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.