It was 12pm already , the day had been sure to dictate the course it was going take and everyone had their tasks assigned to follow up on. Everyone as expected would eventually be everywhere doing something on a good Monday noon. You could be found in the lawcourt witnessing a case , with Nena daniels for example or either in the streets trying to make ends meet some other way, or probably in a secret underground station checking the quality control in the production of the world’s most illegal narcotics. Yes , I’m talking about ‘cocaine’. On this regular 12pm afternoon, like every other one in the past five years, a strangely dressed man in a mask had his hands strapped behind his back as he walked amidst a group of seemingly busy individuals . This secret undergrounds station was mostly filled with females who had their noses covered in a mask to avoid inhaling the loads of white fumes that filled the air, mostly from all the cocaine they were working with.
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