Operation Shitstein

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Nero, seated in his office on the top floor of Prince's Nightclub, stared at the report with an uncharacteristic stillness. Maria sat beside him, her face tight with anger and disbelief. Anthony paced the room like a caged lion, his clenched fists trembling with barely suppressed rage. The murderous aura emanating from him was palpable. Diego sat quietly, but his brooding silence and the lethal glint in his eyes spoke volumes. Sofia's fingers flew over her keyboard, her usually cheerful face dark with a rare fury. Donald leaned on his cane, his gaze fixed on the window, lost in his thoughts.

The intel Nami had stolen had arrived, and it was far worse than any of them had anticipated. Child trafficking. The words alone were enough to fill the room with a heavy, oppressive silence.

Nero broke the silence first, his voice cold and resolute. "This is worse than we thought. We need to act swiftly and decisively."

"Yeah, no kidding," Anthony growled, punching the wall in frustration. "Those bastards will pay for this."

Maria shook her head, "I knew it was bad, but this... it's monstrous."

Sofia, not looking up from her laptop, added, "I've already started tracing their communications. It'll take some time, but I'll find where they're operating from."

"Good," Nero nodded. "We need to hit them hard and fast. But we also need to be smart about this. We can't afford any mistakes."

Diego leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "We need to gather more intel before we move. We can't just storm in without knowing what we're up against."

"He's right," Donald agreed, turning to face them. "We need to be thorough. These people are dangerous, and we need to be prepared for anything."

Maria placed a hand on Nero's arm. "What's the plan?"

Nero looked at Sofia, his voice steady, "What have you found about their operation?"

Without lifting her eyes from the screen, Sofia reported, "They use online marketplaces, disguising their listings as overpriced children's clothing. Each description is coded, an allegory about the age, race, and gender of the child. The buyers contact them through these listings, and after verifying both parties are safe, they arrange the transaction."

Anthony, still pacing, let out a low growl. "Disgusting. They think they're untouchable behind those screens."

Maria's lips pressed into a thin line. "If we don't take them down, no one will."

Sofia snorted, her eyes never leaving her laptop. "They've made a big mistake thinking they are safe on the internet."

Nero's gaze was cold. "Sofia, how long until you can pinpoint their main operations?"

"Give me a few hours," Sofia replied confidently. "I've already breached their first layer of security. With some luck, I'll have locations soon."

Diego, finally speaking up, leaned forward, his tone serious. "We need to prepare for their defenses. These people won't go down without a fight."

Nero shook his head, "We need to be smart about this. Even if we catch some of them, we don't know where they keep the children or who their suppliers are. Killing a few, capturing small bosses, and saving a handful of kids won't end this operation."

Anthony clenched his fist, feeling the heat of his rage. "I want to smash every single one of them."

Maria, knowing Nero the best, touched his arm. "We don't have a clear identity. If we mess this up, they'll get smarter. Next time, they'll be even harder to find."

Nero nodded, appreciating her insight. "Exactly. We can't afford to give them a chance to regroup."

Donald hit his cane on the ground twice, drawing everyone's attention. "You want to use Erwin?"

Diego leaned back, understanding Nero's plan. "Erwin works for SHIELD. His involvement could give us an edge and benefit him by boosting his standing."

Nero smiled, a glint of promised trouble in his eyes. "That's precisely the plan. Here's how we'll do it..."

The discussion continued in hushed tones, the details of their strategy laid out meticulously. Plans were made, contingencies discussed, and roles assigned. They had to be precise, swift, and ruthless.

Diego, now outside the office, was on a mission of his own. He dialed a number on his sleek smartphone, his expression shifting from calm to charming as the call connected.

"Good evening, Mr. Ashcroft. It's Diego Martinez," he said smoothly. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Diego! Always a pleasure. To what do I owe the call?"

"I have some exclusive arrangements tonight at Prince's Nightclub. Thought you might be interested," Diego said, his tone inviting and hinting at secrecy.

"Exclusive, you say? I do enjoy your taste in exclusivity," Ashcroft replied, intrigued.

"Let's just say, it's a gathering of our kind. Discreet, enjoyable, and beneficial. Shall I expect you at midnight?" Diego's voice was honeyed, each word crafted to entice.

"Midnight it is. I wouldn't miss it for the world," Ashcroft confirmed, the eagerness evident in his voice.

Diego hung up, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He repeated the process with a few other select individuals, each conversation tailored to their interests and weaknesses. By the end, he had secured the attendance of several influential and wealthy patrons.

At midnight, the nightclub was alive with the muted hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Diego moved through the crowd with ease, his athletic build and charming demeanor drawing appreciative glances. He was a master at this game, effortlessly weaving through the social fabric of the nation's elite.

As he approached Ashcroft, he was greeted with a hearty handshake. "Diego! This place is marvelous as always."

"Thank you, Mr. Ashcroft. I aim to please," Diego replied with a grin, guiding him to a private booth.

The night wore on, laughter and deals mingled in the air. Diego gathered information subtly, his questions masked as casual conversation. The patrons, loosened by alcohol and the intimate setting, spoke more freely than they might have elsewhere.

"Interesting developments in the city lately," Diego remarked casually, his eyes sharp. "I heard about a hidden player, Harold Givens."

Ashcroft arched an eyebrow, swirling his drink thoughtfully. "Harold Givens? The name rings a bell. Isn't he a philanthropist? Runs those charity events for orphans?"

"That's the public face," Diego replied smoothly, leaning back in his seat. "But I've heard whispers that he's involved in less savory activities."

Another patron, a portly man with a cigar, laughed. "In this city? Everyone's got a skeleton or two in their closet. Givens isn't an exception."

"True," Ashcroft agreed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But it takes a special kind of operator to stay hidden for so long. Makes you wonder who he's protecting or who's protecting him."

Diego chuckled, sensing the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface. "Indeed. Makes you wonder what he's really up to."

Ashcroft took a long puff of his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Maybe he's just good at playing the game. Or maybe he's got friends in high places."

"Or both," Diego added, letting the conversation drift into a comfortable silence as the music swelled in the background. The hints and nudges had planted seeds of curiosity and suspicion. Diego knew that in their circles, it wouldn't take long for those seeds to bear fruit.

As the night progressed, Diego continued to flit from conversation to conversation, gathering snippets of information with practiced ease. The rich and powerful were always eager to talk, especially when plied with the right mix of flattery and interest.

Diego made a mental note, his instincts telling him that this line of inquiry might yield valuable results. He continued to navigate the room, each conversation adding another piece to the puzzle.

By the end of the night, Diego had enough fragments to form a clearer picture. He slipped out of the nightclub just before dawn, his mind already processing the wealth of information he had gathered. He dialed Nero's number, waiting for his friend to pick up.

"Diego?" Nero's voice was sharp and alert despite the early hour.

"I've got something," Diego said, his voice low. "A lot of whispers about Givens. He's not as clean as he appears. Property acquisitions, possible connections to other shady figures. We need to dig deeper."

"Good work," Nero replied, his tone approving. "Bring everything to the meeting afternoon. We'll figure out our next move."

Diego hung up, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He had done his part, and now it was time to let Nero and the others strategize.

In his house, Donald was seated in front of his computer, a list of names glaring back at him. Sofia had provided the list after meticulously filtering through hundreds of fake websites. Her hard work had paid off, isolating the real numbers from the fraudulent ones. The names on the list were doctors, nurses, and caregivers, all of whom had succumbed to greed. Sofia suspected that among them, one or two might be connected to Givens' operation and might have had contact with the trafficked children. Rich customers wanted assurances of their purchases' health, and since those children couldn't be taken to regular hospitals, these corrupt doctors stepped in.

Donald adjusted his position, feeling the usual pain in his leg, and began to make the calls. He knew he had to play his part convincingly. With each number, he crafted a different story, ensuring no patterns could be traced back to him.

He dialed the first number, the phone ringing twice before it was picked up.

"Dr. Evan Sanders here," a gruff voice answered.

"Hi, Dr. Sanders," Donald began, his voice steady. "I got your number from a friend. Heard you might be able to help someone looking for quick cash?"

"Who's asking?" The doctor's tone was guarded, suspicion evident.

"Call me Don," he replied smoothly. "Let's just say I'm in a bit of a bind and need some fast money. My friend Xander mentioned you might have some... opportunities?"

Dr. Sanders paused before responding, "Xander, huh? Haven't heard from him in a while. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Anything that pays well and quickly," Donald said, injecting a hint of desperation into his voice. "I'm not picky. Xander mentioned you might have some unconventional ways to earn."

Sanders chuckled darkly, "Unconventional, indeed. Meet me at St. Mary's parking lot tonight at eleven. We'll talk more then."

Donald thanked him and hung up, immediately dialing the next number on his list.

"Dr. Avery here," a female voice answered after a few rings.

"Hi, Dr. Avery," Donald began, his tone calm. "I got your number from a mutual friend, Logan. He said you might have some work for someone needing quick cash."

Dr. Avery's tone softened slightly, "Logan, Logan, oh that bastard? Alright, Don, what kind of work are you looking for?"

"Anything that pays well. I'm in a bit of a tight spot and need money fast," Donald explained, keeping his story consistent.

There was a brief silence before Dr. Avery replied, "I might have something. Come by my clinic tomorrow at noon. We'll discuss it in person."

Donald agreed, making a mental note of the appointment. He moved on to the next number.

"Dr. Novak speaking," a gruff voice answered.

"Dr. Novak, good afternoon," Donald started. "My name's Don. A friend, Morgan, suggested I reach out to you about some quick cash opportunities."

"Morgan, never heard of it?" Novak's voice was skeptical. "What makes you think I'd have a work for you?"

"Morgan mentioned you sometimes need an extra set of hands for... off-the-books tasks. I'm in a tough spot and need money fast," Donald replied, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Dr. Novak sighed, "Fine. Meet me at the docks tonight at ten. We'll see if you're up to the task."

Donald thanked him and moved on to the next contact.

"Dr. Patel here," a calm, professional voice answered.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Patel," Donald said. "My name's Don. A mutual acquaintance, Clara, gave me your number. She mentioned you might have some opportunities for quick cash."

Dr. Patel was silent for a moment before replying, "You got the wrong number."

Donald cursed as the call ended. He knew these doctors were involved in something shady, but it was necessary to dig deeper. Sadly the last one was too cautious. 

Donald rubbed his leg, the persistent ache gnawing at him. He picked up his phone and dialed Nero's number, waiting for the familiar voice to answer. "I managed to set up appointments with most of them," he said as soon as Nero picked up. "A few were skeptical, and none of them detailed what their jobs actually involve. I'll have to meet each one in person."

Nero took a moment before responding, his tone cautious. "Take Maria with you. She can use the Ring of Mist to disguise your face, hide your limp, and make herself invisible. And be careful."

Donald couldn't help but chuckle. "Trust you to come up with a plan like that. Maria's illusions are top-notch."

Nero's voice was cautionary. "Her illusions are good, but don't underestimate these people. They're dangerous."

"I know," Donald replied, his tone serious. "I'll be careful. Maria and I will handle it."

As the hours passed, Donald and Maria visited the various doctors, each encounter revealing more about the shadowy network they were up against. Using the Ring of Mist, Maria skillfully concealed their identities, allowing them to gather information without drawing suspicion.

At St. Mary's parking lot, Donald met Dr. Sanders, who eyed him warily before nodding in approval. "You've got the look of someone in need," Sanders said gruffly. "Follow me."

In the clinic, Dr. Avery listened to Donald's story, her eyes narrowing with interest. "I might have a job for you," she said slowly. "But it's risky."

At the docks, Dr. Novak was more straightforward. "Show me you can handle yourself, and there's work for you."

By the end of the day, they had gathered enough information to return to Nero, each piece of the puzzle fitting together to reveal a grim picture of the child trafficking operation.

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