The Repossession Mambo: Wedding Crashers

Started by RUNE, February 14, 2019, 07:01:17 pm


Charity managed to lead King while making it appear that King led her as they approached the elder gentleman and his decades younger fiancee. They waited patiently with polite smiles as Charles finished the conversation they found him engaged in. After Charity made pleasantries in her practiced manner, Ainsworth staggered through an equally measured reply.  "Oh, um, yes. Well, I'd wager it cost me my own weight in jewels to build the place." Despite not remembering Charity's face or that of her companion's, Ainsworth matched her air of familiarity as he took the opportunity to brag. "It has been far too long since you and your, erm, man stopped in for a visit. It's such a pleasure to have you here for our happy day!" Ainsworth sized King up before addressing him directly. Not by name, of course. As far as the husband to be knew he'd never seen this man before in his life. The only thing that made King stand out among the majority of visitors to Ainsworth's estate is that this time he was right. "So very good to see you again, friend. How's - ah - business?" Charles Ainsworth offered a flat, soulless smile, letting Sherrie respond to Charity as he awaited King's reply.

Amorru attempted to hide the attention he focused on Charity and King's movement toward the outwardly happy couple behind the thick protective visor covering his eyes, but the subconscious motion he made with his head gave it away as long as Mercer paid close attention. Quick on his feet if not on the uptake, Amorru did attempt to employ some of the physical misdirection he practiced in dueling an opponent by maneuvering around Mercer and glancing over the man's shoulder, as it happened, just in time to see Charity's choice of gentleman approach Grace near the far wall. Amorru's expression soured and his jaw clenched for a moment as the gentleman checked his breath before attempting to engage the good doctor in small talk.

"Pardon me, dear lady." The man exuded confidence without pretension, but faltered momentarily with a furrowing of the brow when Grace appeared not to realize who he addressed. He adjusted the breast of his subdued green jacket and straightened his posture before pressing on. "Miss? Excuse me. Yes. You. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?" Across the room, unable to make out the words but more than able to imagine the context of the conversation, Amorru forced his seething grimace into an extremely awkward smile as he forced himself to look away from the scene. Finally he spotted Octavia and Sean and waved them both over to join his conversation with Mr. Mercer.

Meanwhile, in the guest suites, Artemis Graham's peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted by the frantic banging outside her door. Awakened so suddenly and shockingly, Artemis was sure there must be some dire emergency for her to respond to. Why else would someone be assaulting her temporary domicile? Why indeed. A question so curious security had been alerted to the disruption and descended upon the hall in which Bolin Babylon took it upon their self to engage in a hurried and harrowing quest to obtain a spare applicator and a kindly conferrer to contribute to their cosmetic cause.

I know that I hung on a windy tree nine long nights, wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin, myself to myself, on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.
No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn, downwards I peered; I took up the runes, screaming I took them, then I fell back from there.
The songs I know that king's wives know not Nor men that are sons of men.
So do I write and color the runes.


When Mercer started shepherding Mr. Rosenthal to the door, it was a relief that the man didn't put up a fight, though the way he weaved back and forth looking about the room suggested that he could still be weighing his options.  Jonathan noticed the strength of his reaction when he looked at the woman they'd been running the extra background checks on.

"Ah, yes, we would want to make sure not to separate the doctor from her patient," Mercer said helpfully, and murmured a request into his earpiece.  Promptly, a guard detached himself from the wall and discretely made his way through the crowd to tap softly on Miss Halladay's shoulder.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I think your patient might require your services," the man said, nodding toward where Mercer and Reyes were approaching Sean and Octavia.

Jonathan paused his march for the exit as his course met up with the two red-heads.  He let go his hold on Reyes to offer a gracious hand to the lady with the...  bow?  The only hint that someone was going to be fired in dramatic fashion the next time the security chief ran into them was the brief tightening around the corners of his lips - but even that expression was quickly replaced by a welcoming smile.  "Miss Wynn, we are so pleased you were able to attend.  I do understand there was some misunderstanding about your tickets.  If you could just step into the hall, we can get that straightened out right away," he said, every bit the helpful grandfather.

With that, Mercer took half a step back and gestured helpfully in the proper direction, clearing the way for his four guests to exit through the nearest door, and also barring their easiest route of escape should they think of not complying with his request.

Grace Halladay

With the world continuing on around her Grace happily stood oblivious to the notice of anyone at the party, just as she hoped to remain.  The clock she was watching however was not moving fast enough for her and her luck ran out.

"Pardon me, dear lady."

The man's initial introduction blew right past the doctor as her attentions were still between the ears.  She only realized he was even standing there when she caught the movement of him adjusting his jacket out of the corner of the eye.

"Miss? Excuse me. Yes. You. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?"

Her heart skipped a beat as she had to reconcile both that she was being spoken to and that he had propositioned her for a dance.  She stuttered out a few syllables as she tried to come up with a polite denial as quickly as possible, her eyes moving from the man's around the room and briefly meeting Amorru's, though from the distance they were apart it was up to debate whether their eyes met or he was just looking in her general direction.  Whatever be the case it caused her to come to a decision that shocked her.

"I... uh... yes... sure..."  She could only imagine the beating this man's ego was taking at the unconvincing acceptance of his offer even though she had barely registered his looks let alone an opinion of whether she wanted to dance with him.  Her chest started to beat quicker as the ramifications of her answer became as present as the dance floor he led her by hand to, the worst of all being that her name bore little resemblance to her dancing abilities.

They took their positions on the floor, which thankfully they didn't populate alone and he placed one hand and her waist causing her to tense a little as she slid her free hand up to his shoulder while the other was held rather firmly by the man.  He smiled down at her and she offered one of her patented awkward half-smiles back as they took their first step.  So far so good, maybe she'd get out of this without embarrassment or unnecessary eyes upon her.

They made it through their first rotation allowing her eyes to pass by Amorru once more though his seemed not to be drawn to her, that however may have changed as her heel came down on the man's foot.  He grimaced only a little as he caught her before she toppled, his hand moving further up from her waist to just under her arm.  If lucky nobody saw her slip up but that didn't make the embarrassment fade as she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry... I.. I just haven't danced in a..."  Her apology and explanation was cut short as she felt a tap on her shoulder.  She wondered if her clumsiness had drawn scorn enough to have her escorted out when she turned to see a guard behind her.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I think your patient might require your services,"

"Oh... yes right."  She almost too quickly responded happy to remove herself from the situation.  Turning back to the man she'd just stepped on she offered an apologetic smile and a slight dip that didn't quite count as a curtsy.

"My apologies, I hate to stomp and run but duty calls."  She said before offering a slightly more convincing curtsy and stepping away to follow the guard.

Octavia Wynn

No sooner had she mentioned to her companion that he 'be regular', than his act fall away. His tone smoothed out and his movements did as well.

We're in trouble," he continued in a voice just loud enough for her to hear, "The head of security? He's a big cut above the normal folk of his type. We're gonna have Hell with this excuse of a plan we've got goin' Get ready to think fast and act faster. This is gonna go over like a fart in church."

She followed Sean's gaze as he watched a older lady pass by. A long silver and opal pin gleamed in her hat. Octavia thought it would make an excellent projectile. Thinking of projectiles, she patted the mini-quiver on her leg. Only two arrows, the minimum needed for showing off her most basic of trick-shots (dividing the first arrow with the second). Bringing her full arsenal would just have been rude. The rest were in her luggage, which she assumed had been taken to her room.

"Plan? I don't have a plan! I just have a real reason to be here - hang on," she cut herself off. She closed her eyes and dived into her memories. It wasn't as deep a dive as she could, she still wanted to remain aware of her surroundings. She recounted the people she'd said hello to and how many of those she'd remembered from academy. They may not have a lot of memory of her but they might help her prove that she was meant to be here. She called up the places they were standing in the room, or at least where they were the last time she'd seen them. "There are about a half-dozen people here who I went to academy with. They can vouch for me and I can vouch for you."

"Excuse me ma'am, I think your patient might require your services." The voice was not far behind them and she swore under her breath. It was the same voice that had carried to her from Amorru's conversation with Mr. Mercer and it definitely wasn't Amorru.

Octavia leaned in to Sean. It was uncomfortably close in her opinion. She placed her right hand a hair's breadth above his shoulder, so close anyone looking would swear they were touching. Very quickly in the lowest tone she could manage,  "I guess that ruins any idea of you goin' back to being regular, but you're still my guest. Also, them hearing pills I took are bound to wear off soon and the rest are in my luggage. Extra fun times."

Her lips made a small, smacking kiss sound next to Sean's face and in a normal voice she said, "You just be easy. Everything's gunna be alright. No need to fuss over the numbers now." She hoped she could explain away the fact of her plus one having a plus one - his supposed nurse - but that was as far as she was willing to stretch herself. She would verify none of the others' asinine stories.

Mr. Mercer stopped beside them as she pulled away from Sean. Mercer was close enough that she saw the tightness in his face, only for it to melt away when he smiled at the two of them. "Miss Wynn, we are so pleased you were able to attend. I do understand there was some misunderstanding about your tickets. If you could just step into the hall, we can get that straightened out right away."

She would have taken the man's paternal tone and warm smile at face value had she not had Sean's warning bouncing around her head. It made her a little jumpy and extra wary. He offered the route to the hall and as she followed his direction, she glanced back over his shoulder to the partying guests. She was able to spot two of the six of her witnesses should she need them.

Amorru Reyes

Amorru glanced about the room as he conversed with his new acquaintance in Mr. Mercer. While they spoke, Amorru stepped around Mercer in a manner intended to guide the overseer of the ground's security crew into whichever position the experienced bladeslinger meant to place any other opponent. This would hopefully not only distract Mercer from King and Charity's proximity to the Ainsworths, but better facilitate the feeling out process as well. Amorru sized Mercer up as best he could. Mercer's mouth smiled, but his eyes stayed steely as if he knew better than to let his guard down even for a second. The older gentleman carried himself with a sense of authority Amorru knew all too well, the kind that came with an inflated sense of worth in one's own experience and years of begrudging servitude to yet another position of authority. In the end, everyone in the game made themselves beholden to someone. Even the Council of Lords, those on Persephone who concentrated among them an overwhelming amount of the planet's wealth left over from the Alliance Parliament's cut, still found their ambitions checked by the Provisional Governor. "No room for real freedom in the game," Reyes reckoned in his internal monologue as he felt a disappointingly familiar grip upon his arm, "and very little room outside of it."

Octavia and Sean began to filter through the crowd toward Amorru and Mercer, and for a moment Wushu's misconceiving Captain considered drawing the knife fixed behind his back. Thoughts turned from leading Mercer into an ambush toward a sudden and intimate jealousy as Amorru's eyes fell on Grace once more, this time engaging in a spot of no doubt awkward conversation with some well-to-do guest with a predictable sense of style. Amorru seethed, sucking air in between his exposed teeth before wrenching his head and eyes away from Grace's flabbergasted response to being asked for a dance. Worse yet, she took the stranger's hand and actually moved toward the floor. "Nani!? Dancing? She's dancing? With him?" Amorru forced his head around to Mercer, the hateful grimace on his face turning slowly and painfully into one of the worst forced smiles the older man likely ever beheld. "Where we off to then, gov?" Amorru's supposed Highgate accent never sounded worse than it came across in that moment, but as he imagined whatever damage inflicted to whichever of Mercer's organs the pilot now entertained the gruesome result of visiting those same wounds upon Grace's dancing man a hundredfold.

Mercer kept stepping to Amorru's side in an attempt to guide him away without making much of a show of things, but Amorru kept turning into and away from him - not exactly attempting to wrestle his way out the older man's grasp but just enough to give him an opportunity to check the rest of his crew's positions and hopefully spot an easy enough escape route in case he felt like he needed to commit a quick murder or two. Part of him wanted to open Mercer's intestines just below the belt line, though he knew it wouldn't help matters any. Besides, he had a crew to consider now. The absurdity of that thought stuck with Reyes sideways for a moment until he caught the one more absurd thing he could think of and waved Sean and their passenger toward him. Mercer, whose lowering tolerance for Amorru's dance drew an increasing tension into the muscles of his face, appeared to forcibly relax and put upon a more pleasant and professional air as he greeted Octavia by name. Her real name, to be fair. As in Wynn, and not Rosenthal. Amorru's heart fell into his pants as he heard it, and not in the usual manner.

Gears started shifting back and forth in a manner preempting a cardiac arrest for Artemis Graham were she present to witness it as Amorru scrambled internally for his next move and felt the situation spiraling beyond his control. He seemed to completely miss Grace's addition to their little gathering as his head spun around the room until it landed on the one part of his plan that might actually go right. King engaged the mark as if more practiced in social subterfuge than his outwardly brutish demeanor, for which Amorru originally wrote him off, gave him proper credit. Meanwhile the Duchess worked her wiles on the bride to be. "Clever girl," Amorru thought as Mercer convinced the group to step into the hall. "Why seduce the mark, when you can bag the blonde instead?" Without words, and feeling the timer on this heinous first attempt running down fast, Amorru considered his options and found only one. Silently, he pulled a glass of champagne from a passing serving tray and held it in the air as if to toast Charity's direction as Mercer subtly dragged him backwards into the hall.

"Now there's a woman after my own heart."
It's a mechanical bull at number one You'll take a ride from anyone
Everyone wants a ride, pulls away, Ooh, From you

Metric, "Black Sheep"

Akhsar King

September 08, 2019, 05:42:47 pm #85 Last Edit: September 08, 2019, 05:48:16 pm by Akhsar King
Charity briefly moved to the food table to send some young gentleman in Graces direction, before returning to his side. "Now we congratulate," She giggled softly, mischief in her voice. She wrapped her arms around his once again, and they headed over to greet their hosts.

"Ainsworth, dearest, it really has been too long. Your estate is just as splendid as always. Such a jewel!" Charity said, before turning to the bride-to-be. "And my darling, you look simply exquisite. I'm so glad we were able to meet again, and on such a joyous occasion. Truly you humbled me with your invitation,"

"Oh, um, yes. Well, I'd wager it cost me my own weight in jewels to build the place." Ainsworth replied, matching Charity's air of familiarity even though King was quite certain the man had no idea who they were. "It has been far too long since you and your, erm, man stopped in for a visit. It's such a pleasure to have you here for our happy day!" Ainsworth sized King up for a moment before addressing him directly. "So very good to see you again, friend. How's - ah - business?" Ainsworths smile was flat, and there was no real pleasure or happiness behind it. Ever aware of his surroundings, King spotted Amorru, Sean, Octavia, and Grace being escorted away by a man who looked very much like security. However there was nothing King could do about that at the moment, so he focused on their mark.

"Oh, business is going quite well." King replied, his voice colored by a touch of a drawl, just the sort one might expect from a Jiangyin cattle baron. "I barely have to do any real work these days, the product practically sells itself! Leaving me with plenty of time to attend pleasant events such as this. You're in top from today Charles! Top form. And I see your beautiful bride-to-be is looking lovely as ever!" He favored Sherrie with a good natured wink. "You don't deserve her my good man, but us men-folk never deserve our wives do we, eh?" He said with a chuckle. "And how's business on your end?"


As the group preceded him into the hall, Mercer caught the eye of one of the guards stationed in the room and motioned for him to join them.  Once the closing door had isolated the group in the hall, the security chief turned to Octavia.

"Miss Wynn, we do show the ticket for Miss Rosenthal was transferred successfully to your name, but we do need a name for the person to whom you are transferring Mr. Rosenthal's ticket."  Once the lady had identified her guest and a name had been given, Mercer gave another friendly smile.  "Excellent.  I'll need just a few minutes to sort out the paperwork here with these guests.  This shouldn't take more than a few minutes, and I'm sure they'll be able to rejoin you before the ceremony begins."  With that, Octavia was free to depart.

Jonathan turned his attention to Amorru, Sean and Grace, still every bit the helpful manservant, and beckoned them toward a door.  "I won't keep you from the festivities long," he promised.  The guard that had already been stationed outside the door to the conservatory and the extra man who had followed the group out lurked in the background, their professional demeanor a grave demotivator for anyone who could have been entertaining any ideas against proceeding through the door Mercer opened; a door that led down a short staircase into a sterile hallway that whose plainness was a stark contrast to the luxury they were leaving.  Jonathan ushered the group through, making sure they had all gotten a good head-start before he entered behind them.

When the door clicked securely shut behind the man, his pleasant veneer dropped away into a ferocious scowl.  "I do not make a habit of working with amateurs," he snarled, the distain in his voice making the word seem like something too foul for the use of seasoned sailors.  "Crashing your ship, getting the names on your tickets wrong..."  He stalked down the hallway and smacked the pad to the door on Jesse's cell, causing the door to swing inward, "...and your scout getting herself picked up the moment she stepped foot on the grounds!  Whatever your plan was..."  He shook his head, muscles tense with the effort of holding back the full force of his temper.  "The first condition of my cooperation is that we work with a plan that has even the slightest chance of success.  You," he jabbed a finger at Grace, "Will take your patient to our medical facilities to coordinate any care issues that might arise because of his ...condition," he waved dismissively at Amorru, "And while you're there, get your hands on a medication that can mimic the effects of a heart attack.  I'll see to it that you'll have an opportunity to give it to the old man during the reception.  Your thief," and here his attention turned to Jesse, "Will be in charge of the second condition of my cooperation."

"In my office, there's a black briefcase in the upper right-hand drawer.  You will retrieve that and take it to Ainsworth's safe room," he pointed down the junction to the secured door in question. "You'll exchange it with an identical briefcase that sits in the upper right-hand drawer of his desk.  There's a black book in that briefcase.  You provide it to me before the ceremony, and you'll have my continued assistance.  If you don't, certain irregularities in your background reports will come to the staff's awareness, and you'll be ejected from the estate - where the Moda Tong can decide how to deal with your inability to finish the job.  Anything else in the briefcase is yours - just make sure the case itself is left in my office." He turned his glare on each of the group, landing on Sean.  "You..." there was a slight hesitation, as if not exactly sure what the best course of action for the young man was, "...stay here and if the lady needs any help," gesturing at Jesse, "You do what she tells you."

Orders laid out, Jonathan escorted Amorru and Grace back up the stairs.  By the time they opened the door, his temper was tucked back into place, his expression perhaps a big more haggard than when he went down, but nothing that couldn't be explained by having to deal with guests who simply had no respect for the policies and procedures of their hosts.  A short trip down a hall and Grace and Amorru were left in the care of the Head Nurse, while Jonathan made his way back to the conservatory.

Just outside the door, he paused, straightened his shoulders, gave his waistcoat a little tug, and when he opened the door and entered the room, his expression was once more the flawless mask of civility.  The two remaining conspirators were quickly spotted as they stepped away from the bride and groom, and Jonathan eased his way through the crowd until he was able to fall in beside the young woman and her gentleman.  "My apologies," he offered congenially, "But I do promise your friends will be back in time for the ceremony."

Abruptly he reached out a hand, setting it ever so lightly on the woman's arm and directing her attention to a rather handsome young man who appeared directly before them.  With a nod of his head, Jonathan redirected their course away from the man and toward the door to the gardens. "That is Ainsworth's grandson.  Something of a black sheep, if you listen to rumor," he said, though as they left the crowd and headed into the garden, his words became less about common gossip, and more laden with ulterior intent.  "He's become something of a problem for his grandfather the last few years.  Has a habit of leaving young ladies in unfortunate circumstances, and those young ladies - or a good friend who shows up on their behalf - have from time to time shown up and caused a scene over the children he fathers and then abandons.  It's happened enough that Mr. Ainsworth has developed something of a habit in dealing with such disruptions.  Always in private," the words accompanied with a meaningful look into Charity's eyes, making sure she was understanding what was being implied.  "If such a disruption happened during the reception, near the east door (which is nearest the shuttlebays), I believe your friends would be in a position to take advantage of the situation."

He stepped back, taking in both Charity and King.  "As far as trusting my information, and my motivations for sharing it - know that I have more motivation for ensuring your mission succeeds than any of your team have yet demonstrated," he said, a harsh, unyielding look briefly replacing his civil mask.

Then, pieces put in motion, Jonathan headed back into the crowd, being sure to mingle with the other guests in a way that would suggest that his time with Charity and King was far from unusual.


September 12, 2019, 07:08:30 pm #87 Last Edit: September 12, 2019, 07:10:35 pm by Lomari
"You don't deserve her my good man, but us men-folk never deserve our wives do we, eh?" King schmoozing like the best of them. Charity looked up at him with mild surprise, but turned it into a soft blush and a girlish twittering at his compliment. She settled her hand on his chest and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, every image the doting and loving wife, her rings glimmering and casting little fairy lights all over the front of Ainsworth’s lapel. During their conversation with the bride and groom to be, Charity didn’t notice the others vanishing from the room with the help. Although to be honest, she might not have realized it where she not engaged in conversation.

She was abruptly brought out of the discussion she’d been having with the bride about the marvelous public garden on Ariel and how they’d wished they could have had the wedding there but having it here on her hubby’s estate was just as good when she saw someone entering their bubble and felt a hand touching her arm. Not one to make a scene, Charity allowed herself to be led away from the group, eyes settling upon the hand of the butler escorting her so familiarly away from his employer, and silk skirts rustling as she walked at a pace one might thing was boorish. A brow quirked and her dark gaze rose to meet his, her expression mildly unamused while he gave her his plan and spiel and insider gossip about Ainsworth’s grandson and his harem. When he’d left, Charity let his words hang between them, her lips pursed in thought.

Finally, the glimmering duchess turned to look up at King, her hair slipping off her shoulder back into its proper place. “Why was the butler touching me?” she asked him, frowning and chewing on her lower lip, clearly confused. She reached around to settle her hand where the servant had been gripping her arm, clearly not pleased with his actions. “And what mission was he talking about?” she asked. During her entire stay upon Wushu, she’d been given two jobs. One, dress the crew in all the trappings of the wealthy and fashionable to ensure they did not stand out in this crowd. And two, seduce the groom. The second had been a jest, of course, but in terms of missions, she’d already succeeded. Her gaze scanned the room, looking for the aforementioned fancily dressed crewmates, head tilting to the side when she didn’t see them immediately. “Perhaps they’ve gone to their seats?” she asked King, knowing that was probably not the case but preferring it over the more obvious answer.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Jesse Walker

Thief? The entire monologue was a bit confusing, who were these people. Why were they here? But thief wasn't something she'd ever really consider herself.  After all, Jesse never kept the profit for her self, she dispersed it where it was needed. She rerouted packages from the places that could afford it to places that couldn't. Thief was almost an insult, a delayed indignant huff escaped her lips, and frown formed on her lips the more she thought about it.  She wasn't a thief, she could do more than break a window and steal something. Her skills were beautiful, her code was genius, her jobs were always done with the utmost grace and subtlety. Sure, she was in jail because she was technically "thieving" but she always had someone to get her where she needed to go.  This time was different and she never claimed to be great at improvising. Jesse clenched her jaw becoming more and more irritated.

Her eyes darted to the man the offender pointed to.  He was very...pale, and she new to this whole thieving thing, but someone that noticeable seemed like a poor choice as a partner. 

"I don't even know you people. And who the hell is Ainsworth? What's a Moda Tang? Thong? Tong? Whatever he said? WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE?" Her eyes widened and her voice rose, perhaps not realizing that they were to remain covert. Or maybe Jesse just didn't care. One thing was clear, the woman was confused and she very much regretted ever coming to this dreadful planet of rich people.



The situation grew tense for Amorru, Grace, and Sean as they were led to what the interim Captain suggested must have been an exclusive VIP area, though he couldn't for the life of him determine why Sean or Grace were invited. Amorru's spirits soon turned south as the trio arrived in an office presenting itself in a manner similar to a spaceport security detention center. Amorru's feet set themselves instinctively into a backpedal, but before he could get away their escort cut into them with a scathing tone that reminded the blade enthusiast of his own noble father's hellfire and brimstone reprimands.

The trio's attention was directed toward Jesse Walker, a skilled computer systems breaker apparently less skilled at not getting caught, who Mercer mistook as being part of the crew's plan. Mercer proceeded to lay out a plan more detailed than anything anyone on Wushu's crew offered up, though Amorru missed most of it as his emerald eyes scanned the brown-eyed brunette up and down as if sizing her up in more ways than one. Though Amorru attempted to interject his own opinions multiple times, Mercer pressed through without skipping a beat as he ignored Amorru's every interruption. Eventually the pilot resorted to raising his hand like a schoolchild, but remained unnoticed. The impromptu meeting adjourned as quickly and unquestionably as it began, but Amorru wasn't entirely sure he understood the older man correctly and suggested he stay with Jesse. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for Jesse Walker depending on how she favored the pilot, Grace insisted Amorru was going to get the doctor out of all the trouble he kept dragging her into and more or less hauled him by the ear toward the direction of the estate's infirmary.


Charity seemed absolutely bewildered that a sharply dressed man she erroneously identified as the butler approached her with a bit too much information regarding Ainsworth's grandson, but King kept as keen an ear on his charge's conversation as possible. When he noticed Sherrie noticing Mercer, the acquisitions expert offered a well-timed joke that got the couple laughing together with him. Once Sherrie directed her attention back to Charity, Mercer was gone.


Grace and Amorru arrived at the suites dedicated toward providing medical attention to both guests and staff of the Ainsworth estate, first in silence, then in rising frustration, as Amorru presented an act much like an offensive parody of Sean's previous subterfuge. Nearly breaking into a full shouting match as Amorru insisted he "was totally pulling this off way better than Flannigan" the former couple finally managed to make their way into a conversation with the estate's medical staff without incident. Uncomfortable for many reasons, the least of which included lying to a fellow medical professional, Grace stammered her way through her request for the required pharmaceutical and dosage necessary to treat Amorru's myriad of personal issues.

Unfortunately the doctor became suspicious of Grace's mannerisms, prompting Amorru to slug him under the chin as hard as possible, sending the man sprawling into the supply cabinet from which he'd appropriated the dosage. Unsure which syringe and vial he actually needed, Amorru snagged something that looked right, assured Grace that he'd "Got it!" and proceeded to make noises like a wild animal as he herded her toward the guest rooms.


On the way back to the party, Amorru reached up and activated his comms unit. As much as he hated having Sean in his ear even when the Moda Tong informant wasn't putting on a show, he couldn't deny it's practically in times like this. "Sean! Get Jessica to the guest shuttle bay and the two of you boost us a long-range shuttle! Even if it's a luxury model, it might have the samophlange or whatever Art needs to fix the ship! I don't know what else that old coot's plannin', but I intend for us to be headed in the general direction of away just as soon as we can." Amorru then turned his attention to Grace again. "Awright, luv. I've gotta get my luggage. You tell our porcelain grease monkey it's time to bake biscuits, then grab what you can carry in your bag and we'll shove off!"

The pair froze as they made to round the corner into their hallway, a half-nude, lithe and long-limbed form rushing toward them with both hands carrying standard-issue service pistols and someone's security lanyard hanging around their neck. Their uncovered torso shimmered in a sheen of fine sweat as they puckered their lips in a kiss at the bewildered pair and shuffled past them before rushing off in the opposite direction. Amorru looked stunned as he watched the leggy stranger disappear down the corridor. "... Was that Bolin Babylon? Wow..." Amorru looked on starstruck as Grace rolled her eyes, then the two pressed themselves flat against a wall as they heard more footsteps running towards them. Very shortly after, two of Mercer's security personnel were upon them. Both guards in various states of undress and with lipstick smeared on their cheeks and collars, they jammed the push-to-talk buttons on their two-way communicators and yelled frantic instructions about a security breach and requiring assistance with the matter in the guest suites. Amorru smirked at Grace. "Huh. How's that for a bit of a break? Y'know, I'm starting to think this is really gonna work, after all."

...Twenty Minutes Later...


"This isn't working!" Amorru yelled at Jonathan Mercer, as if the veteran cat herder possessed no perceptive abilities whatsoever. Amorru and Mercer both had weapons drawn on Charles Ainsworth as they had his arms pinned behind his back. Amorru pressed the point of a dagger square against Ainsworth's left kidney, forgetting all about the exact purpose of their mission, as Mercer held a small pistol into the senior gentleman's sagging neck meat. To the onlookers included in the plan and those just hoping to make it away from Bellerophon in one piece, this appeared extremely counter-productive and decidedly unplanned. But then again, so too had been Ainsworth's wayward grandson's sudden appearance and subsequent taking of Charity for a hostage.

Things seemed like they were headed in the right direction when Amorru and Grace re-entered the Observatory. Captain Reyes took advantage of the security kerfuffle by claiming an abundant handful of the future Mrs. Ainsworth's buttocks, insisting that she have one more go with a real man before spending her life climbing on top of a man who looked half a corpse. Charles Ainsworth insisted that looks were often very deceiving and insisted that Mr. Mercer direct the brazen stranger to the shuttle bays so that he might defend his lady's honor himself. Everything seemed to be going fine, with the rest of Ainsworth's security forces attending to the emergency situation in the guest suites. Sherrie looked on excitedly as Ainsworth and Amorru squared up and engaged in fisticuffs. Amorru left his guard open in an attempt to give himself the opportunity to stick Charles with the syringe in his hand, but the older gentleman's punch proved more stout than expected and Amorru dropped the dose on the floor after stumbling into King in a temporary daze.

Unable to relocate the syringe, Amorru said "Sod it" and unsheathed the short blade from the back of his belt. Ainsworth stepped back, instructing Jonathan to "Shoot this little bastard and be done with it!" Mercer instead snatched Charles from behind, set his gun under the man's jaw, and insisted they all go for a pleasant little ride. Unfortunately for all the excitement, nobody noticed when Charles's philandering grandson took Charity by the arm and pressed a gun into her stomach. The tension in the shuttle bay grew thick enough to choke the lot of them to death as Amorru licked at the sweat dripping over his lip. "So if it's all the same to the lot of ya... I don't think I ought to be Captain anymore."

I know that I hung on a windy tree nine long nights, wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin, myself to myself, on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.
No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn, downwards I peered; I took up the runes, screaming I took them, then I fell back from there.
The songs I know that king's wives know not Nor men that are sons of men.
So do I write and color the runes.

Akhsar King

September 17, 2019, 09:55:54 pm #90 Last Edit: September 17, 2019, 10:01:29 pm by Akhsar King
Everything was actually going well, right up until it wasn't.  Amorru did a great job of getting himself challenged to a fight by Ainsworth. They made it to the shuttle bay without incident. The other security personnel were off dealing with some fortuitous situation, and the one remaining bodyguard seemed to be on their team. King wondered how on earth Ru had managed that.

Amorru intentionally took a hit to try and stab Ainsworth with syringe, but the old guy still apparently had enough muscle to send Ru stumbling into King, and the syringe clattering off across the floor. "Oof, easy there Ru, back in the fight you go." King muttered as he pushed Amorru back towards Ainsworth.

"Sod it" Amorru said, producing a small blade. "Shoot this little bastard and be done with it!" Ainsworth barked at his bodyguard, who did the wholly unexpected thing of grabbing Ainsworth and sticking his gun up under the mans chin. Amorru had his blade tip planted somewhere in the vicinity of Ainsworths kidney. It seemed they were now in bargaining position.

Then things went really pear shaped. Ainsworths grandson grabbed Charity and pressed a firearm to her stomach.

King froze, 10 different courses of action flashing through his mind in less than a second, while also chastising himself heavily for not keeping a better eye on his charge. She'd hired him to protect her. Not watch the show. Granted he'd also been keeping an eye on the security man, and watching for returning security personnel, but the fact of the matter was that he'd failed at his job. There was really only one thing to do, given the situation.

He dropped the act. His posture shifted back to normal. He worked his head back and forth, the popping sound of his vertebrae very clearly audible in the sudden quiet of the shuttle bay. Then he chuckled. Then he laughed, and turned to the grandson, a smile widening across his face. It was odd to say the least. When he spoke, there was no trace of the feigned accent. "Well kid, you've really done it now." King shrugged off his suit jacket, drawing a small weighted throwing knife from a pocket.

The grandson sneered, and pulled Charity back several steps, putting a little distance between them. "Don't you see I've got your wife at gunpoint? What are you gonna do? Act all tough and try and intimidate me?" King gave the man an earnest, and resigned smile. "Yep, that's what I'm gonna do." He took a step forward, idly tossing the knife from hand to hand. "Thing is, she aint actually my wife." Another step. "See kid, you've miscalculated. One of two things is going to happen in the next 60 odd seconds. You're going to drop the gun, or you're going to shoot me. Because if you don't do either of those things, I'm going to kill you. And I'm going to do it slowly." Another step. A hint of doubt in the grandsons eyes. "Now you could threaten the woman again, but know that if you shoot her, you still die. My bet? You chicken out and drop the gun. Little quirt like you? No way you've got the stones to kill a man. Much less a woman." Another step. The grandson narrowed his eyes, anger showing in his face. King knew what was coming.

King took another step. The grandson swung his gun up. King bent his knee, tilting to the right, the knife in his hand ready to throw. The gun barked, and King felt the impact hard on his left shoulder. He grunted, grinned, and threw his knife.

Even freshly shot, Kings aim was better than the grandsons, the blade embedded itself in the mans eye and he dropped in a heap on the ground... but as he fell the gun in his hand swung back towards Charity, and went off a second time.


Time slowed, every disaster and upset stretching out into infinity in the face of the perfect plan Charity had never been privy to. The group was making their way back to the shuttle, which she likely considered a good thing, but the way they were heading there wasn't what she would have preferred. As Amorru took a blow from the older gentleman, her lips parted to gasp at the indecency of the display and her hands lifted in some vain attempt to reach for the pilot who'd knocked hard into her protector. During the chaos, she felt something halt her forward momentum, an iron vice closing around her arm and pulling her back against a stony frame, something hard pressing into her stomach. Dark eyes lowered to see what it was pushing the boning of her corset harder into her ribs, brows quirking in surprise to find that it was a gun leaving its residue all over the expensive fabric of her dress.

"So if it's all the same to the lot of ya... I don't think I ought to be Captain anymore," Amorru requested, although to Charity, it looked as though he were moving at half-speed, lips taking eons to form the words. Movement caught her attention and the debutante turned her head to stare at King, watching him float in her direction, a knife in his hand. Her head shook ever so slightly, the movement quick and subtle. Why was he moving toward them? The idiot philanderer had a gun. She found, to her surprise, that she was less worried about it being used on her and more concerned about her Guard's safety. Words were exchanged between her captor and her protector, the sounds melting together into nothing useful as she tried to think of a way to get out of this without her people taking any harm. She didn't have a weapon, hand to hand was absolutely out of the question, and unlike the other women on Wushu, she didn't feel like any of her skills in charm and manners would have any effect here.

"Wait," she tried to yell out, watching Ainsworth's grandson lift his arm and the gun with it, training it upon King in the process. Slowly, his finger squeezed the trigger, the motion taking up the span of a lifetime. There was a sickening meaty noise as the projectile slammed into King's shoulder, and another squelching sound she'd likely never forget when the blade of King's dagger slid into the gelatinous eyeball of the man holding her hostage. She'd have screamed, or perhaps cheered, but before she could do anything, her body flinched at the sound of a second shot. Force and pain ripped through the silk draped over her right bicep, the kinetic force knocking the wind out of her and aching her back. All at once, time rushed forward to the present, everything sped up and slamming to a halt in the current moment in her mind. Charity gasped softly in pain, any noise louder than that punched out of her by the reality of what had just happened. She had enough time to turn and look in Amorru's direction before her eyes fluttered shut and she crumpled to the ground in a pile of frills, lace, and underskirts, blood seeping out from beneath her to form a crimson puddle.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite



On the way back to the party, Amorru reached up and activated his comms unit. As much as he hated having Sean in his ear even when the Moda Tong informant wasn't putting on a show, he couldn't deny it's practically in times like this. "Sean! Get Jessica to the guest shuttle bay and the two of you boost us a long-range shuttle! Even if it's a luxury model, it might have the samophlange or whatever Art needs to fix the ship! I don't know what else that old coot's plannin', but I intend for us to be headed in the general direction of away just as soon as we can." Amorru then turned his attention to Grace again. "Awright, luv. I've gotta get my luggage. You tell our porcelain grease monkey it's time to bake biscuits, then grab what you can carry in your bag and we'll shove off!"

Sean smiled benignly to this wonderful new woman "Jessica" who he'd taken a liking to rather quickly upon her being described at "Thief" (Sean had distinctly hear a capital T whether one was intended or no.).

"You know,"
he said demurely, "He didn't say we had to go to the guest shuttle bay. Rather short sighted of him really..."

"...I mean he knows me so well after all, we're best friends...practically brothers. His fault honestly," The mercurial thief finished explaining as he finished checking the cargo manifest he'd lifted off an inappropriately napping floor supervisor. Really, it was the man's fault for taking his lunch in such an out of the way spot, and getting up to that sort of business during work hours? Sean felt simply soiled wearing the, admittedly, too short clothes that he was having to slouch and stoop in a bit to make fit.

Jessica's dock worker attire had been much easier to obtain. He, the "floor supervisor" had simply ordered everyone out of the locker room while she came in and took what she needed...and wanted.

So here the two of them were having just loaded up several pallets of brand new space ship parts into a sturdy, long range shuttle craft with Sean now holding an extremely sharp cutting implement to the carotid artery of the pilot as they flew off through the exit port and off toward the, probably, unsuspecting Wushu.


October 03, 2019, 06:28:33 pm #93 Last Edit: October 04, 2019, 08:00:17 am by Lomari




Amorru Reyes called out for 'the Duchess', her eyes locking on him in the endless second before they fluttered and abruptly shut. Charity Vornbach's lacy frills, dark chocolate curls, and layers of silk bounced as they hit the cold floor, shifting limply like an unwanted and discarded bouquet might quiver from the impact of falling to the dirt. Seething and incapable or unwilling to restrain himself, Amorru abandoned what common sense he was rumored to possess and drove the blade he pressed against Charles Ainsworth's kidney into the senior swindler and charlatan's shoulder instead. Ainsworth's philandering grandson dropped his sidearm, choosing instead to focus on the appearance of King's expertly aimed knife within his own face. Blood poured from the man's right eye, though his hands kept most of the maiming hidden.



The shot fired from Johnathan Mercer ricocheted off the gun in the floor before Sherrie could get to it. The shell lodged itself into the side of a nearby shuttle. Mercer leveled his aim on her and shifted momentarily between her and Charles, though the intended groom seemed more preoccupied with trying to remove the knife in his back.

"I'm sorry!" Amorru whispered as he rushed to Charity's side. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Though injured himself, Akhsar King joined Amorru in lifting Charity's prone form and moving her toward the back of their intended means of egress - a short-range luxury shuttle capable of reaching the nearest planet or sky plex so long as the objects in space stayed true to their known orbital patterns.

Johnathan Mercer kept his gun trained and watched all three members of the Ainsworth family while inside the shuttle Grace Halladay called for more room for herself and Charity. Grace's triage experience and knowledge of anatomy told her King's wounds weren't nearly as life-threatening whereas Charity's life essence stained bright crimson through the fabric of Amorru's half-cape accessory. Looking first at the mess he made, Amorru steeled his glare on Grace as accusation and prideful fury filled his jade eyes.

"Patch her up right, 'Doc'. It'll be good of you to do something useful for once." Amorru spat vengeful, unprovoked vitriol at his former flame and set at the controls. He blinked in disbelief at the blood on his garish cape, grabbed the onboard communicator and called out over the pleasure shuttle's external speaker system. "Anyone lookin' at leavin' best find themselves on board now-ish!" A shadow filled the open rear entrance, staring at the rest of the crew in near as much shock and surprise as they offered in kind; Octavia Wynn blinked as Amorru squinted back at her. Then a final noise shook everyone in the hangar.


Elsewhere on Bellerophon, Sean Finnegan held a blade against a delivery pilot's throat as a cargo shuttle plodded across the desert in Wushu's general direction. Recognizing the ship was surrounded by short range shuttles Sionnach knew to be the same style employed by the enforcers of the Moda Tong, the thief knew a decision had to be made. Jesse Walker looked at Sean as if very much regretting her uncharacteristic action when the opportunity to participate in a little light burglary in exchange for a lift off planet presented itself. An intervention absolutely no one in the situation prayed for occurred when Amorru Reyes' voice crackled across the comms array Sean wore with a warning. "Sean... Artemis... Any of yez... If you planned to meet up at Wushu and try to fix it... Don't bother. Its surrounded... For what it's worth to anyone... I know I really buggered this one up. King and Charity are hurt, we lost our ship, and worst of all... We never even got paid. So I'm sayin' ta Hell with Wushu, and ta Hell with the ruttin' Tong. Dunno 'bout the lot of yez. But I'm making for Iscariot."

I know that I hung on a windy tree nine long nights, wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin, myself to myself, on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.
No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn, downwards I peered; I took up the runes, screaming I took them, then I fell back from there.
The songs I know that king's wives know not Nor men that are sons of men.
So do I write and color the runes.

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