West Africa, along the coast of the Gulf of Guinea.
Hot.
Not the stifling heat of the Congo Rainforest, but the sticky swelter of sea breeze mixed with salt grains hitting the face, combined with the rotting seaweed and diesel fumes.
A rusty bulk carrier registered in Panama, "Tuna," is slowly sailing into a nameless small bay, identifiable only by its latitude and longitude coordinates.
The ship is deeply laden, with other items hidden in the ballast.
On shore, there isn't even a proper pier, just a muddy beach half-surrounded by mangroves.
Dozens of Black men in mismatched uniforms, all armed with AK rifles, wait in the shallow waters. Leading them is a burly man wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses and a thick gold chain around his neck—the locals call him "Captain" Mamadou. Yet, he belongs neither to the Government Forces nor any known Rebels; he's the "arbitrator" of this coast, smuggling anything and providing "security" services.
