One More RP! (The results of Comicon induced braindeadness.)

The sound of the gears all moving at once was more then enough to make Bars wonder what might be going on inside the walls. All of the gears and pipes working meticulously as not cause any unwanted friction. He dropped Ragna's hand and began to contemplate the complexity of the inner workings on the ship.

Bars was no mechanic, but the thought of the advancements in technology since the full power of the steam engine had been harnessed 80 years or so ago.

A different sound of beeps and slides took his mind away from what was going on around him and aimed to what was in front of him. The not-blown-up door was clicking, moving, opening, disappearing. A illusive figure was sitting in the middle of the room. Sitting and watching.

((I are so sorry about taking so long too do this. I'll do better from here on out. (Is that a quote from something?)))

((Ok, finally whipped Andy into doing his post. Guess that means it's....Ismael's turn? Right?))

((Nope. I believe it's Cam's turn. Although Oliver keeps yankin the back of my brain like a jaguar ._.;; ))

((No. It's yours. Cam's our official auto-pilot pilot. XD;;; ))

What the- Oliver thought as he looked at the chair in the middle of the empty vault, and it's mysterious occupant.

Who's this person? And where's the treasure we were promised!?

Wait, Oliver thought, maybe... maybe this person is the treasure! That's it!

They're probably a really good friend! Like, the biggest and most best best friend ever!

Oh man! No wonder these guys wanted to keep this a secret! This sudden change in expectations wasn't gonna be so bad after all...

But Oliver still stood, cautious in case this didn't happen. He stood next to Aero with broomstick in hand, waiting for any indication that this wasn't gonna be an friendly encounter.

((fffff you guys have every right to hate me long time for this, but the plot's finally moving. Just smack me if I go more than a week without posting again.))

For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. And right now, if they only could have known it, the members of the Buccaneer Cloud had crossed the frontier of self-serviance and into what could only be described as fate. What path else could have led them just in time as it were to this room, this ship, this man? But I am getting a bit ahead of myself.

The moment the small cluster of victorious invaders crept past the doorframe, those heavy metal doors shut tight as though powered by invisible hands. That, of course, should have been expected by the crew members - a treasure vault would be useless without some automatic requirements to protect it's wealth.

And this was very much a treasure vault, though there was no opulence for the crew to plunder greedily.

The man seated in the center of the room was not entirely in shadow. His face was long, and his high cheeks and forehead gave him a wise air beyond his young years. Dark slitted eyes made him look cunning, and his white suit and neat black hair made him look like a businessman.

A slow smile spread across his face as he looked at the crew members entering his vault. Clearly their presence was expected and anticipated by this slim, slithery man.

"So you've finally arrived," he said in a deep voice that seemed to vibrate within their chests. His malicious smile took on a new gleam of action as he raised his hands and slowly, mockingly, /contemptuously/ began to clap.

And within the gigantic and mostly unlit room there began to be sounds - sounds of men moving, sounds of wheezing steam-powered robots, sounds all around them of the cocking of guns and the low beeping as sights were drawn to the handful of intruders that stood inside that vault. Their vague shapes were not within ten feet of the crew, but their haunting presence was still very much visible, completely surrounding the crew and the man in white.

They were trapped in a ring of enemies. Enemies who could see them, but could not be immediately seen themselves.

And the man before them had the nerve to smile. Oh, yes, he seemed altogether too smug to be borne as he stood from his chair like a snake uncoiling itself to strike.

"Don't move," he said, tauntingly, laughingly. "You will be dead before you step two paces."

He approached them. There may have been something familiar about the man's smug, smug face - wasn't it on posters? hadn't they seen that man's face before somewhere? - but there was little time to recollect, and little reason to.

"My name is Alan Vinald, leader of the Resistance and Liberation Front," he said, as though being the leader of a crime organization fighting tooth and nail against government insurrections was something to be fervently proud of. "And I congratulate you for completing my obstacle course. I'm certain you're awaiting your prize, ha /ha/."

He laughed. It reverberated throughout the room, like the laugh of a god.

"I'm certain you've heard of me," he said, once his low and creepy laugh had subsided. He gestured to them with one long gloved hand. Copper facets and studs gleams on the black leather. "But I certainly have never heard of /you/. Not that it matters." Alan Vinald leered. "After all, I'm sure I'll learn more about you in due time - unless you make the wrong decision, of course."

Another low laugh. Vinald seemed to be doing it to taunt them. His dark eyes watched them as his laugh subsided.

"So - your prize," he said, clapping his hands together from where he stood three paces from Aero's nose. "I'd like to make you an offer. I would like your /services/ - engineer and fighter and pirate all - to be used in my favor, and for your crew to follow my orders and wishes for the good of all mankind." He twisted that word into something surprisingly elegant - strange, for the man up until this point had layered his voice with as much contempt and amusement as he possibly could manage.

"You, of course, may refuse," he said, "but I'm sure potential mercenaries as smart as you know what will happen to you if you do refuse." Dark eyes glanced pointedly from side to side where the soldiers waited to decimate their captive invaders.

"Talk about it amongst yourselves," Vinald finished, waving a generous hand and not moving even a step away. His tall, lanky presence was rather threatening, though he looked too pompous to wield anything more than an ink pen. "I'll wait for your decision."

And the room, so innocuous a mere five minutes ago, fell silent once again. It was so quiet that the breathing of the living soldiers around them sounded like loud noises, and the sharp whirring noise of the robots pressed in upon their eardrums.

The members of the Buccaneer Cloud were trapped.

((Ffffffffffffffffff great. Now we're a bunch of Nolans. that's nice. xDDDD))

Throughout the encounter, Aero had maintained a tight grip on her glaive and a very tense posture. She didn't like traps; not in the least. And when the trap evolved to involve an unknown number of soldiers and robots, she spared one hand to grab Oliver by the collar and tug the youth closer to her side.

For several seconds she said nothing, simply staring hard at their captor, her eyes hard and full of analytical contempt. She glanced over her shoulders at her friends. "I'm sorry," she mumbled to them. It was her intel that had gotten them into this mess, and now she was bound and determined to do everything in her power to get them out.

She turned back to the Vinald. "Do whatever you want with me. Let my crew go." The man before her simple chuckled another condescending laugh. One that implied that what Aero had just proposed was /not/ an option. Aero snarled and raised her glaive, bringing the business end inches away from Vinald. To his credit, he didn't flinch a muscle. The surrounding soldiers, however, were much less passive. All around could be heard another round of guns being raised, safeties being switched off, and aim being taken. Aero held her position. "Let. Them. Go."

Nolan, along with most of the crew, jumped when the vault door closed and then sank when, out of the darkness came numerous metallic figures, noticeable walkers of some assault class, and even more armed men. If you were shitting bricks right about now, you were probably dead or dumbing than the bricks being shat. And this was to be the last job before he would retire. He was going to change his name, moved to a far off sky somewhere and go looking for way to destroy the core. Either that or go looking for sky beasts. Though the words 'last job,' definitely came into perspective looking down the barrel of all these men's guns.

But, alas, there was a dim glimmer of hope in the form selling themselves in exchange for their lives. In truth and in tale, pirates weren't supposed to simply submit to the hands of another, having their fates decided for them. They were the trailblazers, the unexpected factor, the genuine creators of creative and unorthodox strategy... and none of this meant anything it this little steel box they now found themselves in. But, no matter the incredible volume of anger and pride that Nolan was now feeling for this man, his life was more important; besides he had already checked to see how much explosive material he had. Not enough to get through that pretty door behind them.

Nolan listened quietly as Aero was the first to stand strong against the threats made by their captor. It was an impressive feat of courage but Nolan had to admit... Aero really couldn't pick her battles with her head that well. Nolan usually didn't speak up to such things knowing what this crew was capable of and most of the time they could do anything and Nolan happily accepted this with a wacky grin and a hearty disposition. However this was different. Nolan knew the danger they were in, and he expected everyone else knew that as well. So Nolan would have to bring his wisdom to the table. He release a heavy sigh as he walked over to Aero, his hand up to avoid being shot, and put a hand on Aero shoulder. "You really can be an idiot sometimes. Always using your heart, never you head. You would make a terrible sky-ship engineer. They aren't letting us go just because you wave that weapon around. Same goes with you and your broom, Oliver. So let me handle this one. You'll get another chance." He patted her shoulder before stepping stepping between Alan and Aero. "So," he began quite civilly, "How will our services being aiding you and plan?"

The more that there captor spoke, the more Bars wanted nothing more than to run the man through with his rapier. It would be quick, precise, and relatively clean, compared to some of the others weapons.

The preposition of taking a job from this Vinald character was out of the question. We are pirates. PIRATES! Not some wanted board in a city square.

He inched towards Nolan and tapped the side of Nolan's hand twice. "Distraction?" it meant. Bars subtly reached down to his pocket and preped two steam grenades, just in case.

Oliver knew that this was a bad situation the moment Aero had grabbed him and assumed a defensive position in front of him with her glaive. The tense grip of her hand and her protective stance gave Oliver a chill down his psyche. This was the second time this woman had done this, and it was always in a time where Oliver felt his most frightened. But, there he stood, holding his broom, waiting for the moment where things would either get out of hand or civilize themselves into a state of agreement.

For a moment, Oliver picture in his head the latter of the possibilities, a better fate than what he dared to imagine would happen from the consequences of the first option. The Buccaneer Cloud would certainly be a lot more crowded if these other people joined forces with the gang, and the mess hall would be a riot everyday. A bond between the crewmates had formed throughout the years, and it might be threatened with the presence of so many people that hadn't had the chance to show their character to the crew. So many people, so many different ideas, backgrounds, shades of grey.

/These people... These people are people I did not want to see again./ Oliver reminisced, although unwillingly.

This moment ended when Aero yet again tightened her grip on Oliver, as if to pull him back from his thoughts, and to reassure her protection of him, /no matter what./

((Just thought someone should it:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RP! Belated, but it's the thought that counts.))

EcroXineoph wrote:

((Just thought someone should it:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RP! Belated, but it's the thought that counts.))

((Damn you and your tempting post! D< ))