Oops- An apology

I realize this basically JUST started. but nonetheless I've been slacking. Not because I lack for plot or dont know what to write but because life decided now was the time to kick me in the ass. This'll start running again soon. 


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I.III In The Pocket

It's odd the difference a lack of body language can make in a conversation. It's downright menacing to not see the person you're being addressed by.

“Now then...comfortable? Good. Lets you and I talk. For you see I'm sure you're here to explain yourself. Like why you have walked in here empty handed but for the clothes on your back and the weapons on your person. Maybe you are here to ask for forgiveness, for failing to give me what I want, when I paid you so handsomely in advance. How is that ship of yours? I understand most if not all that money went into getting it, what with the loss of the Laughing Fox 1”

I'd bet a handful of coin that he had that speech rehearsed, with the sole intent of unsettling me. Well Mr. Nemo, mission accomplished, and the barb about my previous ship...that dug deep.

“I don't feel rightly comfortable on the matter of the first Laughing Fox sir, if I may say so” I replied settling myself in the booth. He brought both of his gloved hands out of the shadow and knit them together like a head master at a boy's school.

“Of course. Now then was I right in all my assumptions so far?”

“Well-” he interrupted me with an upraised hand, palm facing me. Just bloody rude that ain't it?

“I was. Now stop me when I get off the beaten path so to speak Jancer. You see we now have a conundrum. I have a reputation to uphold, and you have a debt to pay. And I always collect my debts” Well bugger me...he had me in his pocket. The last place you want to be is in his pocket. I imagine his pocket as being a very small portal to a special hell thats layered in darkness and lined with serrated blades. But that's just how I see it. He finally decided then was a good time to lean out of the shadows, revealing a man without a face. Well thats not exactly right per se. But its a good way of putting it.

You see Nemo always wears a mask, big contraption that's a bit like the grim reaper, if the grim reaper were made of brass tubing and gears. Rumors fly this way and that on why he does this. Maybe its for anonymity. Personally I think its just to unnerve folk. Did I mention how warm I was feeling? I wiped sweat away and grinned as convincingly as possible.

“Well ya see Nemo, I was thinkin' bout that the whole way here. The way I figure it, we can do a job for you. Pro-bono so to speak. No more money needed. And we can be square.” I was gesticulating wildly now hoping this worked. “I mean you've always got something up your sleeve, what needs lifting? Breaking? uh....hell my two mates could even hurt people. They're quite adept at it in point of fact” I said gesturing to my two crew members who dutifully did their best to simply stand their looking intimidating. Well they were either dutifully looking like that, or they just did it on instinct. Either way I hope it got the point across.

He leaned back and knit his fingers together again leaving me to look at nothing but his hands and shadow again while I sweat under the lamp. I could practically feel a clock somewhere ticking by slowly as the seconds passed and I waited to see how he would react. Finally after what felt like hours but was probably a matter of a few minutes he spoke up.

“You have excellent timing Captain did you know that? Because it just so happens I do have a job. One most people have told me 'no' to.”

How fortuitous! Possibly. Probably not. If so many people have told the scariest criminal alive that they simply won't accept this commission then it has got to be insane. I had to ask anyway

“...gods and gears, why pray tell would they refuse it?”

As the words left my mouth, his hand came up and like the dutiful lap dogs they were one of the two bruisers handed him an envelope.

“Because my dear Jancer, this job is near on suicidal. One would need a surprising amount of luck to pull it off, and unlike yourself, most people do not rely on luck near so much as you famously do.”

Taking the envelope with both hands, I turned it over idly while my mind raced. Nemo took the moment to start talking again of course,

“Now as to the job itself you-” I came to my decision in the middle of his probably prepared speech.

“Will be accepting”

For a man who's all about mystery, the surprise was fairly evident in his response.

“Just like that hm? No details needed?”

“Man like you would have all the details enclosed here. And I'm not exactly in a position to say no to it whether I like the job or not. Liking it isn't part of the deal yea?”

Leaning forward again to show that skull faced visage of his, he tilted his head like he was examining me.

“Just so. You are more astute than I sometimes give you credit for. Now get out of my bar.”

He waved me off like one of his underlings, which I'll admit got a little under my skin, but I wanted to come out on top here and get out of that razor filled pocket of his. Not being able to help myself I gave him a cheeky little salute as I got up and just waved my index and middle finger in a circle to tell Lug and Lilly to get a move on. Collecting our weapons I didn't open the envelope till we were outside the bar.

I couldn't help myself from letting out a little gasp, and I'm relatively sure even Lilly's eyes widened a bit as our eyes skimmed through what was written there.

“Well...!@$%”

I.II Nemo

Oh Lily, a vision I assure you. Whats that? Don't believe me? Well fine look for yourself. There she is standing over me in her full dress, a rather flattering ensemble of a high collared shirt, black corset and white chemisette decorated lightly with a broach at the collar. I swear she always dresses proper, no matter the occasion. And let me tell you, she can move in it. I don't think I've seen anyone as graceful in a petticoat, might be something to do with her oriental heritage. Her hair is pulled back severely but still styled up elegantly. Mind you these are things one gets at a glance. Right now, I'm only peripherally aware of all that because I'm far too occupied with the look in her eyes. The one that tells me “oh you buggered up right Jancer, we're in the pen now”

This is about the right time to start explaining myself. I mean yes, the plan we originally came up with went to crap in less time than it took me to holster my gun, and yes I'm probably going to end up on multiple wanted posters all over the empire by week's end. But that's not really what's important right now. She lays it out for me rather succinctly, “Sir, what are you intending to tell Nemo?” Now that name probably doesn't mean two tugs of a dead dog's fifth leg to you, but to me, it's pretty much the same as saying “well what are you planning on doing about that terminal disease?” or “what are you gonna tell the emperor about his prize pony?” or “what are you gonna do about that woman you've impregnated?” ...Yes I put that last one in the same level of scary as the other two. Don't judge me. Nemo is the kind of man you simply don't let down. When it comes to information and crime in London, he's it. Just the name oozes a kind of menacing aura that you have to be crazy to accept a commission from him. To answer the unasked question, yes I realize how this reflects on my sanity.

“Well thats simple isn't it?” I say that like its obvious but the stares back from both her and Lug tell me that I'm probably wrong. Which I am, but I'm stalling now to think of a proper answer. “He's a reasonable sort, he'll understand there were complications, and that while I haven't exactly...uh...procured the item he requested I have denied it to any other parties. That's got to count for something yea?”

“Of course sir. It counts toward him only maiming you, instead of outright killing you. Do you recall what happened to Talbot when he 'denied the item to any other parties'?”

Of course I remember, poor Talbot was taken to the outskirts of London in a burlap sack, and then told to cut his own fingers off. At which point Nemo went fishing with those fingers as his bait. By all accounts that is Nemo being nice.

Figuring silence could be taken as a form of showing firm understanding, I took the high road and pretended like I didn't hear her as I busied myself with the niceties of running a small airship. A few minutes of rummaging about the cramped cockpit and arbitrarily looking at dials and jotting down completely randomized numbers in a notepad I reserved for these situations, I excused myself. For the most part I pretended to not see the stares coming from my only two crew members.

There is an odd, gut knotting feeling that comes from knowing that in fairly short order you were to meet with a man who by all rights doesn't brook failure, and hand him...well lets be honest here. I'm returning with failure. When the proverbial clock is ticking I did what any man in my situation would do. Pretend like I was unaware of my own impending doom, and made myself busy in any manner possible. I did some cooking in the galley, trained with my sword in the small room set aside for that, worked on a few pet projects in the cramped lab attached to my living area, checked the cargo bay and noted down what supplies we had and needed. I think you get the idea here. Its at this point with about a nights worth of travel ahead of us that I got blisteringly drunk off our wine stores, and passed out.

Now you're probably wondering why I did this. Well lets be honest I doubt you are, but mind you I wish for you to pass no judgment on me. Given the high stress, I doubt you would've handled this situation much better than I. Nonetheless the rest of our short voyage back to London in the Victos Empire passed rather uneventfully, or at least as far as I knew.

Nemo's place is a small dive, on the east end. One of those kinds of places that you could easily walk past, and I'm sure him being how he is, this was quite intentional. When you walk in its not too swank, but definitely on the more elegant side of how a pub is. Cushions on couches, and what have you, know what I mean? The man himself was seated in the back corner, and I couldn't see a customer or bartender in sight.

His booth was flanked on either side by a pair of real heavy lookin' bruisers. The kind that are good for a show, and probably good for a bout too. Not that I expected a fight or anything but gods and gears was it a comfort to have Lily and Lug just behind me. The idle thought of “I wonder how Lily looks so effortlessly apathetic right now?” flitted in my mind, but I didn't preoccupy myself with it.

Now I couldn't see the crimelord himself, but I figured he was sitting in the shadow of the booth cast by the small ring of light from the gas lamp hanging over the table. As we got closer, the larger of the two hitters held up a hand to stop us.

“Weapons please.” I generally judge how tough a man is by how gravelly his voice is. This guy sounded like he chewed rocks when he wasn't hurting people for Nemo.

“Now come on, do you really think we'-”

“Weapons. Please. I won't be polite next time I have to ask hear me boy?”

“...I am a fully grown man thank you very much” The manners of some people eh?

Quitting myself of my revolver and knife, I handed them over grip and handle first. Lily took a little longer, as she removed from hiding three knives of the throwing variety, two more knives of a much heftier handle, a pair of what looked like over sized sewing needles, a garrote, and of all things a thin double edged sword. Where she held that last item will, in my opinion, remain cast to the mysteries of life. Lug simply lifted his arm. I should probably explain. You see, Lug has one arm that...well lets not mince words here. He has a quadruple barrel cannon for an arm. This is the kind of thing you see used to bring down dirigibles. How he got this? Well one time, we were flying over Siberia when we were forced to crash land. We were beset by a rather large bear, and to put it lightly Lug punched it. He punched. A bear. So I told him, “I like you're style. I am going to build you an arm.” So I did. Nice story yea? Now lets get back to this one.

Feeling a bit cheeky, I decided to offer my two pence on the subject of disarming Lug. “Maybe...just maybe mind you. Maybe one of you would like to lift him up and hold onto him like my revolver?” The man that chewed rocks gave me a look that I'm relatively sure translated to something along the lines of “I will chew you up, much like I chew minerals if you decide to get smart again.” I decided that being quiet was the best course of action at this point.

Being allowed to start toward the table, after the man's partner gave a perfunctory I'm watching you glare at Lug I opened up the conversation.

“Why hello Nemo old chum! How fares you ya creepy bastard? Now I've come to explain. See there arose some complications in our little jaunt, what with there being guards and one of them was something of a real crack sh-”

“ Jancer, Jancer...I may call you that yes? No need for formalities obviously. Lets us sit and chat a moment, it cant be all work and no play all the time. Sit, sit” and out of the shadow came a gloved hand pointing at the other side of the booth. “Please. I insist” I swear that man has a voice like silk over barbed wire and a flair for the dramatic that playwrights should admire. I did the obvious thing.

I sat down and prepared myself. Fortunately, I had given this meeting some prior thought, and I was hopefully ready.