A day and a half in Monaco reveal that while the variety and quality of clothing available is good, the value is not. We are also finding it difficult to arm ourselves, the usual channels are dry. Seems there has been some sort of international small arms restriction talks in the works. The discussion to make guns harder to get are making guns already harder to get. Even the black-market is sold out.
I convince Monti that the most expeditious way to provision ourselves is to take a side trip up to Menton. The bulk of my travel gear is waiting for me at the Post Office in town. A short twenty minute ride will save us a whole day of shopping. We get to the Post Office in Menton by ten AM, there’s a problem.
The Menton Post Office is closed. Not only closed, but cordoned off with CDC Biohazard tape and signage. We decide to send Monti in to retrieve my stuff. On the outside chance the building is under surveillance, Monti’s criminal record is clean. I jot down a list of my possessions he needs to retrieve; side arms, clothing, and fat green worms. After cautioning him to not touch the worms, I send him in.
No sooner does Monti duck under the security tape and prise open the front door, then my suspicions are confirmed. Urban assault vehicles and CDC vans rumble in from all directions. Machinegun wielding solders, protected by full coverage bio/radiation hazard suits, surround Monti. This doesn’t look good.
Monti surrenders and is hauled off to a location unknown. My curiosity piqued, I wait until the commotion subsides, until nearly dusk. I sneak inside the building and confront the grisly site that prompted Monti’s arrest. Blood everywhere, puddles of goo, parts of bodies strewn about, and the air thick with an unusual odour. Being careful not to sep on anything moist, I locate the source of the odour.
The fat green worms have been feeding; and multiplying. I mange to salvage only a couple of clothing items; the rest are ruined, soaking in puddles of putrid goo. My guns and ammunition, remarkably, high and dry. Locating an empty coffee tin in the post office’s break room, I collect a half dozen of the fat green worms, collect my weapons and garments, and make good my escape. Despite the risk, I decide to spend the night in my place in town.
My vacation a shambles, at least I am armed and clothed and will enjoy a good night sleep in my own bed. In the morning I’ll catch a train to Rouen to begin the mission, the sooner I kill Stacy, the sooner I get back to my normal life.