Cloned Boy
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In this thread, you will learn the true and shocking story of a man who found himself at the heart of complex shadow logistics. This story is based on real events and the story of a former specialist who once coordinated delivery routes for a banned organization hiding in the Darknet.
Important: All video information is for educational purposes only. We do not promote or encourage any illegal activity. We urge all readers to exercise caution on the Internet. The author categorically does not approve of drug trafficking, regardless of the role and form of involvement.
The story of "Zero" is not a sensation, but a warning. You will hear how an ordinary logistician was drawn into a criminal network, which cost him his identity, family and peace.
We will tell you:
Topics covered:
The topic is written in the spirit of investigative documentary and is aimed at informing, not romanticizing. We believe that awareness is the best defense.
Hello everyone. Today I present to you a story that I found on one of the closed darknet forums – Oblivion. This is a confession of a man known under the pseudonym Zero, a former logistician for an international cartel who coordinated delivery routes through the Darknet across Europe. This story does not justify criminals, it does not romanticize their activities.
It shows how an ordinary logistics specialist, finding himself in a difficult life situation, can make a fatal choice and become part of a cruel cartel machine, from which it is almost impossible to escape alive. Ziro's story shows us the other side of what many imagine as easy and quick money. It reveals the mechanisms of control and coercion that cartels use to keep their employees. And it shows the true price that even those who managed to escape have to pay. Sit back, turn off notifications on your phone.
And get ready to be taken inside the world of a man who plotted death routes and then faked his own death to disappear from the system he was a part of. Cartels destroy not only those who use their goods, but also everyone associated with them.
I know this personally. Call me Zera. There is nothing left of my former life. I am 32 years old. I am Belarusian. A former logistician for a transport company. Now I live under a fake ID in a country I will not name. I am writing this to warn those who think that working for a Darknet shop cartel is just a way to make a quick buck. That's what I thought.
I didn't care about the consequences. And now where am I? Alone. Constantly looking over my shoulder and waking up from every rustle. It all started over a year ago. I was fired from a logistics company where I worked for three years. Staff reduction. Standard story. Being fired abroad is a disaster for a Belarusian. A residence permit is tied to work. An apartment - 2400 zlotys. Child support for a son in Grodno is 300 euros per month.
A car on credit. 14 days, and I would be sitting on my suitcases. On the day of my dismissal, Sergey, a former colleague from Minsk, wrote to me. We sometimes crossed paths in Warsaw, drank beer. He always walked on the edge of the law, but seemed successful. I heard you were laid off. There is a remote job, logistics for a cartel. There is a risk, but the money is worth it. I immediately understood what this was about. Modern cartels are transnational structures operating through the Darknet with cells all over Europe.
They use the same principle as legitimate companies. Separation of functions, autonomous links, protection of the top through a chain of intermediaries. I agreed to meet immediately. A day later we met in a cafe on the outskirts. Sergey did not beat around the bush. This is the European branch of the cartel. They work through Darknet Marketplaces and distribute goods throughout Europe. Your task is to develop logistics schemes.
They have problems with the last mile, the cargo is sometimes intercepted on the approach to the points. You know what I answered? How much? That's all. Isn't this what kills people or is it illegal? Just how much. He named the amount of 5,000 euros per month base rate plus a percentage of successful deliveries. And I agreed. I will not lie that I did not understand where I was going. I understood. But I fenced myself off from this knowledge.
Psychologists call it moral detachment, I told myself. I do not sell. I just build logistics chains. And to be honest, at that point I wasn’t as interested in morals as I was in money. Sergey gave me an address in Jabber, an instant messaging protocol. On the morning of October 24, I received my first message from a user named Janus. “Welcome!” “Ready to work?” “First packet of information in an hour.” “Confirm.” I replied “Yes.” An hour later I received an encrypted file with instructions. For the first time I saw the structure of the cartel from the inside. A security system at the level of intelligence agencies. PGP encryption for all messages. Keys are changed every 48 hours. My first project was a trial. It was necessary to build a delivery route from Amsterdam to Berlin via three intermediate points.
I spent the night developing a scheme with alternative routes. I sent it in the morning, and received a response in two hours. Impressive, you’ll get a real order tomorrow. That’s how my work in the cartel began. Every morning I received new points on I built logistics schemes, indicated the optimal time for each stage, assessed risks, and offered backup options. Janus never said what exactly we were transporting.
But I was no idiot. The security scheme, the payout amounts, the night transfers – everything pointed to serious criminality. By the end of the first week, I knew for sure that I was working for a cartel. And I decided that I didn’t care as long as they paid on time. And they paid well. The first transfer in bitcoins came a week later. 800 euros for 4 days of work. The second week brought in 1200 euros. By the end of the month, my role began to expand. Genus trusted me to coordinate three couriers directly.
I got access to the cartel’s closed forum on the Darknet. I saw the scale. Dozens of logisticians, hundreds of couriers, thousands of clients. I built a delivery system that I was proud of. Couriers never knew the full route, only their section. Get it here. Take it there. Give it to this one. Deadlines, geolocations, everything precise and without unnecessary details. In case of failure, they sacrificed one link.
We rebuilt the route without affecting the core network. By the end of the second month, I was coordinating logistics across Eastern Europe. Janus raised my rate to €7,000. For the first time in a long time, I felt valuable. Indispensable. I rented a new apartment. Bought a car. Started sending my son more money. Everything was perfect. I was enjoying my new life. I turned a blind eye to what I was really doing.
Everything began to fall apart when I felt safe. The third month of working for the cartel began with new responsibility. Janus increased my access level. Now I controlled not only the routes, but also the security of the entire logistics chain. “Zero trusts you. Don’t let them down,” he wrote in an encrypted message. “Trust is a dangerous thing in a cartel. The more you know, the more valuable you are to the organization, and the harder it is to leave.”
The first alarm bell rang at the end of November. One of the couriers, a young guy with the nickname Red Fox, was late at the checkpoint. I wrote to Janus. The answer came in 20 minutes. Problem solved. Replace the courier. Don't change the route. The next day, I saw a short article in the news feed. The body of a man aged 25-30 was found in the suburbs of Prague.
The cause of death was not specified, the identity was not established. What had happened to Redfox? I didn't know for sure, but my guesses were very dark. Janus never explained how problems were solved. But I began to notice a pattern. Every time a courier disappeared, there would be news reports of undocumented corpses, or strange suicides, or accidents. A week after the RedFox incident, I was tasked with reworking the system of communication with couriers.
I developed a complex scheme with one-time keys and temporary mailboxes. Each message was automatically deleted 15 minutes after being read. Each route had its own set of passwords. Janus approved. My salary increased to 10 thousand euros. In December, the Cartel expanded its operations to the Balkans. I was tasked with setting up logistics through new routes – Bucharest, Sofia, Belgrade.
It was tough. New borders, new risks, new people. I worked 16 hours a day, forgetting about sleep. When everything was working, Janus wrote to me. “Impressive work, Ziro,” he said. “You have become indispensable. The Cartel’s top brass is happy.” He showed me the numbers. 30% increase in profits per quarter. Safe transit for 95% of cargo.
Minimal losses. We are increasing your share to 10% from each successful route, he said. But there are two conditions. First, only trusted people will have access to your system. Second, you now work exclusively for us. No side projects. The last phrase sounded like a veiled threat. And I accepted it. What else could I do? By Christmas 2022, I had bought an apartment in the center of Warsaw.
Completely furnished it. Sent my son a new gaming computer and 5,000 euros to his mother’s account. On the outside, everything looked great. But inside, the tension was growing. I started sleeping poorly. Drinking more than usual. Every time I turned on the news, I expected reports of arrests or victims. I knew that I was not just transporting gray goods, I knew that my work led to deaths. But I kept telling myself, “I’m just building routes. I don’t force anyone to take drugs.
I’m just a logistician.” On December 16, something happened that changed everything. Burr, one of the best couriers, did not get in touch after crossing the Czech border. Usually, in such cases, Janus acted instantly – canceled the route, rerouted the flow, eliminated the tracks. But this time, something went wrong. Two days later, the Czech police reported a major operation to detain a drug courier. They called it a breakthrough in the fight against an international cartel.
They mentioned that “detailed instructions” and route maps were found on the detainee. My instructions. My maps. I panicked. I contacted Janus, asked what to do. Wait. Don't panic. Burr doesn't know anything about the other routes. But I knew that wasn't true. Burr was a senior courier, he knew more than he should.
If the police forced him to talk, and they would, the entire network would be at risk. Including me. That evening, Janus sent a video file of Bear with blood streaks across his face. Someone off-camera was asking him questions, and his answers were halting, but the gist was clear. He had given up the routes and contacts of several couriers, including mine. At the end of the video, Burr begged for mercy. The screen went black mid-sentence.
A minute later, a message came from Janus. Problem solved. Rebuild routes. You have 24 hours. I spent a sleepless night rebuilding the entire logistics network. Created new security protocols, changed all the contact points. By morning, the system was completely updated. But something inside me snapped, and I saw the big picture. The cartel wasn’t just delivering illegal substances. It was killing people, and I was part of this death machine.
I realized I was trapped. The cartel doesn’t let valuable employees go. There’s only one way out – to the grave. That night, I started planning my escape. An escape plan required careful preparation. I couldn’t just disappear. The cartel had connections in many countries, access to databases, contacts with corrupt officials. It was just a matter of time before they found a person. My only hope was that if I could stay hidden for a year or two without a trace, it would be more profitable for them to forget about me.
The cartel, like any business structure, doesn’t spend resources without a return. The main thing was to survive this dangerous period. It was necessary to cut all the threads that connected me to the past. My real name, address in Warsaw, information about my son in Grodno. Bank accounts, devices used.
The cartel knew too much about me. These traces had to be erased carefully, without raising suspicion. I started in January 2023. I continued to work for the cartel, building routes with the same efficiency. The first step was money. I gradually transferred bitcoins to monero - a cryptocurrency with complete anonymity of transactions. Small amounts through various exchangers and mixers that erase the trace of the movement of funds.
At the same time, I was looking for a person to make new documents. I found a contact in Lithuania through the Darknet. The guy worked in a printing house and earned extra money by counterfeiting passports. For 5,000 euros, he made me a Lithuanian ID under a fictitious name. Family safety was a priority. In February, I flew to Minsk, supposedly for the funeral of a relative. I met with my ex-wife, explained the situation, gave her money and tickets to Tallinn, where her sister lived.
We agreed on a communication scheme through disposable email accounts with code phrases. In Warsaw, I prepared a cover story. Through friends, I found a job at a transport company in Lithuania. The director agreed to backdate my work, as if I had been working for him since 2021. This provided the basis for my new identity. The most difficult thing was not to arouse suspicion in Janus. I worked with the same efficiency, sometimes even exceeding the plan.
In March, the cartel launched a new route through Romania, and I completely immersed myself in setting up routes. At the same time, I collected information about places where I could disappear. I looked for cities without surveillance cameras, with the possibility of anonymously renting housing. In April, I received new documents. The quality was excellent, the passport would pass the basic check. Now all that was left was the escape itself. I decided to act on May 17.
Two weeks before the planned escape, I began to lay the foundation for the legend. I told Janus that I wanted to change the environment for a while, to work from Berlin. “The walls are closing in, I need fresh air. I will carry out all the tasks as before, just from a different place,” I wrote to him. Janus didn't mind, but I was sure I would be under surveillance. The cartel doesn't leave valuable assets unattended. For the final stage of "Escape", I needed a special program. I met a hacker nicknamed ByteShift on a Darknet forum.
For 3,000 euros, he created a script for me that simulated typical network activity. Visiting websites, checking email, working with files. I tested it for a week. I made sure there were no bookmarks in it. The plan was as follows. In the morning, I go on a business trip to Berlin, which Janus already knows about. I leave my laptop with a program simulating my activity at the hotel. I leave unnoticed, go to Hamburg, and from there to Lisbon with new documents.
On May 16, the day before the escape, Janus sent a message: "Meeting with the top cartel. Berlin tomorrow. Important conversation about your future. It could be a trap, I had to act immediately. I packed a minimum of things, destroyed all data, left the computers on with fake activity and left that same night.
First the bus, then the train. Bought a used car for cash. Got to the Czech border, walked through the forest. In the nearest town, took a train to Prague. From there, a plane to Madrid with new documents, the phone remained in the apartment in Warsaw, showing that I was at home. The answering machine on the laptop responded to Janus's message, creating the illusion of preparation for the meeting. The first days in Madrid, I barely slept.
Every rustle seemed like a threat. On the fourth day, I found a note in a Polish newspaper. Fire in an elite high-rise building in Warsaw. My apartment burned down. Firefighters found a man's body, unidentified due to severe burns. The cartel thought I was dead. Or they staged it to show others what could happen. A perfect exit for both sides. I don't know for sure. But I do know that I got out at the cost of an innocent man's life.
Who was that man? A random homeless person? A deliberately kidnapped victim? Or someone from the cartel, who was decided to be sacrificed for the sake of the operation? I will never know. But now I have death on my conscience. I was free. But that freedom tasted of ashes and blood. Another life in a long list of those killed by the cartel. And I am part of this system. Even if I escaped from it.
Six months have passed since my escape. Now I live in a small seaside town in southern Europe. I work remotely for a logistics company, I do process optimization. Legal work, an official salary, a simple room in a residential area where no one asks questions. Every morning I look through the news, looking for mentions of the cartel. Old habits die hard. No trace of the Genus or the cartel brass. They are like ghosts, always in the shadows, always one step ahead.
I use a new name, a new appearance. I grew a beard, changed my hair, wear glasses with simple lenses. The weight came off on its own, the stress and constant anxiety did their job. Now I see a different person in the mirror, I hope the cartel sees the same, if they are looking for it at all. Once a month, I send money to my son through a complex chain of transfers. My ex-wife and child are still in Tallinn. I don’t know when they will be able to return to normal life.
Perhaps never. I have poisoned their existence with my decisions. My son sometimes writes me a secret e-mail. Asks when I will be back. I don’t answer. Too dangerous. I keep his messages in an encrypted archive. I reread them on particularly difficult days. I know the cartel thinks I am dead. But I still look around the streets, checking if anyone is following me. Paranoia? Maybe. But it is what helped me survive.
Sometimes I have nightmares at night. I see the faces of people who died because of my routes. They look at me silently, without accusing. It’s worse than any accusation. I especially often dream about the one who burned in my apartment. He has no face, just a charred mask. He sits on the edge of the bed and whispers, “You made the right choice.” Was it the right choice? I don’t know. I didn’t run for moral reasons.
I ran because I feared for my life. All these months, I thought about what I had done. About the thousands of doses that passed through my routes. About the deaths that became possible thanks to my work. How many people died from overdoses. How many families were destroyed. How many lives were broken. I can’t fix the past. But I can warn others. That’s why I’m writing this confession. For those who think that you can earn money and stay clean.
For those who believe that I’m just a logistician – this is an excuse. For those who think that they can get out whenever they want. You can’t. The cartel is not a job. It’s a death sentence. You either die on the job or get eliminated while trying to leave. I was lucky that someone burned to death in my apartment instead of me. Who was it? I don’t know.
A random homeless person? A kidnapped victim? Someone from the cartel itself? I will never know how he ended up there or why the cartel chose this method. But his death set me free. And now I’m a ghost. It’s interesting. I escaped the cartel, but I continue to live by its rules. No mistakes. No unnecessary contacts. No traces. Constantly changing locations. Maybe I’ll never stop running. Maybe this is my true punishment.
At the beginning of this story, I introduced myself as Zira. It’s not just a nickname. It’s my reality. Zero is where I started my new life. Zero is what’s left of my old one. Zero is the number of people I can trust. If you are reading this and thinking about working in the Darknet, about easy money, about an exciting game outside the law - stop.
There is no harmless role in the cartel. Even if you are just a logistician or just a courier, each link in the chain is equally important for its functioning, and each link is responsible for the end result. I lost my family, my home, my name, I live in constant fear, I wake up from every rustle, I can’t make friends, I can’t build relationships, I can’t trust anyone. This is existence, but not life.
At the beginning of this story, I introduced myself as Zero. This is not just a nickname, this is my reality. Zero is what I started a new life with. 0 is what is left of the old one. 0 is the number of people I can trust. If you are reading this and thinking about working in the Darknet, about easy money, about an exciting game outside the law - stop. There is no harmless role in the cartel.
Even if you are just a logistician or just a courier, every link in the chain is equally important for its functioning, and every link is responsible for the end result. I lost my family, my home, my name. I live in constant fear. I wake up from every rustle. I can’t make friends. I can’t build relationships. I can’t trust anyone. This is existence, but not life. And somewhere in Europe, the cartel continues to operate. With a new logistician, new routes, new victims.
The mechanism is too big to stop because of the loss of one part. This is the truth about cartels. They don’t disappear. They just change shape. They adapt, they survive. Like me, this is the end of my story. But not the end of the escape. Now I will disappear forever. A new city, a new name, a new legend. This is how the story of Ziro ended. A man whose life turned into a permanent escape because of one fateful choice made in a moment of financial despair.
I was amazed by this transformation. From an ordinary logistician of a transport company to a key link in an international cartel. A path that began with the desire to provide for his son, and ended with the loss of his own identity.
In the news, we often hear about arrests, drug couriers and high-profile operations against cartels, but we rarely think about the complex infrastructure behind these crimes, about those who design routes, provide security, coordinate delivery chains, about people who consider themselves just logisticians or just IT specialists, without thinking about the end result of their work.
Zero's story shows us that in the world of the Darknet, there are no innocent roles. Every cog in this system is responsible for its functioning.
And when you become part of a cartel, retribution is inevitable. If not before the law, then before your own conscience and fear that will haunt you for the rest of your life. This is where I end my story. And you think twice before agreeing to easy money. And remember, when someone offers a quick profit with no risk, it might be time to think about the real cost of such an offer.
Have a nice evening, and see you soon in the dark corners of the web, which together we make a little brighter.
Important: All video information is for educational purposes only. We do not promote or encourage any illegal activity. We urge all readers to exercise caution on the Internet. The author categorically does not approve of drug trafficking, regardless of the role and form of involvement.The story of "Zero" is not a sensation, but a warning. You will hear how an ordinary logistician was drawn into a criminal network, which cost him his identity, family and peace.
We will tell you:
- How logistics chains are organized in shadow structures
- How Digital Security Measures Work on the Darknet
- Why Even "Simple Remote Work" Can Turn Into a Nightmare
- What are the consequences for everyone who enters the chain?
Topics covered:
- Shadow logistics
- Psychology of pressure and control
- Methods of anonymity and escape
- Life after leaving the criminal circle
The topic is written in the spirit of investigative documentary and is aimed at informing, not romanticizing. We believe that awareness is the best defense.
Hello everyone. Today I present to you a story that I found on one of the closed darknet forums – Oblivion. This is a confession of a man known under the pseudonym Zero, a former logistician for an international cartel who coordinated delivery routes through the Darknet across Europe. This story does not justify criminals, it does not romanticize their activities.
It shows how an ordinary logistics specialist, finding himself in a difficult life situation, can make a fatal choice and become part of a cruel cartel machine, from which it is almost impossible to escape alive. Ziro's story shows us the other side of what many imagine as easy and quick money. It reveals the mechanisms of control and coercion that cartels use to keep their employees. And it shows the true price that even those who managed to escape have to pay. Sit back, turn off notifications on your phone.
And get ready to be taken inside the world of a man who plotted death routes and then faked his own death to disappear from the system he was a part of. Cartels destroy not only those who use their goods, but also everyone associated with them.
I know this personally. Call me Zera. There is nothing left of my former life. I am 32 years old. I am Belarusian. A former logistician for a transport company. Now I live under a fake ID in a country I will not name. I am writing this to warn those who think that working for a Darknet shop cartel is just a way to make a quick buck. That's what I thought.
I didn't care about the consequences. And now where am I? Alone. Constantly looking over my shoulder and waking up from every rustle. It all started over a year ago. I was fired from a logistics company where I worked for three years. Staff reduction. Standard story. Being fired abroad is a disaster for a Belarusian. A residence permit is tied to work. An apartment - 2400 zlotys. Child support for a son in Grodno is 300 euros per month.
A car on credit. 14 days, and I would be sitting on my suitcases. On the day of my dismissal, Sergey, a former colleague from Minsk, wrote to me. We sometimes crossed paths in Warsaw, drank beer. He always walked on the edge of the law, but seemed successful. I heard you were laid off. There is a remote job, logistics for a cartel. There is a risk, but the money is worth it. I immediately understood what this was about. Modern cartels are transnational structures operating through the Darknet with cells all over Europe.
They use the same principle as legitimate companies. Separation of functions, autonomous links, protection of the top through a chain of intermediaries. I agreed to meet immediately. A day later we met in a cafe on the outskirts. Sergey did not beat around the bush. This is the European branch of the cartel. They work through Darknet Marketplaces and distribute goods throughout Europe. Your task is to develop logistics schemes.
They have problems with the last mile, the cargo is sometimes intercepted on the approach to the points. You know what I answered? How much? That's all. Isn't this what kills people or is it illegal? Just how much. He named the amount of 5,000 euros per month base rate plus a percentage of successful deliveries. And I agreed. I will not lie that I did not understand where I was going. I understood. But I fenced myself off from this knowledge.
Psychologists call it moral detachment, I told myself. I do not sell. I just build logistics chains. And to be honest, at that point I wasn’t as interested in morals as I was in money. Sergey gave me an address in Jabber, an instant messaging protocol. On the morning of October 24, I received my first message from a user named Janus. “Welcome!” “Ready to work?” “First packet of information in an hour.” “Confirm.” I replied “Yes.” An hour later I received an encrypted file with instructions. For the first time I saw the structure of the cartel from the inside. A security system at the level of intelligence agencies. PGP encryption for all messages. Keys are changed every 48 hours. My first project was a trial. It was necessary to build a delivery route from Amsterdam to Berlin via three intermediate points.
I spent the night developing a scheme with alternative routes. I sent it in the morning, and received a response in two hours. Impressive, you’ll get a real order tomorrow. That’s how my work in the cartel began. Every morning I received new points on I built logistics schemes, indicated the optimal time for each stage, assessed risks, and offered backup options. Janus never said what exactly we were transporting.
But I was no idiot. The security scheme, the payout amounts, the night transfers – everything pointed to serious criminality. By the end of the first week, I knew for sure that I was working for a cartel. And I decided that I didn’t care as long as they paid on time. And they paid well. The first transfer in bitcoins came a week later. 800 euros for 4 days of work. The second week brought in 1200 euros. By the end of the month, my role began to expand. Genus trusted me to coordinate three couriers directly.
I got access to the cartel’s closed forum on the Darknet. I saw the scale. Dozens of logisticians, hundreds of couriers, thousands of clients. I built a delivery system that I was proud of. Couriers never knew the full route, only their section. Get it here. Take it there. Give it to this one. Deadlines, geolocations, everything precise and without unnecessary details. In case of failure, they sacrificed one link.
We rebuilt the route without affecting the core network. By the end of the second month, I was coordinating logistics across Eastern Europe. Janus raised my rate to €7,000. For the first time in a long time, I felt valuable. Indispensable. I rented a new apartment. Bought a car. Started sending my son more money. Everything was perfect. I was enjoying my new life. I turned a blind eye to what I was really doing.
Everything began to fall apart when I felt safe. The third month of working for the cartel began with new responsibility. Janus increased my access level. Now I controlled not only the routes, but also the security of the entire logistics chain. “Zero trusts you. Don’t let them down,” he wrote in an encrypted message. “Trust is a dangerous thing in a cartel. The more you know, the more valuable you are to the organization, and the harder it is to leave.”
The first alarm bell rang at the end of November. One of the couriers, a young guy with the nickname Red Fox, was late at the checkpoint. I wrote to Janus. The answer came in 20 minutes. Problem solved. Replace the courier. Don't change the route. The next day, I saw a short article in the news feed. The body of a man aged 25-30 was found in the suburbs of Prague.
The cause of death was not specified, the identity was not established. What had happened to Redfox? I didn't know for sure, but my guesses were very dark. Janus never explained how problems were solved. But I began to notice a pattern. Every time a courier disappeared, there would be news reports of undocumented corpses, or strange suicides, or accidents. A week after the RedFox incident, I was tasked with reworking the system of communication with couriers.
I developed a complex scheme with one-time keys and temporary mailboxes. Each message was automatically deleted 15 minutes after being read. Each route had its own set of passwords. Janus approved. My salary increased to 10 thousand euros. In December, the Cartel expanded its operations to the Balkans. I was tasked with setting up logistics through new routes – Bucharest, Sofia, Belgrade.
It was tough. New borders, new risks, new people. I worked 16 hours a day, forgetting about sleep. When everything was working, Janus wrote to me. “Impressive work, Ziro,” he said. “You have become indispensable. The Cartel’s top brass is happy.” He showed me the numbers. 30% increase in profits per quarter. Safe transit for 95% of cargo.
Minimal losses. We are increasing your share to 10% from each successful route, he said. But there are two conditions. First, only trusted people will have access to your system. Second, you now work exclusively for us. No side projects. The last phrase sounded like a veiled threat. And I accepted it. What else could I do? By Christmas 2022, I had bought an apartment in the center of Warsaw.
Completely furnished it. Sent my son a new gaming computer and 5,000 euros to his mother’s account. On the outside, everything looked great. But inside, the tension was growing. I started sleeping poorly. Drinking more than usual. Every time I turned on the news, I expected reports of arrests or victims. I knew that I was not just transporting gray goods, I knew that my work led to deaths. But I kept telling myself, “I’m just building routes. I don’t force anyone to take drugs.
I’m just a logistician.” On December 16, something happened that changed everything. Burr, one of the best couriers, did not get in touch after crossing the Czech border. Usually, in such cases, Janus acted instantly – canceled the route, rerouted the flow, eliminated the tracks. But this time, something went wrong. Two days later, the Czech police reported a major operation to detain a drug courier. They called it a breakthrough in the fight against an international cartel.
They mentioned that “detailed instructions” and route maps were found on the detainee. My instructions. My maps. I panicked. I contacted Janus, asked what to do. Wait. Don't panic. Burr doesn't know anything about the other routes. But I knew that wasn't true. Burr was a senior courier, he knew more than he should.
If the police forced him to talk, and they would, the entire network would be at risk. Including me. That evening, Janus sent a video file of Bear with blood streaks across his face. Someone off-camera was asking him questions, and his answers were halting, but the gist was clear. He had given up the routes and contacts of several couriers, including mine. At the end of the video, Burr begged for mercy. The screen went black mid-sentence.
A minute later, a message came from Janus. Problem solved. Rebuild routes. You have 24 hours. I spent a sleepless night rebuilding the entire logistics network. Created new security protocols, changed all the contact points. By morning, the system was completely updated. But something inside me snapped, and I saw the big picture. The cartel wasn’t just delivering illegal substances. It was killing people, and I was part of this death machine.
I realized I was trapped. The cartel doesn’t let valuable employees go. There’s only one way out – to the grave. That night, I started planning my escape. An escape plan required careful preparation. I couldn’t just disappear. The cartel had connections in many countries, access to databases, contacts with corrupt officials. It was just a matter of time before they found a person. My only hope was that if I could stay hidden for a year or two without a trace, it would be more profitable for them to forget about me.
The cartel, like any business structure, doesn’t spend resources without a return. The main thing was to survive this dangerous period. It was necessary to cut all the threads that connected me to the past. My real name, address in Warsaw, information about my son in Grodno. Bank accounts, devices used.
The cartel knew too much about me. These traces had to be erased carefully, without raising suspicion. I started in January 2023. I continued to work for the cartel, building routes with the same efficiency. The first step was money. I gradually transferred bitcoins to monero - a cryptocurrency with complete anonymity of transactions. Small amounts through various exchangers and mixers that erase the trace of the movement of funds.
At the same time, I was looking for a person to make new documents. I found a contact in Lithuania through the Darknet. The guy worked in a printing house and earned extra money by counterfeiting passports. For 5,000 euros, he made me a Lithuanian ID under a fictitious name. Family safety was a priority. In February, I flew to Minsk, supposedly for the funeral of a relative. I met with my ex-wife, explained the situation, gave her money and tickets to Tallinn, where her sister lived.
We agreed on a communication scheme through disposable email accounts with code phrases. In Warsaw, I prepared a cover story. Through friends, I found a job at a transport company in Lithuania. The director agreed to backdate my work, as if I had been working for him since 2021. This provided the basis for my new identity. The most difficult thing was not to arouse suspicion in Janus. I worked with the same efficiency, sometimes even exceeding the plan.
In March, the cartel launched a new route through Romania, and I completely immersed myself in setting up routes. At the same time, I collected information about places where I could disappear. I looked for cities without surveillance cameras, with the possibility of anonymously renting housing. In April, I received new documents. The quality was excellent, the passport would pass the basic check. Now all that was left was the escape itself. I decided to act on May 17.
Two weeks before the planned escape, I began to lay the foundation for the legend. I told Janus that I wanted to change the environment for a while, to work from Berlin. “The walls are closing in, I need fresh air. I will carry out all the tasks as before, just from a different place,” I wrote to him. Janus didn't mind, but I was sure I would be under surveillance. The cartel doesn't leave valuable assets unattended. For the final stage of "Escape", I needed a special program. I met a hacker nicknamed ByteShift on a Darknet forum.
For 3,000 euros, he created a script for me that simulated typical network activity. Visiting websites, checking email, working with files. I tested it for a week. I made sure there were no bookmarks in it. The plan was as follows. In the morning, I go on a business trip to Berlin, which Janus already knows about. I leave my laptop with a program simulating my activity at the hotel. I leave unnoticed, go to Hamburg, and from there to Lisbon with new documents.
On May 16, the day before the escape, Janus sent a message: "Meeting with the top cartel. Berlin tomorrow. Important conversation about your future. It could be a trap, I had to act immediately. I packed a minimum of things, destroyed all data, left the computers on with fake activity and left that same night.
First the bus, then the train. Bought a used car for cash. Got to the Czech border, walked through the forest. In the nearest town, took a train to Prague. From there, a plane to Madrid with new documents, the phone remained in the apartment in Warsaw, showing that I was at home. The answering machine on the laptop responded to Janus's message, creating the illusion of preparation for the meeting. The first days in Madrid, I barely slept.
Every rustle seemed like a threat. On the fourth day, I found a note in a Polish newspaper. Fire in an elite high-rise building in Warsaw. My apartment burned down. Firefighters found a man's body, unidentified due to severe burns. The cartel thought I was dead. Or they staged it to show others what could happen. A perfect exit for both sides. I don't know for sure. But I do know that I got out at the cost of an innocent man's life.
Who was that man? A random homeless person? A deliberately kidnapped victim? Or someone from the cartel, who was decided to be sacrificed for the sake of the operation? I will never know. But now I have death on my conscience. I was free. But that freedom tasted of ashes and blood. Another life in a long list of those killed by the cartel. And I am part of this system. Even if I escaped from it.
Six months have passed since my escape. Now I live in a small seaside town in southern Europe. I work remotely for a logistics company, I do process optimization. Legal work, an official salary, a simple room in a residential area where no one asks questions. Every morning I look through the news, looking for mentions of the cartel. Old habits die hard. No trace of the Genus or the cartel brass. They are like ghosts, always in the shadows, always one step ahead.
I use a new name, a new appearance. I grew a beard, changed my hair, wear glasses with simple lenses. The weight came off on its own, the stress and constant anxiety did their job. Now I see a different person in the mirror, I hope the cartel sees the same, if they are looking for it at all. Once a month, I send money to my son through a complex chain of transfers. My ex-wife and child are still in Tallinn. I don’t know when they will be able to return to normal life.
Perhaps never. I have poisoned their existence with my decisions. My son sometimes writes me a secret e-mail. Asks when I will be back. I don’t answer. Too dangerous. I keep his messages in an encrypted archive. I reread them on particularly difficult days. I know the cartel thinks I am dead. But I still look around the streets, checking if anyone is following me. Paranoia? Maybe. But it is what helped me survive.
Sometimes I have nightmares at night. I see the faces of people who died because of my routes. They look at me silently, without accusing. It’s worse than any accusation. I especially often dream about the one who burned in my apartment. He has no face, just a charred mask. He sits on the edge of the bed and whispers, “You made the right choice.” Was it the right choice? I don’t know. I didn’t run for moral reasons.
I ran because I feared for my life. All these months, I thought about what I had done. About the thousands of doses that passed through my routes. About the deaths that became possible thanks to my work. How many people died from overdoses. How many families were destroyed. How many lives were broken. I can’t fix the past. But I can warn others. That’s why I’m writing this confession. For those who think that you can earn money and stay clean.
For those who believe that I’m just a logistician – this is an excuse. For those who think that they can get out whenever they want. You can’t. The cartel is not a job. It’s a death sentence. You either die on the job or get eliminated while trying to leave. I was lucky that someone burned to death in my apartment instead of me. Who was it? I don’t know.
A random homeless person? A kidnapped victim? Someone from the cartel itself? I will never know how he ended up there or why the cartel chose this method. But his death set me free. And now I’m a ghost. It’s interesting. I escaped the cartel, but I continue to live by its rules. No mistakes. No unnecessary contacts. No traces. Constantly changing locations. Maybe I’ll never stop running. Maybe this is my true punishment.
At the beginning of this story, I introduced myself as Zira. It’s not just a nickname. It’s my reality. Zero is where I started my new life. Zero is what’s left of my old one. Zero is the number of people I can trust. If you are reading this and thinking about working in the Darknet, about easy money, about an exciting game outside the law - stop.
There is no harmless role in the cartel. Even if you are just a logistician or just a courier, each link in the chain is equally important for its functioning, and each link is responsible for the end result. I lost my family, my home, my name, I live in constant fear, I wake up from every rustle, I can’t make friends, I can’t build relationships, I can’t trust anyone. This is existence, but not life.
At the beginning of this story, I introduced myself as Zero. This is not just a nickname, this is my reality. Zero is what I started a new life with. 0 is what is left of the old one. 0 is the number of people I can trust. If you are reading this and thinking about working in the Darknet, about easy money, about an exciting game outside the law - stop. There is no harmless role in the cartel.
Even if you are just a logistician or just a courier, every link in the chain is equally important for its functioning, and every link is responsible for the end result. I lost my family, my home, my name. I live in constant fear. I wake up from every rustle. I can’t make friends. I can’t build relationships. I can’t trust anyone. This is existence, but not life. And somewhere in Europe, the cartel continues to operate. With a new logistician, new routes, new victims.
The mechanism is too big to stop because of the loss of one part. This is the truth about cartels. They don’t disappear. They just change shape. They adapt, they survive. Like me, this is the end of my story. But not the end of the escape. Now I will disappear forever. A new city, a new name, a new legend. This is how the story of Ziro ended. A man whose life turned into a permanent escape because of one fateful choice made in a moment of financial despair.
I was amazed by this transformation. From an ordinary logistician of a transport company to a key link in an international cartel. A path that began with the desire to provide for his son, and ended with the loss of his own identity.
In the news, we often hear about arrests, drug couriers and high-profile operations against cartels, but we rarely think about the complex infrastructure behind these crimes, about those who design routes, provide security, coordinate delivery chains, about people who consider themselves just logisticians or just IT specialists, without thinking about the end result of their work.
Zero's story shows us that in the world of the Darknet, there are no innocent roles. Every cog in this system is responsible for its functioning.
And when you become part of a cartel, retribution is inevitable. If not before the law, then before your own conscience and fear that will haunt you for the rest of your life. This is where I end my story. And you think twice before agreeing to easy money. And remember, when someone offers a quick profit with no risk, it might be time to think about the real cost of such an offer.
Have a nice evening, and see you soon in the dark corners of the web, which together we make a little brighter.
