Darknetmarkets short story: Part 1

Jerome Bannister saw them before they saw him. They were sitting in a Honda Accord near the exit of the strip mall. He couldn't tell their race, their age but he knew who they were: feds. Jerome knew this time would come. His trade's enemy was the federal government of the USA. He had done everything to make sure they couldn't find him. He used multiple drops, changed packaging, always wore gloves when handling packages, and changed return addresses with every shipment. He instinctively stopped walking towards his car and his his body behind a column. "Shit", he said to himself, "there are feds everywhere". There was an American muscle car with tinted windows 3 rows behind his car. There was a man sitting down in front of the Shake Shake reading a newspaper.

His heart began racing. They had decided to arrest him now while he was exiting Barnes and Noble. His life was over. He had been selling kilograms of schedule 1 substances. Shipping them via the postal service no less. His list of offenses was long and his sentence would be even longer. Jerome was a 34 year old black man with no run-ins with the law but that was going to end today. The pounding of his heart could be heard in his ears now. The cacophony of his left ventricle as it responded to his sympathetic nervous system was louder than any concert he had been to. He crumpled near the column when the Honda Accord pulled away from his car and circled towards him. He made no effort to run away but was preparing to surrender. He watched enough arrests to know the cops wanted him to get on his knees and put his hands on his head. Or was that in the air? Or maybe they would want him to put his hands on the wall behind him so they could more easily search his pockets. "How fucked am I", he managed to whisper to himself.

The Accord didn't stop. Seated inside was a teenage Asian girl who didn't even look at him. He looked over to the man sitting on the bench in front of his car and saw that he had put down his paper and was playing with a young child.

Kids don't come with their dads on arrests.

Jerome gathered himself and walked to his new car. It was the only new thing in his life since he began selling on The Underground. He got into his car and realized that he had just had a panic attack. As he drove home he realized his paranoia had boiled over to a new level. He could barely go anywhere without thinking he was about to be arrested. He had made every precaution but still believed he would end up in jail.

"I need to stop dealing, right now", he said to himself as he walked into his apartment. He arranged his stash in pile near his toilet. He had five kilograms of fentanyl.hcl in his apartment and he was going to flush every single one. Had he sold it gram by gram those 5 kilograms would be worth millions. He principally did bulk deals so he was probably looking at no more than a $1,000,000.00. He had made $656,000 in just 6 months of dealing fentanyl.hcl on The Underground. He was set to make well over a million dollars this year; he made $180,000.00 a year working as Family Medicine doctor working in southern NJ. He had become disenchanted by the long hours and monotony of working in a medicine practice. Federal and state income taxes cut his income almost in half, thus making him slightly better compensated on an hourly basis than a UPS driver. He told himself signing up as a vendor on The Underground was just an experiment but his dealing became so time consuming and prosperous he ended up quitting his job.

It was the boredom of a life of medicine that prevented him from dumping the 5 bricks in front of him. He put them back in his hiding place and sat on his bed and thought. There was truly no way for the police to bust him. He was too careful. Not a detail wasn't pondered. He drove over an hour from his apartment to drop packages. He always used stamps to do his mailing so there was no connection between him and the packages. He never did deals off the site. He always used gloves to handle packages so he never left prints. He didn't tie his darknet persona to his real persona in anyway, shape or form. He had read countless criminal complaints to know all the screw ups vendors made and he took every step to avoid them.

He had first learned about fentanyl abuse as a medical resident in Centre Hospital in Virginia. Patients had come in addicted to fentanyl lollipops and fentanyl patches. Patient upon patient told me how they dwindled their life savings for used patches. The addiction was brutal but obviously very lucrative for the dealers who were on the receiving end of these deals. He easily found Chinese vendors for fentanyl and put a few test orders in to see what he received. Some scammed him, some sent alternative things but a few sent the real thing.

He was in business.

CHAPTER 2

The day after Jerome's panic attack he had driven to Princeton NJ to make his drops at a small post office that he had never been to. It usually took him all night to do orders. He was a popular vendor because of the same day shipping he offered and that he had the lowest prices on the market. He always used The Underground's escrow system to make sure he never scammed the customers. This ensured him constant business.

After his drops he drove to Trenton for one reason and one reason only: to see Xavier Bannister. Xavier was his fraternal twin but his opposite. Jerome never got into trouble as a kid, Xavier got into plenty. Jerome spent his days doing homework, Xavier spent his days hanging out with friend. The day Jerome went to Rutgers University, Xavier went away for a 4 month prison bid. Jerome was average height and in lean, Xavier had a 6'3" body covered with prison tats and emboldened with prison muscle. Xavier had always try to contact Jerome to talk business ideas but Jerome never agreed for multiple reasons: 1) he had limited funds due to student loans, 2) he was wary of getting involved with a convicted felon.

Jerome was surprised to see Xavier already seated. Usually Xavier's watch was affected by BPT and thus he ran late. Xavier was seated, sipping on a water, dressed sharply in khaki pants and a button up shirt.

"Good afternoon," Jerome said as they embraced. "You are looking good."

"Thanks brother, I love you man," retorted Xavier.

They talked about their mother, father and siblings. They talked about the New York Giants and their chance to win the Super Bowl. When they were done with the entree Xavier said, "I googled your name and that medical office didn't have you working there anymore."

"Yea man, I couldn't deal with monotony and boredom. I am going to try to become an entrepreneur."

"How are you surviving right now? How did you pay for that car? I know my brother enough to know you are as conservative as Reagan. You would never spend money without a steady source of income."

Jerome had been prepared for this. He knew people would ask about how he was earning money so he told Xavier, "I won a lawsuit a while back and have been doing some day trading with the proceeds."

"Lil' bro, do you honestly expect me to believe that? You don't day trade. You studied Biology and went to medical school."

Jerome started seething. Who the hell was this felon to talk to me like this? With ice in his voice, he asked, "who are you to say that to me?"

Xavier coolly went into his satchel bag and pulled out an priority mail express envelope. The envelope had a stamp affixed and shipping label. Jerome heart dropped into his stomach.

"You are Dr. Janssen, aren't you?"

Jerome uncharacteristically got angry. How did his brother find out? He knew he had taken every single precaution necessary. How did his multiple felony committing, high school dropout, schmuck brother find out?

"Nigga," Xavier whispered. "The hand writing is yours, no doubt. You even write your uppity English when writing responses to messages. I had been using The Underground to reup constantly. Your shit is always fire. "

"What the fuck are you talking about," Jerome said loudly. "I don't even know.."

"I had my Nigga Malik tail you yesterday. You went all the way down to south Jersey to mail this express envelope. Stop denying this shit man. I can even show you a picture of you going into your trunk to get the packages."

Jerome was done. He knew he was going to jail. Xavier was probably in trouble and was going to turn him in to the feds for leniency during sentencing. Xavier had some type of microphone on his person. Hell maybe, the restaurant was under DEA surveillance right now. They wanted him to admit it and they would come swooping in. He knew Xavier was pressuring him to incriminate himself right now.

"What do you want?" Jerome managed to get out. His heart in the duldrums.

"I want to talk business. We are about to make some money my, nigga."

(Did you guys like this? If so, upvote and I will write part 2 tonight or tomorrow.)


Comments


[42 Points] RIP_Meth_9000:

Needs more midget hookers & METH......Bahahahahahahaaaaaaa!!!!!!


[39 Points] None:

[deleted]


[19 Points] None:

[deleted]


[15 Points] None:

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[7 Points] Triad_trees:

You should have had him stay a doctor. How are you gonna deposit enough money to buy 5 keys, a new car, and pay off student loans if you have no job? And the part about a ups driver, lol. Even if he got taxed 75% that'd be what a driver makes before taxes. you also switched into first person for one sentence, gotta stay consistent


[6 Points] None:

[removed]


[4 Points] Farkerisme:

Crazy stuff, man. Sorry about your real life ban.


[3 Points] None:

[deleted]


[3 Points] None:

Seems I'm the only one who doesn't like the story.

Swaps the boredom of medicine for a career in shipping logistics.

Not for the thrill of course. Because he's witnessed suffering. Does he want to help those he once saw suffering? No, course not. He wants to bleed them dry hahaha.

I'm sorry, but I like to prerend my 'vendors' have redeeming qualities.


[2 Points] None:

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[2 Points] iamctulhu:

This was not written by an American.


[1 Points] None:

Good story. I want a part 2


[1 Points] PDmoney:

This was amazing! Pls write a part 2 the people will love it :)


[1 Points] LiL_B00FiE:

This is amazing fan fiction!


[1 Points] lordalpha:

we need more shit like this!


[1 Points] xansllcureya:

You've got my up vote. Take some stims and crank out some more tonight.


[1 Points] tragicherohimself:

A four month sentence would be done at a county jail, in my experience.


[1 Points] nullshithead:

i need part two


[1 Points] dododopem:

(Did you guys like this? If so, upvote and I will write part 2 tonight or tomorrow.)

yes! cant wait part 2!


[1 Points] L3T:

Started off ok but then the twin coincidence was too unbelievable. Also no one gets Fentanyl in that quantity.

YOu need way more technical detail too really appeal to the DNM audience. We know all this stuff already, we need something new. But I liked how you explored the emotions going through his mind. Maybe spend more on this. How many times a dealer must of gotten paranoid and been unable to flush product, but if he did it would of been his saving.


[1 Points] elfer90:

i like it


[1 Points] CastleCrasherOG:

  1. This story was really damn good.
  2. Shoutout to bmore


[1 Points] None:

SQUUUUUWK


[1 Points] shillivanilli:

.


[1 Points] MarfaTexas:

Really enjoying this man. Thanks.


[0 Points] Brick_Bundler:

up voted, good read, I'm ready for part two.


[0 Points] BDMX:

Upvoted, please go on