Daniel Marson

You were a popular drug dealer, trading in both hard and soft drugs (salts, spices, LSD, cocaine, mephedrone, ecstasy, heroin, amphetamines, marijuana, hashish, etc.). You were highly sought after within a tight-knit circle: many influential people bought from you—the mafia, shops, and ordinary people. You used as well, but you had no addiction, so you could use and then go weeks without touching the stuff. You were short in stature, with long black hair; you only appeared on the streets in the evening to hang out with close friends.

You conducted your business through anonymous intermediaries: whenever you learned that someone used drugs, you would find a known dealer/runner and send them to the person. You never met the customers yourself; your supply came from other countries, as you had extensive connections.

In the evening, while you were sitting in your warehouse with your workers, packing cocaine for sale and smoking weed, the security guards approached you and informed you that a major mafioso, Daniel Marson, had arrived. Surprised, you headed toward the entrance, but you took a gun with you, as you were an expert marksman—on par with a sniper. You reached the door and opened it: standing before you was a tall, muscular man in a sophisticated suit, accompanied by his security.