The Qadafia

The Origin of the Qadafia
(An excerpt from the early journals of the elusive leader of the Qadafia himself, known only as 'Bird Man' (true identity as yet unconfirmed).)

Joe came by the restaurant today, spouting some crap about 'loyalty' and 'unforgivable deeds'. Guy had clearly had a rough morning, he has tense as hell. Told me to meet him in his store at 7:26pm (so damn specific, what a loon), so I went along. Nothin' better to do tonight anyway, and I'd never actually seen the guy's house - thought he just slept in the fuckin' dirt honestly (dude smells of manure like all the time. Have a bath, man!). So I get there, and he's not there. Then all of a sudden, the guy pops up out of these rusty old scaffoldin' shelves, climbin' up 'em like a monkey or somethin'. No 'hello' or even a 'sup', he just stared at me all intense and grunted before pretty much fallin' back down again. I took that as a cue to follow him and clambered my scrawny ass down there. Turns out the dude lives in this tiny bunker under his shop, calls it his 'hideaway' like a real creep. I kind of had to perch on his wee bunkbed for our 'meetin' or whatever the hell this was. He sat at his desk and grabbed a bowl of this white powder, then he whipped out a fuckin' bamboo rod out of nowhere and started snortin' it all up like a greedy wee pig. Real gross sight, I'll tell ya'. Looked like he was tryin' to eat soup and doin' an absolutely shite job.

When he stopped he kind of coughed and faced me, lookin' all serious and tryin' to be intimidating. He told me he'd made his own drug somehow, went into all these details about plants and shit that ain't important. Then he started sayin' he had a 'plan', real big smugglin' shit, international even. I've been in smugglin' forever, so I know the scale of it all is expensive and risky, but everyone knows that's the best kind. Here's a rough transcription of all that (in case this crap ever gets me busted);

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[Transcription of Business Meeting: Joseph Hobbitson: JH, Bird Man: BM]

JH: They're buildin' a factory. For Grit. My Grit. They want to put it in our farm as fertiliser, which, sure whatever, we all gotta eat! But it's so much more than just fertiliser, Bird Man. This shit is heaven man, did I tell you? Makes you fly. Anyway, Norm (the fuckin arsewipe) told me they want me to produce it; "manage the factory and 'oversee' production" or whatever since it's my own damn creation. Any other idiot wouldn't do it right. I don't fuckin' want to, but I have to - for the plan!"

BM: Yeah man, you've mentioned this plan a bunch-a times. What is it?

JH: That, my feathered friend {side note: never fucking call me that what the hell??} would be the tunnels. They're perfect. There's a whole undercity of this old railway tunnel system that runs across the nation. No one ever uses 'em, except for us ol' smugglers. Place is like a criminal haven. I have my own routes too, I've been diggin' tunnels since I came here. Anyway, what I'm thinkin’ is that we dig some more under this new factory. Then I just gotta make the shit on an industrial scale (paid for by our own damn government) and smuggle it out at night under everyone's snotty wee noses - literally! I'll have'ta screw the production numbers, but that's easy. Been doin' that here for years. That's where you come in. With your smugglin' and connections we can transport Grit all across Qadakh, Eldham even! We can open the eyes of our people and help 'em fly, Bird Man. Surely you want that too?

BM: I don't know man, is this shit safe? I like a good drug like anyone else, but I ain't about to smuggle shit that's untested. I ain't goin’ to jail for mass murder again, bro.

JH: I've got it covered. It's tested. You trust me to make a good product, I'll trust you to smuggle it for me. Fair deal, no? Partners in crime, just like old times.

BM: Joe, you still haven't paid your debts to me, what makes you think I should trust ya? You owe me, don't get that twisted.

JH: Bird Man, buddy, you can trust me. Sure, I get high on my own supply, and I know you don't do that - but it means I trust my shit enough to take it myself, okay? I promise, Grit is the best thing this nation has seen since Ulrich showed up and paid for the Academy. This is the big time, brother. You'll get your money, your mafia, your international smugglin' ring, your groupies - whatever the hell it is you want so bad. And I get Grit and a fuckton of cash. You in?

BM: ...I'm in if we sort a couple'a issues;


 * Tunnels gotta connect the factory directly to my base, and yours too. Out of sight, out of mind. Then, once I've set up an HQ in the 'shroom caves, tunnels have'ta reach there too.
 * I get 80% of profits, you get 20% and a constant supply of Grit. You owe me more than your life is worth, Joe. You're lucky I ain't killin' you right here and just takin' it all...but I won't... yet.
 * You're just the supply guy. Nothin' more, in business. The Qadafia will smuggle Grit under its own name, own rules, and my leadership. Prove you're a reliable supplier and I'll keep you alive, protected, wealthy and high. Sound good?

JH: You've got yourself a deal, Bird Man.

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After all that he pulled out a pathetic excuse for a contract, so I looked it over and added my terms before we signed it. Guy was clueless, and already high again, but he seemed eager. Those are the easiest deals, when the supplier is desperate and stupid. Joe was on my shit list before tonight, but now... I'm not so sure.

Grit might take the Qadafia to a whole new level. Help us fly, even. Let's just see if it takes off.

- Bird Man