June Writing Challenge: Crackfic

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Admin!
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"How does that even work?"

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June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 1, 2011 21:50:59 GMT -5

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Post by Admin! on Jun 1, 2011 21:50:59 GMT -5

It's writing challenge time again. To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: Embrace the glory if internet fandom. Find a ridiculous premise for your story (What if Hammel was Hogwarts? What if the recruiters were on the Starship Enterprise? What if a character woke up a different gender?) and have fun. Crossovers are welcome.

The rules:

Characters must be Hammel-related, but the ficlets are not site canon.
Alternative universe interpretations of characters are encouraged.
Entries must be more than 300 words. No upper limit on this one.
You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
Ficlets must be titled.

Ginny Campbell
Retired

University of Vermont
Non-Powered
Played By Dryope

Played by Dryope

Posts: 363

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 7, 2011 17:56:24 GMT -5

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Post by Ginny Campbell on Jun 7, 2011 17:56:24 GMT -5

Aether Shanty

The stars twinkled across the dark sky like the jewels the crew of The Queen Mab sought. Captain Ginny Campbell clutched a worn map in one hand, a guide to the fabled treasure of Hammel. The characters scrawled across the top in dark red remained indecipherable, despite her best efforts; she wished her father were here, on The Queen Mab with her, not back in New York, buried in piles of dusty books. Professor James Campbell was famous in linguistic circles for his translation skills. In his younger, wilder years he had been quite the adventurer himself, traveling the globe in search of ancient tomes and tablets, but in recent years he'd settled down with former sky pirate Chase Kilbourne.

Kilbourne had been the previous Captain of The Queen Mab; he'd passed it on to Ginny when he'd retired from pirating. Most of his crew had retired with him, and so she'd been forced to gather up her own: Tall, self-assured Jean Manne was her First Mate, and the only man aboard. Not that he minded; Jean was notoriously fond of the ladies. Mia Keystone had been a starving little urchin when Ginny had found her, but had proven her worth as ship's gearhead, keeping them in the sky through storm and shower of arrows; Christina Byrne was the lookout, her blue eyes sharper than an eagles; Estelle Flores kept the crew in tiptop shape with meals and medicine alike; and L.C. Milliner guarded and cared for the ship's little stash of weapons.

The ship was currently docked on a tiny island unimportant enough to even warrant a dot on her map. A good place to sleep, free of any inhabitants.

Or so they'd thought.

A horrifying shriek rent the night air, and Ginny's head snapped up, contemplation forgotten. Through the trees lights now sparkled, redder than the stars above.

"Captain!" The sound of boot on wood caused the Captain to shift slightly, just enough that she could look at the young blonde woman panting before her. "Captain, there are people, they're....they're coming...." She pointed toward the woods, where the red lights glowed bigger and brighter, bobbing up and down as they neared the shoreline.

Ginny's hand instinctively went to her waist, pulling her pistol from her holster. "Wake the crew." She commanded, not willing to risk that their midnight visitors might be friendly. Experience told her to take care.

Christina gave a sharp nod, turning to dash back down to the crew's quarters, but before she had taken a single step the natives crashed through the jungle, faces painted grotesquely, wildly yowling, holding torches and cruel spears aloft.

"Sh..." Ginny bit off a curse, taking aim at the nearest attacker. She couldn't hold them off alone; by the looks of them, even her entire crew armed and ready wouldn't be enough to fend off what was a large enough group to be a veritable army. "Change of orders, Byrne, we need to take off. Haul anchor while I keep them at bay."

She didn't wait for the lookout to answer, her attention once more on the painted attackers....

***

When she came to she was trussed up on a packed dirt floor, rope cutting into ankles and wrists. Her head throbbed painfully; she wished she had a hand free so she could rub the nape of her neck. It felt like she'd been stung by a giant wasp.

She opened her eyes to mere slits, taking in the surrounding area. There was sunlight, which meant some time had passed since they'd been captured, but there was thankfully very little of it as they appeared to be in some type of low building with openings that could just barely be called windows -- she didn't think her head would appreciate the light, not with the near blinding headache, so she was grateful for this. For the moment. The rest of her crew were there, also tied up, along with a lanky, dark-haired young man she didn't recognize. His beard looked ragged and unkempt; she wondered how long he'd been there for.

No. There was someone missing. She scanned the little group again. L.C. was missing. Dammit. Probably got herself killed; she would have gone down fighting.

Ginny struggled in her bonds, wiggling her fingers experimentally. They still worked, but the bonds held fast.

Sudden bright light flooded into the room, then was shut out immediately as two figures entered. Their faces were hideously painted, pale white with dark circles under their eyes and blood red lips. There were red designs on the face of the woman, designs that sparkled even in the dim lighting of the prison. Her hair was oddly colored, dyed a brilliant pink. Ginny presumed the two must be sorcerers or shamans of some sort. She grimaced; she hated magic users. That might have been an unfair bias, as her sole interactions with them tended to be when she was making off with their sacred artifacts -- and that foolish magician back in New York, LaRousse. L.C. may have been a fan, but Ginny most certainly was not.

"Why have you come here?" The woman's voice dripped with undisguised disdain. "Did you not know the penalty for lodging on our island?" A glint of white sparkled in her mouth and Ginny squinted to get a closer look; did she have fangs?

"Apologies." She lifted her head, unwilling to be cowed even in the presence of obvious power (and fangs). "We did not know this island was occupied. We merely wished to take refuge for one night."

"Lies." The pink-haired sorceress hissed, approaching the prisoners with the dry rustle of scales. Ginny felt the hairs on her arm stand up. She forced herself only to glance out of the corner of her eyes, but that was enough to confirm her suspicion: Naga. Shit. She didn't want to be Naga food. "But it matters not."

"Ummmmm." Ginny licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry with fear. Mere humans she could face down, but Naga were another matter entirely. She hated snakes. "But it isn't a lie! We had no idea you -- " She began, but the Naga woman cut her off.

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse." The Naga waved one hand imperiously. "Tonight we feast on huma---" It was her turn to be cut off, this time by the sharp rapport of a gun. She slumped forward, and Ginny shrank back, half afraid she was going to be crushed under the body.

"Lady Sidra!" The male Naga slithered toward his fallen companion as another shot rang out.

Behind the two bodies stepped a bleach-blonde young woman in an outfit only a dance-hall girl would be caught dead in; and that is exactly what its occupant had been before joining the crew of The Queen Mab.

"L.C.!" Ginny sighed in relief as the weapons-master untied her. "Ewww. You got Naga guts on my boots." She leaned down to inspect her leather boots, grimacing at the scarlet splatters now adorning the toes. "Gross."

"Hey, you'd rather have their guts on your boots than be in their guts, right?" L.C. pointed out, and Ginny sighed.

"Right."

***

The Queen Mab was in the sky once more, sapphire ocean stretching out below her for unending miles. Jean leaned over the railing beside Ginny. "Why aren't we throwing him overboard again?" He whispered, glancing back toward the lanky young man they'd rescued from the Nagas. Well, L.C. had rescued. Technicalities.

"Because we need him." Ginny waved the treasure map in front of Jean irritably. "And I'll be damned if I let him go before he finishes translating this."

Capture by the Nagas had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, at least in Ginny's mind, as it had lead them directly to fellow victim Eli Morrison, linguist extraordinaire. It was quite possible he was as good as her father. Almost. Maybe.

The only problem was that Eli was extremely surly, complaining constantly about the food Estelle served (she did the best she could!) and the fact that he was stuck on the ship with them. Ginny thought he ought to be grateful they'd taken him with them instead of leaving him to take the heat for the death of the Naga leaders, but he didn't seem to see things the same way. She put up with him because she believed him when he said he'd be able to translate the map; after all, her father had talked about him with respect.

She scuffed her boot against the deck, giving Sir Morrison a good, healthy glare. If he'd just be faster with translating her map then she could drop him off somewhere civilized. He glared back. Definitely not in any hurry. Jerk.

***

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ginny held her hands up, suspicion welling up inside her. "What do you mean you won't translate the map? Don't you know who I am?"

"I don't care if you're Queen Victoria." Eli snapped, arms folded across his chest, slouched down in the chair across from her. "You've got no right to hold me here. I demand to be taken back to London."

"Christ!" Ginny swore, banging one hand down against her desk. "We're not anywhere near England. Hello, following the treasure map? Sorry, you're stuck with us until we're done. If you won't help us with the map then you can go help Mia. Have fun playing with coal, bookworm."

***

"Why the hell did you stick him with me?" Mia groaned, toying with the orange peel, the only remnant of her breakfast. "He's a pain in the ass."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know. But I needed him to do something useful since he won't translate that damn map."

"He'd better do it soon or I'm gonna lose my mind..." Mia muttered, flicking her peel across the table to splat against the back of Eli's head.

Ginny stifled a giggle as Eli swiveled his head to glare at them. She gave him a smile and shrugged, turning back to her own breakfast. He deserved it.

***

"Great! You'll help us? Ginny beamed at the scowling man in front of her.

He muttered something, looking sullen and scuffing his feet against the floor.

Ginny slid the map across the desk to him, "Just tell us what this part means..." She told him, tapping at the red letters.

Eli took the map. "It might take me a few days." He warned, but Ginny simply smiled.

***

Ginny bent over the map, Jean hovering behind her, while Eli explained what he'd discovered to them. "It says the treasure is cursed." He informed them, tapping on one particular character. "But there's a word here I don't know, I've never seen it before. Nas. It may be a given name, but I'm not sure."

Ginny shrugged and grinned at him. "Cursed, huh? Sounds like fun." She turned to Jean, who grinned back at her.

"Let's go get us some treasure!"

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Riley Adams
Retired

Landscape Artist
Cell Regeneration/ Biological Manipulation
Played By Nu

Man Sized Heater

Posts: 555

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 7, 2011 19:11:23 GMT -5

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Post by Riley Adams on Jun 7, 2011 19:11:23 GMT -5

Gone Cold

The car was running on fossil fuel. It was Riley’s last attempts at kicking the bucket in style. It was a stupid last attempt at anything really. As he drove up the winding path to the hospital, the former landscape artist glanced occasionally in the rear view mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. After losing his truck back in Pilot Ridge [blown up after someone had suspected it was used to transport metas out of Pilot Ridge], Riley had gone a little more understated for his travels.

Hearing word from Robbie three weeks ago from this hospital had been a blessing. At first, Riley was sure it was a trap. Even more so when Robbie declined to answer anything about Estelle. But after five years of practically daily contact with the scruffy blond weather manipulator, the healer started to find out his tics which was how he figured out that Robbie was legit. Which could only mean one thing when it came to Estelle.

When Riley found out that Stephen had died, it took out a lot from him, especially after Josh was found dead a year later. He contemplated on staying for Estelle. The girl was just coming to terms with who she was and what she wanted. And at night, before she went to sleep, she would make sure that Riley reminded her that she had an amazing life. She was not alone. She had a family. And Riley did remind her. In every way he knew how.

He tried to push her more to her friends, more to people that might be safer for her to be with. But he had grown attached to her at some point and he couldn’t see her hurt. Especially not when he was the one doing the hurting.

”Riley, you can’t possibly be thinking of hurting those people.” Annabelle Tressle, an empath who had been inducted into the group fighting against the new regime, prompted. Riley looked at her, a good five years showing on his tired face. No longer was the shy unassuming gentle man sporting a warm smile on his worn wrinkled face. It still unnerved people how much he’d changed. Some were even surprised he was still alive. And leading the rebels of the new regime no less.

Cobalt, Sean, Scott and Ella were still around, still very much alive and they bore witness to the change in their friend, the only one they thought would remain the light and hope of this whole mess. For a while, even after Stephen’s death, Riley still looked on the bright side of things. He was so sure that they were all going to survive this mess in one piece. He figured with Josh running for mayor and implementing strict rules for metas and non metas to live at least civilly by in Pilot Ridge would change things. He was so sure of it.

But one by one, people started dying all around him. Janice was hung in her apartment. Robbie, Estelle and Ruth went missing. Ruth turned up dead. Then Josh and Scott were gone. Ella got her legs bitten off by an animal shifter. And was pronounced missing. Riley’s worry ate him up like a virus, causing him to become withdrawn little by little.

So the feed that finally did Estelle in was not a lie. Riley did leave her. He forced a young boy to take Estelle in. To take care of her. In the ways he knew he couldn’t. Estelle had to be away from him. There was no way he could let her see him involved in murders. It was better for her to be with her best friend, far away from her adopted father before she could even feel disappointment towards the one man she thought she could count on.

“Miss Tressle, I assume you were briefed before that I don’t entertain second guessers.” Riley said, his voice that of someone who hadn’t used it in a while. Annabelle looked on to the oldest man in the room with fear in her eyes. “O-of course, Mr. Adams.”

Without so much as another glance towards the empath, Riley broke the group into smaller sections, each with a specific mission. Search and rescue, elimination, recruiting…the likes. “What about you, chief?” a rather young recruit, possibly twenty-two or twenty-three, with a name Riley couldn’t even remember anymore, asked. Riley was just leaving the meeting area when the question arose. He turned his head slightly, not wanting to look at any of their faces because he knew half of them weren’t coming back alive.

“You better just make sure the right people get hurt.”

Last Edit: Jun 7, 2011 19:14:11 GMT -5 by Riley Adams

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Mia Keystone
Retired

Technopathy

And though she be but little, she is fierce

Posts: 579

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 14, 2011 7:40:00 GMT -5

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Post by Mia Keystone on Jun 14, 2011 7:40:00 GMT -5

Space, or What If Some Characters From Hammel Were On A Spaceship Together?

This is all in the Firefly verse, which some of you may know

The SS Kaylee was an ugly ship. The bridge bulged out over four mismatched stubby thrusters that looked too small to support the enlarged cargo hold, and the two clanky plasma cannons that protruded from the hull looked too small to keep away the smallest asteroid. Kaylee had started out as a C class Manatee, but she was so full of parts and pieces ripped and salvaged from junkyards and wrecks that it was impossible to identify what she was, other then a mutt run by criminals, fall outs and general scum.

“Capt’n.”

“Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si*”

Mia was hungover, too hungover to appreciate the joke. Her first mate grinned and rapped harder on the walls, shaking her hammock. “Swear to god, I’ll gut you and feed you to the Reavers,” the short mechanic muttered as she rolled out of bed and felt the floor roll under her feet. Her kaki jumpsuit was wrinkled and worn thin on the knees from long use; she’d passed out in it.

“Sorry Capt’n,” Jonah grinned again, the small clipped on implant over his left ear winking.

“Don’t call me that,” Mia groaned, slumping against her beloved engine and letting it’s hum help ease the creaking in her brain. Kaylee didn’t have a captain; their last one had ‘accidentally’ been left in the airlock after the crew found out just why Alliance guards had known where their last drop off had been. He’d been looking for a nice pile to retire on, but his crew hadn’t been so keen on spending the rest of their lives on the Penal Moon. And Mia had found out the ignition codes

“Ginny wants to know how the fuel cells are going,” Jonah said, unclipping his earpiece now the bad tempered, soot smeared girl was awake. The implant was necessary sometimes, but he’d never gotten used to it, and only wore it when he had to.

With a muttered curse, Mia clambered over the stray wires and mechanical bits and bobs and laid a hand on the tank. Without sparing at glance at the out of order gage, her dirty fingers tapped over the metal. “It’s not great. We’re near Persephone, right? Tell her we should make port there. Pick up a few passengers maybe. We need the credit.”

Jonah’s usually good natured face darkened, and Mia caught the expression as she pulled herself away from the tank and arched an eyebrow. “What, you think thats bad? Come on, what’s the worst that can happen? Mr Neville would have forgotten those pig birds by now, right?”

*translation: fuck everyone in the universe to death

****

“She needs a new fuel gage, Gin,”

The blonde girl didn’t look away from the stars still shooting by, her hands steady on the controls as she glanced at the lights blinking on the board.

“We don’t have the credits, Mia. And no one’s gonna take us on good will, not after last time...”

“That was not my fault. I was sure they’d go check out the explosion. You should yell at Jordan. He was supposed to light the fuse.”

Jordan head popped into the cockpit, Kaylee’s co-pilot and cousin frowning at the slander being laid against him. “Whatever, Keystone. We could have just paid for it but you had to go all out and spend all the credit on apples.”

With a roll of her eyes Mia scratched her nose, leaving a black smear. “Lets not play the blame game, let’s just land, find some us a job, find us some paying costumers so I can keep us space worthy, then go.”

The tiny mechanic's dislike for going planet-side was infamous, and Ginny cracked a grin even as she started easing the nose of their ship down towards the distant lights of Persephone. “Me and Jonah will go look for a job, see if any of our old Captain's contacts will talk. Jordan, you get supplies, and Mia can stay here and try and entice us some paying costumers.”

Jordan snorted, then ducked away quickly as Mia went to cuff him.

***

“Not much to look at,” The man sniffed, LaRousse she thought he’d said, and Mia’s lips thinned as she bit off a rude reply.

“She flies like a dream though,” she said through a clenched jaw. “Looks ain’t everything.” Her eyes flicked over the satin vest and frock coat their would be passenger was wearing and her lip curled slightly. “But she might not be for you hoity toity types. There’s some of the bigger ships on the other side of the dock, all pretty and Alliance stamped.”

Keen eyes took in the slight wince, and her lips curled into a smile. “Maybe we are the ship for you then. Let’s talk price.”

***

Five hours, no fuel gage and a tip about a man who wanted to ‘source’ a very valuable artifact later, and Jonah was back in the engine room, perched on one of the ledges. His earpiece was tucked in his pocket, his speech slipping back into a slight slur.

“What’ve we got?”

“Some rich bag and his package, and a merc looking to find work on the boarders,” Mia said, looking over her shoulder to let him read her lips. “And some angry looking gent who’s already walled himself up in his quarters.” Her expression was sour as she turned back to rap on the fuel tank. “Least we got a full tank.”

“You siphoned again?”

“I’m shocked and offended you think that of me.”

”So that’s a yes?”

”A maybe at best.”

Jonah rose to his feet, having to duck to stand in the low ceilinged room. “Everyone’s waiting in the mess hall. Come on.”

Mia got to her feet, standing upright without a problem. She was built for this room, she’d decided, as nearly at Kaylee was built for... well, a bit of everything. “Lets go make nice then,” she muttered, then slung her arm through Jonah’s. “I’m hungry anyway. Any apples?”

***

“I’m Ginny, and I pilot this ship here. We call her Kaylee,”

The blonde girl was taking charge, being the most approachable of the rag tag crew. Their new passengers were seated at the long table set up for meals; a girl with white blonde hair was cutting into her ration pack with a nasty looking switch blade while the two men looked at her in mild disgust.

“We don’t have a captain on the ship, but if any of the crew give you an order, you do it. You’re free to come and go in the mess hall but apart from that, you’ll have to stay in your quarters.”

“What about our cargo?” the pompous looking man who'd already managed to anger Mia asked, looking down at his plate with disinterest.

Ginny frowned, then shrugged. “All safe. You’re paying for safe passage, and that’s what you’ll get. Jonah’s the first mate,” she gestured towards him, “talk to him with any issues, I’m in the bridge most of the time. Jordan’s the co-pilot, and Mia’s our engineer. Stay out of our way if we’re busy,”

“Or if we’re not,” Mia added under her breath, wincing as Jonah jabbed her in the ribs.

“So, names? We don’t need stories here, or titles. Don’t mean a thing in the black.”

“I’m L.C Milliner,” the blonde with the blade said first, finally looking up from her plate. “I’m good with weapons, all kinds.” There was a thick band of scar tissue running between her middle and index finger.

Ginny nodded, taking a mental note. “We might have use for you then, our last weapon tech left us for greener pastures. And you two gents?”

“Zac LaRousse,” the one in the frock coat said with the air of someone who was used to being known already. “Heir to the LaRousse family.”

“So no skills then,” Mia added again, leaning away from Jonah’s elbows.

“Thornton,” the last man said, his tone clipped. “John Thornton. I do business.” His eyes were guarded under hooded brows, and his eyebrow had been split neatly, the scar running down to disappear under his shirt.

“Always good to have someone who knows the lingo,” Ginny said, then finally sat down. “We run a democracy here, but citizenship has to be earned. You’ll all learn how things work quick enough. Now, lets eat.”

***

“What do you think’s in it?” Looking at the large white container, Jordan glanced at Mia uneasily. “Think it could be a bomb? Or some Alliance chemical weapon?”

The tech was busy examining the key pad on the side of the container and didn’t answer at first, then looked up at the co-pilot. “It’s organic, whatever it is,” she said slowly, her usual frown deepening. “I don’t like having it here, don't seem right having a big unknown in the middle of the cargo bay.”

The sound of heeled shoes on the metal grates leading to the mess made them both look up, Jordan jumping away guiltily. “Don’t touch that!” Zac snapped, no trace of the usual arrogance in his tone. “Get away from there!”

“Easy buddy,” Mia drawled, leaning back against the cold plastic as Zac hurried down the stairs. “Just curious why someone as high and mighty as you’s slumming with the likes of us. I think the answer’s all locked up tight in here.”

“No, don’t!”

Mia’s hand had ‘slipped’ to the keypad, and there was a hiss as a seal was broken. Zac’s expression flicked between horror and anger quickly as he pulled the tiny girl away. It was too late; with a metallic swish the lid slid off, cold air escaping.

Jordan saw what it was before she did, his mouth falling open. “Wu de then ah...*”

Pushing past the horrified Zac, Mia looked in and recoiled, before rounding on the richly dressed man. “Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng**,” she cursed, pushing his shoulder, her mouth twisted in anger. “You’re a slaver!”

“She’s not a slave!” he shouted back, loud enough to silence her. “Thats... that’s my wife.”

All three turned to look down at the still unconscious woman lying in moulded padding, her hair as white as the plastic she’d been hidden in.

“I’m getting Ginny,” Jordan said after a moment, then turned to Zac. His usually soft voice had hardened, and his scowl was ill fitting but passionate. “You’d better figure out your story before then.”

*Mother of Jesus
**Frog riding bastard

***

They met again in the mess hall, L.C and Thornton watching quietly as Zac helped the disorientated woman take a seat, wrapping his coat around her shoulders.

“She always been like that?” Ginny asked, gesturing towards the white hair and pale violet eyes blinking up at them in confusion. “Thought the splicers got ride of albinism.”

“They did,” Zac said shortly, his arm still around the woman’s shoulder. “Stella wasn’t born like this.” Pride was lacing his voice again, his expression settling back into a haughty mask. “We were married young; it was arranged of course.”

“Some family business deal?” Mia sneered, arms crossed. She hadn’t sat, but lent against the wall scowling. Zac shot her a scowl but nodded.

“We don't put it so crudely, but yes. Stella is,” he frowned slightly, “was a bioengineer who was working on figuring out the makeup of one of the more debilitating plagues that was attacking the border planets.”

The white woman looked up at the sound of her name, then up at Zac in distress. He stroked her hair and went on. “She must have found something... wrong, because the Alliance turned up at her lab with an cease and desist order, but, well, we’d lost a niece to the plague and she always has been stubborn...”

“So they took her,” Jonah finished, scratching his ear absently. “They have a habit of doing that.”

“It took me over a year to find her,” Zac said, with a hint of pride that quickly faded. “She... she’d been changed. Not just the colours, but...” Her squeezed the white hand he’d caught in his own, then looked around with distain. “I don’t expect you to understand. I can offer you a large amount of money if you promise to leave us at the next port without contacting the Alliance. Name the price. If they find us, they’ll take her back. I have the credits.”

“Typical rich boy,” Mia snorted, “thinks money can buy anything.”

Ginny silenced her friend with a look and glanced over at Jonah. He nodded slightly, and she cleared her throat. “None of us are friends of the Alliance,” she said slowly, as Mia slowly moved towards the exit, her eyes on L.C and Thornton in case this news was... disagreeable to them. “As long as you can pay, I don’t see why you can’t stay for a bit. If she used to be a bio specialist, we could use a doctor.”

Zac nodded, then rose to his feet, lifting Stella with him. “She needs rest.” He said, “you can bring meals to our room.”

“Oh can we now,” Mia snorted, but he’d already strode off. With raised eyebrows, one hand still on the holster on her hip, she looked back to her crew mates. “Well... Least we can charge him double.”

***

Thing had been quiet since the discovery of Stella. There’d been a bit of a tussle with the Panda Twins over the opium they’d delivered, and Jordan had almost been killed when he’d been caught sneaking into a pretty girl’s room. The girl hadn’t minded, but her husband had taken exception.

Mia was restless. Kaylee was ticking alone as smooth as she got, which brought a small smile to the engine carers face every night, but it wasn’t enough to keep her skin from practically itching for want of doing something stupidly dangerous. Prowling the corridors like a jungle cat, Mia watched silently as Stella floated through the medical bay under Zac’s careful gaze until she got bored and headed to see what the L.C woman was doing. She seemed interesting, and if worst came to worst, Mia could always call her fat and get into a scuffle. They were fun, sometimes.

L.C’s cabin was empty; her trunk was open, and there under the few sets of civiys was the unmistakeable jacket of an Alliance shock trooper. Those hadn’t been around since the independence war. Mia’s eyes widened, and she quickly backed out, turning in time to see the woman emerge from the next door cabin. Her hair was mussed, a very satisfied expression on her face as she fastened the buttons on her shirt. The room she had just left was Thornton’s.

“Bit old for you, ain’t he?” Mia said snidely, smirking up at the slightly taller girl.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” L.C replied, looking like the cat that got the cream. “Anyway, I’m mature for my age.”

Snorting in a very unladylike fashion, Mia rolled her eyes. “What’s an ex Alliance trooper doing on a cargo ship anyway. I’ll put aside the stuff daddy issue seducing for now.”

“He’s not stuffy,” L.C muttered, then shrugged and pushed her hair out of her face with one hand. “Dunno. War ended, we won... I got bored.”

There was more to it then that, but Mia’d find it out. She always found out; no one dug up dirt like she did. Ginny called her the human mole. Jonah called her the naked mole rat but that was just because he could without fearing a sudden carbon monoxide leak in his quarters.

But soldier past aside, it was still something to see the uptight John Thornton call L.C ‘Lyra’ and give her his share of the tomatoes Mia had ‘borrowed’ at the markets. Smirking into her own tomatoes, the tech kicked Jonah under the table and nodded her head towards the odd pair.

It wasn’t a scuffle, but it was a break from monotony.

***

Stella was missing. Ginny delivered the news to the crew, who’d remained onboard while L.C, Thornton, Zac and Stella had gone to pick up supplies and other niceties. The bridge was secure, they couldn’t be overheard.

“Thing is,” Ginny said, finishing up, “do we pick up and high tail it out, before the alliance comes breathing down our necks? Or do we stay and try to find her? Seems to me we have a bit of a choice to make.”

Jonah shrugged, pulling off the earpiece. “Seems to me it’s not really a choice.”

With a half hearted roll of her eyes, Mia sighed longingly. “Why can’t we ever plunder things, like real smugglers? Plundering sounds so nice and simple.”

***

Three hours, several disguises and one gun fight later, the mess hall was filled with noise as most of the crew of the SS Kaylee set about getting nicely drunk. Stella was smiling dreamily as she wondered around the room topping up glasses, and L.C loudly gave thanks to Mia’s on-board fermentation plant as she finished her glass and lent against the now smiling John (having someone save your co-pilot’s life brought them to first name basis automatically) with a fresh one already in hand.

Ginny sat down next to an oddly quiet Zac and offered him a cup, which he took.

“You know, thought you’d look a bit happier, us getting your wife back and all,” she sat down next to him, looking over as Jordan and Mia started throwing leftover protein at each other while Jonah chuckled silently.

“Why did you help us?” he asked after a moment, looking into his cup. “I mean, you could have just left us there.”

With a shrug, Ginny looked over to Stella, who was pulling Jonah up and spinning around the room with him. “You’re crew.”

“But,” Zac shook his head, following the dancers, “you don’t even like me.”

“You’re crew,” Ginny repeated. “You’re just like us. L.C and Th-John, they’re both ex military. I don’t know them well yet, but I bet they saw things, did things they don't wanna remember. Jonah,” Ginny glanced over at her tall friend, “he lost his hearing in an accident when he was three... his parents left him for dead as soon as he was old enough for the law to look the other way. Our Captain bought him out of a labour contract when he saw how good he is at navigating. Mia over there, she’s a runaway slave. Found her in the air ducts of a space station.” Zac’s jaw had dropped open, a fact Ginny was choosing to ignore. “Me and Jordan, we met Kaylee when we lost our family in the war for Independence. Gunned down, cause they were wearing brown coats. This ship needed a crew and me and Jordan, we’d flown Spit Fires since we could walk.”

Pausing, the blond girl took another sip of her wine and winced at its freshness. “People like us, we’re all running from something. Why else do we end up out in the black.” She grinned over at Zac and gave him a push. “Go dance with your wife, before one of the boys steals her.”

With a shake of his head, Zac lept up and quickly pulled Stella into the middle of the room. The others made way as, with all the flair of a born show off, he spun her under his arm.

“What a tosser,”

Ginny grinned as her short friend stole her wine and finished it in one swig. ”He’s alright. “

“You called him crew.”

It hadn’t sounded accusatory... Mia was keeping her face blank and Ginny shrugged. ”You got a problem with that?”

Looking forlornly into her empty cup, the pint sized engineer shrugged. ”Good to have a doctor on board, even if she’s all airy. S’pose I’ll have to deal with him.”

It was a start. ”It’ll work out. He’s more like us then you’d think.”

Mia chuckled, hugging her knees as the beloved ship rumbled under her feet. ”Only place you could say that about a slave and a moneybag like him with a straight face. We all end up out in the black, us cast outs and runaways. Out here, it’s all the same. Doesn’t matter what we’ve lost, they can’t take the sky.”

With a shake of her head, Ginny rose to her feet. ”You’re being all poetic, Mia. Didn’t know engines knew Shakespeare.”

Getting an obscene gesture as reply, Ginny laughed and left her friend to get another drink. Mia sat and watched, her back against the wall, Kaylee’s engine thrumming through her bones.

Last Edit: Jun 20, 2011 17:23:01 GMT -5 by Mia Keystone

Joshua Bernstein
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June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 14, 2011 21:13:07 GMT -5

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Post by Joshua Bernstein on Jun 14, 2011 21:13:07 GMT -5

Once Upon A Time (Bad Fanfic)

Once upon a time, a long time ago and far away, there lived three beautiful princesses: Princess Josh, Princess Riley and Princess Ben.

The three Princesses were always very close and every morning before sunrise they would ride out into the fields and sing songs with all the forest animals until it was time for tea, when they would go and visit the little old wizard Sean, who had a hut in the forest and tell him about their day while they sipped his special tea brew.

One day Princess Ben decided that she wanted to continue singing with the forest animals and so she told Princess Josh and Princess Riley to go on without her and give her regards to the wizard Sean. After her sisters left she began to sing by herself, twirling around in the wildflowers without a care in the world.

It was this day that Prince Oberon was riding his mighty stallion through the forest, hunting the fabled white stag, when he heard an angelic voice coming from the other side of the trees. Forgetting the stag, he spurred his steed out of the trees and then beast and animal stopped, entranced by the sight of the beautiful Princess Ben.

Prince Oberon guided his horse forward, stopping just in front of the frolicking princess. "Fair lady," He spoke, his voice soft, "I couldn't help but hear your singing as I rode through the forest. I must know your name."

Princess Ben stopped twirling, surprised to discover that she wasn't alone. She looked up at the handsome prince on his horse and blushed. "My name is Princess Ben," She replied, casting her eyes to the ground demurely.

"Do you live in yonder castle?" Prince Oberon asked, pointing in the distance to the castle on the hill where the three Princesses lived.

Princess Ben nodded. "Indeed, I live there with my father and step-mother and my two beautiful sisters. My two beautiful sisters are having tea with the great wizard Sean."

Prince Ben was astounded to hear that the three beautiful sisters knew the famous wizard Sean. "You know the wizard Sean? You are even more wondrous than I imagined. I must marry you."

Princess Ben blushed some more and took Prince Ben's hand, ready to mount his steed and go back to the castle so Prince Oberon could ask her father for her hand in marriage when out of the woods sprung a terrifying, hideous beast known as the Ogre Cobalt.

The beast had watched the three beautiful Princesses every morning and had fallen in love with Princess Ben but he had never approached because he knew that no Princess could ever love an ogre, even a tiny one. But seeing Prince Oberon court the lovely Princess Ben, the ogre became enraged and ran out of the woods and into the field, brandishing a cudgel.

"You cannot have her!" Cobalt snarled, waving his cudgel at Prince Oberon fiercely.

Prince Oberon's steed startled, kicking out and knocking Princess Ben to the ground. The ogre dropped his cudgel and hurried to the Princess's side in concern while Prince Oberon tried to reign in his horse.

"Princess Ben! Are you hurt?" The ogre asked in concern.

Princess Ben flinched away from the ogre, terrified at first because she had always been told that ogres at beautiful Princesses, but the genuine concern on the ogre's face caused her to pause.

Cobalt was very sad to see the fear in Princess Ben's eyes. "Oh, Princess," he cried forlornly, "I would never cause you harm for I have been in love with you ever since I first laid eyes on you. I have seen you come here many times with your sisters, content to listen to your beautiful voice and gaze on your beautiful person. But if you marry Prince Oberon I will never be able to listen to you again and my heart will break."

Princess Ben's heart melted at the ogre's words and through her purity and kindness and innocence she saw the ogre for who he really was, a tiny but loving person, and she realized that she would rather marry the ogre, who had loved her for so long, than the Prince, who had only just seen her dancing in the fields and couldn't even control his own horse. "Oh, ogre Cobalt," She sighed, holding out her hand and allowing him to help her up. "I have never seen you, but you must be truly in love with me to watch me with such dedication. We must go back to my father and ask for permission to marry. And if he says no my sister, Princess Josh, will plead on our behalf for she is a vocal advocate of ogre rights."

"Oh, Princess Ben, I am so happy!" Said the ogre.

Prince Oberon could see that he had lost the hand of the beautiful Princess Ben and dejected he turned his horse back into the woods. On the way he passed Princesses Josh and Riley but he paid them no heed, for neither Princess was his type. He stopped at the cottage of the wizard Sean, bemoaning to the wizard about his broken heart, and Sean shared some of his special tea with the Prince.

And when there was a great, magnificent wedding between Princess Ben and the Ogre, Prince Oberon and the wizard Sean (who was not invited to the wedding because of the well-known feud between ogres and wizards) had lots of tea together.

And the Princess and the Ogre lived happily ever after.

The End.

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Cobalt Weaver
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June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 15, 2011 23:01:43 GMT -5

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Post by Cobalt Weaver on Jun 15, 2011 23:01:43 GMT -5

a thousand apologies to everyone D:

Interchanging Mind Control

A man sat hunched in a chair in the middle of a sparse room. He was panting, his face was bloodied. Another, far older man stood in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back, his face impassive as he surveyed the younger man like he was watching a barely interesting television program. Ordinarily, cobalt liked to stay out of the “Hammel Drama”. As far as he was concerned, gtting involved with the troubles of the largest pro-meta organization was calling far too much attention to himself. And attention made him uncomfortable. But he’s agreed to help apprehend and process this one as a favor to Morgan. However he was slowly growing disinterested. Finally, the young man in question, clearly growing angry in the silence, raised rebellious grey eyes at Cobalt and spat out, “You’re wasting your time. Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t get it from me.”

Cobalt glanced at him impassively. “In about fifteen minutes, Sean Neville is going to walk through that door and you won’t have much of a choice. Talk now, and I might persuade him to not put you into a vegetative coma.” Of course, he would do no such thing—favors to Morgan only extended so far. When the younger man said nothing, Cobalt shrugged, “Have it your way, Lawrence. It’s a shame, now I’m going to have to listen to Morgan whine. He hates it when his toys get broken.”

“You leave Morgan out of this.” The vehemence in Jake’s voice caught Cobalt’s interest. He tilted his head to the side.

“No.” He said simply, “I won’t. He doesn’t love you, you know. That’s just how he is. And I should know, seeing as I raised him.” He sometimes wondered how Morgan would have turned out if his mother had survived. Probably not very well: the boy was already irritatingly sentimental.

“You’re lying.” Jake growled, and Cobalt didn’t miss the waver of uncertainty in his tone. The older man just shrugged. In reality, Cobalt had no idea whether or not Morgan loved Jake. He didn’t quite care anyways. What mattered was that Jake believed it.

“Either way, it took very little effort on my part to find you. And I’m not even a tracker. I’m barely associated with Hammel, save for my association with Morgan.” He let the implication hang. “Now. We need to know where your…associates are. They’ve caused quite enough trouble for the school and the town at large as it is: kidnapping students, destruction of property, slanderous literature. I particularly enjoyed the comparision of the treatment of nonmetas to that of cattle. Which I suppose is apt, although we certainly don’t eat them.” He turned cool eyes at Jake, “Your Underwood is quite the writer.”

“You call yourself a lawyer—”

“Only sometimes.”

“You condone the mistreatment of others just because they’re different.” Jake snapped, “Morgan always spoke very highly of you. Said you always taught him to do what’s right. How is this doing what’s right?”

Cobalt shrugged, “Maybe I grew tired of parents disowning their children for abilities they couldn’t help. Maybe after one too many hate crimes, I stopped caring about the feelings of nonmetas. Perhaps I don’t think it’s the right thing to do at all. Perhaps I don’t care.” Cobalt checked his watch, “Either way, after the unfortunate death of James Campbell, it doesn’t look like resistance is really a viable option. Public opinion isn’t on your side.”

“For the last time,” Jake said desperately, “We didn’t kill James Campbell.”

“I know.” Cobalt shrugged and glanced again at his watch, “Well… your time’s running out, Jake. We’re gonna try one more time, mostly for the sake of it. That and it makes my partner happy.” With that, Cobalt stepped out of the room and was replaced by a young woman with blonde, windswept hair.

“Hey there, handsome,” She purred, a cold and wicked grin on her face. “Did you know,” her voice was light and conversational, “That it’s possible to drown out of water? It’s an art really.” As she spoke, Jake’s lungs began to fill with air. He gasped, fighting against the smothering current of air forcing itself down his throat, trying to exhale.

“You feel that? That weird stretching feeling in your ribs?” Leila’s voice sounded like she was underwater. “That’s your alveoli expanding. Any moment now, they could explode.” Jake’s vision was spotting. “Like I said, it’s an art.”

-

Outside, in the main office, Cobalt was filling out some paperwork when the door opened. Without looking up, Cobalt raised an eyebrow, grumpy, “You certainly took your sweet time getting here.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Cobalt finally set his pen down, scowling. “You aren’t the only one. I have better things to do than watch your prisoners.”

Sean Neville looked unconcerned, irritatingly satisfied in the knowledge that Cobalt’s anger posed no more thread to him than the anger of a termite. Behind him, a bespectacled man hovered in the doorway, looking nervous.

Cobalt rolled his eyes, “Jesus, Neville, you take him everywhere? What, afraid someone’s gonna steal him or something?”

Sean’s face darkened for a moment before returning to cold indifference. “If it bothers you, I can make him wait outside. I can understand how having nonmetas around could be bad for business.”

“Aren’t you sweet.” Cobalt sneered. He waved a dismissive hand, “I don’t care. Go do what you came here to do.”

“Ah yes.” Sean nodded towards the backdoor, “Is he in there?”

“Leila’s babysitting him.” Cobalt turned back to his work, “Don’t take all day about it.”

Sean strode towards the back. “Hey!” Cobalt called after him, “I don’t want you killing him. Not in my office.”

Sean gave him an amused look, “It’s charming, how you still pretend you’re following the law.”

Cobalt narrowed his eyes, “It’s adorable how I haven’t killed you yet.” The handgun glinted from the holster at Cobalt’s side. However, it was an empty thread and they both knew it. Without another word, Sean disappeared from behind the door and Leila emerged, looking pleased with herself.

She glanced at the men still standing at the door. “Oh. Sean brought his normie.”

Cobalt gave her an annoyed look, “Don’t say normie, you sound like an idiot. But yes, he did.” He looked up at the nonmeta, “…Sean let you keep your name, didn’t he? I forgot it.”

A nervous nod. “Yes. Joshua.”

“Joshua. That’s right.” Cobalt picked his pen up and started writing, “You can sit down, Joshua.” At his peripheral, Leila looked up at him, surprised. Predictably, Josh hesitated. Cobalt looked up, irritated, “I don’t know what you’re waiting for, then.” Quickly, the nonmeta sat down.

“…Thank you.”

It was quiet, and Cobalt almost missed it. The shadow manipulator nodded once in response, feeling Leila’s calculating gaze on them.

After a moment, Sean came back out, calm and unruffled. “My apologies, Cobalt,” Sean didn’t sound apologetic at all, “Jake is dead. I believe I overestimated how much he could take.”

Cobalt made a disgusted noise, “Whatever. Get out of my office.”

The small smirk on Sean’s face turned disapproving when he saw Josh. “Who told you to sit down, Joshua?” His voice was chiding, like a parent to a child. Josh stammered.

Cobalt spoke up, “I did. He was irritating me.”

Sean’s expression was dangerous. Cobalt looked unconcerned. “One day, Cobalt.” Sean’s voice was low and deadly, “What negligible use you have will be gone.”

He let the unfinished thread hang in the air before turning and gesturing for Josh to follow. The nonmeta leapt up and followed the telepath.

Cobalt smirked slightly, “Bye Josh.”

Josh jumped, blinked and stammered out a goodbye. Sean gave Cobalt a cold glance before putting a hand on Josh’s shoulder and steered him out. Cobalt snorted, shaking his head. Leila’s eyebrows were raised.

“I know you like to irritate Sean, but trying to poach his normie might be pushing it a little far. I mean, if you want one so bad, why don’t you just get one? I know you’ve got the money.”

Cobalt adjusted his glasses, looking smug, “Don’t be stupid, I don’t want one.”

“Then what’s your angle?”

Cobalt folded his hands on his desk and looked up at Leila, “The best way to survive is to know your enemy’s pressure points. And I just found Sean’s.”

Leila looked incredulous, “What, the normie? How do you figure?”

Cobalt’s smirk grew wider, “Sean’s in love with him. Or as close as Sean can get to love.”

“How do you know?”

“Intuition. Anyways, I think, given this new information, that it would be prudent to try to gain Joshua’s trust. Which is looking to be almost pathetically easy.”

Leila shook her head, huffing out a laugh, “Man, I hope I get to kill you before Sean gets to you.”

“Well, you certainly have the advantage of proximity.” Cobalt remarked.

Leila laughed again, “True. Once you stop being a source of income, Blue.” She shrugged, “If it makes you feel better, I promise just to shoot you. I won’t draw it out like Sean will. Somehow, I have too much respect for you.”

Cobalt grinned wryly, “Thanks, kid. I promise I won’t kill you unless I feel like you really deserve it.”

Leila snorted, “Hey, do you ever think about if things were different? We might even have been friends.”

Cobalt rolled his eyes, “God help us all.”

“Heh.” Leila’s smile twisted, “Good luck with that.”

L.C. Milliner
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Been a while.

Posts: 290

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 16, 2011 19:25:52 GMT -5

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Post by L.C. Milliner on Jun 16, 2011 19:25:52 GMT -5

Unconditionally

“Mama, I like working at Marlborough Mills. I can breathe easy there.” Lyra worried her lip as she watched her mother storm about the house, gritting her teeth. Her comment did not go unnoticed, unfortunately, and Anna whirled to face her daughter and cleared the room in two steps. The younger of the two women saw the slap coming at her, but it still was a surprise to feel the pain blossom across her cheek. Tears should have sprung up in her eyes, but they didn’t. Her eyes remained as dry as ever. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried because she had been hit; it must’ve been when she was very little. She sat back up straight and watched her Mother storm about the room once more, eyes wild, teeth grinding. Her hair was wild and unkempt, as usual.

“That damn bulldog thinks he can just fire my son? That son of a bitch, he should be grateful we don’t call strike right now, thinking he can fire whoever he damn well pleases and treat his workers like shit. I ought to go down there and...” Lyra’s brother had been dismissed- well, thrown out really, but that was his own fault- from the mill that morning when they caught him sleeping in the store room while he was on the clock. Her mother overestimated her brother’s importance and reputation in the mill by a longshot. No one was upset to see him go, not even her. But, for a woman who never had bothered to work a day in her life, Anna Milliner was huffing and puffing up a fuss to beat the big bad wolf.

Lyra stood and wrapped her shawl around herself, edging away from her Mother and her tumultuous raging. She watched for a moment before interjecting a comment. “I can try for a spot at Slickson’s if you want, Mama.” She sighed, miserable. Never mind that Marlborough Mills was healthier for her to work in, or that she had been all but handed a good job there. No pleasing her mother. She didn’t even hear Lyra, so the girl took it as a sign that she’d better leave and she did, heading into the tiny kitchen where her brother was leaning against the back doorway, smoking his pipe with a smug look.

She tried to pass him, but he caught her arm and held her as he puffed away, blowing smoke in her face purposefully. He was bigger than her, but she managed to wrestle free and get away from his grasp. She retreated back to the kitchen, trying to figure out how she could get past him, and he pulled the pipe from his teeth. “Doesn’t matter where you work, we both still get your wages. You just wanna work at Marlborough so you can see Thornton.” He crooned at her condescendingly, and she pushed him down the back steps as he did. He stumbled off the steps as she flew past him, cursing as he stood back up, red in the face.“Where you going, Cinderella?!” He sneered after her, “Going to buy yourself a nice cotton dress?!”

She stared at the ground as she turned out of the alley, gritting her teeth as her hands balled into fists.

“Mr. Thornton? You have a visitor. Looks like one of our mill girls.” Zachary stuck his head into the room, jolting John out of his work. He looked at the boy- his apprentice, brought on due to a large sum of money deposited from his Father to John’s bank account- and nodded, beckoning him to bring her in. A pale blonde girl shuffled into his door, and if he recognized her beyond the fact that she worked for him, he didn’t show it.

“Hello sir.” She said, bowing her head rather than curtsying or anything like that. From the looks of it, she didn’t have much of a skirt to curtsy with. She was still in her work clothes. He surveyed her and noticed that Zachary was doing the same, only from behind, and with a bit of a smile on him. He glared at the boy and waved at him to go. He did, reluctantly. He focused on her again, his gaze causing her to stiffen under it like she had been rolled in starch.

Thornton looked back down at his ledgers as he spoke, writing down numbers intermittently. “If you’re looking to get your brother’s job back, Miss Milliner, you can leave now.” Her sharp intake of breath made it clear that she had come for just that purpose. He continued. “He was disruptive, lazy, and hostile with the other workers. It’s a wonder I didn’t fire him earlier.” He looked up, expecting her to be seething with rage, but she appeared as calm as the empty factory beneath the floorboards she stood on. From the look on her face, her brother’s bad qualities obviously were not confined to the factory floor.

“I have to resign.” She muttered, looking to the side as she said it. He sat his work down and clasped his hands together, watching her over the singular fist they formed. “I like working here, but my Mama says I can’t stay if-”

“If you do not personally have a grievance with my mill, you may not leave.” He cut her off, picking up his quill once more as if the matter was settled. She stood there in silence for a few seconds before he finally sighed and looked up at her without moving his head. “You’re a good worker, unlike your brother. You pull twice as much of a load as the other girls, and you don’t waste my time or your own. You’re always punctual and you don’t complain.” He paused, giving her a moment to let it settle in. “If this is some family matter, I’ll ask another mill to put you on their ledger as a ghost worker. But you’ll still work here.” He waved her off, indicating the conversation was over.

She stood still for a few more moments to make certain he was done, but he saw her turn and leave the room through his peripheral vision. She went out the door as Zachary held it open for her, and John couldn’t help but notice that arrogant smile on the boy’s face. It widened as the older man stood, feigning a stretch. “LaRousse, go down to the sorting room and close up.” He snapped, watching the smirk disappear as he groaned and left. John stood for a couple moments longer and turned, just in time to watch Lyra Milliner walk across the courtyard. There was a bounce in her step.

John went back to his work shortly after, albeit with a smirk on the corner of his lips.

It had been four months since Lyra Milliner had come to the factory that fateful afternoon, and she had all but disappeared from Thornton’s mind as the winter months came on. The demand for cotton went up as people learned it didn’t absorb moisture like wool, and it looked like a good year for everyone, even the workers. In a rare moment of generosity, he had given them an extra shilling on December 23rd- Christmas pay, he called it. He tried not to think about how most of the male workers would be using it to buy smoke instead of the necessities for their families, but when the majority of his workers came back in very good cheer on December 26th, he found that maybe the idea wasn’t such a bad one.

The minority, of course, consisted of the aforementioned girl.

He had been standing at the window as the workers filed into the gates, and her ashen blonde hair caught his eye- she must’ve had Dutch blood in her somewhere to have that shade. She walked slowly, with her head down. Her face was obscured, but that was her. She was so short amongst the other women that he’d recognize her anywhere. He was about to take his eyes off her when she suddenly looked up at the window. She saw him and immediately looked down, but not fast enough for him not to get a good look at her.

His face hardened, and his teeth clamped together as he whirled, looking around for Zachary before remembering his apprentice would not be back from his holiday in France until the beginning of January. He sent for the next best thing, his secretary. “Campbell! I want Miss Milliner in my office, NOW!” He roared through the door. The scraping of a chair against hardwood and the staccato tapping of shoes on the floor indicated the neurotically tidy man had heard him all too well. He looked across the courtyard where the workers were still filing in before returning to his desk, sitting as he gritted his teeth and stared angrily at the wall in front of him.

It was a long fifteen long minutes before James produced a hassled Lyra Milliner. The door shut behind her and she fixed her face on the floor, her bangs obscuring the top half her face from him, which was exactly what he wanted to see. Not one for playing games, Thornton rounded his desk and took her chin in his hand, pulling her head up so she was facing him. She tried to resist it, but he was stronger than her and with a few seconds of struggle, her face was lifted. She bit her lip and frowned in defiance as he looked at her, his face turning hard with anger.

It was most definitely a black eye. It was obviously a couple days old, and the mottled purple had faded into a sickly yellow color that contrasted with the pale ivory of her face in a way most unpleasant. He let go of her chin and she stayed there, staring at him as he tried to compose himself. “Who did this.” He growled, his anger barely restrained.

The girl said nothing for a moment before licking her lips. “I can’t work here anymore.” She muttered, shaking her head as he tried to interject. “You were the only one to issue Christmas pay. When I came home with an extra shilling, my brother...” She gulped and looked away from him, her face turning from defiant to anguished. “I love working here. I love my friends and it’s better for me. I can breathe here. But... I can’t.” She choked out the last word and turned, rushing out before he could stop her. His hand was raised, grabbing at the air. He stood like that for a while before her finally dropped his hand and returned to his desk in thought.

“I was informed that Miss Milliner was staying here?” Lyra’s head snapped up as she heard his voice- the voice that haunted her, ever since she had gone to work for him. She had been staying with a friend of hers- an old and wrinkled little woman named Madga, who was frightfully Polish and barely understood English. She seemed to understand Mr. Thornton well enough, however, because moments after his arrival he was in the door of her cramped little room. She took a breath and nodded to him as he paused, looking over a stringed up medley of dried fruit with an expression of curiosity before looking to her.

“Miss Milliner, I’m afraid I was very forward yesterday.” He said, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked at her. Lyra gulped and shook her head.

“You have nothing to be forward about.” She said with a clipped tone, attempting to nip the conversation in the bud.

She failed, and he gave her a hard expression. “I think that I do.”

“Well, I did only the least that anyone would have.” She muttered to herself, picturing her resignation and her subsequent sprint out of his office.

“That can’t be true.” He said, trying to come to terms with the idea of leaving a place one enjoyed being in because of issues like hers. Were scores women coming to work with black eyes and he didn’t notice it until it happened to her?

“Well I was, after all, responsible for placing myself in danger.” She said, turning away from him as she walked across the room to look out the window. “I would’ve done the same for any other mill here.” She was trying to push him away. It wasn’t working.

“Any mill?” He said, eyebrows raised. “So you approve of that violence, you think you got what you deserved?” He sounded anxious, praying he wasn’t right.

“Oh, no, of course not. But... He was desperate. I know if you were you talk-”

“I forgot. You imagine him to be your family.” As far as John was concerned, he was the farthest thing from it.

Lyra shot him a glare. “Well, if you were to be reasonable-”

“Me? Are you saying that I am unreasonable?” He cut her off, pausing to point out her current situation.

The blonde girl sighed. “If you would talk with him, and not set the workers against him, I know he’d-”

“He will get what he deserves.” He said with finality, before looking away from her. She blinked at his strange expression and remained silent. He spoke again. “Miss Milliner, I didn't just come here to check up on you. I came... because... I think it... very likely... I know I've never found myself in this position before. It's... difficult to find the words. Miss Milliner, my feelings for you... are very strong...”

“Please, stop. Please don't go any further.” She said, backing away from him as she felt her heart jump into her throat.

“Excuse me?” He said, blinking as she composed herself.

“Please don't continue in that way. It's not... the way of a gentleman.” She whispered, her reply hesitant and not well thought out.

John didn’t seem to notice her faltering. “I'm well aware that in your eyes at least, I'm not a gentleman. But I think I deserve to know why I am offensive.” He said through gritted teeth.

She glared, her temper rising. “It offends me that you should speak to me as if it were your... duty to rescue my reputation!” She said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I spoke to you about my feelings because I love you; I had no thought for your reputation!” He said, slamming his hands down on the table.

“You think that because you are rich, and I’m in... reduced circumstances, that you can have me for your possession! I suppose I should expect no less from someone in trade! She yelled back, slamming her hands on the table as well.

“I don't want to possess you! I wish to marry you because I love you!” His voice cracked, and it took every last ounce of her strength to turn away from him and look out the window again.

“You shouldn't! Because I do not like you, and never have.” She muttered, looking down at the street.

She turned to look at him and they seemed to share a silent moment before she bit her bottom lip, worrying it with her top teeth before speaking again. “I'm... I'm sorry... to be so blunt. I've not learnt how to... how to refuse... how to respond when a... when a man talks to me as you just have.” She said, ending on an awkward note.

John’s gaze hardened as he gripped the edge of the table. “Oh, there are others? This happens to you every day? Of course. You must have to disappoint so many men that offer you their heart.”

Tears sprung into Lyra’s eyes for the first time in a while and she looked down so he wouldn’t see them. “Please understand, Mr. Thornton...”

“I do understand. I understand you completely.” He seethed through gritted teeth, and with that he stormed out, leaving with the slamming of Magda’s door. Lyra sunk to the ground, not even daring to look out the window to watch him leave. One hand covered her mouth. The other hung limp at her side.

It was a few days of torturous work before Zachary came into John’s office, pausing for a moment before the man looked up. “Visitor for you, sir.” The young man said, and he knew right away who it was.

“Tell her I do not wish to see her.” Thornton muttered, sitting his quill down despite his comment.

LaRousse hopped from foot to foot and looked out into the hallway. “You see, I did that. And she threatened to stab me with a pair of knitting needles if I didn’t let her in.”

John raised a brow and made way for the door, looking out into the hall carefully to find Miss Milliner chatting with James in a chipper fashion. He looked back to Zac. “Knitting needles?”

He nodded, pale as a sheet. “Yes.”

“I see.” John muttered before looking back out the door. “Miss Milliner.” Her head snapped and when she saw him, he swore he saw her eyes light up- something he’d have to investigate.

Zachary left as soon as she came in and she watched with a smile. “Good boy. Takes everything too seriously.”

“Knitting needles?” John asked, still a bit hung up on the idea of her stabbing anyone.

“Does it really look like I knit?” She asked, gesturing to her dress.

He turned away for a moment before finding another subject matter. “You know James?”

“Yes. Ginny, his daughter- she’s my best friend.”

“The one with a cough.” John muttered, expecting that problem to be pegged on him as well. Instead, Lyra looked off to the side and cleared her throat.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day.” She muttered, going on before he could stop her. “When I said I didn’t know how to refuse, I meant I’ve never...” She bit her lower lip, and he had the urge to trace his finger across it to look for a groove from her biting it so much. “I’ve never found myself in a position like that before.”

John’s breath came in a bit too sharp, he gave a startled cough and stared. “You’ve... you’ve never been courted, Miss Milliner?”

“Once or twice.” She said, nodding to the door. “Zac there being one of them.” She smiled before looking at the floor. “But no one has ever... proposed to me.”

“And I should see why, given the response to my offer.” He snapped at her, and he turned back to his desk, walking across the threshold.

She followed him. “I didn’t say no, did I?” She said, stopping him in his tracks when he realized that she did not, at least not outright.

“You told me... Not to continue.” He said, turning. “And that you did not like me.”

Lyra looked at the floor and sighed, her slim shoulders rising and falling like a wave on the sea. She was so small next to him. “I may have said the latter in anger.” She mumbled. “But when I said not to continue, I meant it because, well, you sounded so../ awkward about it.” She shrugged and cast her gaze toward the floor. “And after that things just went downhill.”

John was taken aback, to say the least. But he didn’t miss a beat. “If you didn’t refuse my offer, then why were you so upset?” He wondered aloud, a question he felt he had a right to ask.

Her mouth set itself in a grim line. “Because I want you to want to marry me unconditionally.” She said, crossing her arms as she did.

“Miss Milliner, I don’t think-” He started, but suddenly she was there, in his face.

“If you do think for one second, John Thornton, that you are going to marry me just because you can whisk me away from the nightmare called my home life, you can just get your head out of your ass now.” She said, jabbing a finger into his chest. He was so taken aback that he said nothing. “If I wanted a man just for the sake of getting out of my Mama’s house, trust me, I would have found one long before you came crawling along. So if you really love me, you’re going to have to try a bit harder than dropping down on one knee whenever the urge hits you. Got it?” She nodded once, briskly, and then she whirled and headed to the exit, pausing before glaring back at him. “You said you loved me. So, prove to me that this isn't some romantic notion of rescuing some helpless maiden.” And with that, she disappeared.

He stood there speechless, even as Zac came back in. From the look on his face, it was evident that he had heard the whole thing. “And you don’t think that she threatened to stab me? Well, that tears it then.”

She had given him hope, and that was all the push he needed. He had questions, of course, but at the same time he didn’t feel an overwhelming need to ask them of her. He busied himself with his work and tried not to think about her too much, but once he left the factory she was all he thought about.

After moving in with that Polish woman permanently, Lyra had been coming back to the factory in high spirits. He’d catch her glancing up at his window and couldn’t help but smile, a gesture she would return before heading into the factory. There was only one problem with their relationship, and that was that it was stagnant- he had yet to take any steps further into it. He was a man who took very little risk in his life, and at the moment he felt hassled enough by the two women already living in his house- his mother and his sister.

Molly was oblivious to everything he did, as always. With access the piano at all hours of the day along with a beau to write gushing letters to when she grew bored of music, she was off in some dream world without a care. The only time she ever came down from her high was for parties or social events, and even then she was still chattering like a monkey with the guests all the while. No, Molly would like Lyra well enough once they met. She liked just about everyone in her own way. It was his mother he was most concerned with. He had been keeping Lyra a secret from her, and she was starting to pick up on it now, more and more. He had to sit down with her and discuss this, but he knew she wouldn’t take it well.

But for some strange, inconceivable reason, this mill girl made him happy. No one had ever talked to him like she did, or sent him packing in such a way. No one had the courage to snap at him quite like her, and that alone made him grow fonder of her. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed a woman like her in his life.

Convincing his mother of that was a different story.

“John, you’re not thinking reasonably.” She chastised him, her brow set in a stern glare. He had tried to tell her about it from the beginning, and she had listened, sure enough, but once the story was over she made her point of view very clear. “What right has she, to stick her nose up at you?”

“Every right, Mother.” He said, sitting in the chair across from her. “She was right for refusing me. I wanted to marry her to get her out of that awful place. That was all. But now, she is making me stand back and see who she is; not what her circumstances are.” He took his Mother’s hand and looked at her, his eyes filled with what looked like a hopeful expression. “She makes me happy. And if it’s a question of class, you must remember that we were once in the same situation she was.” Having nothing to live on, poverty- he remembered those days all too well. Now they lived in luxury, thanks to all his hard work.

His mother was silent for a moment before covering his hand with her free one. “I want what’s best for you.” She had seen him dejected before, and it was not a sight she enjoyed seeing. She remembered his experience with a Miss Hale when he was a few years younger that ended in disaster. She did not want a repeat of that.

John understood her concern and he nodded. “Lyra is what’s best for me. I’m sure of it.”

Once he had cleared up the situation with his mother, John all but jumped into the business of pursuing Lyra Milliner. He had expected no resistance, but after a week or so, he had to take a step back and admit one thing to himself.

The woman was impossible.

Trying to please her should be declared a field of study, for all the work and thought he put into it. Flowers were met with a raised brow and grudging acceptance, whereas chocolate was turned down flat because she did not like sweet things. Jewelry was welcomed but rarely worn, and the one time he offered to buy her earrings, she laughed in his face. He saw no point in writing her love letters and neither did she- they saw each other on a daily basis and neither of them saw much use in writing down emotions anyway.

They bickered over what he felt were the littlest of things: she didn’t want to stop working until after they were married; he insisted she stop as soon as possible. She didn’t want to go to any of the concerts or performances at the theatre, and he assumed it was because his mother and sister would be in attendance. After one night of fighting about going to see ‘Othello’, John finally threw up his hands in the air and dropped the bomb.

“If you don’t like my Mother just say so, Lyra.” He said, sitting down in the chair on his side of Magda’s tiny kitchen table.

“It’s not your mother, John. Or your sister.” She added as he opened his mouth. He closed it again. “Really.” She assured him, sitting across the table in her own chair. It squeaked as she sat; the sound broke the silence between them, just barely.

“You like the theatre. I’ve seen you go before.” John sighed, exasperated beyond words. “And whenever I go alone with you, you agree. But when my mother and sister accompany us, you refuse, or say you have plans.” He glared at her, his eyebrows knitting together. “They do like you, Lyra.”

“I just don’t want to go. That’s all.” She muttered, sitting back to look at her nails.

It took John a few weeks of quarrelling with her before he realized that it really wasn’t his mother or his sister that Lyra disliked, but herself instead. He would catch her frowning at herself in the mirror or at her hands or clothes. So with that in mind he bought her a dress- a simple thing, really, nothing expensive like Molly’s wardrobe entailed- and she jumped on him and wrapped him in a hug, she was so happy. Any other time he would’ve considered such an action improper, but this being the first good fortune when it came to her in a very long while, he allowed himself the luxury of returning the embrace.

Sitting next to her in the theatre the following night, John couldn’t help but rest his hand on top of hers, testing the waters, expecting denial. Imagine his surprise when she took his hand, her fingers interweaving with his. They sat like that for the better part of the show.

She was impossible, moody, and frustrating. She said things she didn’t mean and had a temper. She sulked and pouted if she was upset. She was far from a lady, but to tell her so to her face made her angry. She was too intelligent for her own good and had a tendency to be manipulative when she could get away with it. She was a horrible cook and couldn’t bake to save her life. She didn’t own a single handkerchief or fan, and whenever she felt something, she’d tell him so. She was as volatile as the sea after a storm. She stirred up enough drama to feed the gossip mill for months. She told him what for, and quite often. Sometimes, he felt like he was the woman in the relationship, with all her bossing him around.

But.

She was the epitome of grace. She was not half bad at dancing when she put her mind to it. She was fantastic around children and would leave them laughing and begging for her to come back. When any of the women she worked with fell ill, she made sure they were looked after. She was good with numbers and even better with money. His mother was amazed at how frugal she was, which was saying something, given the frugality of his mother. She had manners, and used them when she had to. She never insulted or belittled him, for all of her bossiness. She asked him what was wrong when he was troubled and refused to budge until he told her.

She was always there for him, and that was what truly mattered.

[[OOC: Yes. I know. RIDICULOUSLY LONG.]]

Samuel Rixon
Retired

Greenview College
Pyrokinetic
Played By Mads

"... Oops?"

Posts: 471

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 20, 2011 11:45:38 GMT -5

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Post by Samuel Rixon on Jun 20, 2011 11:45:38 GMT -5

Rose the Vampire Slayer (Sort Of)

To Do:

~~Start laundry~~

Pick up dry cleaning

~~Groceries~~

~~Feed Cricket and Ellie~~

Kill Rixon

The pen scratching across the paper was suddenly halted by the flash of motion across the road. The dark haired hunter lifted her chin, smirking as she stashed her list away. Looked like getting rid of Rixon was going to come sooner rather than later. At her hip were her supplies. All she had to do was get close enough to make him disappear.

From what she'd heard, he was a bit of a poor excuse for a vampire, but a kill was a kill, and she'd get his bounty. Twisting her hair around her fingers, she left her post and moved to follow him. It wasn't exactly an easy job, not like Oberon's cushy desk job, but it helped pay the bills, and she liked it. That had to count for something, right?

Looking more vampire than hunter herself, with jet black hair and near-white skin, she bolted after Rixon. At least, she was pretty sure it was Rixon. She'd been tracking him all morning, and the speeding creature that had gone by had looked enough like him to pique her interest.

Time to end him.

Tracking a vampire was no easy task, but Rose had it nailed down to a science. Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately, it was hard to tell), Rixon defied that science. His movements were... odd, and she had never, ever seen a creature so...

"Hi!"

Rose jumped, clutching at the pouch on her hip in defense. Rixon was younger than she'd thought.

"Whatcha doooing?"

"Nothing," she managed not to snap. She'd dispatched a lot of vampires, but she'd never had one so close to her when it wasn't on her terms. Apparently, he was oblivious to that discomfort. Instead of a) attacking, or b) backing off, he just stood there, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Cool! Can I heeelp?" Rose arched an eyebrow. Had he never encountered a hunter before?

"How old are you?" Maybe she had the wrong one. She wasn't encouraged by the grin plastered on his way.

"Nineteen," he responded happily, his red eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "I've been a vampire for two years!" ... Okay, that matched. Everything matched. But this one didn't seem all that dangerous. Dim, yes. Dangerous? Unless this was an act, that would be a big fat no. Apart from the glaring fact that he was a vampire, she honestly couldn't see why anyone would bother putting a bounty on hi -

"What's this for?"

Rose turned, realizing a moment too late that he'd gotten into her supplies, and was holding a tool in his hand. Okay, he'd definately never encountered a hunter before. Or perhaps he was just that dim. She cautiously held out her hand for the item. "It's mine. Give it back." In a rare display of grace, Rixon zipped backwards and darted into a tree, examining the tool.

"But I like it! It's shiny." As if to prove it, he rolled it in his hands, letting it catch the light.

"I know," she replied, sounding just a tad smug. She took pride in the fact that she took good care of her things. Even if Oberon complained when they were littered across the kitchen table as she cleaned them. "Do you know what it's for?" Might as well get it over with and tell him.

"No!" In a flash, Rixon was back on the ground, bouncing as eagerly as a puppy for a treat. "Tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me!" He even offered it back, as if that would encourage her to spill the news.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Now she was just toying with him. Finally she was back in power, and she felt better about the whole situation.

"Yeeeees tell me tell me teeeeeell meeeee. ... Please?" Rose smirked and twisted the tool in her hands.

"I use it to kill vampires," she finally answered, gazing up at him. Rixon blinked before grinning.

"Cool!" ... Cool? This was the part where he was supposed to put up a fight. Run away. Try to attack. Not sit there and smile and call it 'cool.'

"... Rixon, you do know you're a vampire, right?" The boy cocked his head, shrugging.

"Yeah. But I'm not bad! I just... holycrapyouwanttokillme?" Now it looked like the fear was setting in, and a scared vampire was an unpredictable vampire. Rose shrugged, nonchalant, as she toyed with her weapon.

"I'm supposed to. There's a decent bounty on your head." The problem was, he was sort of cute. In a puppy-ish way. Not to mention that he was low on the danger scale. This wasn't good. She wasn't supposed to get attached to her prey. "Convince me otherwise."

Rixon went to his knees, looking defeated for a moment. Rose stared down at him, backing up a step. There was no telling what he'd do. As he raised his head, she looked at him, ready to defend herself if need be. Instead of an attack, the boy just clasped his hands together. "I'll do anything you want! Anything! I'll do dishes, dust, walk dogs, and I won't bite you ever! Pleasepleasepleasedon'tkillme."

Okay. He was a vampire.

But he was cute.

He killedpeople.

But he'd promised not to hurt her.

Vampire. Bounty.

She made up her mind.

~

"Oberoooooon~" The tall, thin man winced slightly. Every time Rose used that tone, she'd either done something without consulting him and he wouldn't like it, or she wanted something. Considering she'd just been out working, he guessed it was probably the latter.

"In the study," he called back, rubbing his temples. Whatever she wanted, she'd probably get it. It was hard to say no to his wife.

Rose skipped into the den and slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling against him. "How much do you love me?" Oberon put his arms around her, unable to keep from smiling.

"More than anything."

"Good. Promise you won't get mad?"

"About?"

"Just promise."

"No, Rose. What did you do?"

"Nothing! ... Much."

"Rose."

"Ben."

"Just tell me."

"... We have a new pet?" Oberon blinked. That, he hadn't expected.

"... What kind of pet?"

“HI!” Oberon jumped, glancing into the doorway. Rose just smiled innocently.

“Benny, meet Rix – uh... Samuel.” It didn’t take Oberon long to realize what she’d done.

“What happened to killing him? And isn’t that dangerous? They’re killers, Rose.”

“Yeah, well, so am I. But he promised not to hurt us. Right, Sammy?” The way she cooed at him, one might have thought he was a precious little puppy, not a vampire. But to his credit, he grinned and nodded in affirmation.

“Yep! I like Rose! And you. I think. So I’m not gonna hurt you! Promise!” He was back to bouncing on his heels. Rose glanced at Oberon, biting her lip.

“You’re not mad, right? He’s harmless, and he won’t be any trouble. Just look at him, he’s adorable!” Oberon just arched an eyebrow at her.

“... He’s your pet. You’re going to have to take care of him.” The hunter squealed and flung her arms around him, kissing his neck.

“I will, I promise!”

~

“Ow! ROSE! Your pet’s trying to – hey! You said he was harmless!”

“He is! He didn’t mean it. Right Sammy?”

“I’m huuuuungry!”

“Oberon’s not good to eat, he tastes like nerd.”

“Hey!”

“Come on Sammy, let’s find you something better for breakfast.”

“A druggie?”

“.... Whatever you want. Come on.”

Dr. James Campbell
Retired

Head of Recruiting
Super-Enhanced Perception
Played By Tony

Posts: 555
Gender:: Male

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 20, 2011 14:25:47 GMT -5

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Post by Dr. James Campbell on Jun 20, 2011 14:25:47 GMT -5

Before the Shanty

"I hear you're looking for a crew."

Captain Kilbourne looked up from his tankard of ale at the man who spoke curiously. He didn't look like the sort that would have anything to do with pirates. Probably one of those romantic types that's never actually been on an airship, the Captain thought, and smirked. "If I am, what business would it be of yours?"

"Do you have a navigator?" The tall man looked nervous, his eyes darting around the taern and his fingers were fiddling with the buckles on the strap of the leather satchel he had slung over his satchel.

Chase nodded and jerked his head over towards where his new navigator--hired just the night before--was sitting, flirting with the barmaid. "Yeah. And I don't need another, so unless you're better than someone with a degree from the New York School of Aeronautics, you best be looking elsewhere." He didn't care much for degrees over experience personally, but this guy looked posh enough to probably give a damn.

The thin man looked over at the navigator and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. "That's Adam Collier. Yes, I'm better than him."

"Oh?" Finally, Chase was interested. He put down his mug and gestured to the empty chair beside him. "How do you know Adam?"

"He nearly failed my cryptographical cartography course. My name is Professor James Campbell, and I teach linguistics and translation at NYA." He sat down and pulled the leather satchel into his lap, one arm hugging it to his chest. "I haven't sailed in a while, but I've got some sabbatical time coming, and I'm looking to join a crew."

Chase raised his eyebrow. If he was a professor, he couldn't be a good one if he genuinely thought he was going to find anyone other than pirates here. "Have you sailed with this kind of crew before?"

James was silent, but the look on his face said enough.

"Have you sailed with any kind of crew before?"

"Well..." He took a step closer as one of the barmaids brushed past behind him.

"Look," the captain's patience with this had run out. "I don't have time for pretty nobles who want to play pirates."

"I'm not a noble." James bristled, "I'm not a noble, and I'm not playing. You're going to need a navigator when Adam screws up."

"That job is taken, and you have no experience. So unless you want to cook--"

"I can cook."

The blond man went back to his drink, rolling his eyes. "We get enough bachelor cooking already. We're looking for a wo--"

"I can cook." Strangely enough, he seemed most offended by the idea that he couldn't. "You're going to need me."

Chase considered him again, wondering if it was worth arguing. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. We alight tomorrow. She's The Pilot Ridge."

He wouldn't last a week, but their first stop was Old Boston, so they could kick him off there and find a new cook for cheap.

*****

"James, I told you not to come back here without a lawyer." Lucy crossed her arms and blocked the door to her house--formerly their house--keeping the tall man out.

"I know..." James looked away and sighed, "I found a new job, Lucy. It doesn't pay as much as the University, but it's a job." He took a step forward, pleading, "Just let me see her."

"Ginny's in bed." Lucy's face softened, and she stepped back, letting her soon-to-be-ex-husband into the foyer. "What kind of job is it?"

"Cooking on a merchant ship. I'll be gone for a while." He tried to offer her a smile, but it was strained. "Did the University call?"

Just the mention of his old job made her bristle. "Yes. They said you had some books and papers to return. I packed all of the stuff from your office up and had it delivered to your new place."

"I was set up, Luce. You know me."

"No, James, I don't. Go say goodbye to Ginny."

*****

"So that was actually pretty good."

James jumped at the sound of the captain's voice, dropping the pan he was scrubbing with a loud clatter. "Hello, sir. I hope dinner was to your satisfaction."

"Sir?" Chase smirked and perched himself on the edge of the counter where James was working. The galley was small, so it was lucky for him that he had little care for the concept of personal space. Lucky for him, at least. "No one calls me Sir."

"Would you prefer Captain?" The cook edged away, but there wasn't much room for him to escape.

"No. I think I like Sir better. Particularly considering that you lied to me."

James tensed, "About what?"

"You weren't a professor. They fired you."

"I was framed." He turned his back to the captain and continued to wash the dishes.

"Adam said another teacher reported your affair with one of your students."

"I did not sleep with any of my students. They couldn't even give a name, because it didn't happen."

Chase shrugged, "Forgive me if I don't believe you. If you were as good of a translator as you claimed, they wouldn't have fired you, and you wouldn't be looking for jobs with pirates. Where's your ring?"

"Uh..." James pulled his hand back from the water, as if hiding it from the captain would make him forget that it was missing the gold band that was supposed to be there. "I just left it in my cabin."

"You lying about that too? Did you give it to your girlfriend?"

James stiffened, and finished cleaning the last pot mechanically, before putting it away. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going back to my cabin." And he brushed past the blond man, refusing to look at him.

*****

When Ginny Campbell was cleaning her room a few days later, she found a small bag filled with gold under her bed. Tucked in with the coins was a small note in the tiny handwriting she knew so well. "Ginny, if I'm not home for Christmas, give this to your mother."

*****

"I offended you." Chase was very much aware that the cook was in no mood to speak to him, but when there were a total of eight people on a ship, he didn't want anyone being sullen around him. (And he wouldn't put up with anyone else on the crew sulking either.)

James didn't look up from the pot of soup he was seasoning. "I don't take kindly to baseless accusations."

"You're on a pirate ship." Chase just looked at him, a little surprised. "You are aware of that, right?"

"I am." Finally, James turned to him, "But I'm a thief, not a rapist. Statutory or otherwise."

"A thief?"

"NYA is missing some maps, that's all."

Chase shook his head. "Nerd. Come up top tonight, when you're done cleaning up. Morgan has a fiddle, and you're always holed up down here."

"No, thank you." James blushed a little. "I'd rather not."

The captain looked at him curiously. In the three days they'd been in the air, he'd never seen the other man leave belowdeck, for any reason. "....James, are you afraid of flying?"

"Not exactly..."

"Come with me. Now."

*****

"So what, exactly, are we after?" James was gripping the rail tight enough that his fingers had gone white. But at least he was talking this time.

For the past week, Chase had made the cook come out to the deck and confront his paralyzing fear of heights. In case anything ever happened on the airship and they were short-staffed, James had to know how to handle himself.

"The Queen Mab. Her captain took something from me, and I want it back."

"Are we going to end up fighting them?" He tried to step back, away from the rail and the edge of the deck. But Chase held firmly onto his shoulder, keeping him there.

"You are the worst pirate I've ever met." He shook his head, but he was smiling. "But you're a great cook." Finally, he let go of James, then turned to walk away. "Tomorrow, you're going to learn how to shoot."

*****

"Well, that didn't go the way you planned, did it?" James fought against the ropes that bound his wrists together, and managed to slide his way over to Chase. In the dark, the captain looked like a misshapen shadow on the floor of their cell.

The blond man groaned and tried to move, then gasped in pain. "My shoulder. I can't move it."

"Oh, shit." James leaned over him and gently ran his hands over the other man's shoulder, until he reached the point where his arm was supposed to be, and wasn't. "She dislocated it. I can't do anything with my hands tied like this."

"Yeah, she's stronger than she looks. Did they take my belt?"

"Uh..." It was fortunate that the cell was dark, because James was blushing as he groped along Chase's body. "No."

"There's a blade in the buckle. There's a switch in the side and..."

James yelped as the blade dug into his hand. "Uh, found it." He made quick work of his own bonds, then reached over to help Chase with his. "Just stay still, I don't want to hurt you." He cut through the ropes, then took hold of the captain's arm. "I'm sorry, but..." With a quick jerk and a sickening pop, the shoulder was back where it was supposed to be.

Chase managed to haul himself up so he was sitting against the wall, still cradling his arm. Instantly, the other man was beside him, propping him up and pulling off his jacket to tie into a sling. The blond man winced; his shoulder was still throbbing, but at least he could move his fingers again. "Now we have to get out of here."

"Who was that?" Once he managed to get Chase's arm (mostly) taken care of, James pulled out a handkerchief and tied it tightly around the gash on his hand. "He's the one who took your ship?"

"Sean Neville." Chase growled, with a steel in his voice the other man hadn't heard before. "And yes."

Last Edit: Jun 20, 2011 14:53:46 GMT -5 by Admin!

Thank you to everyone who has made a signature for me!

Dr. Sean Neville
Institute Official

Psychiatrist
Telepathy/Memory Manipulation
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The One and Only Seangularity

Posts: 8,987

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June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 24, 2011 14:12:43 GMT -5

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Post by Dr. Sean Neville on Jun 24, 2011 14:12:43 GMT -5

Something So Right

When something goes wrong
I'm the first to admit it
I'm the first to admit it
And the last one to know
when something goes right
Well it's likely to lose me, mm
It's apt to confuse me
because it's such an unusual sight
I swear, I can't, I can't get used to something so right
Something so right

He’d seen pictures before, but they didn’t compare to real life. The woman dancing in front of him with a come-hither look in her eyes was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. She smiled at him; he swallowed nervously and took a sip of his beer. The familiar beat of techno music droned on in the background as he ran her fingers through her hair, inviting him to touch.

“Joshua!”

Horrified, he dropped his glass and turned around, now face-to-face (well, face-to-somewhere between chest and stomach) with someone he hadn’t expected to see. “Dad?”

***************************************

The ride home was uncomfortable.

“Beer and debauchery. You know better.”

“Trent said it was okay to come.”

“Trent isn’t your father. And what were you doing with that stripper?”

“She isn’t a stripper. And her name is Raven.”

“She was wearing pasties and a thong; she was a stripper. And I can assure you her name isn’t Raven.”

“Do you have to do this? It’s embarrassing.”

“If you want me to apologize for stopping you before you did something that would have gotten her arrested, you’re in for a long wait. The same goes for everyone at that party. You’re underage.”

“Steve was there.”

“Steve is old enough to be in a bar.”

“It isn’t fair. Everyone else got to go to one of the parties tonight.”

“You’ll notice I wasn’t at one of the parties tonight.”

Josh bit his tongue, not saying what immediately popped into mind. Not pointing out that he’d obviously been at one of the parties since that was how he’d found him.

“I came to look for you. I was prepared to spend the evening at home. Where you should have been.”

“That’s not the same thing!” The boy’s voice cracked as he whined. “You’re-”

His father’s head whipped around, steely blue eyes daring him to finish the sentence.

Josh backed off, but only slightly. “If you’re going to get mad at me, can you at least only be mad about things I’ve actually said. Please?”

“Fine.” His father returned his gaze to the road, although Josh knew that his attention wasn’t diverted. He was never that easily diverted in the middle of a lecture.

“Drinking underage is a crime. Solicitation is a crime, and your age isn’t a defense; prostitution is a crime in this region of the country. Statutory rape is a crime and she wouldn’t have been a sympathetic defendant. I have to assume that there’s a lesser form of statutory rape that involves touching without penetration.”

Josh’s eyes widened in horror and he felt his stomach turn. “Do you have to say that?”

“Penetration? Yes. And before you complain about how awful it is to have to listen to your dad talk about sex, you should think about what I saw tonight.” What he heard and saw every night. One by one, his children had realized what it meant to have a father who was a telepath when they had personal lives, although Josh wasn’t quite there yet.

“What’s the big deal? Teenagers have sex. You’re the one who always gives that lecture.”

“You tell me what’s so goddamn arousing about having sex with someone almost twice your age who isn’t attracted to you, who’s there only so she can make rent this month, and will spend the entire time thinking about how she can’t wait to be able to move to the other end of the country, all while faking her enjoyment.”

“You don’t know that that’s what would’ve happened.”

“I know better than you do.”

“I didn’t think you were this uptight. You’re acting like Aunt Kathleen.”

Josh was suddenly flung forward as the car came to an abrupt halt. Thankfully his seatbelt prevented him from flying clear through the windshield. He turned in surprise, worried that something had happened in the road, but it was clear. His father stared straight ahead, hands at three and nine on the steering wheel, clenched a bit tighter than they should be. His expression was impassive.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Dad?”

“His father didn’t reply automatically. After a long moment of silence, he spoke softly, If you find my concern for your life so distasteful, you can stay at Blue’s house tonight.”

“I don’t have any overnight clothes with me.”

“You didn’t have a condom with you either; that didn’t seem to stop you.”

“Dad…” Josh screwed his eyes shut tight, not wanting to have this conversation. More than that, he was worried that he’d actually managed to cross a line. That was hard, but he knew not impossible. Quietly, he said, “Can we just go home? Please?”

“Fine.” The car moved forward. Conversation didn’t resume.

********************************************
The next morning, Sean was awake bright and early. He was also the only person in the house, aside from Josh, who didn’t have some form of hangover. It was fine, since they had four hours to get over it.

Two cups of coffee later and still he was the only one fully awake. Because the weather was nice, he chose to have his liquid breakfast under the tent in the backyard: white and blue and picturesque for the morning’s festivities. The caterer should be there in an hour or two; he had to stress that everyone be awake and dressed before then.

“Have you seen Trent? He didn’t come home last night.”

The telepath turned around to look at the short man standing on the outside gate of the yard. “He’s on the living room sofa.”

“Still asleep?”

“Hung over. You know you can let yourself in.”

The gate opened and Cobalt stepped inside. The smile on his face matched the one which lit Sean’s features; today would be all smiles. “Do you mind if I dress here this morning? Ben is having a last minute talk with Padma that will probably last all day. I didn’t want details.”

“My home is your home.”

“Thanks.” Cobalt sank into a chair across from the taller man and nodded. “So where’s our lucky man?”

“If we’re lucky, he’s still with us.”

Cobalt tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think he’d jump on his wedding day.”

“You know what happens when he’s emotional. But I can still feel him right now, which is a start.”

“He’d better not miss the ceremony, not after what I paid for it.”

“I paid for it.”

“Don’t start this again. I thought we agreed that father of the bride pays.”

“We never agreed to that. I said if you wrote me a check I’d slip it into your mailbox when you weren’t looking and make you forget about it.”

Cobalt scoffed. “I think I’d remember that conversation.”

Sean’s only response was to tap his temple and wiggle his fingers.

The shorter man rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Only because I like you.”

They were interrupted by a man in his mid-twenties wandering out onto the lawn. Cobalt smiled at him. “Ryan? Let me get a look at you; I haven’t seen you since you wore those Spiderman pajamas...” The short man’s voice trailed off when he noticed that Ryan’s pajamas had a white webbed pattern.

“Hi Mister Weaver.” The young man’s voice was anything but enthusiastic, which could be attributed to the hangover. Yet as he approached Sean, the telepath frowned. “Oh no.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle. We can’t find Will.”

Sean shared a glance with Cobalt and then rose from the lawn chair like a shot. “When the caterer comes, help them get oriented. This is going off without a hitch.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check his usually hiding spots. Blue, if I’m not back in an hour, make sure that everyone is up and sober.”

************************************************

Sean had managed to track down his oldest child and bring him back for the wedding. By that time, the family and friends staying at his house were awake and eating breakfast, and the caterers were there, halfway through their task of turning the entire yard wedding-appropriate. That left the important task of dressing before the wedding guests arrived.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” both men asked simultaneously.

Ben crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “You can’t wear those to the wedding.”

“How is this even a surprise? Didn’t Cobalt show you his tux when he picked it out?”

“He has trouble finding clothes that fit him.” That was true. Adult men Cobalt’s size were considered unusual and most of his formal clothing had to be altered after the initial purchase in male “average” size; it involved shortening the arms and legs, and then adjusting the chest and shoulder pads appropriately.

Sean had the opposite problem. “So do I.”

“Nobody told me you were going to match.”

“The entire wedding party matches,” Cobalt reminded his husband.

“You aren’t in the wedding party, and this doesn’t even match the wedding party’s color scheme!”

It had taken the two of them weeks to reach an agreement about what they would wear, but the white tuxes, while befitting a 19th Century plantation, looked good in their opinions.

“We don’t have time to find new tuxes; the ceremony is in an hour,” Cobalt said, tapping his watch to make the point.

“This is why I wanted a rehearsal dinner.”

“The kids needed their parties. Isn’t that right, Sean?”

“...yes.” That earned the telepath a surprised look from Cobalt, but the short man didn’t inquire further.

Ben sighed and shook his head. “I wash my hands of the both of you.”

*****************************************

Sean sat in the front row, with all of his family that had attended and weren’t in the wedding party, as well as friends from Hammel and Will’s friends from college and work in the rows surrounding him and behind him.

Cobalt and Ben had walked Padma down the aisle together and now sat in the front row across the aisle, surrounded by their family and friends. Padma looked positively radiant in her dress, which was the dress that Sean’s wife (May she rest in peace) had worn at their wedding. And Will...looked remarkably well for a young man who’d had to be dragged out of a ditch three hours before getting married.

As they exchanged rings and vows, Sean could hear all of the happy thoughts of the guests, mirroring his own elation at the day. And when the Humanist Officiate asked for objects, he grabbed Josh’s arm and forced it down, giving him a glare of warning. Now wasn’t the time, not after last night.

And then when they kissed, everyone under the tent stood up and applauded.

**************************************

It was a fact that the newly married husband and wife were the least powerful people at the wedding reception. This could be proven through a simple experiment. Tapping one’s spoon against one’s glass might earn a look of irritation from anyone else, but the married couple were forced to kiss by tradition. Every single time.

Their friends and younger siblings had spent the last hour exploiting this weakness.

Sean had tolerated it, although to his credit hadn’t succumbed to the temptation even once; his son and daughter-in-law could kiss on their own time.

They would, and they had, and he was well aware of that.

What he did want to manipulate was the fact that Will was playing footsie with his bride under the table, and he wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it. He’d hit his father’s foot twice thus far.

The free-flowing alcohol surely didn’t help matters, but this was a wedding, and Sean’s family was comprised primarily of Irishmen, and most of his friends and coworkers knew how to let their hair down at a party. Not to mention that the reception was crawling with current college students and recent college graduates. Thankfully there wasn’t a cash flow problem, but Sean did have to reconsider the wisdom of turning his backyard into an open bar.

Josh was on his best behavior, although this was likely because he had been required to sit beside his father and was surrounded by his siblings on his other side.

While the newlyweds were sharing yet another forced kiss, the telepath made eye contact with Cobalt, who nodded in assent. Now was the time. Both men rose to their feet, and Sean rapped the table with the palm of his hand to get their guests’ attention. While using his glass might be more effective, he didn’t want to add to the kisses and the cheering which inevitably resulted.

He cleared his throat as everyone quieted down. Smiling, he said, “Blue and I want to propose a toast to the happily married couple.” A cheer rang out anyway, which was a hazard of drunken wedding guests. Sean raised his voice, not maliciously but to make sure he could be heard. “Look, everyone, the quicker you let us get through this, the sooner everyone can get back to eating.” That did the trick, as everyone settled down almost instantly.

Sean turned to look at Cobalt, giving him the nod to start. The short man smiled, looked over at the bridge and groom, and then at the wedding guests. “This day has been a long time coming, and both Sean and I are very proud. So proud that we wanted to sing a song.”

Every member of the Neville family, as well as every member of the Rhodes-Weaver family widened their eyes in horror. Work associates and friends from college weren’t as horrified because they didn’t understand the severity of the situation. Padma turned her head into Will’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “Oh Dear God no...”

“But we won’t,” Sean added, before chuckling at the reactions and the joke itself. Even with a captive audience he couldn’t unleash such a punishment on anyone, certainly not on his son’s wedding day. “We do want to say that we’re proud of both of you.”

“And that we’re happy about the first official merging of our families,” Cobalt said, trading off as they’d rehearsed.

“And that Trent isn’t allowed to touch Sarah.” That was met with a chuckle from scattered relatives. “Or Steve.”

“And we expect grandchildren,” Cobalt added. “Soon.”

“So you’d better enjoy the honeymoon we paid for,” Sean said with a wink in Will’s direction.

“And we love you, both of you, as though both of you were ours,” Cobalt said.

“And we have since you were babies.”

“That goes for everyone at this table.”

“So here’s to our bride and groom,” Sean said, holding his glass up for a toast.

Cobalt followed suit, “May you have a long and happy marriage.”

Everyone lifted their glass and toasted. And then one of Will’s friends tapped the glass with his spoon and the kissing resumed.

You want to graduate? Listen to Sean talk about condoms.

Leila Gold
Retired

Attorney
Aerokinesis

Posts: 281

June Writing Challenge: Crackfic Jun 27, 2011 3:20:20 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Leila Gold on Jun 27, 2011 3:20:20 GMT -5

This Means War!

1812, Aboard the good ship Pilot Ridge

The small vessel cut through the blue waves at a good pace, keeping close to the USS Hammel, which had been assigned to protect the smaller merchant ship. The captain of the small Pilot Ridge stood on the fo’c’sle, smiling at the sea around her.

“It’s a good day to be at sea, Mr. Weaver,” the captain said to her first mate.

“Yes indeed, Captain Gold. But I am a bit worried about the British. They could send someone to board our ship.”

“They’d have to get through our good friend the USS Hammel first, though. Don’t worry, I’m sure we will be perfectly safe.”

The first mate looked askance at the larger military vessel ahead of them. “I don’t know, ma’am. There’s something about that ship I just don’t like.”

“Pish posh, sir. Such dreadful thoughts will get you nowhere. Just because you don’t like the captain doesn’t mean the whole ship is bad. In fact, I’m tempted to trust them more just because the captain was willing to stand up to you.” She laughed.

“I’m sure Captain Neville is a fine…gentleman…” Mr. Weaver said through gritted teeth. “I just don’t particularly agree to his policies. I mean, they basically work a press-gang to get ship hands!”

“None of that. You need a good cooling off. Today’s supposed to be a good day! Go down and get some chow from the ship’s cooks. I’ll check on the state of affairs with the rest of the crew.”

Mr. Weaver headed down to the galley to talk to the two ship’s cooks, Tonaya and Adams. He agreed that some food and a nice talk with some of his friends might cool his head for the start of the voyage.

Meanwhile, Captain Gold made her way to the front of the ship, right up next to the mast so she could call up to the lookout. “See any ships approaching, Mr. Rhodes?”

“No, Cap’n!” the man called down to her.

“Might it be because you’re not really looking for ships but instead working on finishing your knitting?”

“Aye, Cap’n, that might be it,” he called back sheepishly.

“Plenty of time for hobbies when you’re off-duty, sir. How ‘bout you do us all a favor and put that spyglass to good use?”

“Aye, Cap’n.” He placed his knitting down next to him and held up the telescope.

“The other way, Mr. Rhodes,” Captain Gold called, already walking away.

“Right, Cap’n.” He grinned and quickly reversed the telescope so that he was looking through it the right way.

The captain came up near the cabin area, where a man was bent over a stack of papers, scribbling furiously. He started upright when Captain Gold’s shadow fell across his work, almost spilling the bottle of ink he was working from.

“Hello, Mr. Bernstein,” she said, looking at the work. “I trust the ship’s finances are still in proper order? Nothing I should be aware of?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, already going back through his papers. “But I would like to point out that some of the rights of the crew are being seriously infringed. You basically keep those cooks chained to their galley—I never see them come up for air anymore! Furthermore, I was going through the list of rules for the ship, and I think there can be some serious changes made that will allow for more free time.”

She looked at him. “You mean you want more smoke breaks.”

He gave her an indignant frown and harrumphed a few times. “Of course that’s not…Do you mean to imply that I…”

The captain waved a hand. “Sir, feel free to make whatever changes you wish. Just let me know. By the way, where is your assistant?”

“Ms. Adams? I believe she was going through your cabin to ensure that there weren’t any papers that needed to be looked at again.”

“Hey, wait! I’ve already done those papers, they don’t need re-checking!” She hurried off in a rush toward her cabin, the accountant already chuckling behind her as he pored over his reports again.

As they were all running about on the ship, Mr. Rhodes, the lookout, returned quietly to his knitting. It was because of this that no one saw the ship with red sails coming up behind them.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard the USS Hammel

“Captain! There’s a ship coming up behind us!” The first mate came running up toward the captain, panting. “It’s a British ship, which is for some reason bearing red sails.”

Captain Neville looked thoughtfully into the distance. “Red sails? Then it must be…but no…but it must!”

“What is it, Captain?” The first mate looked thoughtfully.

“Mr. Kilbourne, that is the ship of Captain Underwood, an evil villain who is out to destroy all US ships. He used to be one of my pupils, a true American. But then he absconded, joining the British and vowing to destroy all good Americans.”

“No, it cannot be, sir!”

“But it is. My destiny has come upon me, and I must face it.” Swirling his cape across his shoulders, the captain strode off into his cabin to look thoughtful and consider a plan. After a brief moment of wondering when the captain had gotten a cape, First Mate Kilbourne decided to act in a similar fashion. He went to speak to the man on lookout duty, Lieutenant Campbell, so the two could discuss plans together.

One of the ship’s boys, a certain Mr. Scholl, overheard the discussion between the captain and first mate. He carefully stopped mopping the deck and ran to tell his friend, Keystone, about the coming ship. She took the news with careful consideration, then decided to pass the news along to the rest of the ship. Soon the whole underbelly of Hammel was teeming with gossip and rumors.

No one really noticed Mr. Jesse Adams sneak away from his post to set some lanterns in the back of the ship. The lanterns were made with red glass that would glow distinctly in the night. “This’ll teach these bloody Americans,” he said as he secured the lamps. “God save the king!”

As Jesse came sneaking away from the back of the ship, he almost ran into three men—well, older boys, but they liked to think of themselves as men—marching around with their rifles. The marines were not there to sail the ship but to guard any potential prisoners and deal with officials on the land. Because there currently weren’t any prisoners and they weren’t on land, this meant that the three (LaRousse, Paerson, and Wilkes) had a lot of free time which they used marching around looking stern. Or at least looking potentially threatening. Or in some cases just goofy.

They walked right past Jesse, who had promptly stood to attention and offered them a large salute. Mr. Paerson gave him a suspicious glance as they went by, but then, he tended to give everyone suspicious glances. Then the trio were on their way, turning a corner and disappearing. Jesse made a rude gesture towards the disappearing marines and continued in the opposite direction, smiling like a wolf.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard HMS MSAD

“We’re gaining on them, Captain Underwood.”

“Excellent. And from the looks of it, Ms. Degreas, we will catch up to them by this evening.”

“Still plenty of time for them to turn around and fire a broadside at us. Once they realize that we’re fast enough to catch them.”

“Nonsense. They’re not going to attack us unless we open fire first. I know the captain, and he wouldn’t dare. He’ll keep running in the hopes that he can outrun his destiny.” The captain raised his fist and said through clenched teeth, “But he won’t escape this time.”

“Very good sir.” The first mate turned from her captain and went to deliver orders to the rest of the crew. For a moment, the captain looked after her in amazement.

“Sometimes,” he said to himself, “I could swear there were two of her, the way she gets so much done.” Then he shrugged it off and continued staring after his prey.

“Captain!” came the cry from the lookout station. “The signal has been set! Two red lights off the rear of the ship!” Ms. Stone had the spyglass pressed to her face. “What was the meaning again, sir? One if by land, two if—“

“Don’t be stupid! Of course they were going by sea, they were in a ship!”

“Just making a joke, sir!”

“Well stop it. It wasn’t funny.” He stalked away to the lower deck, where a man was poring over charts. “What’s the report, Mr. Ortiz?”

The mercenary tracker looked up sardonically. He did everything sardonically, even if the situation didn’t necessarily call for it. “You can see the ship, I just heard you. Why do you need a report of where it is?”

Captain Underwood opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. “Good point. What’s your plan, then?”

“To not move from this spot until someone can bring me some food.”

“I’ll get the new midshipman to help you. Mr. Xu? Could you get Mr. Ortiz a plate of food from the galley?”

The young man looked up cheerfully from playing with the ship’s dogs. “Sure thing, Gabe.”

The captain scowled. “On this ship, I would prefer it if you referred to me as ‘Captain.’”

“Sure, cap. Be right back.” He ran off toward the galley.

“You’ll train him eventually, sir,” said the first mate, coming up from behind.

“Yes,” the captain mused. Then he spun around. “I thought you were alerting the ship and giving orders?”

“Done, sir. Thought you might want some more help.”

“That was…incredibly fast, Ms. Degreas.”

“Time flies, sir.”

“Well, I suppose there’s not much more to do. Go to my cabin and pour a glass of wine.”

“Being done as we speak.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’ll get right on that.”

“…Right. Thank you.”

The first mate spun on her heel and went up to the captain’s cabin. This was going to be a good day.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard the Pilot Ridge

“Captain!” Master at Arms Ginny Campbell came roaring up from her post. “We’ve received a message from the USS Hammel. Apparently they have sighted another ship. We need to make all speed to catch up to the Hammel and ensure that we are protected.”

“Thank you, Campbell,” Captain Gold said. “Prepare the Long Tom as well. We do have a few guns on this ship, and I intend to use them. Pilot Ridge will not succumb without a fight.” She marched toward the foremast where a certain lookout was dozing in the sunlight.

“Mr. Rhodes!” the captain called out, but there was no response. Frowning, she kicked off her boots and climbed into the rigging. It was something she tried to keep practice with, and was often forced out of necessity to do. She was one of the youngest members of the ship, in actuality, and she sometimes had to go aloft. Now she swiftly climbed to the lookout station and rapped the sleeping ship hand on the scalp. “Awaken, ye filthy sod,” she said.

“Aaaah!” he said as he looked up to see a large face in his vision. He quickly stood to attention, saluting the shorter woman in front of him. “Sorry, Cap’n. Must’ve dozed off in the warm sun.”

“I gathered as much, Mr. Rhodes. Consider yourself permanently off lookout duty. I will have to reassign your post to someone with an attention span of more than five minutes.” With that she launched herself over the side again and made her way rapidly down toward the deck and back into her boots. Then she marched quickly up to the fo’c’sle and started shouting orders. While she was at it, she called for Ms. Caraway to come up on deck.

“Ms. Caraway,” she said to the happy woman, “I know that you have been helping out in the galley, and I hate to pull you away from your duty there, but would it be possible for you to work as a new lookout? I’ve recently found a need for a replacement.”

“Yes, ma’am, miss Captain. I can certainly do my best. But…will I be the only lookout?”

“Not to worry, there are others who take shifts. And hopefully this will only be a temporary condition.”

“Right.” And with that the new lookout climbed up to the lookout platform and took up the spyglass. “My word! There’s a ship out there, captain, with red sails! And it’s almost on top of us!”

“Yes, I suspected there might be. Ms. Campbell, are the cannons ready?”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

“Right. Mr. Weaver has the con.”

First Mate Weaver stepped up. “I have the con!” he shouted out to all and sundry. Then the captain returned to her cabin to pore over charts and to prepare a message to send over to the Hammel asking about what should be done in this situation.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard the USS Hammel

“Message from the Pilot Ridge, sir,” said Lieutenant Campbell. “Apparently they are wondering what sort of tactics to employ in these circumstances.”

Captain Neville rubbed his chin thoughtfully before responding. “We are not officially at war with the British at this time, and we cannot open fire unless they first attempt to attack. However, to be safe, I think we should try to let the merchant vessel sail in front of us while we take a rearward position between them and the enemy.”

“Right, Captain. I shall have a response sent to the Pilot Ridge and give orders for us to draw in the sails for a moment to allow the other ship to pass us.” The lieutenant saluted and turned away to give the new orders.

The captain called for his Master-at-Arms to join him. Ms. Nakajima slinked up from wherever she had previously been positioned. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Have your men ready the cannons and stand by. Do not fire yet, but be prepared for action.”

“Yes, sir.” And she slunk away back into the shadows.

Captain Neville sat at his desk and wondered what more could be done. Should he turn his side to the enemy, better able to fire on them but leaving the USS Hammel and the Pilot Ridge to be separated and thus more exposed? Should he continue running and hope that the other ship would just pass by? Nervously, he paced the deck.

In a time of crisis like this, he needed someone level-headed to talk to. He went to find his clerk, Mr. Morrison.

The underbelly of the Hammel was also worked up over the news, and each group of individuals was dealing with it in their own way. Ship hand Keystone, who was in charge of one of the cannon crews, had pulled together her men and was readying her cannon. King was in charge of loading, Scholl was a powder monkey, and Keystone was set to fire the whole thing off. She’d smeared some white paint on her cheeks to make herself appear more fierce, and to further distinguish her crew from the others. Milliner, who was in charge of the next cannon over, merely growled and glared at Keystone’s crew and cannon, nicknamed “Ball-blaster.” The rivalry between the two cannon crews led reload rate to be increased by fifty percent, so no one really complained.

The red-sailed ship was moving in quickly. Keystone leaned across her cannon and stared out the small porthole to glance around the back and view the ship. “Bloody British,” she scowled. “We’ll blow ‘em all to hell. Right boys?” Her team nodded agreement.

“They won’t even know what hit them,” Milliner said with a ferocious grin.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard HMS MSAD

“We should kill them all now,” growled Avlang, one of the ship hands. “I don’t know why we’re wasting our time. We can just turn the cannons on them and have done with it all.”

“Hush, darling.” A beautiful blonde sat next to him, stroking his hand with hers and calming him. “We must listen to the captain. And we don’t want to kill everyone. We have to do this properly. Quietly.”

Avlang grunted and stared at his clenched fists for a moment before turning to van Drakke. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“And I love you. Do not worry, everything will work out perfectly.”

The first mate walked by and made a disgusted face for half a moment before returning to normal. “The captain requests your presence in his cabin.”

The two ship hands slowly rose and walked up to the cabin, still holding hands. As they left, Midshipman Xu came up from belowdecks, leading one of the ship’s dogs.

“Aww, they’re so cute together,” he said. “Like…like an angel and his wife.”

“Don’t you mean an angel and her man?” Degreas asked.

“No. Men are angels. There’s the angel Gabriel, and Michael, and Rafael, and—“

“Forget I asked.” And she drifted off, leaving Xu alone with the dogs looking out toward the ships in front of them.

“We should catch up to the other ships soon, Rufus,” the young midshipman said. “I wonder who else will be there. Maybe someone else my age. Maybe they can join us and we can all work together with Gabe. That might be nice.”

Captain Underwood paced in front of his cabin until the two requested shiphands came to him. He looked up. “Ivan. Anastasia. I am glad to see you. I need you to ready your cannons and to prepare the ship for battle. You two have the most experience with actual sea battles, so I want you to take charge now. Can you do that?”

The two looked at each other and smiled. “Our pleasure,” they said together.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard the USS Hammel

“The Pilot Ridge has moved forward, sir,” Kilbourne called back to the captain. “And it appears that the ship behind us is within cannon range.”

“What makes you say that, Mr. Kilbourne?” Captain Neville asked as a cannonball flew across the water and landed next to the ship.

The British ship was still in pursuit of the Hammel, but it was also now firing with its front cannon, making a few potshots, probably in the hopes that one would get lucky. Should one of the shots happen to land correctly, it could fell the mast or put a hole through the hull of the ship, forcing the military vessel to run for land so they could patch up the destruction.

“Permission to turn and engage in combat with the enemy, sir?”

“Indeed, Mr. Kilbourne. Give the orders.”

“Turn her about, men! Let’s get ready to give them a broadside!” Kilbourne called out to the ship hands. Now that they were being fired on, the battle had begun. “Keystone, Milliner, Flores, Hart, I want your teams ready to fire.”

“We’ve been ready to go for ages now,” Milliner muttered under her breath. “It’s those damn bureaucrats who can’t manage to get their acts together in time.”

“No point in complaining about it,” Flores said, trying to make peace as usual. “Let’s just get ready to go, all right?”

At that moment, Jesse Adams came by, carrying a large rucksack. As he walked past the cannons, he managed to stumble and crash against a pile of cannonballs that had been prepared, sending them rolling across the lower deck. “Oops,” he said with a barely-concealed grin before continuing toward on to the stairs and up onto the main deck.

“Powder monkeys, hurry and grab those before they get in the way!” Keystone called out, pointing at the three young boys standing nearby. They all snapped off a salute and began to chase after the cannonballs.

“That sounds…eerie,” Flores said, listening to the rolling of the metal against the deck. She shivered a little before turning back to her cannon and sighting along it.

“Sound of mutiny, you know,” Hart responded. “Cannonballs rolling across a deck. Mutiny. It’s one of the signs that a crew doesn’t trust its captain and that if he keeps going the way he is, there’ll be trouble.” Then she shrugged. “Not that there’s any meaning to it now, of course.”

The other three girls all looked at her for a moment before returning to their work. At her cannon, Fiona Hart began to hum, a sound that rang deep in her throat. Another sign of mutiny.

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard the Pilot Ridge

“They’re going to fight, Captain,” Mr. Weaver said. “What would you have us do?”

“I assume they’ve ordered us to press on?” Captain Gold asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see. And what would you have us do?”

“I say this time…we follow orders. We don’t need to get caught up in this.”

At that moment the lookout, Caraway, dropped down. “I say we fight,” she said. “We aren’t going to buckle down for a bunch of low-life British scum, are we?”

“And I say we listen to Captain Neville.” Ms. Campbell emerged from belowdecks, frowning. “I don’t like abandoning that ship any more than you do. I even have family there. But they know what they’re doing, and if we don’t leave now it’ll all be for nothing.”

“If we press on, we’ll be abandoning our escort!” cried Caraway. “We will be like sitting ducks for any other ships, so there’s no real point going on anyway.”

“Who’s to say we will meet any other ships? We’re nearing our destination.” Mr. Weaver frowned as he thought about the situation.

“That’s just it though, isn’t it?” Now Rhodes had come up from his location and was frowning. “We’re near the port. Won’t there be more enemy ships hoping to attack us as soon as we leave the big guns?”

Back and forth the debate went, with Captain Gold watching the arguments. The crew seemed split about half and half, and the deciding vote came down to her.

“Well, Captain?” Weaver finally said, turning to her. “What are your orders?”

She stood there for a moment in silence before speaking. “Turn her about. If we’re going to stay to fight, we’d better be able to use the cannon.”

-------------------------------------------------

Aboard HMS MSAD

“They’re both turning to fight, sir,” reported the crewman. “The big and the little ship.”

“Are they all mad?” muttered Underwood under his breath.

“We should attack the smaller ship,” informed Avlang. “Hit them and wait for the naval ship to try to save them, then attack while they’re weak. We will fight without mercy.”

“It is a good plan,” van Drakke said to the captain. “We should hit them now, strike fast and hard.”

“Wait!” Underwood said, holding up his hand. “Do you see that?”

A small lifeboat was being lowered off the back end of the Hammel. A small blonde figure scurried down the line and jumped into the boat, releasing it from the larger ship and rowing back toward the British ship.

Avlang frowned. “Kill them before they get close.”

“No, I think these are our allies.” Captain Underwood grinned ferociously. “Allies and captives.”

Jesse rowed the boat up to the British ship. “Throw down a line and help me lug up these two layabouts!” he called up. “Hart stayed back on the other ship. And I should get back soon, too, before they start to miss me.”

In no time at all, there were two new captives in the brig of the MSAD. Everything was working out perfectly.

TO BE CONTINUED…(maybe)

[I'm sorry. It just kept growing.]

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