[i]The First Exchange.[/i] [i][u]The Dojo, Entrance.[/u][/i] [u]Midnight, Present Day.[/u] A large cargo truck rolled up to the Dojo, the engine almost deafening. The driver, removed the keys from the ignition, the car settling down and going silent. The driver hopped out, and went to the back of his truck, opening up the storage compartment. He was met with a silenced nine millimeter round through his forehead in return. Several pairs of hands picked up the body and dragged it into the truck before several of Pablo's sicarios hopped out, carrying kilo upon kilo of cheesecaine and even a few kilos of the real deal. The carried them to the entrance and placed them down, stacking them neatly. A few hooded figures met the sicarios, and handed over sufficient cash. The sicarios nodded, placing it into a briefcase that was passed to a new truck driver. The sicarios hopped back into the cargo hold, as the hooded figures carried the kilos within the Dojo. The truck revved up, the annoying motor back at it again. The truck backed out, and then began the long drive back to [i]La Catedral.[/i] The figures closed the entrance doors and walked off in the darkness, their work done. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PtJ6yAGjsIs [spoiler]Open, you cheeky -blam!-ers.[/spoiler]