S1: Ep1 - Birds of a Feather

Started by noseatbelts, April 28, 2020, 01:48:53 pm

Darius Black

August 01, 2020, 04:08:19 pm #40 Last Edit: August 03, 2020, 11:07:12 am by Lomari Reason: Making the images smaller/take up less space.
The moment came, as all such moments must come.

It had trundled on with the inevitability of a train barreling down the tracks. 

And it was just as deadly.

Darius swiveled, but not as ably as he once might have done.  His knee reminded him that it wasn't original issue, and his leg dragged a bit in what should have been a well-practiced and well-executed maneuver.

But Darius was well acquainted with the inequities of his age and injury, and dancing was not the full extent of his response.  He might have relied on his suit's armor layer to protect him, but no armor was fool-proof, and he had no surety where the blade would land.  He reached with his left hand as well as his right. 

His left hand took up his helmet from its magnetic mount on the backside of his belt, bringing it around as an improvised shield.

His right hand snatched up his heavy pistol, pivoting it to fire.

He squeezed the trigger as he brought the weapon to bear.  Skill, God, or Fortune would determine where the bullet landed, and whether it landed in time to save him.

Cooper Brown

August 03, 2020, 11:00:57 am #41 Last Edit: August 03, 2020, 11:09:17 am by Cooper Brown
While the warehouse cargo-loader he was driving wasn't meant for speed, it had three things on its side in this moment. It could maneuver and corner on a dime if the operator knows what they're doing. Combined with the cargo and its rider, the machine clocked in around the same weight as a hover-mule twice its size. And lastly, Cooper used to race these things around the halls of his home-ship with the other Golden Trail teen delinquents back in the day.

At first it would have looked like the aggravated Aussie accented nomad was just trying to dodge attacks and Boa Lin's goons. He was leaving Francis to fend for himself but his top priority was to protect the cargo, and the Captain, but not in that order. He moved the loader backwards in a zig-zag pattern, trying to minimize his adversary's angles of attack. Just as it looked like he was bringing the loader to retreat, he turned sharply towards the man threatening the captain.

Quote from: noseatbelts on July 29, 2020, 07:52:33 am"Run away and leave the cargo, or we will kill you like Bao Lin will kill your dog."

The cargo loader slammed into him, pallet of cargo first, sending him slamming into the ground and under the narrow gap between the cargo and the ground.


With one hand on the machine's controls he lowered the pallets of cargo down onto pinned assailant. The pop of rounds coming from Cooper's pistol to provide the Captain cover fire didn't conceal the screams and crunching noises that came from the man who dared threaten a woman in his presence. The former soldier let loose a couple rounds in the direction of any of Boa Lin's men nearby until his magazine clicked empty.

"We should move."

He barked back at the captain as he slapped another magazine into his pistol and pivoted the loader so the pallets of cargo could be used as cover again. Though now anyone who got close enough could try and grab some of the crates off the back. Hence the former soldier's firm suggestion about relocation. But he was going to let the Captain make a call as to where. This may be he, Francis, and King's area of expertise but she was still in charge.  Find the real customer? Run to the feds? Or just make a dash back to the Odette and seek the safety of putting the distance of the black between them? Cooper wasn't partial save involving the damn feds.



His voice and his grip startled the debutante and she stiffened, her gaze snapping back up to his face, expression a mix of surprise, indignation, and concern. The part of her raised in luxury was appalled that a servant had just barked an order at her and then dared lay his hands on her flesh. However, the part of her that knew better and could gauge their situation, was entirely concerned that she was about to be shot. Again. A brief moment of relief filled her as King came to the rescue, putting himself between their guide (who she was now sure was fake) and herself. However, the relief faded as she looked at the hand still clamped painfully around her wrist. Charity winced, trying to tug her arm free and feeling fairly certain he was bruising her.

"You will be dead. Wan Kuok-koi and the Red Talon Tong will see to it," their former friend spat at them. Her umbrella now laying upside down on the ground (and getting mighty filthy), the hand holding her handkerchief went to try to pull her own arm out of Bao's grip. Tong. Tong. Tong tong tong tong. She'd heard that word before. The Moda Tong. The shadowy organization Jax (her former Captain) had said hired Wushu to go ruin a man's wedding and that led to her being placed in a dingy backwater space station hospital. Did Moda and Red Talon belong to the same group? Was Tong just an umbrella term? Did she really have time to be thinking about this?

Finally, King's threat level seemed to rise in Bao's eyes and he released her, leaving her to stumble back a few steps. She picked up her umbrella and closed it swiftly, flinching at the snapping noise it made once folded back up. A bullet hit the ground by her and she gasped in horror, turning around to stare at its owner incredulously. Eyes found Francis, brows furrowing and mouth opening into an offended 'O' shape. "You shot at me!" she accused, having seen no part of his own struggle back there. Then, another outrageously impolite member of their 'guard' was facing off against her.

"Run away and leave the cargo, or we will kill you like Bao Lin will kill your dog," he threatened. She lifted the handkerchief to her nose, then lowered it angrily, "Oh, I hardly-" Righteous indignation was cut off as the cargo loader rammed into the mannerless gentleman, crushing him slowly and most likely painfully. Charity looked appalled, turning her face away and pressing the handkerchief she had folded over her index finger against the bottom of her nose. Still, despite her horrified shock, she knew better than to stand in the open and with a quick tug of Pele's arm, she moved behind Cooper and his dangerous equipment.

"We should move," their deadly mechanic informed them, loading another magazine into the gun in his hand.

"Move where?" she asked Cooper, looking around at the Chaos and spotting Francis. "Mister Church! If you would be so kind as to lead us in the general direction of where we're supposed to be meeting with our client?" she yelled at him, setting a hand idly on Cooper's forearm for balance. "Or if you know the address? I don't know my way around so I'm afraid I must rely entirely upon one of you," she told him, her voice a more appropriate volume.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Jedikiah Rembo

Jedikiah's staff moved slow along the ground then snapped like a whip at one wrist holding a club and then one holding a knife. It moved like a whip, his attempt to strike the nerve along each wrist. He moved forward as if stumbling, his instinct for a simple drunken style Kung fu seemed appropriate. Without much thought to hit he shifted his weight as though uncertain where and what he was doing. A drunken old man moving in jerky slow motion he turned to grip an arm, pinch a nerve.

And then a more aggressive move, his left foot kicked out at a more distant attacker striking hard on his hip. Then drunk no more he swooped low to avoid those no longer fooled by what little his advantage might have given him.

He took in the movements of his comrades and rolled away from them hoping to turn a few heads and give his allies a chance at their enemy's back.  Charity moved to direct them in some safer direction. People near by panicked. Jedikiah stood after his attempted defenses and attacks. He stood normal, always as he did. His head tilted a little, sound and light, mood and intention flowed along his aura.

Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


August 06, 2020, 03:25:53 pm #44 Last Edit: August 06, 2020, 03:33:01 pm by noseatbelts
Odette Crew

People screamed.

And ran.

And pushed, and shoved, and clawed their way away from the chaos. Unfortunately, Captain Charity and her crew were at the center of it and Bao Lin's guards were keeping them in place. If a wayward escapee found their way into the circle, they were dealt with in equal measure to the force the Tong were attempting to use on the Odette. Luckily, or was it, Francis and Coop seemed to be the only ones brandishing firearms in the direct vicinity of the cargo.

"Whyyyy?" Francis screamed, a Tong guard wrapping his club around his throat as he swung his pistol wildly trying to get a shot at the others, one of which appeared before him with the flash of a knife. Francis' training kicked in as his heel kicked out. A body blow to the Tong behind him and he was free. Two quick and efficient bullets made sure to keep it that way.  Charity's voice entered his ear and Francis, for the moment, was able to respond. "Um. Sure thing." He dug out his cortex device and pulled up the address of where they were meant to go, meanwhile missing Jed's dazzling display of martial prowess with his attention turned to the handheld computer screen in his hand. "Oh, it's not far from here."

Darius and Yang Gao

Yang Gao, in his attempt to bull rush Darius, caught the pistol round square in the chest and dropped like a sack of bricks. As discord ensued on the other side of the docks, so too did it erupt at the sound and sight of a man shot in the street. Yang Gao was not so easily defeated, however, his zealotry for his Captain's call returning him to his feet. That didn't make him a better fighter, as he attempted the same tactic again. "Cheung Po!" He screeched his master's name in a battle cry as his dagger found Darius' chest. It rebounded off the space suit. He looked up at the taller man, uncomprehending. "How?"

King and Bao Lin

An elbow to the face. A knee to the abdomen. A heel kick dodged. Punches swatted away and returned in equal measure. Bao Lin's refined martial arts were matched by King's efficient military CQC training. Both men breathed heavily as the scene only grew worse around them.

"You will not get away with this." Bao Lin tried to steady his breath, but the last hit to his chest was making it difficult to fill his lungs. "You are meddling in affairs you cannot possibly comprehend."

"Doesn't seem too complicated to me. We're making a delivery to your boss' rival. Pretty standard stuff actually."

Bao Lin was taken aback, but attempted to recover. "A rivalry that-"

King laughed. "Has gone back, what, decades? Centuries? I don't care." The mercenary's hand went to the gun at his belt. Time to end this. Bao Lin, as winded as he was, surprised with a quick move to stop the pistol from exiting its holster. An iron grip and a quick movement quickly disarmed the slide, tearing the weapon apart. He tossed the remnants aside as King, bewildered by the efficiency of the move, took a blow to his foot as Bao Lin stomped on the bridge. Pain shot through King as bones broke, momentarily distracting him and allowing a punch to the temple. King shot Bao Lin a glare through hazy vision, but refused to fall.

And the fight continued.

Cooper, The Cargo, Charity, and Pele

Coop found himself beset upon by several Tong who sought to accomplish their mission: retrieve the cargo by any means necessary. One hopped up on top of the crates and, in his haste, toppled the whole thing over, sending Coop, the loot, himself, and his comrades flying to the ground right around where Charity and Pele had decided to hide, the goods displayed clearly for the two women. What seemed like endless, unmarked, paper-wrapped bricks, each about 4x6x2, scattered from their protective sawdust and onto the cobblestones.

It didn't take the guards long to recover.

Darius Black

August 08, 2020, 12:51:18 am #45 Last Edit: August 08, 2020, 12:53:18 am by Darius Black

It was the root of Zealot, and an overabundance of one created the other.

Darius had heard ancient stories about cultists and warrior tribes who believed so deeply in their faith, philosophy, cause, tribe, or King, that they would literally walk into gunfire and stop only when their bodies refused to carry them forward. 

Most ordinary people would go down after being shot anywhere.  A few would go down even if a shot missed them, fear doing the job that marksmanship had failed to do. 

But a sliver of humanity- some of the most dangerous ones- they'd come at you seven paces after their heart had stopped.

Yang Gao was one of these.  A zealot.

And Darius, unprepared for such resolve, took a knife to the chest.

Fortunately, while he was unprepared for such resolve, he was fully prepared to be a second too slow.  In his chosen career, 'Life Insurance' was an armored suit.

Still clutching his helmet in his left hand, he swung it around to club the shocked pirate across the face.  And again.  And again.





Counting on the blood-loss and bludgeoning to finish his foe, Darius began to take in the pandemonium which had engulfed the docks.  There was more going on here than his impromptu reckless duel with a pirate henchman. 

There had been a gunshot, hadn't there? 

One that wasn't his?

Someone else was making a move on the docks.  Maybe someone else had spotted Po and decided to try for the bounty.

For a moment, Darius hesitated. 

What to do?

Part of him wanted to go back to Po's ship and execute the man, both to end his crazy crusade and to make sure the fever-brained maniac didn't send people after him. 

Part of him wanted to use the crazed crowd to escape this scene, as he'd probably just committed homicide and it might be hard to explain to a lawman that it was justified.  Maybe he could find a ship leaving and get aboard.  At this point, transportation was more important than negotiating a good job with good pay and good benefits. 

Still on the fence, he moved to plunge into the crowd, looking for something that might break the decision one way or the other.

Cooper Brown

August 10, 2020, 09:29:16 pm #46 Last Edit: August 11, 2020, 06:57:07 am by Cooper Brown
In a fight, Bruce Lee would say "be water". However Cooper Brown was from another school of thought. He had to protect the crew, and his Captain. It wasn't just a matter of duty, but honor, and faith. The loyalty to one's crew goes above their loyalty to any god in the Golden Trail. In a sense that loyalty in and of itself is exalted. No matter how bloody pear shaped everything has gone. One must protect their crew. By gun, by knife, by hammer and fist. Whatever it takes.

The rush of men had knocked over him and all the cargo. If Cooper wasn't grumpy on account of his lack of sleep, this surely got him there. Adrenaline rushing, not quite registering any pain from getting tackled onto the hard ground by several dudes and all their cargo, he rose from the fracas with his pistol in one hand, and his hammer in the other. One of the goon-squad was right on him, though, immediately trying to wrestle the pistol away. He pulled the trigger twice into the man's stomach and then brought the hammer down on top of the foe's head to finish things decisively.

In the second he had to spare before he had to engage his next foe, it dawned on him his suggestion to relocate had now gone out the window. There was no way they were going to re-pack the crates in the midst of a street battle. So they'd just have to win the street battle. Bollocks to running. This was not the time to be water. This was the time to be the rock against which the waves crash. This fight would have to sort out who was the unstoppable force and who was the immovable object.

Three more rounds went into the nearest member of the gang, moving towards the Captain and Pele. That seemed to put an end to that guy's ambitions, but by the time the third shot rang out, another was within arm's reach. He went for the head with his hammer but the attack was successfully blocked, three more rounds into that man's torso, then a coup-de gras to the forehead before he addressed the ladies with a look of focused aggravation:

 "We're gonna have to scrap this one out!"

And what a scrap it was shaping up to be. Now faintly coated in blood from the close quarter combat. Bloody hammer still in hand, Cooper brought both weapons together, his right hand and pistol resting atop his left forearm, hammer gripped tightly, ready to strike. Not dissimilar from the way you see cops hold guns and their flashlights in a cortex vid.

The former soldier scanned for his next adversary. This was going to be a proper dust-up if they didn't push back harder and force their enemy to back down. Mister Brown backed up towards Charity and Pele. This melee wasn't getting any better in a hurry. So his priorities in his mind were already starting to shift towards saving as much of his crew as he could.

Jedikiah Rembo

Gunfire. It was not to be a scuffle nor any sort of 'rumble'. It was a fight with death and killing.

Moving some distance from his allies had proved to be of little tactical value, enemies moved to cut him off and overwhelm him with numbers. Smart, his move had left him with few options and his crew would need more that the breaking of wrists and kicked knees of their adversaries.

They were enemies and the Leopard was to be unleashed. Of the five basic form styles of Kung Fu it was the most direct, to strike fast paced counter attacks and multiple hard strikes.

'Golden Leopard Speeds Through Forest'

Jedikiah struck with force and definitive purpose.
Punches with the leopard fist,
his hard short nails striking with force and searing tearing of the flesh;
kicks with the full expenditure of chi to sternum and solar plexus, joints, and nerve clusters.

He moved toward the cargo and the Captain where the focus of the enemy was directed.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner

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