The plane screeched to a halt on the runway, gripping to the ground like glue and ripping you from your nap. The screeching is overturned by a voice over on the loudspeaker, one of the assistants, presumably. "Please unbuckle your seatbelts and prepare to leave, and welcome to beautiful Sao Paulo!" The eccentric voice stops and a signal above your chair means you can be free from your seat. After a shuffle to get to your luggage, you finally get ahold of it and get out of the plane, onto the airport. You go to an assistants desk, to register your passport. As you approach, the lady's smile brightens and she welcomes you warmly."Hello sir! Welcome to Sao Paulo! May I see your papers?". She offers her hand out in anticipation as you fumble for your passport. As she studies your passport, she says "Ah, Mister.. Renzo Manuel Jose Castañeda. Please be patient while I process this.". A couple minutes later, you finally present your passport and she takes it, beginning the long process of verifying it. Typing into her console at a frantic rate, she pours her attention into its monitor. She hesitates for a moment, daring a moments glance at you before continuing her work. She stops typing, and begins to dial in on her desk telephone. "So s-sorry for the delay sir, just have to check in with my superiors first. Please excuse me for the inconvenience. . Startled, you begin to question why you trusted that slimy Honduran. He couldn't even get himself out of the country, how could he get you out? You begin contemplating whether to run, Zoning out the assistants conversation. After a while, you snap back to reality thanks to the assistant getting your attention. "S-sir? Are you fine? Should I call medical attention?. You quip out a hasty reply, "No ma'am, just having to myself. Have you something for me?. Her look of worry is overturned to a courteous smile as she replies, "Ah, Yes. My guard here will show you to a waiting room, whilst I transfer this to my superiors." . The neighbouring guard shows you to the room, closing the door as he ushers you in. After a few minutes getting acquainted into the room, a man comes from the adjacent door opposite of the entrance. You recognize him as Alvaro, the Honduran smuggler who got you your fake credentials to escape Colombia. "Renzo, my friend! I hadn't expected you to make it this far, welcome to Sao Paulo, eh? I'm sure you'll fit right in.". He comes in for a brotherly embrace.>Reject his embrace, greeting him coldly>Accept his embrace, greeting him friendly>Write-in
>>564428>>Accept his embrace, greeting him friendly
>>564428>Accept his embrace, greeting him friendlyNo reason to be unfriendly.
>>564428>Accept his embrace, greeting him friendly
>>564436>>564437You receive his embrace, greeting him as a brother. "Álvaro! Its good to see you, eh? I thought I'd never see you out of Honduras, brother. How'd you make it out?" He takes his time to take a freshly rolled cigar and places it comfortably in his mouth. "Eh, you know me! A little bit of this, a little bit of this, Yea? No fatcat can hold me down! Struggling with lighting his cigar on his own, you offer your personal lighter to light it. "Thanks, this is that real Cuban shit, man. Paid a pretty penny for it." "Eh, I don't partake. So, what do you have to offer me to start me off? I can't live off a few dollars!" There is a pregnant pause, before Álvaro dares to break it. "That's what I wanted to see you about, Renzo. See, I don't that many contacts here in Brazil, or even Sao Paulo. I'm stretched thin trying to cover your ass after that failed stunt you pulled in Peru. I told you leave the reds alone, their bad luck. If you were your younger self, you wouldn't hit him then and there, but you knew better. "Hey, I told you, I moved on from that sort of thing. No use risking my neck to bring about a change. But I need an income Álvaro, you must have something. . He inhales the fragrant Cuban, exhaling it at a slow and snail-like pace. "I do have two, but they aren't very good. They can support you for the time being I suppose. Now, this may not be very appetizing, but it can keep your bills paid. I have contacts with one of my old cartel friends, their looking for a new chaffuer after the old one ran on them." You give him an incredulous look, believing it a joke. "Surely this is a jest, Álvaro? You know I hate those narco bastards. And I'd like if you don't bring it up again.. He falls back, puffing on his cigar, putting the ash on the floor. "Hey, I'm just laying out options. You need them right? Any thing to get by, I'd say. But its all up to you. I have another job, less paying but I suppose you can make it work. A bar owner I know needs someone to bartend, and I know you know your way around a drink. I've given a call and he says he can see you today, but its your choice.>Take the Driving Job>Take the Bartender Job
>>564491>Take the Bartender Joblet's not be ILLEGAL.
>>564491>>Take the Bartender Job>>564495>not being ilegal>south america
>>564491Driving job>>564495Don't be a nerd
>>564495>>564499"I'd rather be poor than work for those slugs. Tell the bar keeper I'll come around." Álvaro is visibly thrown agast, but keeps his composure. "Fine, brother, but don't say I didn't offer! I'll give him a call. Lemme grab your papers and you'll be free to leave. Oh, and take this." Out of his pocket, he unsheathes a sizeable bayonet, a relic of the past yet ostensibly usable. "A bayonet? Álvaro, what the hell am I going to do with a damn knife? Throw it at the gunman?. "Who said anything about guns? Look, just take it you damn homo. Shits gotten worse since the 70's, Renzo. People are reckless nowadays, and I can't have it on my conscience if my brother died on these dirty ass streets of Paulo. He puts the bayonet down onto an adjoining table, and continues speaking"Look, truth is, Brazil isn't Peru. People will rob you over the slightest bit of a penny. Here's some cash to carry you around. Just be safe out there, alright? I'll go get your passport and papers.. Plopping down a clip of cash on the table, he flicks his cigar on the ground and leaves to grab your papers. After a couple minutes, he comes back out with your information, and a paper with the Bar's address. "Look, I don't have a place for you to sleep yet, but the bar owner has a second floor over his bar. You can pad out there till I get you somewhere to stay. Or you can sell your ass, I'm sure your familiar with it, eh? He breaks out in a grin as you both have a chuckle. Whatever, fag. I'll see you later alright? See me at the bar sometimes. Stay safe, eh? You both exchange an embrace after you pocket your belongings and grab your luggage as you head out of the airport and hail for a taxi. You hop in and direct the driver towards the bars neighbourhood, Francio. A little ways from downtown, the bar attracts many demographics. As you enter, a sense of comfortability overwhelms you as your greeted by an old man, a grizzled wrinkly face on him. "Hello, and Welcome to the Foreigner. My name is Jacobs, And you must be Ranzo? You fit the script. As you take a seat at a stool at the bar, you notice more and more he isn't natively Latino.>Ask him about the job>Ask about the Bar>Ask him about himself>Write-in
>>564571>>Ask him about the job
>>564571>Ask about the Bar
>>564571>ask him about the job>Ask him about himself
>>564571>Ask him about himself
>>564575>>564599Settling into the stool, you order bottle of beer, introducing yourself to Jacobs. "Ranzo Manuel Jose Castañeda, at your service. A friend of mines told me you had an offering" . Jacobs opens up a fresh bottle of Varnor's Belgian Brew. Hard to come by, especially in these streets. He slides it down to you as he wipes his bar. "Yip, you heard right. Álvaro can come through sometimes when I need it. Truth has it, I'm getting old. I'm not the buckful Stallone as I was in my youth. I need someone to serve the drinks and well, tend the bar. It won't pay me, 37 reals an hour, but I can offer you the second floor upstairs to crash at. Hours aren't too bad, and I don't mind vacation.. It sounds too good to be true, and your inquisitive nature gets the better of you as you drink your fill of the beer. "I've been to many bars in my lifetime, and these conditions seem too good to be true. What's the catch, old man? Don't lie to me now." He hesitates as he looks you in the eye, distracting you from the atmosphere of the building. "Fine, I respect that your clever. Look, there's a local gang that's been extorting me for awhile, the Bressia Morvelli. Supposedly, their some errand boys for the bigger cartels, but they've been charging me "Protection fee" and I can't continue to pay it at this rate. I don't fear them, only what they can do to my bar. I put in too much time into Foreigner, and I won't let them just snatch it from me. I need someone to watch it through the night shift as my old eyes just won't cut it anymore. >Take the Job>Ask about the local Crime scene>Ask about the Bar>Ask about him>Deny the Job>Write-in
>>564630>>Ask about the local Crime scene
>>564630>>Deny the Job
>>564636>>564668"That's nice and swell, but I need to know what I'm getting myself into. I didn't come to Brazil to get gunned down. Tell me about the gangs and cartels around here." He stops for a moment, contemplating in solace. You take an anxious sip of your brew in anticipation. He finally barks up, "What's there to tell? Well for starters, the cartel's run things in Sao Paulo. The Military despots turn a blind eye and because of it, they have free reign. Sometimes they clash, but not too often. There are 4 competing cartels in São Paulo, along with its flock of gangs and politicians. First the Terceiro Comando, from Rio de Janeiro. It's head by Cesar Silva, but most around here just call him Cerinha. Their the main competitors to Comando Vermelho, their rivals. Their probably the largest by far, having been formed out of the ashes of an ideology, having long abandoned it. They operate all over South America, but have been moving their interests more into Brasil by the day. And there's the PCC, Primeiro Comando da Capital. The sao Paulo natives, they have the largest presence here, but are being chipped away at slowly by other competitors. The last, but certainly not the least, is the Medellín Cartel, the largest cocaine exporter to the America's and a falling empire. As you know well, their headed by Pablo Escobar, "El Patron". The gangs around here are pawns to these 4 fat cats.You siphon away the last of the fermented drink as you signal for another. "Sounds rough. Why won't the local policing do anything to stop them?" The old man scuffs under his breathe as he begins another tirade. "Everyone has a price here, Even the law. Those who wouldn't take the money took lead instead. They take their cut of the imports and let the cartels walk all over them in return. Hell, their probably cartel heads themselves, I wouldn't put it past them.>Take the Job>Ask about himself>Ask about the bar>Deny the job>Write-In
>>564718>>Take the Jobfuck it,lets do it
>>564718Deny the job, go become a driver instead
Rolled 2 (1d2)Tie-breaker
>>564718>>Take the Job
>>564732>>564726>>564744Seeing the danger in this line of work, you speak up to the bartender. "No can do Old Man, I don't wanna get on anyone's bad side as I've only been here a few hours. Thanks for the offer though, and let me grab one of those beers on the go. Put it on my tab.. He has a look of resignation on his face, but passes you the beer. "I understand. If you ever reconsider, you can come back. For now, I guess you can sleep upstairs. Laid out a mattress and the such. You'll have to pay rent, though.After a few more drinks and discussions, you resign to your upstairs pad. No furniture or anything of the like, you flop onto the mattress like a beached whale, exhausted from the day. You let sleep happily embrace you, slipping into its resting grip.And with that, I'm wrapping this up. I'm gonna start this shit back up at a better time today.check out this twitter (@YaBoiQM) for updates. Sorry if I disappointed
>>564499Actually there are way more ilegals in North America. The pension system would literally colapse without ilegal immigrants contribution to the economy without being able to aford the same benefits than legal citizens.But whatever.
>>564774After drifting off to sleep, your awoken to the opera of gunfire and girls. Thrusted from your bosomy mattress, you instinctively reach for your knife, and groggily drag yourself to your feet. The symphony stops abruptly, and closed by the screech of tires and airing of the carhorn. No longer in a state of danger, you drop your knife and fall down, a massive hangover beating on your head hardily. You lie there, adjusting to the pain of the headache, before unpacking some clothes out to wear. As his pad doesnt have any hygiene facility, he just tosses his clothing on and heads downstairs. There are bullet holes in the windows and shattered glass all around. Stepping through the shattered crystal-like glass, crunching them beneath your foot, filling the bar with a steady crunch. From the looks of it, it was a drive-by and everyone went home, or so you thought. Studying the area, you go to look behind the bar for a drink before your met with a disjointed body lying behind it. You recognize him as Jacobs, the old man who owned the bar. You jump, falling back on a table. You regather yourself, trying to grasp the situation. What will you do?>Leave the bar and try and contact Álvaro>Call the cops and wait at the scene for them>Write-in
>>566164>Call the cops and wait at the scene for them
>Pack your stuff and leave, the cops would just blame you. Clean anything you touched just in case.
>>566194I'll second this.
>>566194>>566199>>566202You know how cops are here in South America, as long as they can get a case closed they don't care who really did it. You take the sensible route, and decide to pack it up. You sprint upstairs, packing your luggage and belongings with quick pace, taking care to wipe down the bar and the table, so they can't trace you. Before you leave, you take a quick glance at him. He seemed nice enough, you think to yourself. Shame he had to go. You say a quick prayer for him and you harry out the doors into the streets of Francio, which are bare-bones. The natives around here have learned that if shit like this happens, you get out of there as fast as possible. With nowhere to go, you have to think up a strategy. The orchestra of blaring cop sirens wail in the background, disrupting the tranquil scene. You wonder onto the avenue,an entirely different scene from the bar. Filled from people from all backgrounds, they go about their buisiness, ignorant of the killing only a block down. filled with peddling vendors, stores and shops. Theres a couple trolleys running here aswell. Where will you go?>Go into Café Tempestade, a relatively small and opulent-looking coffee shop.>Ask one of the vendors if they have anything you can use (Write-In)>Go into A local Grocery market, aptly named Baixo Colheita.>Enter a pawn shop, with no name in sight.>Get on the Trolley.>Write-In
>>566259>>Go into A local Grocery market, aptly named Baixo Colheita.
>>566274You deicide to enter the grocery store. You enter the grocery store, as a slight ding signals your arrival. Your arrival isn't noted by anyone, as their too busy with their produce. There are an amalgamation of people crowding stalls, impatiently waiting to leave. The stall cashiers work almost tirelessly, checking item price, bagging them and taking cash. You don't know their hours, but they look tired already. What will you do?>Ask for a Telephone>Ask For directions (Write-In)>Buy some stuff(Write-In)>Write-In
>>566274This. Better place to know stuff. Ask what's going on with the police sirens and buy food.
>>566351>Buy some stuffgroceries.Take some stuff to make cocktails and fruits
>>566374We are homeless, why the hell we would want to make a cocktail? Do we even have experience as a barman, and if so, who would hire us?Let's just grab some fresh fruit, we need a ckear head to think, not getting smashed.
>>566371>>566374Seeing an opportunity to stock on proper snacks, and hungry, you go check out the fruit isle. A plethora of edibles sit in your sight, however some fruits here aren't available due them being "Out of Stock". You take out your clip of money. And count it. You notice their real american dollars, worth dozen times more than the Brazilian Cruzeiro. You can buy your Worth's fill of fruit. What will you buy?>[You have 90 Dollars.]>Oranges, plump and round>Apples, firm and juicy>Watermelon>Bananas>Strawberry>Berries(Write-In which variety, don't get all exotic.)>Mangos>Don't buy anything.
>>566457>>Oranges, plump and round
>>566457>Oranges, plump and round>Mangos
>>566466This. But let's not make cocktails not only we don't have glasses, we need a clear head to find another place to live.
Forgot to post this, but I have an official discord for discussion, memes and general other shit. Here.https://discord.gg/WSQWaWriting new post now.
>>566459>>566461>>566466>>566483You peruse over the section, unsure of which to grab. After a few moments taught, you pick up a bag of oranges and a bag of mangoes, both good and tasty fruit. You weigh them both, and you estimate that they'll probably cost 2 dollars each. You put them each to one hand, and think on what's next>Ask to use a Telephone>Go Buy Something(Write-In)>Leave>Ask for Directions>Write-In
>>566545>Go Buy Something(Write-In)we need to clean the bar don't we?let's get some tools to do so.
>>566545>Ask for directions.They will be way more polite now that we bought something. And really is a bad idea to do a phone call to that guy, since there will be a murder investigation if thry don't pin the death to someone fast, and even if they do.
>>566562Its a crime scene, but you can do as you wish.
>>566562We already left the bar and the police is there. Better to just ask fore directions.
>>566572Yeah but they won't clean shit before taking the body.Plus the place certainly need some cleaning anyhow.A clean bar is a good bar.
>>566545>Ask for Directions
>>566568>>566580Having bought some food, and feeling rather good about yourself, you go up to one of the stalls and wait in line. Whilst waiting, you overhear a conversation behind you."Hey, you heard about Old man Jacobs? He got killed in his bar just after he opened. Its swarming with police. There is a quiet pause before someone speaks up"Damn, I knew this would happen. I told him not to mess with the Bressia. I wonder how his daughters doing?" The other person speaks up."Probably horrible, the poor girl. There's a rumor that this guy walked out right after the shooting, with suitcases in suit. Could he have done it? There is a 'Mhm' before the other continues the conversation. "I wouldn't put it past the guy. Jacobs didn't have many friends. Sad to see him go.They talk a little more of insignificant drama before stopping completely. After a few minutes, your finally in front of the line and as you put your fruit on the counter, you say.."Excuse me Ma'am, do you happen to have directions to...>Write-In
>>566652>Cheap but safe hostelWe can't keep wandering with a damn suitcase.
>>566666This. The suitcase is now suspicious but asking for a hostel ( not a hotel) fits so is way less suspicious.
>>566666this, supporting super satan
>>566666>>566680>>566688(Calm down there, Satan.)"..A hostel, perchance? I'm weary from travel and I want a place to settle down at.". She gives you a look up and down, glancing at your suitcase for a moment and a look of recognization washes over her. "O-of course sir. There's one in the neighbourhood, right down the avenue and off the street. real affordable. Sorry for the inconvenience sir, I don't want any trouble. You don't even have to pay! She looks terrified, but your confused until you realize she thinks your probably a gang hitman who killed Jacobs. Not wanting to cause a scene, you whisper to her. "Look, I'm not the guy who Killed him, and I hope you keep this between us. I'll even slide you a little tip, yeah? For a moment she considers saying something, but considers against it and just nods. She packages your things nice and neat, saying, "Anything else you n-need sir?>Ask for a telephone>Say No, pay for your stuff, and exit>Write-In
>>566826>>Ask for a telephone
>>566826>Ask for a telephone
>>566826>Nope. If we stay too long they will call the police. We should get rid of the suitcase in the river and get a gym bag instead.
>>566840>>566853>>566905"Listen, I need a telephone, its important." She hesitates a bit before she responds, saying "Well, there's an inactive stall down there with a telephone. You can use it to call people, I guess. Just don't let anyone know, please?You nod, paying for your stuff and throwing a tip her way, paying altogether 5USD. You take your bags and walk down to the other stall, making sure no ones nearby to hear. You pick it up, and prepare to dial who?>The Airport, see if Álvaro is still there.>Get off the phone.
>>566961>>The Airport, see if Álvaro is still there.
>>566961>Get off the phone
>>566961>The Airport, see if Álvaro is still there.
>>566980>>567031Dialing in the airports number, the desolate tone of its dial rings for a couple seconds before finally being picked up an assistant staff. "Hello, and thank you for calling São Paulo Airport. How may I help you today?""Is Álvaro there? I need to speak to him."There is a pregnant pause with muffled sounds in the background before someone answers the phone. "No, sorry, Álvaro isn't here. But I have his home number, do you want it?"Sure, give it to me."After exchanging the number and goodbyes, you hang up and dial in Alvaro's number. After a long minute of dialing, Alvaro's voice comes from the other side."Who is this?""Renzo you dumb bastard! Look, That barkeep is dead. His place was shot up early in the morning, and people saw me leave after he got shot.""Yeah I heard about that on the news. He was a nice guy, for what its worth, but we can't talk right now, I'm with company. Look, I'll meet you down by the bar, capeesh? If the cops ask you anything, tell them your Carinha's friend, Alright?""You must be fucking joking. Carinha's a damn cartel boss, and you want me to tell a cop I'm with him? You must think I'm fucking stupid, Álvaro.""Look, motherfucker, I'm trying to help you. I don't know how you found out the local crime, but that's the only way they won't nab you. I'll be down there in 30 minutes, alright? Just stay calm and *don't* do anything stupid.Before you can respond, he hangs up, banging the phone and shutting you off from contact.What will you do?>Head to the Bar Crime Scene>Head for the Hostel>Write-In
>>567149>Head to the Bar Crime Scene
>>567149>HostelThis motherfucker will just get in trouble. Hell he almost got us killed already.
>>567149>The hostelWe need to get rid of the luggage so leave it there at least.
>>567149>BarLay low and trust your bro
>>567190But not carrying a suitcase, let's leave it at the Hostel first.
>>567174>>567178Fuck Álvaro and his bullshit, I'll handle this myself. Hanging up the phone and grabbing your fruits, you head out of the grocery market, intending to make for the hostel.A half-hours walk from the Market, and you arrive at the hostel, or what it barely looks like, anyway. Its in a shabby rundown condition, barely able to be called. Better than being homeless, you think to yourself. You enter, and almost immediately smell mold and piss. The lady at the counter looks like a ragged excuse for a human, but she looks up from her magazine asks, "What'll I do for ya?">Ask for a room>Ask About the Bar shooting>Leave>Write-in
>>567257>>Ask About the Bar shooting
>>567257>Ask About the Bar shooting
>>567257>Room and bar shooting.
>>567334This. Also complain about people being assholes just because you have a suitcase.
>>567334>>567350Ask a room, casually ask about the bar shooting and complain about people fixation in something like a damn suitcase and not hair and eye color since that's harder to change.
>>567282>>567334>>567350>>567268"Hey, you heard about that Bar shooting a few blocks away?She studies you, looking you hard in the eyes for before reaponding"Look, I don't care if you did or not, but if your paying, I'll overlook any misdeeds. My place isnt the best, but its warm and soft for a long night. But I guess I could entertain your story. Last I heard, some guy was staking the place out, driving by for any signals of Jacobs being there. Once he entered, 30 minutes later, boom. He's lieing there dead. Almost immediately after, "someone" left. Shame what happened to him, he was handsome for his age.You contemplate for a bit before responding."I heard he was having gang problems. Heard anything about that?""The Brassia Morvelli. They extort everyone in Francio, "Protection" they call it. But if any of the rival gangs come and bang us up, they claim it never happened. And the cops here are even worse. They stop random people on the street and arrest them on moot charges. Last I heard, Jacobs refused to pay it last time after they roughed up his daughter. If it were me, I'd have let 'em have her, I like my life. But Jacobs was old, thought he didn't have anything to lose, and I guess he didn't. "His Daughter? I heard about her, But I know nothing about her. How is she?"" Ion kno', and I could care less. She's probably around by the bar at the scene. Look. I'm not one for talk, you want a room or not?And that's the last for tonight. Its 4am, and I have to work tomorrow. Sorry for such a tight schedule, I'll try and runnfor longer hours. Once again, check out my twitter, @YaBoiQM, for updates. You can also check my discord(listed above) for post updates and the such. Thanks for playing!
>>567512>Yes I want room.We can't keep walking around with a suitcase.