a foolproof double layered security. Truly brilliant.. I found myself saying as I looked at the SIM card between my finger tips. My guess back then was that the card was registered to someone else - it would be dumb of BlueViolet to take such precaution and register it under his name. Whatever it was, this BlueViolet99 was a professional; no doubt about that.

Luckily for me, I had an extra phone, and I waited for two days before I got a call from BlueViolet99 from that line. Needless to say, I was nervous.

"Hey there, liked the card?"

"H-HHey..... it was a little overdone don't you think"

"Hah maybe. Listen I'll be in NYC tomorrow. I will meet you at 545 W 110TH Street. Will 2pm be ok?"

"Perfect, see you there"

"You got it. Listen, come alone; we'll make it short and sweet"

He hung up.

Contrary to what I was expecting, he actually sounded pretty decent. Definitely White; 40s? I wasn't sure, but I had expected him to be a little more gangster-like. Been watching too many movies I suppose.

Right after he hung up, I made a phone call to Phillip and told him the details and a little plan that I had.

"That's all? You just want me to snap a picture of his face?"

"I need a close up shot, Phillip. Its Insurance."

"Ok got it, but just so we are clear, I haven't agreed with you on your plan to take over the world"

"It's a plan for us to get rich and for you to finally put your talent into use instead of playing games"

"Fuck you L"

One thing I found amusing was that games and IT guys always go together. Phillip was so good at World of Warcraft that he used brag to us about being friends with the legendary FireMage called Hansol. Nerd..I shook my head.

[sjkevent]

Love it ! The Asian Heisenberg with American Dream. Bet NY's life must be awesome. BTW, how old are you ?

[Lindblum]

Love it ! The Asian Heisenberg with American Dream. Bet NY's life must be awesome. BTW, how old are you ?

lol thanks! I'm 26 this year

[Lindblum]

- Continued Chapter 3

Friends (III)

I unlocked my luggage and took out the US$2500 my dad brought over when he came to visit in August. Perhaps its a thing with their generation; they preferred to carry a lot of cash. I kept procrastinating and never got down to actually depositing the money. Later that day, I made a trip down to the bank to withdraw the remaining US$3500. A part of me wanted to do this, and another part of me was reminded how hard my father had worked for this money, and I was about to spend it on LSD. I shouldn't be doing this; this wasn't right.

Investment, this was an investment..

If I pulled this whole Operation off, I could pay my dad 5, no 10 times the amount I took from him, plus interest. Agreeing to the deal with spending US$6000 on LSD was the easy part. It's only when you go to the bank to do the actual withdrawal that you have second thoughts. Seeing the actual money in your hands was more than enough to feel the gravity of things. How was I going to tell my dad that I'm now US$6000 short?

Course deposit for school.. Yea that's right... Just say it's a deposit for reserving my place in my school if I go back to Singapore.

My dad would be too busy, I don't even think he would even realize that there was no such thing. I was going to Hell for sure.

Twenty minutes until 2:00pm.. I kept looking at my watch, and time was just crawling. I didn't have any appetite for lunch; my gut was too constricted and I was taking short and light breaths. The bus stopped a few blocks away from 545 W 110TH Street, and I decided to take a slow walk on foot. If there was anything I learnt about being a Police Officer, it was to mind your surroundings. Every step I walked, I counted the possible locations BlueViolet or the DEA could be coming from. But I didn't expect the DEA that day; there was no way the DEA could have known from the secure phone line we used to communicate. If anything could go wrong today, it wouldn't be getting arrested. My worst fear, albeit unlikely, was that I was going to mugged of US$6000 by BlueViolet.

"I'm in the car. I will be able to see you once you turn the corner. Coby is at the other end smoking. Do not look at him once you're past him"

I took a quick glance at Phillip's text and put my personal phone back into my coat. The sky was clear, but there was a strong breeze today; typical of an early winter. For clearer recognition, I wore a red beanie on purpose in case.. just in case, something went horribly wrong with the deal. However amateurish this was, it was our only shot at getting a picture of BlueViolet. Phillip with the high zoom camera, Coby with a simple portable camera.

20 minutes past 2pm; still no sign of BlueViolet. My secure line with BlueViolet still hasn't rung. Why was he making me wait? I'm pretty sure he would show up, but being late was completely rude. Then I thought about what I would have done if I were him; I would have surveyed the surroundings first.

Shit.. Did he spot Coby and Phillip?

Though possible, but its an unknown. The longer I stood at the street corner, the more suspicious I was going to look, that was just common sense, was BlueViolet an idiot?

Finally, the call came in through the secure line. His voice was a little distorted by the breeze blowing across his receiver.

"Hey, I see you now. Take a turn, walk towards Central Park. Find the first bench you see, and sit down. I will be there; just wait for me."

"Ok, Got it."

I hung up on him.

I looked around; I couldn't see anyone who suited his profile, White, 40s, or at least that was what he sounded like to me. As I walked towards, my personal phone started ringing continuously. It had to be either Phillip or Coby wondering why I left my position. If BlueViolet was watching me, it would be unwise to pick it up now. That was why I wore the red beanie in the first place, so that they could spot me moving and make appropriate changes to the plan.

Almost there.. As I walked a couple of more blocks.

After sitting down as instructed, the waiting began again. Then he finally came, a Super Big Gulp of soda in his hand, grinning at me at the same time. He was White, had short white hair with a side parting, a little on the plump side, and a really gentle face with droopy cheeks. Absolutely not someone you'd expect to be a drug dealer. He looked more like my science professor than anything. The things people do for money..

[Spikerman]

There's always more than Meets the Eye :p

[Lindblum]

-Continued Chapter 3

Friends (IV)

Geez.. So much soda, no wonder you're so fat...

He wasn't 40. Definitely much older; I'd put it at 50, 60 or somewhere in between. BlueViolet had this smile about him that could brighten up even the gloomiest person on Earth. To be honest, I felt secure, and I felt like I was in school. So much to the extent that if I had asked him an organic chemistry reaction, he would probably take a pen and paper out and start drawing line structures. It was that funny.

"Want some soda?" He gestured his Super Big Gulp to me as he sat down.

"Nah, I'm good," politely refusing.

For a moment, we both didn't know what to say to each other. We just sat and looked at the park in awkwardness while he continued to drink and swirl his soda in the cold weather.

"What's your major?"

He knew I was a student? .. While I don't actually think he was sure, it was probably a wild guess based on the way I was dressed and my address. I lived near the university after all, naturally anyone in his shoes would guess I was a student. Enough was enough, whether it was a wild guess, or a an accurate profiling, there was no way in hell I was going to let him know more about my life. The danger was real, and clear. Beneath those smiles, fat droopy cheeks, and that friendly facade, was a pit viper that would strike everyone and anyone; friend or foe. Anybody who needed "insurance" will have no hesitation using it as leverage against you. This was the way the underworld worked. Brotherhood, honor, and trust were just words to get the dumber people to fall in place on the chess board.

"Ehh.. Come on you know so much about me, and now you want to know my major too"

Again that little funny grin came on his face.

"It's just insurance. There's never such a thing as being too careful in this line, you would be wise to remember that."

"Do you always ask your customers for their State IDs?"

"Only the ones who Deal - Come on, don't give me that look. From that amount you wanted, you're either the Feds, or a Dealer."

With one hand, he peeled open his coat, and gestured to me to pass him the money with the other hand. Naturally, I was reluctant. Was he trying to be funny? He wanted me to hand him $6000 of cash without a single indication that he brought the goods. Come on, I was no fool. He probably sensed I was reluctant to hand him the money like that.

"You're not really good at doing business are you."

Hearing this, he closed his coat and once again drank his soda while grinning at the same time. Then he turned to look at me again.

"You sure you don't want some soda - you paid for it"

Huh.. I paid for his soda? .. Ahh, I get it now

I can't help but smile at the realization of what was going on. I paused for a while, looked up at the sky with both hands in my pockets, and turned back to face him.

"How good is the soda?"

"Good enough for a very long time."

The mood lightened up, now both of us were happy with the pleasantries and comfortable doing the exchange. I took out the envelope from my coat, gave him, and in return, he gave me his whole cup of soda. Swirling the cup; I could feel the ice, and a large object within the cup as it hit the cup walls. Just to be sure, I opened it, and saw a bottle floating with the ice. As much as I wanted to sample it to prove its authenticity like how the movies portray, it was an extremely bad idea to Trip right now with so much LSD on my hands.

"Thanks. Want your SIM card back?"

"No, keep it. The number I used to call you with will be the number you will text or call if you want to contact me, but send me an Email first when you're gonna call - I have a ton of those cards and only a few phones."

"Wait, how do I address you?" I wanted a name, and I wanted it bad.

"Violet" grinning again once more. This time, I wanted to punch his fat obnoxious face and wipe that grin off his face. Obviously, any idiot who believed that his name was Violet would be an even bigger idiot.

There was no handshake. There was no need to. A dealer had just met his super-dealer in what was basically a trust-less relationship. We parted ways as casually as we met. In total, the exchange didn't take very long; probably 10minutes tops.

My personal phone rang after a few minutes; it was Coby.

"Dude, I got a picture of him; it isn't very clear but it'll do for now. Lets meet up with Phillip first and we'll see whether he managed to get good shots"

Finally, I had something on Violet.

[blade]

Finally, I have something on Violet.

Aint too short but not too satisfying haha. but good nonetheless. More please

[Spikerman]

Aint too short but not too satisfying haha. but good nonetheless. More please

Good story in the making mah ... it's cut off at the pivotal moment ... tease tease dangle dangle hahaha

[jaselee]

great story, lindblum. keep writing!

[Lindblum]

Chapter 4

Newton's Laws

We went back to my apartment and sat by the dining table while I looked at the pictures they took. The clearest shot came from Coby, because he was the only one who got closest to Violet. The mood wasn't exactly uplifting, but all of us were filled with an inconsistent mix of fear, and excitement. No, it wasn't because I had just bought 900 hits of LSD in a 45mL bottle floating in a soda cup. We bought LSD and marijuana all the time, a couple of hundred more made no difference. What gripped us today was that we had just gotten a glimpse into the workings of another world. Leverage, concealment, surveillance, counter-surveillance, and anonymity - those were espionage stuff we watched on TV and read in books all the time. The exchange with Violet today taught us everything we grew up on, and the stuff we thought we understood, was fake.

"Look, this Violet guy, was good. Coby told me how he looked like and to go on foot from the other direction, so I parked my car, took my camera with me, and pretended to be a tourist. You know what, I managed to follow him for a while across a few blocks and streets. I don't know if he thought he was being followed, but he walked all the way straight to the Metro at 103th. Anyone would think he would have taken the Metro to blend in, but no. Right outside the subway entrance, he crossed the road to the other side, and got into a cab."

Right... my first reaction to that was an expression of awe, but deep inside I said "amateurs.." Phillip and Coby went on and on with each other about how close they were to getting the shots, and how they pretended to do something else when Violet passed by. They were so engrossed sharing their version of it with each other, that I didn't want to hurt their feelings. This was probably the most exciting event that happened to them in their whole life; I didn't want to ruin it. Best to let them think they were the Asian version of James Bond. Violet probably knew Phillip was following him, that was why he made the sudden change in course. They were no operatives. Among the three of us, I was the only one with Police training, and real patrol duty experience. Computer geniuses yes, but definitely not suited for the field.

From their excitement, I could tell Phillip enjoyed such a thrill. I didn't want to push it that night, and avoided raising the question about his involvement in our Partnership. I still needed him to do the computer work for me. He may be untrained, clueless in surveillance, and had no idea how to deal with criminals. But in the world of computers, he was God. He used to tell me, the reason why he was jobless wasn't because he lacked the skills. It was because he didn't want to spend his life writing codes, and probing the company's system loopholes. Like me, we both wanted to be someone; we had dreams. We wanted to be people that mattered, and we didn't want to die in obscurity. Working a 9 to 5 job, coming home for dinner, only to do another 9 to 5 job the next day wasn't what we wanted in life. He had to be my partner, I just needed that extra push to motivate him.


Later that night while I was in my shower, I got a voice mail from David, my dealer for high quality weed strains.

"L, David here. Heard you're close to Steven. Wanted to let you know he got arrested at his place for smoking weed. I don't think it's anything serious. A cop was probably nearby and followed the smell all the way to his place. Couldn't be his neighbors; they're nice people, and I just talked to them."

What.. Just like that? Some cop came at random, and started sniffing shit and he got caught?

Steven's sentence was the last thing on my mind. Steven will probably just get a fine of a few hundred dollars and be let out the next day, given New York's marijuana laws. But what got to me was how simple a mistake could be to get you arrested. He was smoking in the comforts of his house, and all it needed was a cop at the wrong place, and at the wrong time, to do what he was trained to do, and you're busted.

I needed to be smarter and better than who I was now if I were to pull a successful operation off in Singapore. I had to predict every possible outcome, anticipate every single move, and take the necessary precautions to avoid making the simplest mistake. I needed to be more than just a Dealer; I had to be beyond and above everyone else. To beat the Police, I must be above them. As I looked back on the day's events with Violet in Central Park, and Steven's arrest, it dawned on me that it would require a whole different skill set just to stay alive and anonymous in Singapore. I needed to be a seller, an operative, a liar, and a genius. It was more than just setting up an anonymous website and shipping LSD off through the mail. I would need all my street smarts, and I still haven't figured a way for money to be transferred since I couldn't afford meeting anyone. Now the weight of 900 hits of LSD, and being a Dealer was beginning to set in - my head was spinning.

The whole room lit up once again as I relaxed on my couch. Once again I felt I connected with the synergies of the universe, the System, and myself. My breathing got lighter, my head stopped spinning, and I started to see things differently. Everything made sense once more; I had all the answers to what went on earlier. As I closed my eyes, my mind began to wonder and float in a mix of fantasy and reality, seeing things from Phillip's perspective, seeing things from Coby's perspective, and from Violet's perspective. I could literally see, smell, and hear the things they saw; from the sounds of cars along the road, to the scent of the woodiness and dirt of Central Park.

One thing was certain, Violet was used to being followed. Real surveillance teams never follow a person across a more than a few blocks, much less streets. An operative would follow a suspect around a corner, then back off, and let another operative stationed at a designated point take over the surveillance for a few more blocks, and then hand the surveillance to a third operative, while the first and second operative move quickly to another position with new outfits which could be a new cap, or a new jacket, and wait for the suspect to pass by them again. What Phillip did was completely amateurish. Did I learn this from the Police? No. I was trained to project police presence, not to avoid being seen. During my time in the Police, I went out of my way, driven by passion, to read decommissioned Soviet field manuals I found online, so I may detect people like that. Sadly, I never got to use it. Maybe the criminals in Singapore were really that dumb.

But why a cab..? He could have blended in by taking the Metro..

The more I thought about it, the more I began to see the light. Indeed, this guy was a professional. In this age of technology, and the high rate of crime in New York, naturally there would be police and security cameras stationed throughout the Metro and in the trains. Where you go, where you get off, and which entrance you came in from can be captured through the cameras. If I were the DEA or FBI tracking Violet, I could narrow down the areas where he came from if he took the public transportation. Knowing cab drivers in New York, all you have to do is tell them you don't need a receipt, pay a pre-determined sum greater than the estimated meter fare, and they'll be more than willing to drive you anywhere you want. There'll be no record of your travel; FBI and DEA won't be able to track the cab driver, because there's no record. Even if they somehow managed to find the driver through road cameras, the cab driver won't even remember it. Violet could get off anywhere, change a cab, go on foot, then take another cab in the same manner, and he could basically disappear into New York with no trace of him. And then I thought, the same idea can be used in Singapore.

My couch and I felt like we were at the very center of existence. The great revelation of understanding how the whole system worked made me feel like the entire world existed for me to conquer. What was the world but a myriad of systems, rules, and laws. For each move the police, government, and criminals made and thought would make them ahead of the game, they'd always end up right where I wanted them to be. I could play the strings while I made everyone hum to my tune. Was I moving as a part of this world, or was I watching the world from a cloud. Whatever it was, there was one thing uniquely different this time round: I wasn't on LSD.

[Lindblum]

lastest post has been updated and edited for content/errors

[Lindblum]

Introduction has been edited and changed for a more coherent flow

[starns]

Impressive story with authentic descriptions. +1

[prott]

Yours story is so lousy, you should just stop writing. I falls asleep when I read until half

[eeemen]

Bro TS, your story caught and held my attention, am hooked!! Going to lay foundations for a permanent camp here :D, cheers, ....................

[Tailsman]

When is the next dose, I'm getting addicted and need them to free my creativity from boredom.

[bloggert]

Excellent writing with near perfect grammar and spelling. Good job. It reads like a thriller, and frankly, if you put a bit into it, you could turn this into a very interesting book except for the fact that the subject matter involves the smuggle of illicit substances.

I also appreciate that this story offers a rare insight into a side of life that most of us may not have been aware of. The details are credible and well constructed. Keep it up!

[takashi31400]

Bro TS,

Thanks for sharing ,really intresting story.Camping for more.

[Lindblum]

Excellent writing with near perfect grammar and spelling. Good job. It reads like a thriller, and frankly, if you put a bit into it, you could turn this into a very interesting book except for the fact that the subject matter involves the smuggle of illicit substances.

I also appreciate that this story offers a rare insight into a side of life that most of us may not have been aware of. The details are credible and well constructed. Keep it up!

Thanks dude, and all the rest who have been following this story. It is my intention to eventually turn this in for publishing. I have been editing and doing major overhaul on my Word Doc for the past four chapters to include better descriptions and flair.

This is my pilot draft and I'm glad to receive such overwhelming response. I will add the raws in forums and edit it for better coherence and flow. So, if you do check the same thread a few days later, it isn't surprising to see added paragraphs, or new content, or simply major changes to the characters and their lives.

One point I would like all bros to note, as I have done government service before, I already know their response to such a story even though it is fiction. My book will 99.999% be banned for publication in Singapore because the protagonist is the villain, and it involves a good deal of our police being pushed to the edge, and it involves drugs. They will give the same response as they did to the Cannabis Awareness of Singapore website, that it "does not further our social objectives" or somewhere along those lines. We are a hypocritical people. We allow shows like Breaking Bad or Cannabis Kid as long as it doesn't involve Singapore, and Singaporeans. But when a similar story comes along that is based in Singapore, the government has a ton of things to say even though it is a piece of fiction.

Why I'm saying this, is because I intend to turn this in for publishing overseas to be marketed to an international audience. Hence, you may see rhetoric and obvious explanations about the systems, housing, transport in Singapore. I have to replace words like Flats with Apartments, or Apartment Blocks instead of HDB. You will not find Singlish, and you will not find local jargon in it. I thank you all for your understanding. I love Singapore, but since it is going to be banned anyway despite my effort in writing it, I might as well market it to a global audience.

This may be a piece of fiction, but i'm of the belief that a good story has to have a degree of realism. We have sat too long reading and watching standard stories of consequence where the villain is inherently evil and the plot devices placed so unintelligently just for the protagonist to forward the plot i.e., the Police suddenly solved the case because the criminal acted so suspiciously and it was captured on camera. We are an intelligent people, and this story was written in a way that would relate to how ordinary people can do extraordinary and disastrous things.

This isn't a story about Consequence, where you do X and it affects Tom, Dick, Harry, Peter, and Jane. You will not see mothers and fathers crying like in Crimewatch or mediacorp dramas. You will not see a mother working 6 jobs as a cleaner to support a character who turns out to be a bad guy. You will not see drug addicts in dark street corners with a scary looking syringe and a spoon. Anything standard you can think of from Mediacorp and their formulated dramas, I will make the extra effort to avoid it. This is a story about Choices. Whoever you choose to be, good or bad, you have to live with it. If you have to pay a price for it, it will happen. I like to treat the audience with a degree of respect. I leave it to you to decide who is Right and who is Wrong.

One of the main reasons why fellow Bros and my friends like this story so much is because of the realism involved. I thank some of you who PMed me about whether it was true. Lets put it this way, this story is written in an alternative version of myself. I am placing myself in a hypothetical situation where if I were to become a drug dealer, what would I have done? If the government doesnt like what I'm saying and says I'm teaching people how to peddle drugs, then read the story and think about closing the loopholes in our society and system. Do not expect people to keep saying stuff you like hearing. Of course, plot devices have to be placed strategically along the way for the characters to pick up on. New characters have to be created, and old characters have to be taken out. It is after all, a fucking good story that I'm dedicated on writing.

DISCLAIMER: I declare before the OSA that government protocol will not be revealed. This is a story that Ive been wanting to write for a very long time.


Stay Tuned

[prettymannequin]

Looking forward. :o

[Spikerman]

Staying Tuned ....

[eeemen]

Looking forward to your excellent narration! Thx. Cheers, ....................

[ojit82]

Superb story... well done ts!!

[youngboy123]

Always wanted to write a story like that, so detailed that I can imagine myself as the main character. Good write-up bro! Awaiting your next update. :)

[Lindblum]

- Continued Chapter 4

Newton's Laws

One fascinating thing about winter was that there would never be a lack of surprises at the brutal, and unpredictable sudden plunges in temperature. The temperature would plunge below freezing for a day or two, accompanied with spine chilling winds, and end with the occasional flurries keeping almost everyone holed up at home. It wasn’t uncommon to open your door today and see a puddle of water in a pothole, only to find it becoming a frozen slip hazard the next morning.

The weather took a turn for the worse. For the past few days, SEAMLESS became my best friend. SEAMLESS was an online food ordering and delivery one-stop portal, which a customer could access, choose it’s participating restaurants, and have food delivered to your doorstep. Its convenience was simply impeccable. What more could a hungry man ask for from an app or a website, to have food delivered right to your doorstep in a matter of 45 to 60 minutes. I could take a dump, watch my favorite sitcom on TV, and do some reading while waiting for the knock on the door. Before I came over to the United States, I had never heard of such a one-stop portal. The online food ordering and delivery one-stop portal never really gained traction in Singapore. Maybe the people didn’t trust technology enough to make online payments, or maybe Singapore lacked entrepreneurship, I do not know. If there were a way to describe Singapore, it would be an incredibly polarized society. On one hand, you have the people familiar with technology, and on the other hand, you have the folks who scoff at technology as nothing more than entertainment.

But SEAMLESS wasn’t the only thing I ordered from the Internet. I did my groceries through an assortment of websites like AMAZON, PEAPOD, and SOAPBAR. Everything was digital and done through my MacBook Pro. I wasn’t the only one doing that; almost everyone in my social circle used online shopping for food, groceries, or both. As the weather got colder, and the schoolwork got harder, I completely lost the drive to make a trip down to the grocer. To me, the Internet couldn’t just be defined in terms of convenience; it was a matter of endless possibilities. I had to use it for my LSD endeavor.

It was a Tuesday and close to a week away from Christmas. The time was about 5pm and I just came back from the university fitness center feeling proud after doing a full set of strength training and aerobic exercises. After I came out from my shower, there was a knock on the door.

“Mr L., your 18-inch chicken pesto pizza, garlic knots, and 20 wings, seasoned and garlic pepper. Please sign here,” as the deliveryman handed me the invoice. He was short, had Hispanic looking features, and didn’t look like he wanted anything more than for me to sign the invoice and leave. Apparently, it had already been paid for, and it was clearly addressed to me.

I know I wasn’t thinking straight, but that episode with Violet clearly left me looking at things from a different light. Let me remind you, I wasn’t shaken, but I had a completely new perspective on how something innocent could turn out to be something else. Was this some kind of scam, a trick, or was I supposed to find something hidden inside like a note or another SIM card? I kept a straight face, but my mind was just swirling in a soup of questions, and possibilities.

“Is there some kind of mistake? I didn’t make such an order.”

“I don’t know man, I just deliver. Call the restaurant if you want; I gotta rush to another place now.” And with that he just shut the door behind him. I didn’t even have a chance to tip him.

“New Yorker..”

That was my way of describing the typical New Yorker: Blunt, and simply no time for bullshit. In many ways, New York was just like Singapore; people were always in a hurry, scuttling like ants, and going about their business. If you weren’t in a hurry, you were jobless, homeless, or fabulously rich. Everyone had something to do, and nobody would notice you unless you made your point in an assertive, and attention grabbing manner.

Not long after I placed the pizza, garlic knots, and wings on the table, there was another knock on the door. It was the Kyung brothers; Coby, and Phillip.

“Surprise! Phillip said it was our treat this time round, and there was a 10% discount on SEAMLESS, so fuck yea, we’re having pizzas tonight. Is it here yet?” Phillip was behind him with two 6-packs of beer; ASAHI, and PERONI, both our favorite lagers, except one’s Japanese and the other’s Italian.

“Dude, you should have called. What if I was going out?”

“You told Phillip you were hitting the gym, so I said we gotta catch you with the delivery before you left your place.”

Once they got settled in and placed their coats on my couch, we each raised a bottle of beer and chugged it within a minute. It was customary of us to chug the first bottle of beer to kick-start the night before doing anything; it gets the juices flowing. For the next 20 minutes, we made small talk about the weather, Coby’s National Guard enlistment, and things we found interesting recently. Yes, Coby was enlisting in the National Guard; he probably figured he’d make a better soldier than a chemist.

Coby was somebody who could fit in any social circle because of the way he talked and came across. When I first met Coby in General Chemistry lab, his first words to me were “Yo, Wassup.” It made me completely uncomfortable with him as a lab partner, but at that instant, I knew he was a laid back, easygoing person, and that we could be friends. He wasn’t too assertive, and he had that level of meticulousness about him that I found similar to mine, even though he always came to lab unprepared.

Phillip on the other hand was different from Coby. Phillip was 3 years older than Coby, but still a little younger than me. I was 25, and in undergraduate terms, I was pretty much an old fuck. They may share the same genes, but clearly, Phillip was a lot more paranoid than Coby, and lacked the street smarts that Coby had. Phillip had to be introduced by Coby before anyone would even talk to him at parties, and events. He was the kind of guy who could come and go in your life, and you wouldn’t even remember he existed. Maybe that was why he chose computer science as his undergraduate major and graduate studies, where he could completely immerse himself in another world.

What Phillip lacked in street smarts, and social skills, he made it up with intelligence and paranoia, to the extent it got pure irritating. The first time Phillip bought Weed, he was so paranoid about it going bad, that he bought a box of mason jars, a food saver vacuum pump, oxygen absorbers, and moisture absorbers; all these just to preserve a couple of buds and prevent it from further degradation. Honestly, if my Weed had gone bad, I would have just made another phone call to buy more instead. Whatever it was, Phillip’s paranoia made him incredibly detailed, and sequential, a trait I needed in a partner.

“We’re in. We need to know more about your little plan.”

“We? You mean both you and Coby?”

“What. You didn’t think I’ll do this without my brother, did you. It’s always better to have two brains and someone you can trust,“ chugging down what was left in his bottle of ASAHI.

Everything that I had thought out, and played out in my head over and over again for the past few weeks till that day, I told it to Coby and Phillip. It was incredibly detailed, from how I would smuggle the LSD back, to the actual operations assuming Phillip was helping me, to how we would communicate, down to the most rudimentary examples of counter surveillance. Everything I thought of was based on the assumption that the DEA, CNB, CID, and Interpol were tracking us. It pays to be careful. Channel 1 from the deep web on TOR Onion will be used to take orders and sent directly to Phillip. Phillip will then communicate to me the orders and our normal exchanges on Channel 2; either an Email or a phone app service, which had to be encrypted. Channel 3 will be our money and paper trial to each other.

The look on both the Kyung brothers’ eyes was that of a man deep in thought. There was a moment of silence, during which I got up to get another beer from the refrigerator.

[Lindblum]

- Cont

“That’s not good enough. We have to close our Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and MySpace accounts. Using Gmail to send emails to each other? Bad bad bad idea. Never use services of big companies, L. The government pays them to reveal stuff. We're gonna be so screwed.”

Phillip was right; I should have realized this. Governments have power, and the police had access to resources that we didn't. The more he explained, I was convinced I found the right guy. Any government who allowed social media into their country can request for your information, right up to your friends, photos, and profile. I have heard of the police using Facebook and blogs to solve cases. Our entire network of friends, family, and places we frequently visit could be tracked if the police had us on their radar. All those places we check-in with our friends, and families on Yelp, or Facebook, can be used by the police as places to look for you, view their cameras, and identify all the people you were with. Social media had to go. And it totally made sense; big companies like Microsoft, Google, Yahoo etc have huge databases of people. Any government in the right frame of mind will look to them and ask for details. To remain in the shadows, we must adopt a life of anonymity.

“Then how do we communicate?”

“Channel 2 will have to be Anonymous Email Services from people who are paranoid about being tracked. There are such people and services around; courtesy of the free world. Only access it at one time of the day. I will give you a window period of when to look at your Email to take shipping orders from me, and in that window period, you must get down all that information.”

“I’m down with your plan. But why only a window period, at a specific time?”

Phillip smiled, sat back with a pizza slice in hand. It was the smug of confidence and the look of self-admiration at the epiphany of his own genius. Whether it was a deliberate pause, both Coby and I were waiting with eagerness at the genius he had in store.

“So I know it’s you. I will set it up in such a way that I can track people accessing it, and if accessed at any other time, I know you are being tracked by the police.”

Working on the assumption the Police was tracking us was the right move. But we needed more layers of security. I had thought of the idea of encrypting our messages. Since I had to receive the shipping orders from Phillip through Channel 2, it would be wise to work on encrypting our texts and Emails, so the Police won’t have evidence of us taking orders for drug smuggling. Even if the Police were to find Channel 2 through their sophisticated IT departments, they would need evidence to incriminate us as drug dealers. Yes, we needed an extra layer of security, and the only person who knew how to encrypt messages would be Phillip. I trusted his computer and IT skills.

“It’s possible. But it’s a lot more work than our original plan, not to mention it’s not worth it.”

"We need encryption, Phillip. It's logical, not to mention, a rudimentary requirement for intelligent beings like us."

"Oh, we'll get it, but why not listen to my plan first?"

Phillip put both his hands on the table, crossing his left palm over his right, tilted his head and in a very serious tone, he looked at us and said, "We buy encryption software online," ending his sentence with a tap on the table with his index finger. Then he stopped there.

It felt like a cold wind just blew across the room and the whole world just died. Everything fell silent, with Coby and I left in animated suspense; eyes wide open, and a gapping mouth. The man who we had thought was a genius 10 minutes ago, suddenly made us feel he was from Mars, or the weirdo from Ancient Aliens.

Coby turned to face Phillip in total disbelief.

"That.. is like the dumbest freaking shit I've ever heard in my entire life. I can't believe we live together."

"What the fuck…"

As Coby and Phillip quarreled about who said the dumbest thing in their 20 over years of living together, I was just speechless, reeling in from the shock and outrageous suggestion Phillip just gave. I certainly hope he was just joking. Was he kidding us? The Police IT departments were going to bust the code in less than a day, and read all our texts, emails, effectively hammering the last nail in our coffin. We were going to get busted, Coby and Phillip were going to jail, and I was going to be hanged.

"Wait! I'm not done yet, geez. This is my plan ok, I know what I'm saying. Listen first! Fuck both of you; have more faith in me ok, you fucktards."

"We're waiting; go on. And I'm just waiting to dick slap your face if you say something stupid again brother."

"L, you wanted a double layered security in Channel 2. Well good news for you; I have a triple layered security. We use medieval communication techniques, encrypted in technology. That will send their tech departments crazy, I tell you. If I wrote the damn encryption, I would have to change it all the time, test, probe, then change it again. They have hundreds of tech experts cracking the codes, and I'm just one man; its just plain stupid to use my encryption."

Phillip paused, took a deep breath then continued.

"We get the same book, something rare, a book that not many people read. Use cartesian coordinates x,y,z in numbers that identify which page, row, and numbering for the word we refer to, then encrypt it using different online softwares. It will send the police tech departments crazy! They will have no freaking clue what we are talking about even if they crack the encryption code because all they see are numbers like 10,25,4 - 200,23,6 - 98,20,13. They need to find our book first; there are billions of books in this world, if they don't find our book, they can't crack our code. That, fucktards, is real intelligence!"



-To be continued

[Lindblum]

Latest Post has been added for a lot of content.

[Sen5eS]

Latest Post has been added for a lot of content.

Cipher and Code method ... archaic but effective?

[Lindblum]

Cipher and Code method ... archaic but effective?

Thanks for bringing it up . It's not foolproof but for the characters it's the best shot at avoiding sophisticated IT teams . It'll hardly be much of a realistic story if Phillip became a genius at encryption and coding ; that would be more of a plot device already . Do read on, and thanks for reading !

[Superjam]

That fucktards is real intelligence.
And that dick slap threat

Man these brothers are good HAHAHAHAHA
I'm a fan of the brothers now

[Lindblum]

That fucktards is real intelligence.
And that dick slap threat

Man these brothers are good HAHAHAHAHA
I'm a fan of the brothers now

thanks! i love the brothers too !

[ch33zy]

Wow.. the storyline is changing from great to fabulous.. waiting for more..

[Shawnelleyan]

camping here for more..

[eeemen]

LOL, things we can learn thru reading sbf! :D:D, thanks again bro , cheers, ....................

[LowKa]

Great writing!

[Lindblum]

thanks all ! It's gonna be a long read, as most of you can tell . There's so much development and possibilities that make me shudder at the thought of how many pages it will be .

[ch33zy]

thanks all ! It's gonna be a long read, as most of you can tell . There's so much development and possibilities that make me shudder at the thought of how many pages it will be .

Well, we wun mind the long read.. just dun keep us waiting for too long..

[fr34kZ]

I have to say that I'm hooked to your story, just like reading a bestseller fiction novel.

it's narrated well, easy to read & understand, and somehow related to my uni days down under as well.

keep it up and don't let us wait for too long yeah?

[Spikerman]

hoping for updates ! :D

[toboto]

Utterly amazing bro! So vivid are your descriptions that I can actually play the scenes out in my head; just like when I read any of the great authors out there. Keep this up, and you will get this published! First story on SBF I will actually camp for!

[Lindblum]

Hi all, really busy this week . Release will probably be this weekend

[Lindblum]

- Major overhaul underway

[Lindblum]

-Edited for content-

[Lindblum]

-edited for content-

[Lindblum]

Major overhaul underway for previous post . Phillip doesn't meet L. . Stay tuned .

[blade]

Major overhaul underway for previous post . Phillip doesn't meet L. . Stay tuned .

waiting for your updates.

[eeemen]

Waiting for next post as well as updates! Cheers, ....................

[Lindblum]

UPDATE: previous posts edited for major content

[Lindblum]

New Year’s Eve

Kyung


Was it drool accumulating on the left side of his face, Phillip couldn’t tell. What he did know was that all familiar cold press of wet slimy saliva on the fabric of his pillowcase against his cheek, and it was anything but comfortable. He had pulled another all-nighter for the past few nights working on his computer, frequently sleeping at 5 in the morning because in the days preceding Christmas he was busy with everything relating to December 25th.

First, pre-Christmas shopping needed to be done that included everything from groceries to presents, then everyone had to meet Aunt Choi and family over at New Jersey for a Christmas reunion on Christmas Eve, followed by an actual celebration on Christmas day itself at his place in Queens, New York. For the longest time, Christmas was the one season he looked forward to since he was a kid because it represented more than just warmth and family; it was magical. Daylight was nothing more than the gradual symphonic built up of the Christmas spirit, in anticipation of the grandeur of the finale when the day gave way to dusk. Because when night fell, the town would glow with an inspirational mix of green Christmas trees decked in brilliant displays of ribbons, red, silver, and gold, coupled with bright Christmas lights, against the backdrop of the majestic vastness of the night sky sprinkled with silver stars. Whenever a cold breeze swept across town and Phillip was walking down the streets huddled in his coat on a night like this, it felt like with a little bit more of Christmas cheer, his coat would fluff out at the bottom, and with a slight leap, he could take off and fly into the night.

He got up looking dazed with blood shot eyes staring into oblivion. The percolating light through the wooden blinds hinted at the time of the day; it was close to noon, and still he felt like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. It was like college all over again, frequently working until dawn and crashing on the bed till his first class at noon.

Phillip was still very much a child and a even though he was already 25. He slept with his baby pillow his grandmother from Seoul had sewn him since he was born. There was a poster of a Night Elf on the wall, and World of Warcraft action figures of almost all classes lined up along the windowsill. That wasn’t even the end of it. He had a dedicated shelf just to keep his Japanese comic books, and video games. His favorite comic book series: One Piece. It was a story about a boy with big dreams of becoming a Pirate King, rather befitting of Phillip’s life so far. To think about how he was able to get any studying done in a room like this has always been one of the greatest mysteries of the Kyung family. He was a great dreamer, frequently self-absorbed in his own world, and had great aspirations of embarking on an adventure filled with thrill and excitement like in the movies. The irony was, he wasn’t able to step out of his comfort zone. New Jersey was probably the furthest he had ever ventured out to on his own.

There was still an hour before meeting a Robert Arrigo on Manhattan for lunch, but he had to leave early. He couldn’t drive; the roads were a testament of the snowstorm the night before that blanketed the entire East Coast in at least 4-inches of snow. Phillip pulled the blinds up and saw his car buried in an uneven heap of freshly plowed snow swept by the snowplows. His mother downstairs could distinctly hear him shouting, “fuck!” after he had pulled the blinds up. With hardly any time to lose, he washed up, packed his laptop into his bag, grabbed his coat, and made his way down to the train station. Thankfully the trains were operational.

Phillip walked into the café wrapped from top to toe like a burrito, huddled in two layers of clothing and an outer black coat that had obvious white lint speckled all over it; a testament to its age. He had used since his freshman year at college and somehow, Phillip never got down to changing it. Coby on the other hand changed his coat every year out of pure vanity. Coby pursued style and fashion, while Phillip simply prioritized functionality. “If it keeps you warm, it does its job,” was his favorite retort to Coby.

“He’s late…” Shaking his head in disapproval as he grabbed a seat, removed his gloves, and unpeeled his coat at the same time. He chose a seat close to the window; somehow the natural sunlight and a view of the streets gave him a better appetite. Phillip just couldn’t fathom how anyone, in good conscience, could make someone else wait and it was already 15 minutes past the arranged time

The door opened, and through it stepped a figure calmly brushing the frost off his black leather shoes against the doormat, betraying no emotion, indicating no sign of remorse for being late. It had to be him; that smug of confidence on his face, and the perpetually unapologetic straight posture that gave anyone the impression that someone of his stature was worth waiting for. It was an unmistakable mark of the stereotypical Wall Street types. He was clad in a black overcoat, complete with an inner suit and white shirt, its collars fastened with a striped tie of baby blue and black. Furthermore, Phillip had seen his picture on Linked-In when he searched him up.

Phillip was nervous; he had rehearsed his lines multiple times in his head before this meeting, from basic introductions to the main topic. What Phillip wasn’t sure, was how to keep this Robert Arrigo from walking out on him after he had said his piece. He wasn’t used to meeting strangers, much less engage them on a personal level, but it was urgent, and he had to make this arrangement on his own without Coby and L. knowing. Whatever butterflies he had before had to be put aside now. Besides, Phillip convinced himself he was meeting a banker from a reputable bank, how dangerous could it possibly be.

[Lindblum]

Kyung II

Phillip got out of his chair. He didn’t realize this but he was slumped; his left hand was in his pocket clenching the inner fabric, and with the other, he stretched out to initiate pleasantries.

“Phillip Kyung; glad you could make it.”

“Robert Arrigo, my pleasure.”

For some funny reason, Phillip felt dwarfed in his presence. It wasn’t Robert’s height, he was just slightly taller than Phillip. He felt like a fish out of water. A part of Phillip wished he had the confidence of L., the social awareness of Coby, and the serenity of his father. There was definitely something dominating about Robert’s body language that communicated a subtle passive aggressiveness. His smile was professional, his tone was assertive, and his handshake was firm to the bone. Clearly, Robert was used to meeting strangers all the time, and getting his way. He had brown hair, was clean shaven, had thick bushy eyebrows, and deep inset eyes that betrayed his ancestry apart from his last name.

‘Definitely Italian..Come on, I can do this’

After both of them were done ordering, they were filling themselves on the table bread and butter spreads, making small talk about the snowstorm the night before, and a little bit on good lunch places in NYC. Everything was perfect in the first ten minutes. Every conversation topic and line Phillip had rehearsed before, came out perfectly and he was proud of it. One thing Phillip and Robert shared, was their belief in having light lunches that wasn’t too expensive.

“You know, I really appreciate how we can talk like this oh - I’m sorry,” Giving way to the server to place the quiche and scrambled eggs on the table. “So.. what did you want to talk about today?”

Finally it was time. Phillip had been waiting for him to say this. He put down his fork, took a napkin, wiped his mouth clean of any leftover butter grease and bread crumbs, and put both hands on his lap. Robert noticed the change in atmosphere but maintained a poker face and a look of normalcy while working on his spinach quiche with his fork.

“Swim.”

There was an immediate silence. Robert’s fork stopped in mid air, his mouth stopped chewing, his face was straight and expressionless, but he still didn’t look up. Phillip had thought of a million ways to ease the topic in, but there was no better way than to do it this way. With one word, he could tell whether Robert understood where this conversation was headed, and he was not disappointed with Robert’s response. Phillip’s heart was racing; it was a fragile moment, and he had to give Robert time to take it in before saying another word. Then, miraculously, Robert continued eating again, maintained that composure, and hinted at a willingness to listen.

“How can I help Swim?”

It was nothing but relief for Phillip, but the task was far from over. Robert was willing to talk, but he had to find ways to keep Robert at the table.

“Swim wants to know about Bitcoins; specifically how to sell it.” His palms were sweating up, and he was slowly starting to grip his jeans in nervousness.

“That, requires a computer programmer to explain it.” Saying it very nonchalantly while stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs. “But if Swim likes, I could send a request to my bank’s trading desk to open an account.”

“Anonymously; without detection, if you know what it means.” Phillip was tired of using the acronym that meant, ‘Someone Who Isn’t Me.’ It was a known internet colloquial for people wanting to engage in illicit activities that wouldn’t be unfamiliar to lawyers and bankers. The banking world was never as clean as it portrayed itself to be, and Phillip knew it because he was used to his father talking about his experiences. The very fact that Robert was still at the table despite knowing what it meant, suggested he was open to ‘ideas.’

“If you’re asking for my professional help, I -”

“I’m asking for your unaffiliated personal opinion, Mister Arrigo, and here’s the promised price for this one-hour meeting that took up your precious time. I sincerely thank you for it. ” Sliding an envelope across the table containing three hundred dollars.

Phillip was about to cry; he had never said and done something so outrageous before in his entire life. He felt like he was sweating an ocean inside his clothes, and he wished he had some alcohol or a joint of marijuana to ease his anxiety. For a brief moment, he wished it was the usual drinking session with the boys. Robert Arrigo hadn’t accepted the envelope; it was still sitting in the middle of the table, and time slowed to a crawl. Phillip was just anxiously waiting for a response, intently staring at Robert with his hands firmly clasping on his jeans.

“That depends. How much are we talking about,” maintaining his usual tone.

“Close to fifty thousand USD.”

“Then you’ll never get it off an exchange without an ID. The Blockchain-”

“I know about the Blockchain. It’s a public ledger anyone can view showing all transactions, past and present, for a given Bitcoin, that’s why I’m asking for your opinion.”

Once again, there was another pause. Robert was just focused on eating his quiche and scrambled eggs, appearing to completely ignore Phillip’s straight question. Then, to Phillip’s surprise, Robert took the envelope, stuffing it in his coat pocket.

“There are only three ways. Either you package the Bitcoins and sell it for USD through various accounts like a financial security, mix it with other Bitcoins and do it the same way, or meet a buyer in person to exchange the escrow codes in cash, signifying a proper transfer. Look, the Blockchain only shows the transfers, not the person, just remember that. Once you mix it up, or use different accounts, nothing can track Mr Swim down.”

He needed to hear that. Apparently, Phillip knew about these ideas a long time ago, having done adequate research into Silk Road and Bitcoin laundering the moment L. told him about the partnership. He had hoped a rogue banker could provide a different insight he hadn’t thought of, but Robert was nothing short of a disappointment. Since Phillip dealt with the laundering and orders, it was his responsibility to deal with the Bitcoins. It was easy to buy Bitcoins anonymously, but selling it presented a huge problem because of the Blockchain, and ID requirements of the Bitcoin exchanges around the world. Mt Gox in Japan may be the preferred exchange to buy Bitcoins, but selling it in bulk would be an obvious problem since the United States could issue a Subpoena anytime, requiring Mt Gox to reveal everything about an account holder that required a certified ID.

“Thanks for the lunch, Phillip. I’ll see you soon, depending on your disposition.” Speaking with a smug and wiping his mouth with his napkin, buttoning his overcoat at the same time. Although the arranged hour wasn’t up, and his quiche wasn’t finished, Robert chose to leave. It didn’t matter to Phillip; he had heard what he needed to hear, and he was satisfied.

“Would you like me box your quiche up, Mr Kyung?” Said the server.

“No, it’s ok, just bring me the check.” Eyeing Robert Arrigo as he left the cafe.

[Lindblum]

Previously, on Blotting Paper

“Would you like me box your quiche up, Mr Kyung?”

“No, just bring me the check.” Eyeing Robert Arrigo as he left the cafe. He hadn’t touched his quiche throughout the entire meeting.

==========================================

Phillip rested his chin on his palms, watching Robert Arrigo flag a cab across the street. The scope of whatever everyone involved was trying to achieve, clearly exceeded the planned individual purview of responsibility. He should have known this; L. had hinted to him before that when he goes back to Singapore, each will have to deal with problems on their side. The number of felonies committed other than selling drugs could put him in prison for at least 20 years. Maybe Coby was right when he joked they’d be far better off selling drugs on some shady alley as a street pusher; at least the penalties were much lesser. Simply put, a smart criminal sending Federal agencies and international police departments on a wild goose chase will be prosecuted to the fullest extent the law permits, with no possibility of parole unless you had something they needed in exchange.

However, there was something about the allure of this operation that breathed some meaning into his life. Phillip remembered Sam Stein, the tough sadist from High School who used to bump into him along the hallway, taking pleasure in watching him fall to the ground, because he was a scrawny little kid with no friends. He recalled the mean old jokes the girls used to make about him, ‘that dirty kid who spends more time wanking.’ Those bullies were frequently called to the Principal’s office, but the bullying would repeat itself after a few days. Then, Coby gathered his group of friends from the Football Club and tied Sam Stein to a tree in his underpants, and Sam Stein never touched Phillip ever since.

Still he recalled Principal Cinzia’s words, “What is your resolve?” She was sick and tired of it being a weekly affair, and there wasn’t any improvement. Phillip’s social anxiety made it awkward to interact, and everyone found him weird. Deep down inside, he somehow knew she was insinuating him to overcome it on his own, but by some misguided sense, he chose to see himself as being victimized by everyone. All his life, he had relied on someone else to stand up for him.

For once, he had a chance to be on a global stage, where everyone would finally pay attention to him, where a global police force of thousands upon thousands of people would acknowledge his existence, and his talent. They will look for him; nobody would ignore him anymore. He had always been the top student in all his schools, even graduating with Honors at college, but nobody seemed to recognize that. L. was right about him all along; he possessed skills that the universe would be proud of. It would seem that among all his friends and family, only L. truly recognized his intellect and skills.

“What is my resolve? I will not die in obscurity like you, Principal Cinzia. Fuck you, all of you.” Signing the check, putting on his coat, and walking out of the cafe. The contrast of the dim-lighted cafe against the full glory of the afternoon glared him to a squint. He drew out his phone, dialed, and held his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“L, it’s me. I’ll see you at your place tomorrow before your flight, 1pm. Everything is ready.”

A strong breeze swept across the city, ruffling his long coat to sporadic snaps. He had never met a more compelling, and inspiring person such as L. It was a liberating light at the end of the tunnel, giving him a new purpose in life. That old forgotten dam in the mountains the town ignored was long brimming with turbulent water. Finally it broke. Every shackle and bound that held him back, was cleaved. He was free..

“World.”

“ My name, is Phillip Kyung. And you will god damn remember that.”

Chapter 5

Genesis

The Terminal was bustling with travellers, big and small. Families lugging suitcases and baggages of all shapes, sizes, and colors, formed the majority of the serpent line stretching all the way to the entrance in the class of ordinary folk, while the rich with their snobbish stature exclusively zipped right through theirs in their privileged class designation. Clearly, it pays to be rich at this time of the year. It was the very first day of 2013, a public holiday, and everyone was in high spirits for the long journey ahead, both metaphorical and literal.

I could accept the long line at the check-in counters. Facebook, Twitter, and chat applications on my smartphone were the best present-day time machines. However, the mandatory security check in the wake of 911 that came close to a strip search was a pain in the butt. The Transportation Security Administration, TSA, methodical search for explosives and drugs was nothing short of expected. I was prepared down to the last detail for the TSA. I had replaced Violet’s 250ug LSD bottle with one of Vivian’s expensive facial care products, properly washed out, placed in my main luggage with utmost precaution that was nothing short of a typical chemistry quantitative transfer. That meant every drop went straight into the transfer bottle with no spillage, or traces on the side. How was the TSA going to detect anything?

What I hadn’t expected, was something I called the ‘Swipe Machine,’ a new weapon of the TSA. Apparently, this new machine was not in the news, and was something I couldn’t have prepared for in my extensive research. They would typically swipe your palms and major body parts with a special stripe, feed it to the machine, and every slight trace of a cataloged chemical compound in the database they were looking for, would show up. If it does show up, that person would be pulled in for further questioning, and investigation.

When it came to my turn for the the Swipe Machine, my heart was racing with dread. I could recognize this machine because there was something similar in my University’s chemistry lab, where we would use to analyze substances. What made matters worse, was that I had done the LSD transfer earlier in the day, and there was a possibility of getting some vapor trace stuck on my skin.

“Sir, step forward please. Palms out.” Gesturing with an index finger.

It was a Black female officer with an expression that betrayed her long experience to anyone with a trained eye. Fortunately, her tactics were all too familiar. An expressionless face, an imposing posture, a constant straight eye contact in hopes of unnerving me into giving away my act, while her partner stood behind me to watch for twitching, shuffling, or anything out of the ordinary. He was there to tell her that I was a possible Red Flag, and to bring me in for further search.

I contained my emotions, and resisted every inch of body language that could potentially signal a Red Flag. The TSA were trained to look for that, and similarly, my police experience gave me the acquired skills to look out for that in criminals. Now, was the time to apply those skills to save myself. Everything that I would have looked out for as a police officer, I assumed she was doing the same. I was the perfect man for this job, recognizing in silent acknowledgement of my own abilities. I could play this poker game with her all day long only to emerge victorious, but what I couldn’t beat was the Swipe Machine.

Then the results came out: I was clean. It was just pure luck that I decided to take a shower before leaving for the airport that washed clean all traces of LSD on my skin, although I thought there would still be some traces left behind. A 21 hour flight through Frankfurt, Germany, was too long for me not to shower, and I had paid for the utilities bill until the end of January 2013. She thanked me for my cooperation, and directed me to the exit. I was relieved.

[Lindblum]

Chapter 5

Genesis II

When I wasn’t stopped at the boarding gate into the airplane, I knew I had cleared every security aspect the TSA could conjure. I was a free man. It made me think about how flawed the entire security system was, and how it could be easily beaten by intelligent people. If I could get through with 900 hits of LSD, someone else with my intelligence could have cleared with much more.

It was already five hours into the flight, close to midnight by New York’s time. The cabin attendants dressed in elegant coke-bottled Kebayas of blue, green, and red, the cultural icon of the national airline, were constantly walking up and down the aisles, pacifying passengers who had trouble sleeping. I was one of those who couldn’t sleep, and was just staring out of the window from my seat into the darkness of the night, trying to the best of my abilities to admire, appreciate my proximity to the starlit sky that lay overhead, while deep in thought about my next move in Singapore. However, I was constantly interrupted by this middle-aged European lady sitting next to me who wouldn’t stop talking to me in rhetorical sentences like, “I just wish the attendants could arrive faster,” or “Well, what did you know, they just dimmed the lights.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, and blurted without much hesitation.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I have a lot of things on my mind, and I’m just trying to figure it out on my own.”

“Fine.” Rolling her eyes at me at the same time, with a tone expressing her sarcastic displeasure.

Thankfully, she disembarked during our transit in Frankfurt, Germany, and I was seated next to a fat European dude who spent most of his time sleeping. At first, I thought of what I had to do to remain anonymous, then I caught a glimpse of my deceased mother who succumed to colon cancer outside the window, and I vaguely recalled a conversation with her about my school performance, then Phillip showed up out of the blue, culminating in a gradual drift into the unconscious. The fatigue had finally taken a toll on my body.

“The server codes and templates are all done. This is gonna be the layout. Operates to allow Bitcoin exchange like Silk Road does, and we take 10% for each transaction.” Phillip’s voice echoed in the background.

“L. here are the books, ‘Bridging the Gaps in Asia and the World.’ Printed in 1995; I bought this in New Jersey while visiting my Aunt. Every possible word we can reference to, like ‘Police,’ ‘United States,’ ‘banks’ and ‘Singapore’ is in there. I attached a cipher and instructions at the back to reference any numbers and dates we need to use. Once you’re over there, you have to develop your own codes for your local contacts.”

“Wait.. what the hell?” I was screaming to the best of my ability, but it came out as a murmur. Then I woke up, finding the fat European dude finally awake, and staring at me.

“Are you ok?”

“Excuse me, I need to check something,” getting out of my seat, shuffling my way through, and opening the overhead compartment for my backpack.

I heaved a sigh of relief; the code book and thumb drive were in my backpack. It wasn’t a dream, but a brief memory of a prior conversation. The code book Phillip gave me before I left for the airport, and the thumb drive for a duplicate set of server codes, templates, and encryptions, were in there.

[Lindblum]

UPDATE: Phillip's segment at the end of Kyung has been edited for a more powerful resolve. Do check it out and enjoy the story.

[Sen5eS]

very promising indeed ...

Anything like Breaking Bad the tv series ?

[prott]

If me write story about ah beng and ah seng, a story about love, fight and betrayal, and a mission to conquer all the gang in Singapore, will it be as good as TS.

Show hand who want to read my story, and UP me as well.

[Lindblum]

very promising indeed ...

Anything like Breaking Bad the tv series ?

Thank you bro. This is absolutely nothing like Breaking Bad. To keep this original, I abstained from watching Breaking Bad on purpose, thus whenever people mention Breaking Bad, I'm clueless lol.

[ojit82]

Great story.. waiting for updates..!

[Lindblum]

Previously on Blotting Paper

“Excuse me, I need to check something,” getting out of my seat, shuffling my way through, and opening the overhead compartment for my backpack.

I heaved a sigh of relief; the code book and thumb drive were in my backpack. It wasn’t a dream, but a brief memory of a prior conversation. The code book Phillip gave me before I left for the airport, and the thumb drive for a duplicate set of server codes, templates, and encryptions, were in there.

=============================

“Thank you,” shuffling back to my seat by the window. My head was heavy, and I was present in both reality, and the depths of memory.

I was too tired to recall the conversation and exchange Phillip and I had at my place before I left for the airport, but it was all flowing back now, swirling in a whirlpool of other memories, and emotions. Memories that belonged to a different time, sketches of people past, and distinct recollections of recent events. The darkness at the other end of the glass threw back a blurry reflection of myself, and opened a window into my soul.

I didn’t see it wrong. It was Her, decked in white long robes that shone, looking at me with a gentle smile, while I calmly stood at a distance. The mourning, nightmares, and tears were long past; I had moved on a time time ago.

“I know your face... Why did you leave?”

“L…Mom can’t be with you foreve-”

The distinct chime from the Seatbelt Sign sounded, and I was brought back. Cabin Attendants were scurrying past the aisles, the pressure in my ears was building up, and I could vaguely see the silhouette of ships that were now the size of my thumb against their navigation lights. We were descending into Singapore, and hitting turbulence at the same time. The entire cabin sank into an speechless eerie calm amid the turbulent bumps, and there were loud reverberating clangs of a loosely fastened cabin attendant’s trolley against its storage walls, heightening the unease.

“Join the volunteer police? Your notion of justice is nothing more than a child’s ideology. Grow up. You’re wasting your time, L. Go back to school; your friend’s are all ahead of you.” My father’s voice resounded inside.

“L, I’m sorry your father didn’t want to come to your graduation today. May I have the honor of putting on your rank epaulettes for you? Congratulations, you will make a fine police officer.”

Magazines suddenly jolted off someone else’s tray table onto the aisles from an unexpected plunge in altitude, bringing me back once again.

The aircraft’s flaps were now fully extended. My hands were firmly gripped on the armrests, while my European neighbor was wiping the beads of cold sweat off his face with his handkerchief. The loud clanging from the loose trolley, the sight of imminent twilight against the rising backdrop of ships, and the memories from long ago, sent spine chilling pulses throughout my body. I couldn’t contain it and broke out into a joyless laughter.

“Cabin crew, to your landing stations,” came the overhead announcement.

This was the defining moment of everything, an irreversible turning point in time. The chessboard was set, the game was afoot. As the aircraft made a final turn into the approach, the thriving colossal metropolis swung into view, rose from the horizon like a glowing amber from a fireplace in the darkest night, and the cabin shuddered in its magnificence. Sergeant Lee was right when he pinned my epaulettes on; I would have made a fine police officer. On the gameboard, I had already picked a side, but it wasn’t on his. My neighbor’s fat triple chin that replaced his neck shook in resonance with the rattling cabin, and we were pushed back into our seats as the aircraft flared like an eagle encroaching a prey, while we waited in anticipation for the impending bump on solid ground. This was the genesis of a journey, an origin story of an adversary which Sergeant Lee and the likes of him have never encountered. Behold, I am coming.

“I’ve already listed us on Silk Road. Any requests from Silk Road is directed to our domain specifically listing Singapore and Asia as the delivery region. Buyers and other dealers will come to us because we are the only ones operating in Asia and they will see it as a system that works. They will hunt for you, L, all of them. Stay safe.”

“The three of us will go by the moniker, EL.”

“Wait Phillip, have you decided on a name for this whole Operation?”

“I have. Its called-”

“Lilith.”

The wheels finally hit the tarmac, roaring with joy as though meeting an old friend who was sorely missed, blaring its engines in full reverse thrust, and extending its speed brakes in forward position. I was home.

[belgianseat]

Setting up tent , nice story!

[jacksosi]

waiting for more..

[lanternathletic]

Camping for more !! ~

[Lindblum]

Previously, on Blotting Paper

The wheels finally hit the tarmac, roaring with joy as though meeting an old friend who was sorely missed, blaring its engines in full reverse thrust, and extending its speed brakes in forward position. I was home.

========================================

We had arrived thirty minutes earlier due to strong tail winds, and twilight was just around the corner. Clearing customs was a breeze. Nobody expected 900 hits of liquid LSD in an expensive make up bottle. At most, they were on a look out for blotting paper, pills, powders, and crystals.

“Welcome home, Mr. L,” said the female immigration officer.

When I wasn’t stopped at the baggage point, I realized the key to every successful smuggling, wasn’t to bring in a complete product; those were exactly the stuff the officers and dogs were trained to look out for. Instead, it was to smuggle the components in piece by piece, and assemble it later. Just because a customs officer recognized what a pizza looked like doesn’t mean he understood its composition. Could police dogs really smell cocaine, or were they just identifying the traces of the gasoline component used as an organic solvent in the extraction of cocaine hydrochloride? What if I gave the cocaine farmers a different organic solvent? What if I disassociated the cocaine hydrochloride salt in water to a form a base, and carry it around like any fluid? All it took was a little knowledge of chemistry to put it back together again. If every drug dealer and trafficker understood the chemical literature, governments would have to replace customs officers with scientists to stop them, and that was my ideal world. I wanted the police to show me they were smarter, because at that moment, I was a game ahead of them.

“Where to sir?” Asked the cab driver.

“Central, Bukit Timah- No, you know what, go to Nicoll Drive.”

“But that’s just behind the airport.”

“I know.”

I didn’t want to go home, and I wasn’t expecting much fanfare at my place. Instead, I sought solace at my usual refuge, away from the hustle and bustle of life, overlooking the runway. I was in silent appreciation of the inspiring man-made mammoths descending above the seas across the horizon, and flying overhead trumpeting their arrival with a deafening roar.

“Hey Jon, I’m back.”

“L? Its.. been a while. I’m surprised you called.”

Jon was more than glad to hear my voice. He was a fellow police colleague at Orchard Police Precinct when I was in service more than a year ago. If there was anyone I wanted to talk to, it would be him. His was an idealist, pure to the core, always believing in the virtue of people. Fierce as a tiger to criminals, but soft and sincere with friends. Maybe that was why everyone liked him.

“Friend, you’ll be surprised at the reshuffling headquarters made. Serena isn’t the Team Leader anymore, and most of our original colleagues are now transferred. You won’t recognize the new Team.”

We updated each other on the past one year of our lives for the subsequent ten minutes. He was doing well; partnered with the right people, and never got reshuffled by headquarters. Similarly, I told him about all my adventures in NYC and stuff in university.

“Jon, I’m just curious, remember Old Tai from Lucky Mall who controlled the entire chain of electronic shops? I can’t seem to find him on Google anymore. It’s like he’s off the grid.”

“You mean ‘Olde Tai from yonder East?’ That Old Raccoon moved out a few months ago. Probably losing business; too many bad reviews about cheating tourists on travel forums. He’s now Cantonment Precinct’s problem, and we’re all glad to be rid of him. Word is that he moved to Pearl Plaza, near Chinatown. Why are you looking for him?”

Hearing Jon talk about Old Tai reminded me of the times we had to listen to that Old Raccoon weasel his way out of a complaint a tourist made about him cheating them, and it was anything but entertaining. He was a glib talker, frequently diluting his sentences with gibberish about him picking up Middle English, speaking to us in old medieval speech on purpose, and steering the interrogation away from the case until we snapped and got him to focus. The case never stuck on him of course; he was smart. Old Tai knew the legal definition of cheating, and always threaded on the thin line between criminal and contract law.

“Come on Jon, you’re interrogating me as well? I was just curious.” Brushing it off with a laugh.

That sent Jon into a wild laughter. I didn’t blame him; he was probably on duty through the night, and needed to relieve some stress.

“I’ll see you at the Station soon, Jon. We’ll partner up again, hopefully.”

“Definitely! And L, one more thing.”

“yea?”

“I’m glad you’re back, Sergeant.”

*
Jet lag wasn’t a big issue to me. I was used to studying through the night into the morning, only to take caffeine pills to fight off sleep during lectures and exams the next day. That day, a three hour nap at home was all it took and I was recharged. I needed to be; the Old Raccoon was as sly as a fox, and elusive as BigFoot. The very fact he could still be in business after so long was adequate testament to his wily.

I circled Pearl Plaza at least three times in my car on the pretense of searching for parking because I needed to confirm something, and I found my answer. Tai was indeed in Pearl Plaza, no doubt. I caught a glimpse of his lookout sitting by the entrance smoking, and another two at the back facing the other side. The faces may change, but his modus operandi never did. His lookouts covered all entrances and were there to warn him if there was going to be a police raid, or if any of his enemies were coming for him.

He thought he was smart, but I had done my homework on him a long time ago when he was operating at Lucky Mall out of pure dedication to police work. He would register a store under his name, and a few other stores under his puppet’s names in the same mall, while he remained in full authority and control over those stores. How he got so many people to work for him willingly remained a mystery, but it was blatantly obvious he was in control given the number of similar complaints we received and identical tactics used. An employee he claimed to have fired for misconduct resurfaced at another store in the same mall after a few days, how coincidental was that?

Knowing Old Tai’s methods, it was simple identifying which store he was at. He liked being protected by a bodyguard who was big, muscular, and dumb, who followed him everywhere like an innocent puppy. I called him, Muscles. Find Muscles, and I’ll find Tai. It only took me 10 minutes to walk around the whole mall to spot Muscles, and that meant Tai was in there even though he was no where to be seen.

The moment I sat myself down by the glass display tables, Muscles switched his attention to me in a most unprofessional transition, abandoning his first customer, and leaving him speechless. He spoke in broken english, made lots of unnecessary hand gestures, was literally stuttering, and had a smile that was as pretentious as a failed politician. Clearly, being a salesperson wasn’t his main job, and he was fed those lines by someone.

“Did I tell you about the new promotion, that would get you the best- bang for your buck, for the latest Apple smartphone?”

“Did I tell you I slept with your mother last night, and you’re going to have a brother who’s going to look exactly like me?” In a most obnoxious tone I could conjure.

His smile was fading, his breathing heavy with agitation, and his gaze fixated on me despite initially entertaining a customer with his lies. That was Muscles alright; all brawn and no brains, easily manipulated, controlled by emotions, and only recognized violence as an answer. It’s no wonder Tai picked him as a bodyguard, and now he was doubling as a failed salesperson.

“Is this enough for your mother’s abortion?” Throwing a ten dollar note after another on the table, looking straight at him until he couldn’t contain it, and grabbed me by my collar with one hand.

Agitating Muscles to the verge of hitting me in front of a customer was the only way to flush Old Tai out of the staff room. He couldn’t afford a lawsuit for Employee Misconduct and Tort that was witnessed by a credible independent individual. I didn’t like hurting Muscle’s feelings anymore than I enjoyed arresting people, but it was a necessary evil if I wanted to talk to Tai. Knowing Tai, he would never show his face if I had gone straight up to Muscles with a polite inquiry about his boss. Tai was the puppeteer, always hiding inside the staff room so he could claim he wasn’t aware and couldn’t be responsible for a ‘mistake’ his staff made.

“Your new understudy, Tai? Apparently he’s not very smart, and I know you’re in there.” Calling out into a room behind the display tables.

I wasn’t the slightest bit afraid even though Muscles was tightening his grip, twisting the fabric of my collar with a threatening expression, and tensing his meaty arms at the same time.

“Let him go.” Came a voice from inside the room.

A fat old man with prominent dark eye circles and a balding side parting, around the age of 60, emerged from the staff room; it was Tai. If he possessed an ounce of innocence, he would’ve qualified for a panda nickname at my police station, but he was far from that. Hence, he was known as “The Old Raccoon.”

“Sergeant? Couldn’t recognize you without your uniform. I didn’t know you transferred to the Cantonment Precinct. How can I help you?”

“I want all your pre-registered SIM Cards, and the IDs that registered those cards fifteen hundred dollars can buy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” turning to talk to the now bewildered customer who had observed the entire exchange since I stepped into the store.

[Lindblum]

Tai knew exactly what I was talking about, but was just pretending to ignore it. Part of his modus operandi included making a copy of a gullible person’s ID, claiming it was a Singapore law requiring a verified ID to buy any form of electronics. Then he would sell it to another dealer or register prepaid SIM cards under those IDs and sell it to third parties. It was completely illegal of course. Why he was never nabbed for that? He was cunning enough to dispatch an associate to pass the illegally obtained ID copies, and fake electronics to another store the moment his lookouts saw us coming from the entrances. It was a cat and mouse game in his territory.

“You sure you want to play this game in front of your customer, Tai? Fine by me.”

I turned to face his customer.

“Tourist?”

“Yea,” speaking in a soft, and uneasy tone, clearly confused about my intentions.

“First, the fat man is going to tell you about his special offer. Then he’s going to swipe your credit card twice, telling you it’s all part of a mandatory global warranty which is pure nonsense. Frankly, you’ll be much better off buying from a legitimate store than this old crook. You still want to buy from this guy?”

As soon as I dropped my piece, the tourist took his backpack, turned around, and left in a jiffy.

“Wait, don’t leave- What the hell exactly do you want from me?” Turning to me and speaking in hurried, irritated tones.

“I told you, Tai, I’m just here to do business. Sell me the Cards, IDs, and I’ll leave.”

For a brief moment, he kept his silence, and put the cell phone Muscles had failed to sell the tourist back in the glass display table.

“Even if I have what you claim I have, what makes you think I want to do business with you? You are the cop who gave me a ton of trouble back at Lucky Mall. Besides, that was all in the past; I’m now running an honest business with my boys at a new place.”

Hearing Tai talk like he had turned his back on cheating, and the hosts of other unknown illegal activities seriously brought me to a short burst of laughter. I couldn’t look straight at him without laughing, needing to distract myself with something else, looking sideways, and covering my uncontained smile with my palm. How he was able to say this with a straight face completely eluded me. The man deserved an Oscar.

“I wouldn’t exactly call what you’re doing an honest business,” scoffing at his statement.

I gathered myself, and got my act together. The jokes, and that little back and forth meaningless Salsa that made no headway whatsoever were over. There was no way the Old Raccoon would admit to having such things in his store, much less to me. Now, was the time to use a harder approach.

“Let me tell you something interesting I did today. I made a call to Lucky Mall’s security office claiming to be a previous store tenant looking for Senior Security Officer Yao from Burton’s Security about a police case. The office told me they belonged to a new security company, and that S.S.O. Yao and his entire team were contracted by a new place after working at Lucky Mall for six years. Where did they go? You guessed it: Pearl Plaza.

“How convenient it must be for you, Tai, to have control and have access to the entire building’s security on top of your usual lookouts sitting by the entrances. Now, I don’t even care about what you’re doing in this building, but I’m guessing you will need to know when and where the cameras are down, keys to different rooms and stores, when to bring in your fake products, or even do your ‘dealings’ with dodgy people, probably even facilitating them for a fee during ‘scheduled maintenance.’ I’m guessing you’re intending to move again when S.S.O Yao and his team gets contracted by another place. You see, I’m a pure genius, and if you’d like, I could dig up a little more on the security team and maybe, find out exactly what you’re up to.

“No, Tai. You didn’t come to Pearl Plaza to start life anew; that was bullshit. You came because it was most advantageous.”

A silence swept through the entire store the moment I was finished, drawing menacing stares from Tai and Muscles as though I was spot on. I had to be; a shady electronics seller had no need of control over the security office, and double insuring his operations with lookouts.

Tai walked to a wall, his dark raccoon eyes still boring holes into me with his arms crossed, flipped a switch, and the automated metal shutters started coming down with a loud unsettling clang, threatening to cut us off from the rest of the world. The shutters were ill-maintained. The clanging panels against each other reverberated with an ominous harsh metallic creak as it slowly descended, adding an element of terror to an atmosphere already laden with murderous intent.

Despite the eeriness, I was composed. I betrayed no sign of vulnerability and weakness to my opponent, and remained cross legged on the stool with a smile as we waited for the shutters to completely seal us in. I had walked straight into the lion’s den, and rattled the beast in its slumber by the neck. It may not have been the wisest thing to do for the average joe, but I was no stranger to Tai and the likes of him. Dealing with the underworld required a subtle aggressiveness to make your stand that could easily be mistaken for reckless abandon, but it wasn’t. It was instead something I termed, ‘controlled agitation.’

I reached for my pocket and put on two high quality latex gloves. The shutters came to a grinding halt; I was now cut off. Muscles moved from behind the display tables to stand by the shutters behind me.

“What game are you playing again, Tai?” My voice was calm, as I turned sideways on my stool to be able to see both Tai and Muscles who had me surrounded.

The Old Raccoon was now gone. He threw a grave look, and spoke with a tone that was deep, and intimidating, making quite sure I got the subtle message that he was not to be trifled with. This was the real Tai who controlled more than half the electronics stores in Pearl Plaza, who had the entire security office bought and paid for, and had fooled the entire police department into believing he was just a shady electronics dealer. I had awakened a sleeping dragon.

“Let’s try this again. What are you doing here, when did you transfer to the Cantonment Precinct, and are you still a cop?”

“I’m not leaving until I-”

“Nobody walks in here to make demands of me, and I will help you understand that I Am Tai.” He paused before continuing.

“Answer me now. What do you want, and are you still a cop? Orchard, or Cantonment Precinct? Where’s your partner?” In that instant, Muscles drew out a short hollow metal bar from the overhead cabinet.

Almost immediately, Tai turned to face Muscles.

“Call our boys to be alert.”

Tai was unnerved from all the questions he had inside his head about my coming and purpose. My guess was that he took notice of my semi formal attire, my hands bound in latex gloves, and my unfazed expression despite his threats, coming to the conclusion that I was up to something. He just couldn’t be sure if I was part of an ongoing plainclothes police operation. If so, why hadn’t his lookouts informed him.

[tigerwoody74]

Very well written ...

[Crampler]

NIce story ! camping for more

[HardDough]

Nice story keep it up

[Crocssucks]

nice story ts you have my support

[Lindblum]

Previously on Blotting Paper

Tai was unnerved from all the questions he had inside his head about my coming and purpose. My guess was that he took notice of my semi formal attire, my hands bound in latex gloves, and my unfazed expression despite his threats, coming to the conclusion that I was up to something. He just couldn’t be sure if I was part of an ongoing plainclothes police operation. If so, why hadn’t his lookouts informed him.

================================

“All clear.” Muscles put his cell phone down.

“You little fucker-”

Tai slowly rose from his seat pressing his palms on the table, and Muscles drew closer with the metal bar swinging from his hand, reacting as if they had caught a bluff.

Tai’s eyes widened and he retreated back into his chair as I slammed the concealed service revolver with my gloved right hand, pressing it down sideways against the glass table pointing dead at him.

“Don’t test me,” glaring at Muscles.

Perhaps it was the sound of the heavy black material on glass, or the gleaming bullet heads in the cylinder against the bright store lights that authenticated my device as he saw it, and he was convinced. Something about Tai’s expression told me he now knew the source of my confidence in the face of his intimidation, and he couldn’t have been more right.

“What are you going to do, shoot me? I’m unarmed, Sergeant. You can’t, and you know it.”

“Let’s think about this, Tai. Over there, your dog is armed with a rod, your store cameras never work when you’re cheating people, and you have a room full of illegal products which you haven’t had the time to transfer out because you weren’t warned. Not to mention I was locked in from the inside, and you have no witness. I will just write a report that I was attacked by both of you during my ‘routine’ inspection, and when they dig up what you’re up to, I’ll be hailed as a hero.”

“Attack you? I’m unarm-”

I tossed a small knife on the table, wrapped in multiple layers of plastic cling wrap.

“I cleaned this with acetone, dissolving all my fingerprints. Who’s going to believe you, Tai? I will smear your prints all over it, then I’m going to take what I came for.”

Muscles stopped right in his tracks the moment I drew my revolver out, and Tai was completely lost for words at the predicament I had set him up with, understanding that I could easily frame him for attempted murder, and justify my killing him and Muscles in ‘self defence.’ It was his mistake to shut us in, and I had anticipated it.

“Tai, I’m here to do business; It’ll be much easier if you give me what I want.” Throwing an envelope of fifteen hundred dollars on the table.

Sensing his unwillingness, I added a little more.

“What do you have to lose? We both know you have what I seek, and I’m paying you in full.” My hand still pressed on the revolver against the glass table.

“Fifteen hundred dollars for SIM Cards, and copied IDs? I don’t keep that kind of amount in here; you think I run a warehouse? I’ll sell you what I have, five hundred dollars worth.”

The fat old man slowly took the envelope and counted the money, gesturing Muscles with a tilt of his head to go into the staff room to get what I wanted.

“I need a passport - travel worthy, and documentation. Take the remainder as my payment for it,” sliding a photograph across the table.

His dark raccoon eyes shot back at me, and Tai let out a chuckle.

“That’s your real purpose here, isn’t it?”

“This.. face here.. isn’t even yours. What is this, Korean? You wanna look like a Korean now? And one grand isn’t even going to get you near a travel worthy passport, take my word for it, son.” Dropping the photograph on the table with a scoff.

“I’ll worry about the face, Tai. What can it get me then?”

“You want a passport, I’ll get you a passport. Four grand; don’t expect to cross Immigration with it.” Turning his head over and receiving the SIM cards from Muscles.

“That much for a useless passport, because?” Sounding completely unimpressed.

“Because, It’s an exact copy of the ones we get from tourists. Consulates and Embassies will verify that the particulars are real. There’s more than one use for a passport.”

With both palms crossed on the table, Tai added with a smug.

“So, give me a good reason why I should help you? What do you have to offer? Your money isn’t something I’d risk helping you for, and you’re not going to shoot me; you need my help.”

His smug confidence and attitude caught me by surprise. It was true I needed his help, and I could no longer threaten him. Could I have told him about Lilith, and entice him with its profits? I guess I could offer him a role for delivering fake passports over Lilith, at least that would be desirable to people in our neighboring countries. I was certain Tai’s business would soar with Lilith’s help, but I was unwilling to expose myself as EL to anyone, much less to someone like Tai.

“How ab-”

“You know what, I changed my mind about your offer. I’ll do this favor for you. Bring the remaining three grand next week.”

That caught me by surprise. I was sure the Old Raccoon was plotting something, I just didn't know what.

Muscles stacked the SIM cards and ID copies on the table, and allowed me to count and verify its authenticity. It was done, I had gotten what I came for, and prepared to leave. Muscles flipped the switch on the wall, and the creaky metal shutters started rumbling up.

“And you knew I had contacts for passports; how?”

“I didn’t. I threw a bait, and now I know you do.”

I got off my stool, stuffed my merchandize inside my pocket, and waited by the shutters to release me from this cage.

“You left your gun!” There was an irritation in his voice.

“Keep it, it’s an expensive replica.”

Immediately, there was a loud thud behind me. Tai’s chair flipped backwards and crashed to the ground as he rose up in anger, and slammed his palms on the table top.

“What the hell exactly are you now, L?” His voice was stern and sharp.

He had never called me by my name before. It was always “Sergeant,” or “Sir,” depending on his mood and level of intended sarcasm. I gave no reply to that; it was a good question. What was I, and who was I? Was I the cop masquerading as a villain, or the villain pretending to be a cop? As the shutters drew up, the life and lights from the world outside started flooding in like daybreak.

The clanging stopped; the shutters had fully retracted. Tai and Muscles were still intently waiting for an answer.

“I don’t really know anymore..”

Perhaps I was wrong, but as I was walking away, I heard the fainting voice of Tai saying to Muscles in the background, “...Get somebody to follow him..”

-To be continued-

[Lindblum]

UPDATE: Dialogue between Tai and L has been edited for better clarity to L's purpose.

[cooglife]

Love it ! The Asian Heisenberg with American Dream.

[cooglife]

There's always more than Meets the Eye

[Lindblum]

Love it ! The Asian Heisenberg with American Dream.

dude. either you're SPF/CNB/ISD clone.. or some bot.. the font, spacing is exactly the same as a previous person's.

[Lindblum]

NOTICE

After taking a long hiatus on working out the details of the story, I'm pleased to announce that there will be a total revamp of the story for more drama, plot, and content for the first few chapters leading up to KYUNG. Rest assured, it will be much more enjoyable than the current draft. The principal characters will remain the same, however, their roles will defer.

ADDITIONAL NOTICE

Once my revamps are done, and my additional chapters are complete, I will be publishing the first book by the end of the year. I am a strong believer of fair pay for fair work. After all, I did put a lot of effort into this, spending countless nights and days working it out. If you did enjoy my writing so far, do purchase a copy of my work in support of originality and creativity.

It will be split into two books.

Thank you very much

[AllNighter]

Enjoyed very much the story TS, support

[Lindblum]

Enjoyed very much the story TS, support

dude, i can assure everyone, you're part of Anti-Vice. It's no question how SPF does things: never posting personal comments about other posts, and at the same time, asking for more 'Lobang' to make other people give up their info. Brother, your tactics are exactly the same as the FBI. Nevermind who I am, but I am all too familiar with your tactics.

[Lindblum]

Enjoyed very much the story TS, support

Isn't it a wonder how much freedom you're entitled to post with? You want to post freely, yet you can't, because of restrictions.

Common FBI tactics:

1) asking for 'Lobang' either through PM, or thread

2) positioning as an uninterested customer, yet still texting you at the same time.

3) Including an element of trying to dissuade host to complete a 'round' of crime

4) Every Posting must be acceptable limits and within reports of Headquarters. This means never posting their personal opinions.

[mikaboshi]

Nice plot... will definitely support your work. In the meanwhile, do continue with the story.


Isn't it a wonder how much freedom you're entitled to post with? You want to post freely, yet you can't, because of restrictions.

Common FBI tactics:

1) asking for 'Lobang' either through PM, or thread

2) positioning as an uninterested customer, yet still texting you at the same time.

3) Including an element of trying to dissuade host to complete a 'round' of crime

4) Every Posting must be acceptable limits and within reports of Headquarters. This means never posting their personal opinions.

[Lindblum]

Thanks bro, will be continuing .

First let me teach how to counter Anti Vice department .

Counter Anti Vice tactics

1) make the person asking for Lobang write how much he loves prostitution and why he needs it .

2) Be careful of PMs that read "we should tell each other because we are Bros" Note, never once is he saying anything incriminating or giving an opinion . Do not believe a life story about a broken family and words like "you know la, guy mah"

3) Always make the person expose his desires . If the police is running an account , everything they write will have to be in a report . So obviously , they will never post anything about how much sex they need, and how they enjoy sticking their dick in anyone of any race .

4) this is the hardest to detect; police using a confiscated account , or making an arrested person write his own post to draw out as much intell .

Stay tuned to Blotting Paper for more sophisticated Surveillance and Counter Surveillance techniques employed by L and Phillip Kyung

[Spikerman]

Guess it's probably clones of the same person?

Even if it's the "authorities" ... this story can be non-fictional right?

Hope for more updates :)

Isn't it a wonder how much freedom you're entitled to post with? You want to post freely, yet you can't, because of restrictions.

Common FBI tactics:

1) asking for 'Lobang' either through PM, or thread

2) positioning as an uninterested customer, yet still texting you at the same time.

3) Including an element of trying to dissuade host to complete a 'round' of crime

4) Every Posting must be acceptable limits and within reports of Headquarters. This means never posting their personal opinions.

[Lindblum]

I do apologize for the long absence . The whole novel is in full swing with detailed planning and character development . So far the people I've sent the finalized draft to were incredibly impressed with the plot and characters . The whole series is going to be renamed to broaden the scope of this story. I'm looking at a publishing date at the beginning of next year , and believe it or not, it's going to be split into two books.

I have never abandoned this novel , and don't intend to. it's all still in the works and completely rewritten keeping the main plot devices. The readers familiar with this pilot will remember the following characters.

Returning characters include:

L
Phillip Kyung
David Chon
Violet
Tai
Muscles

New characters include:

Nigel
Isabelle
Teck
Firas

[Spikerman]

Welcome Back :D

[youngboy123]

Forgot about ur thread and chanced upon it while browsing through my postings... Bro u mentioned that u are going to publish it as a book, where can I purchase this??