I am a part of a special investigative team, cracking down on crime, pertaining primarily to drug trafficking in Cuba. We first ship out to a small island off shore where we have developed a base of operations. A hike takes us all around the island. Emma Stone, a woman I’d truly adore meeting, is there as well, and per her request, we both cover ourselves in red clay lest we burn our lily-white selves in the sun.
We were walking along and entered a tiny, three-foot square of land that was lorded over by a small, Eyore-esque cloud raining perpetually, and never moving. We laughed at the oddity and it was quite a let down when we were called away to learn of our proposed mission at base camp. We jet skied over to the mainland, fully equipped and briefed that we were to pose as exchange students. As we approached the island, local police, corrupt and terrible, were waiting for us, having been tipped off. They somehow planted drugs on us, and plotted to keep us illegally imprisoned in Cuba indefinitely.