The Ashlanders - Chapter 6: The Blind Man's Last Gambit (Closed, Started)

[roushutsu]

"P-perhaps in all this chaos they have forgotten about this wound. How long can such an injury go untreated?"

Josephine held Elizabeth tight when pain surged through her. "Prithee, lay down and try to relax," she said, try to coax her as she laid her out on the bed. She reached for the makeshift bandages that have held the wound together, then froze during her inspection. She could see blood starting to come through, and the brigands couldn't have had the time to remove the bullet back on the train. In these dank quarters, it would only be a matter of time before Elizabeth would have contracted infections. I did not sacrifice my freedom so thou would'st perish!

"Forgive me." Pulling herself away from Elizabeth's grip, she rose from the bed and approached the door. There had to have been a guard outside, and if they were set on receiving money from their families, then they would have to see to Elizabeth's health. Josephine took a deep breath, then proceeded to pound on the door.

"Guards! GUARDS! Pardon me for being vexatious, but Lady Maribel needs proper treatment before it's too late!"

 

[ProtoChimp]

"Wan' me ta' find somethin' regular fer ya'?"

"c'mon, I got a case of cream sodas in my room."

"Sure you want something too Sprout? I figure your a bit young for scotch," turning to Ruffles he continued, "lemme guess our lovely and totally pacifist captain?" said Aesop referring to his face.

[sub][sub][sub]"Guards! GUARDS! Pardon me for being vexatious, but Lady Maribel needs proper treatment before it's too late!" [/sub][/sub][/sub]

Aesop thought he heard someone from a distance and pounding metal.

"D'you hear something?" asked Aesop.

 

[The Funslinger]

"D'you hear something?"

"No rest for the wicked, I guess." Heading down the hall, he went to the door of the room the two lady Nobles were being kept in. Opening the door a crack with his pistol in hand, he peeked in. The wounded woman was sprawled on the ground, a dark stain spreading under her bandages. "Well, fuck... stay right there, you two."

He turned to the others. "Sprout, go find Florian. I might be able to take care of this, but I want a second opinion for anything I do. Aesop, go up to my room. There's a box of floss in my bottom drawer. Probably underneath some junk, but it's there. I don't care if you make a mess. Grab that, and the red plastic box on my bedside, and then go to my workshop. There's a tin bucket in the corner, and I want you to fill it half up with Valhalla."

Not waiting to see if they did anything, he went into the room and shut the door behind him. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine," he said, crouching by Elizabeth. He stripped away the bandage to reveal blood welling thickly from the gunshot wound. "Gotta get the bullet out before lead poisoning sets in. Christ..." He removed a metal implement from his belt that was somewhere between tongs and tweezers. "Ain't sterilized, but we'll take care of that."

With his thumb and index finger, he stretched the wound a little, causing Elizabeth to gasp. "Hold her down," he told Josephine. Then he stuck the tiny tongs into the wound, which caused Elizabeth to whimper loudly and try to pull away. Then, with a squelch, Ruffles removed the tongs, a warped lump of lead clutched between them.

Standing up, he said, "alright, you put pressure on that wound of hers. Push down as hard as you can and don't stop. I'll be back in a minute." With that, he went and stood outside of the door, and waited for the others to come back. The fuck was this, seriously? He had often supposed fixing ships and fixing people weren't entirely different. But they were hardly the same can of worms, either. Shit. He hoped Florian would be here soon. The man seemed to have a grasp on fixing people up, and the second opinion, or maybe even someone else to do the job would be fucking welcome.

 

[ProtoChimp]

"Fuck sake nothing can go simple can it?" Aesop pronounced as he saw the scene before him. Ruffles was thankfully taking control of the situation and giving him and Sprout orders.

"Aesop, go up to my room. There's a box of floss in my bottom drawer. Probably underneath some junk, but it's there. I don't care if you make a mess. Grab that, and the red plastic box on my bedside, and then go to my workshop. There's a tin bucket in the corner, and I want you to fill it half up with Valhalla."

Aesop nodded and headed off towards Ruffles' room, only by the time he got there did he realise he was going to be with Valhalla for the first time in a long time, not since... nevermind fuck those thoughts they're not helping. He threw open Jake's door and scrambled to his bottom drawer, throwing around anything in the way and indeed making a mess as he did. "Box of floss got it." He reached up and grabbed the red plastic box Jake mentioned, "Got that too." He rushed off into the workshop, hesitating before entering. "Stop it, don't be a ***** now Aesop." He opened the door and took in the smell of fucking Valhalla... FUCK did it smell nasty, good nasty and bad nasty but even good nasty was bad nasty for Aesop-STOP SAYING NASTY! He rushed to the bucket and dipped it in Valhalla, his hands shaking as he did almost dropping it inside. He hovered over it for a moment looking deep inside the poison contents. "Now's not the time for this... stop looking at it.... stop looking, stop looking... nnnnnnnnnow!" Aesop tore his attention away from Valhalla and rushed back towards the makeshift holding cell, nearly spilling the brew from the bucket. "Ruffles I got it!" he yelled from down the corridor as he came within eyesight.

 

[Fappy]

"Listen, before I hear out your offer Mr. Raphael; I want a couple of questions answered. First off, according to some rumours that I've heard, is it true that you employer is seen as a bit of a maverick by the other Nobles? And secondly, how in the hell did you track me down to here in Fyrestone?"

Raphael had taken his seat... cautiously. It wasn't common for him to handle such matters personally, but considering the seriousness of the situation Lord Basilio needed every warm body at his disposal. He nerviosuly adjusted his tie once more and spoke, "Thank you for your... hospitality, Miss Graves. To answer your questions, yes, Lord Basilio has been regarded as his... own man, so to speak." Raphael appeared to be struggling with his words as he described him. "He doesn't hold many of his peers in high regard. At risk of coming off as a buffoon, I would describe him as a visionary. He has big ideas."

He studied Viola's expression as he described his master, but it was no use. She was a hard woman to read it seemed, "As for your second inquiry... suffice it to say that my Lord has eyes and ears in all corners of Feroxi. Now, if you do not have any more questions would you like to hear the proposition?"

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"... The boy was never in any real danger."

Pixie smirked as she plopped down in the chair behind her desk, "Uh huh."

"... You should be flattered, my dear, by how much you're worth to me."

Pixie opened a drawer and pulled out a small box as he spoke. From it she produced a fat cigar that she held to her nose for a quick whiff, "Something tells me you haven't seen the price the Marconi Family's put on my head." She put the cigar to her lips and lit it as the Gentleman continued.

"... The Basilio family will be most eager to see their newest prospective member returned safely to her betrothed, I'm sure."

Pixie removed the cigar and stared at the man before her as he spoke. Her betrothed? Basilio? The Gentleman couldn't not have missed Pixie's reaction to his words. Her jaw hung, her eye wide, goosebumps forming on her bare arms...

And the anger welling up inside her.

"... Still, I got the impression of a man who did not suffer slights gladly."

Pale as a ghost, Pixie sat in silence. Utterly shocked it seemed. As if some nightmarish aberration stood before her. Slowly, her disposition shifted from that of shock and fear to the primal rage the Gentleman was more familiar with. She gritted her teeth and slammed a fist down on the desk, "Fuck!"

The pair sat in silence for several moments. Pixie's eyes remained fixed on her fist. Finally, she spoke up, "You have no idea, my friend. You have no fuckn' idea." Eventually she looked back up at the man. She was still rattled, but had managed to calm her nerves somewhat. She slid the vodka bottle towards him and flipped open the cigar box once more. "I'm gonna need lots'a these before the day's out. Don't make me sin alone here."

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Sprout looked at the wounded noble in horror. His actions had led to this. He was the cause of her suffering. A pit in his stomach began to form as the reality of the situation set in. What if she died? How could he live with himself... killing an innocent...

"Sprout, go find Florian. I might be able to take care of this, but I want a second opinion for anything I do...

Sprout shot him a salute and sprinted out of the room. It was good Ruffles had taken control of the situation like he did as Sprout would have likely remained frozen in fear and uncertainty. Sprout ran down the halls shouting Florian's name like a madman until he found himself sprawled out on the ground with a throbbing headache. In his desperate search he had cut a corner too fast and crashed directly into Cranston, "You okay, kid?"

Cranston helped him to his feet, laughing, "You gotta be more careful, son." Cranston didn't seem the slightest bit injured. Had he even fallen over?

Sprout shook the pain from his head, "S-sorry about that..."

"Any reason you're running and screaming through the halls? You're not eight-years-old anymore."

Suddenly remembering the urgency of the situation he shouted frantically, "I-I, ummm... I need to find Florian! It's the blonde noble! Her injury's worsened! I need---"

Cranston grabbed his shoulders to calm him, "Whoa, whoa! Chill out! Alright, we'll figure this out. Florian just went up top. I'll grab him. In the meantime I need you to go back to that noble and keep her calm. Can you do that?"

Sprout nodded and immediately ran back towards the nobles. It seemed he would have to confront the situation head on after all.

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Cranston found Florian in short order and called up to him, "Hey, Priest! We need your help down here. One of the prisoners needs medical assistance ASAP!"

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The pain was indescribable. If it wasn't for Josephine's words of encouragement she would have likely been too squirly to operate on. Through the pained moans and screams she managed to say, "It hurts" more than a few times. Her senses were going haywire and she could hardly make out what she saw in the room before her. The pain reached its peak as the tongs began groping around inside her flesh. Just before she lost consciousness she saw the boy's face once more.

He looked terrified.

Just as she had.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"Thank you for your... hospitality, Miss Graves. To answer your questions, yes, Lord Basilio has been regarded as his... own man, so to speak." Raphael said as he nervously adjusted his tie once more. He looked to be having some small degree of difficulty with his speech. Viola reckoned that the man was scared of saying something inappropriate about his employer; must be one of the downsides of serving under Lord Basilio. "He doesn't hold many of his peers in high regard. At risk of coming off as a buffoon, I would describe him as a visionary. He has big ideas."

"As for your second inquiry... suffice it to say that my Lord has eyes and ears in all corners of Feroxi. Now, if you do not have any more questions would you like to hear the proposition?" Raphael asked again. Viola took a moment to have a drink from a near by bottle before responding.

"Fair enough, that makes sense I guess; being the man who essentially rules this region certainly has it perks doesn't it? Anyway, now that my initial queries have been put to rest, I shall hear out this proposal of yours Mr. Raphael, given who you work for, no doubt it has a fair degree of importance to Lord Basilio."

 

[The Funslinger]

Aesop came back with what Ruffles had asked for, and he took it off his hands quickly, starting with the bucket of spirits. "Thanks, man. I know that wasn't easy."

Shoving the door open, Ruffles set the bucket down, and produced a rag from his belt. Thankfully not the one he had degreased the engine vent with. Sticking it in the bucket of alcohol, he gave it a squeeze and then passed it briefly under Elizabeth's nose. The reek of alcohol had a smelling salts effect, and some alertness shot back into her eyes.

"You go into shock and pass out, you're fucked." With that, he soaked the rag again and squeezed droplets into the wound, before setting about dabbing at it to clean it, as Sprout turned up again. The sting must have been unholy. When there wasn't a patch on the rag not stained with blood, he threw it aside. Sticking his hands in the bucket of alcohol to assure they were clean, Ruffles applied pressure to the wound. Where was Florian? He'd rather not act until he could be sure what he was doing was fine. He thought it was, but who was he to judge?

He was running out of time. "Sprout. I need you to go find a shirt. One of mine if you want. Then take it to the kitchen, stick it in a bowl pan of water and put it on a boil. When it's been at boiling point for a couple of minutes, empty the water and bring the pan with the shirt in it back here. You got that? And don't burn yourself."

As an afterthought, he also said, "and bring a cup!"

 

[ProtoChimp]

Ruffles had quickly taken the necessary tools for this job from Aesop, thankfully starting with the bucket of alcohol. "Thanks, man. I know that wasn't easy."

"Man you have no idea." He ran in and knelt down at the woman's side, just to... he didn't know. Comfort her maybe? That probably wouldn't help considering they had just kidnapped her, they did kill the woman responsible for her gunshot wound but that probably wouldn't be of much use unless she had a little in common with Warren, and even then he'd surely prefer to just kill everyone responsible or not if he was hurt. She may be a bit calmed by Ruffles despite him having being the one who killer her he at least looked sorry for it, Aesop on the other hand had bitterly put a bullet in her dead head. So he just sat at the side watching Ruffles work, ready to play nurse if need be. Maybe he could put pressure on the wound or somethi-'Dammit, my strap. Why did I give my strap to Casino and leave it on the train? You can't wrap a strap around someone's shoulder! Fuck me this really is an off day.' Aesop found himself staring at the bucket and resisting the urge to sniff the rag before it was made useless by all the blood. This was getting pretty desperate, looking at a bucket full of booze when it was needed to help someone? There was a reason he stayed away from Valhalla, as well as not wanting to piss of Ruffles again... it was the smell. The sticky, sickly, vile, alluring, wondrous, amazing, poisoning, sickening smell...

 

[The Funslinger]

Ruffles glanced at Aesop, and then looked back when he saw where he was looking. The expression on his face. Taking one hand from the wound briefly, he tapped him roughly on the side of the head. When Aesop snapped out of it, and looked at him, he said in as kind a voice as he could in the tense situation, "go tell the Captain what's going on."

The underlying point was clear enough. Get yourself away from the booze.

Ruffles turned back to what he was doing. He was running out of time. "Alright, fine," he said, more to himself than anyone else. Pausing to get the other Noble to put her hands back on the wound, Ruffles washed off his hands again, making the alcohol a faint pink. Then he opened the red plastic box, which contained an array of needles with their tips pushed deep into a sponge pad. Selecting a small one, he dipped it in the alcohol, then picked up the box of floss. Cutting a strip with the box's edged section, he set about threading it through the eye of the needle.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"Fuck!"

'Now there's the Pixie I remember.' The Gentleman thought wryly. Unlike him, he'd been genuinely worried for a second there, behind the smile and the oily tone, when he'd seen Meredith turn white as a sheet at the very mention of the Basilio name. It was good that she was angry, as Meredith had always been the sort who took inspiration from rage, rather than be distracted by it. He puffed on his cigar again, and listened intently.

"I'm gonna need lots'a these before the day's out. Don't make me sin alone here."

"I'd prefer a brandy, gin, or at the very least a vintage white." The Gentleman said. "However, let it never be said I refursed a lady's offer." He poured himself a small glass of the vodka, took a sip, and briefly grimaced.

"You'll forgive me if I leave the cigars to you. I already have my pipe, and I've had quite enough of those vile implements for one day. Mr. Dufraine just couldn't smoke enough of them, and such a man will insist that you keep up."

The Gentleman too another long puff on said pipe before he spoke again, to take away the taste of the vodka.

"I take it that I am not the only one of us then, who is acquainted with Dio Basilio. Perhaps you'd like to fill me in? There's no need for concern anyhow. The man has his contacts, and the carbon to pay them to be sure, but if any of his other resources were half a match for me... well, he would never have needed me; and I didn't cause such an unsavory interruption of both our little projects back there just so I could leave you in the lurch at the earliest opportunity. So long as we have a deal, then the full extent of my services are yours for the time being, and at no extra cost."

He winked at her, before taking another sip of the vodka.

 

[roushutsu]

Josephine stepped back when the door opened to give them a view of Elizabeth. To her surprise, it wasn't the man who locked them here, but several of the men from the train, and they all leaped into action. One of them, Ruffles as he was called, knelt down to inspect the wound.

"Hold her down."

Josephine did as she was commanded as he prepared to extract the bullet. She stroked Elizabeth's hair, whispering comforting words to her. "Do not fret. We're going to help you." When the man pulled out a pair of tongs, she gulped. Elizabeth began thrashing as he inserted the tongs into her wound and began digging for the bullet. Josephine did her best to hold her down as she cried about how much it hurt. Soon he found the bullet and pulled it out. "Good girl. It's all over now."

"Alright, you put pressure on that wound of hers. Push down as hard as you can and don't stop. I'll be back in a minute."

"Please hurry." She continued to hold Elizabeth as the rest of the men came back one by one with Ruffles' requests. When one of them returned with a bucket of alcohol, she nearly reeled back at the smell. With all of riches that they've stolen, would it have killed them to carry some fine wine or something less...revolting? The man who had brought it here looked like he couldn't handle it either, and Ruffles quickly sent him to the captain.

Since she still had to hold the wound closed, Josephine held her breath as Ruffles continued to work. Of course that couldn't last, and when she had to catch her breath she caught a whiff of the wretched alcohol again. "Where did thou procure this ale?"

 

[Dogmatic99]

"Good God man I'm a priest, not a doctor."

Florian hissed at his two fellow emergancy medics, hoping the young patient and her friend wouldn't hear. Since back in the land of audiable speech he was busy cooing calming words and pleasent things to them, putting his voice in that tone that Lilith always made his accent sound sexy or 'Sexay' if she'd had something to drink. Other than that all he could do was wash the wound and make sure there wasn't anything left in it. As far as he could tel the bullet hadn't left any shrapnel. yes, gone were the days when Florian smiled at the thought of making some poor sawbones weep at the sight of their patient's inards turned something resembling pie filling.

Oh lord is this what I put those poor people through? Of course by 'those people' he meant the medics.

"You may want to bight down on something." He handed Elizabeth the leather bookmark for his bible. It wasn't like he needed it, Florian had read the thing more times than he could remember but this wasn't the time to lament his limited reading material.

"Well, you have your extra pair of hands. Let's get to work!" He tried to sound encouraging for Ruffles while rolling up his sleeves, ready for whatever came next.

"Good luck everybody..." But that last part was whispered in his mother tongue

 

[The Funslinger]

Ruffles nodded, and put the needle to the flesh of the Noble's wound. Ignoring the pain he must be causing, he threaded on, looping around and around, binding the skin and being careful not to prick into deeper flesh. As he pulled the stitches tighter, pulling the flesh taught and shutting the wound. Using the blade of his multitool, he severed the floss he'd used as a stitch and sat back.

"Now. Where's Sprout with that boiled shirt I asked for? I wanna use it to bandage you up proper."

 

[ProtoChimp]

Aesop was snapped out of his thoughts by Ruffles pushing the side of his head and saying in his softest tone "go tell the Captain what's going on." They both knew what it meant.

Aesop whispered "Thanks man," quiet enough just so he could hear and he rushed out of the room just after Florian had entered. He rushed down the corridors before realising he needed to find a window or a toilet or somewhere he could vomit. 'oh shit, too late!' were what went through his head as he spewed out his anxiety all over the floor. That fucking smell, god he hoped he would never have to be anywhere NEAR that bucket of evil once again. "I'll clean this up later." He rushed to the captain's room and pounded on her door, "Captain! Cap-" he then realised Pixie probably didn't care about the hostage and he didn't want to get a lashing for sounding so urgent over something that she may have considered a small priority. "Um, Captain?" he said quieter.

 

[Fappy]

"... So long as we have a deal, then the full extent of my services are yours for the time being, and at no extra cost."

Pixie took another swig of her vodka. Her mouth and throat burned, but her mind was still crystal clear. Getting drunk tonight would prove difficult. She stared at the bottle in her hands as he spoke. Her eyes remained glued to it when she replied, "Ya'wanna know our history, do ya'?"

Pixie's eye slowly moved from the bottle to the Gentleman. Somehow it felt as if she were looking him in both eyes with her one. Leaning over the desk, Pixie came mere inches from the man's face and slowly peeled back her eye-patch. He had never seen under her eye-patch before. In fact, he knew of no one else alive that had. A jagged, deep scar ran across the top of her cheekbone, eyelid and brow. The eye itself was grey, cloudy and lifeless.

Pixie laughed, "Let's just say the two of us go way back." She concealed her bad eye once more and sat back down in her chair. "You don't know the real Dio, Gents. I reckon there ain't another soul alive that does. He's done a mighty fine job hiding the beast inside all these years, but believe you me... he's not someone you fuck with." She snatched the vodka off the table for the umpteenth time and took another swig. "That's all yer gettn', partner."

After a few moments she let out an exaggerated sigh and stretched in her seat, "Look, you leave this Maribel situation to me, got it? You focus on wow'n me with some fancy plot'o yers 'er somethin'."

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"... Anyway, now that my initial queries have been put to rest, I shall hear out this proposal of yours Mr. Raphael, given who you work for, no doubt it has a fair degree of importance to Lord Basilio."

He nodded eagerly, "It does indeed, Milady." He winced a bit as the words left his tongue. He was so used to speaking to nobility that he had completely forgotten how to interact with the common rabble. He shrugged it off and continued. "My Lord was to wed Lady Elizabeth Maribel on the morrow. She was to arrive by train today. Misfortune fell upon her however, as it's been reported the train was attacked by bandits. She, along with two others have been taken hostage by the infamous bandit, Pixie and her 'Iron Maiden'. My Lord would ask that you rescue his betrothed and bring back Pixie's head. If this piques your interest you are invited to come to his tower at noon tomorrow to discuss the contract. Is this agreeable?"

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"...and bring a cup!"

Sprout had already made it halfway down the hall when Ruffles' final words reached his ear. Making his way past the drunk party-goers, he made it to the kitchen and started boiling some water. He had been so frazzled he had completely forgotten about the shirt. Looking down at himself he muttered, "Fuck it," and proceeded the take his shirt off and dunk it in the pot.

I'm gonna make this right. I'm gonna make this right. I'm gonna make this right.

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Elizabeth's breathing had been calm for awhile. Some part of her knew the pain wasn't over and she had been trying to calm herself in anticipation for the second act. She screamed through her teeth when the needle pierced her flesh and tears streamed down her face. After the first bit of thread had passed through, her eyes shot open. Red, puffy and soaked
in tears, she stared up at Josephine who squeezed her hand to comfort her. Elizabeth's eyes thanked her just before the needle returned for another attack on her flesh.

She screamed again.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"It does indeed, Milady." Raphael said as his body tensed up briefly for a moment. "My Lord was to wed Lady Elizabeth Maribel on the morrow. She was to arrive by train today... would ask that you rescue his betrothed and bring back Pixie's head.... tomorrow to discuss the contract. Is this agreeable?" The mention of both Pixie and the Iron Maiden had certainly made Viola perk up a little. She had heard tales of the Maiden and it's deeds, how rumours noted that they stole from the nobility, and gave to those who were less than well off. This had caused her to have a begrudging respect for them; sometimes she thought the nobility could do with taking down a peg or two.

"The Iron Maiden huh? Well this certainly got a whole lot more interesting, and this might explain the 'incident' with the trains. I'll tell you now Raphael, Pixie and her Iron Maiden bandits are quite the formidable posse; and if Lord Basilio is smart enough, he's going to have to hire more than one bounty hunter in order to pull this off, I mean I know I'm good, but I am no miracle worker." Viola said as she stood up from the bed, fumbling about with a hand in one of her pockets from a much treasured possession.

It was a circular shaped tin badge, with a star shape cut out in the middle, and engraved on the star, were large letters spelling out 'SHERIFF'. Aside from the revolvers, the badge was one of the few mementos that Viola carried with her of her father, Elijah Graves. Whenever she looked at the badge, it filled her with a feeling of hope and guidance, and knowing that he was with her in spirit.

Viola chuckled slightly to herself as she stared at the badge, then looked at Raphael as she flipped the badge like a coin.

"Mr. Raphael, go tell your employer... that The Gunslinger is coming to town." Viola said with the sound of determination in her voice.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

The Gentleman's expression remained fixed, as hard as marble, when Meredith showed him the ruin underneath her eye-patch. However, a particularly observant soul may have been able to see a twitch, as his jaw muscles clenched a little harder. His smile was back by the time Meredith moved the subject forward to his offer, and when she did The Gentleman slipped his hand inside his coat, and produced a newspaper, rolled up and ties with string. He placed the paper lightly in front of her.

"Today's Feroxi Herald. Read it, and see if you notice anything amiss. I'll give you three guesses, if you like?"

 

[Fappy]

"... Read it, and see if you notice anything amiss. I'll give you three guesses, if you like?"

Pixie rolled her eye and sighed, "You know I ain't got time fer yer games, Gents." She picked up the paper and scanned it for a brief moment: Basilio Wedding to be Held This Weekned. "Well there's a typo in the frontpage headline. And they say journalism's dead." The Gentleman could taste the sarcasm on his lips.

She tossed the paper across her desk towards the Gentleman, "I've gotta a lot of shit on my mind right now. Get to the point."

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

The corner's of The Gentleman's mouth curled upwards, as he shook his head and tutted.

"Ah Meredith, don't tell me that the sight's going in your other eye as well. I might start to worry." he simpered. "Very well, if you're in no mood to play, then simply observe..."

The Gentleman took the newspaper, and rubbed lightly on the headline with his thumb. The ink smudged on the page astonishingly easily, and he held up his now black thumbprint for Meredith to see.

"They just don't make them like they used to, do they? Strange, when you think about how four of the largest carbon mines in the world supply their raw material to the Saatchi Media empire; and yet, every rag under their banner appears to be more cheaply made than ever. The quality of the ink has been getting poorer by the year, I've been testing it myself. So, it leads one to ask, where is all that carbon going?

As I'm sure you're picking up by now, the Saatchi papers have been, for a fair while now, little more than a front for the largest carbon laundering that has ever existed. All it takes is the tiniest fraction skimmed off the top of each delivery, and soon you have a stockpile of raw carbon worth hundreds of millions in the old money. All of it unmarked and completely untraceable. The raw produce is then pressed by some very talented forgers. Other families invest generously in the Saatchi's, and lo and behold, everyone's investments are returned, and them some. If the Saatchi's hadn't started getting greedy, I might never have found them out. What's more, now they've been skimming more and more off their own produce, the secret vaults underneath the Saatchi Central Printing Depot even more well occupied than usual."

The Gentleman leaned a little closer, his eyes alive with an ambition that so rarely overwhelmed his usual calm.

"I can tell you now Meredith, without a drop of dishonesty or hyperbole, that this will be the biggest heist either of us have ever performed in our lives, and we may well never surpass it. Say we split it 60:40. I could retire on a haul like this. I won't, of course, but I could. As for you... you'd have enough to keep The Maiden and it's crew in drink, bullets and engine oil even if work stayed dry for a year and a half, and still have enough left over to give every scrawny urchin from here to Diamond Springs hot suppers for a week.

So, if I were you Meredith, I would start becoming a very generous host indeed to your oldest friend."

 

[Fappy]

"... So, if I were you Meredith, I would start becoming a very generous host indeed to your oldest friend."

Pixie leaned back in her chair and laughed, "Oldest friend?! Friends fer the longest er most elderly, 'cause I ain't gonna argue the latter!" Her eye started to well-up as she laughed. "Let me just go get yer dialysis machine and we can start talkn' numbers, you old, fuckn' coot!"

This olive-branch had gone a long way in setting her mind at ease. What was once a cheap facade had transformed into authentic joy. Once the old man jokes started coming the Gentleman knew he had indeed won her over. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be as simple as he implied and they both knew it.

Pixie wiped the tear from her eye and her laughter faded. She tapped her desk nervously as she thought to herself for a few moments, "60:40's a pretty rough split, Gents." She thought a bit longer and then continued. "Fuck it fer now. We'll talk about that later. I reckon you understand things went to shit today and it's lookn' like we're gonna be spread thin in the comen' weeks. If we're doin' this we're doin' it with a small crew. If that ain't an option we're gonna hafta put it on hold. I---"

Suddenly, someone started slamming on the door, "Captain! Cap-"

Pixie stood up, fire in her eye, "Fuckn' Christ on a cross, Aesop! The fuck'er you screamn' about!?"