NationStates Jolt Archive

An unknown figure walked into a shady bar in Melros, the largest port city in Finara. The man's face was hidden in a cloak and his garb was grey and inconspicuous. He was one anonymous, shadowy figure among many, if he couldn't help but hold his head a little higher, his back a little straighter. His head turned slowly as he surveyed the dimly lit room. Here there was a drunken longshoremen nearly falling out of his chair. There a sailor was boasting of his sexual exploits. It was the kind of place every nation had in its poorer areas, but not the kind a Catholic nation like Finara often boasted about.

The man's gaze finally focused on one figure, John Fisher. The man was a gambler and a gossip. He owed everyone and anything he heard, one could count on every murderer and cut throat in the world knowing within the week, in the galaxy within two. Soon, the shay figure was sitting next to John. "Can I buy you a drink, friend?" the man asked in a rich, refined accent.

"Sure, if ya want." John grunted. John wasn't always the soberest and the most reliable man. It was another good thing about him: Deniability; his words weren't enough to pin anything on anyone.

"Two ales." The stranger said to the tavern keeper. The stranger left his ale almost untouched nursing it, as John gulped his. "Not much been going on of late. There's a new girl down at Marge's, nice legs on that one."

"Charming." The stranger said slowly, taking a sip. "I've heard more about the Fisherman's Inn, in recent days."

John blinked. "That's a nasty place, that. Not many folks'll go down there. And if I'm saying that, that's something."

The man nodded. "Still, I hear there's some a very high profile commission available there for a man with the right skills, or a woman I suppose." The man put a hand to his lips, as though he had just made a horrible mistake. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone talking about that sort of thing." The man rose as though horrified with himself and hurried out the door. Once in the street again, he smirked. This was going as planned.

Stepping through the door to the Fisherman's Inn, the man pulled back his cloak and glances to a younger fellow sitting behind a desk. "The seeds are planted. If any common criminals come asking, give them a few odd murders and robberies around the dock. It'll make petty thugs and the police think there's nothing of serious concern going on. The real proffessionals...well, we shall see."

*Bump*

*bump*

*One more bump, c'mon*

Would an ex-PIRA gunman be wanted in this?

((OOC: Yes. A gunman for hire would do well in this, regardless of background.))

Righty roo, give me a few to get a good story down, and I'll be right in.

Franky walked into the Inn, looking for work. Word had it that this was a good place for a person of his ilk to look. He poked his head through the door first, tehn the rest of his body. He noted the tiny lobby, common for an inn. He tried to look inconspicuous, but taht would be hard to do in a place this empty. He approached the front desk.

"I heard I could find a touch o' work here. Any ideas?" Franky 'The Angel' McGuire asked the man. The weight of the Browing HiPower at the small of his back comforted him. It was his only love, next to good booze.

The man behind the desk looked him over appraisingly for a very long moment. "Back room." He said finally, pointing. He immediately returned to work, or rather to reading a worthless, semi-pornographic novel, pretending not to see the dealings going on.

Franky nodded, and head towards the room. He knocked on the door, sticking his head in. "Aye', looking for work. Told this was the place."

The man inside nods. "Come in." He beckons with a finger. "Simply put, there is a bounty on the head of Carmella Weaver, Princess Belra's captain of the guard: One million coppers for proof of her death, 2 million for an actual corpse, 3 million if she is alive but mortally wounded, 4 million if she is alive but crippled, 5 million for a battered Captain Weaver, and a full 6 million coppers if you bring her to me subdued and restrained but unharmed. This is a bounty, not a contract, so if someone else takes it up and works faster, that's too bad. Miss Carpenter is on diplomatic business as of now. You can wait until she gets back or seek her out." ((Which would require this thread to merge into another one but...nothing wrong with that))

Franky thought about the offer. He felt the wait of the 9mm hand gun, and spoke. "I cant promise anythgin other than death. Where is she now?"

The man frowned a little. "That is the least desireable outcome that is still marginally acceptable. But if that is all you are capable of...then you have been told the deal. I have told you, she is on tour with her liege. They are currently at...Tappee. Perhaps if you were to travel there post haste and hire onto their ship as a hired hand...But I will not tell you how to do your job."

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=83366

((If you want to try something before she gets back...))

"Well, they dont call me the angel for nothin," Franky said, standing and walking out of the room. He hopped a ride to the airport, where Imitora based Regal Air was now operating regular flights, on behalf of John Cohen, and bought a ticket to Tappee.

The man just snorted and watches him go.

The shadowy looks to his assistant. "You know...I really don't think we're going to get more than a corpse if that. But perhaps the boy will have a smarter idea to get more money, or perhaps someone else may yet come along and beat him to it. I would give so much to see a trained hostage taker or kidnapper walk through that door. But...I'm going to have some proper interrogation equipment ordered just in case." He looks at a notice. "Oh, my. This one comes with a free gag. Perhaps if we mailed that to Franky, he might foigure out how to use it and not that silly gun of his."

OOC: would a rogue klingon be welcome?

On the rooftop, a man wearing black is staring through binoculars. Next to him is a sniper rifle...

The man is waiting. Waiting for the opportunity to kill...

((OOC: Yes, a rogue Klingon would be welcome. FCN, on what rooftop? Where? Only the Imitoran guy has actually heard what the job is yet icly.))

kela walked down the street purposfully, eyes alert, wary, seeking out the place were he might find this carmell weaver, only a woman, and hardly a match for him, but money is money, he shifted his batleth to a more comfortable position and strode on

((She's not in Finara now. She's on a trip. You should all come talk to the guy offering the bounty so you can find out ic that there is one, unless the Imitoran guy's been talking. And so he can stress how much happier he'll be and how much more money you'll get if you get her alive, again and again and again and again.))

where is he? i'll head there right away

OOC: His job is to protect the guy...

((The guy doesn't use any foreign security. And he's in the Fisherman's Inn))

OOC: Sorry, wrong thing... My guy is a free-lance assassin. He's just waiting for a call for a new job...

((Ok. There is a rumor out that there is a high profile criminal job available that pays top dollar and to ask at the Fisherman's Inn))

The man's phone rings... He picks it up...

This is Kazansky... A job eh... I'll consider it. Where? The Fisherman's Inn... Okay, I'll check it out. Your US$100,000 will be wired to you...

Kazansky begins to pack up, preparing to go to the Fisherman's Inn...

The man looks up from his work. "The more I think about it, the more nervous I am about what might happen with out foreign relations. I actually think I might have a way to get her back to Finara."

Carmella is now travelling back to Finara aboard a luxury liner with anyone else who wants to be aboard. Though the liner does have security removing any obvious or heavy armaments, especially in numbers.

((The reason the shadowy figuring arranging for her to return wasn't played out is because it reveals information that I want to keep secret or a surprise until later in the plots for Finara, maybe even after this thread entirely.))

Franky sat in his cabin on board the liner, along with 9 very close friends. They had all boarded at seperate times, and to even further the cover, had all overtly met in one of the bars, and gotten to know one another there. Franky had managed to get a gun aboard, after having disected it down to the bare frame, and hiding it in several cary on bags that he and his friends had carried with them.

"Aye, so look, we get more if she's alive. But, if she dies, we still get the money. Our big thing is we need to find a way to get off the ship after we nab her. Any ideas?"

"We could always get in touch with the boss man, see if we could hitch a ride on a passing helo?" one of the men offered up.

"Aye, good idea. Of course, we got to decide wether we let her live or not first. We may not get as much from the Finarians if we off her, but we'll get paid all the same by our other employers," Franky added. He looked around the room, and waited for the answer.

OOC: Are the princess'e movements going to be failry well known about the ship, or will some one needed to be paid off? Also, are their weapons aboard the ship, like rifles and shot guns (I took a cruise once and you could rent rifles and shot guns and stuff to do skeet shooting), and how well will the princess be gaurded. Will some guy with a rifle whose a good shot be able to hit her from a distance, or will the gaurds all be distanced out, and decks be cleared when she's out side? I'm also assuming Franky got a state room style cabin on the tower of the ship, not a bulk room on the side.

((Carmella's not a princess. She's a commoner. No one on board knows who she is or cares what her movements are. But they're not secret. She has no guard by herself but then she is the Princess's usual personal body guard for a reason. She's probably armed, a good hand to hand fighter, alert for barrels and hidden gunmen. Security is not such as would likely prevent you from shooting her if you had a shot she didn't see coming. It is good enough to make sure you didn't get off the ship a free man if you shot her on the deck, in the mess, or some other semi-public area of the ship. Cruise ships aren't set up for snipers. There are also no guns available on board. I'm going to wait a bit for other people to get the assignment from the shadowy man and make a point of getting on the boat before making the first ic post for Carmella, at which point she's fair game.))

OK, thought she was a princess for some reason. So letsee...Ok, I got it. I know how I'll carry it out.

((Probably because she was travelling with a Princess. And as soon as some of your competitors get on the ship, we'll see how it works.))

Kazansky walks into the Fisherman's Inn intent upon finding a new target for his skills both as a bounty hunter and as an assassin...

The clerk looks up at Kazansky and points him towards the back. The man in the back looks up. "I heard you were coming. Don't ask how. I want a woman named Carmella Weaver. 1 million for proof of death, two for a corpse, three for her mortally wounded last words, 4 for a cripple, 5 for the battered and bruised version, six if she's untouched but subdued and restrained. She's coming back to Finara on a cruise ship. You just have time to get yourself a place on it if you hurry."

*Bump*

Mikhail Schiff shuffled down the near-deserted Finaran street, noting his near-invisibility to the few people he passed. Poverty tends to do that for a guy, he thought. Though the rags he wore were merely an affectation, a disguise of sorts, times had been tough. He'd been paid very handsomely (and made front pages all over the world) for the Gilas culture festival bombing, but that was over a year ago now, and money tended to run out quickly for Copiosa Scotia's most wanted man. But if the rumors he'd heard, passed down through the Russian mob and various other contacts, had any truth to them, his luck might be about to change.

He stopped, and searched the building in front of him for some kind of identifying marking. He caught sight of a sign reading, in faded letters, "Fisherman's Inn." Here we are. He stepped inside.

The shadowy figure came out and looked to Mikhail. "Your reputation proceeds you. You are an expert with the bomb. How would you feel about more delicate work? A kidnapping preferably? A murder if absolutely necessary." And then he gives the bounties for various ways of bringing Carmella in, which I'm going to stop repeating every other post.

The shadowy figure looks at the two men. "I have business to attend to.You had best hurry. You'll miss your ship."

The clerk looks up as he comes out. "Sir, word is there's a Klingon in Finara seeking the job."

The shadowy figure nodded. "Make sure he gets the information when he shows up." The clerk nods.

((*Is waiting for at least one nation besides Imitora to make the boat*))

Kazansky accepts the assignment. Walking towards the boat, prepared to start the hunt...

As Kazansky boards, a guard gives him a once over. There's no metal detector and no body search, but any large weapon would be spotted.

OOC: Kazansky has a bag with disassembled weapons in it, including a sniper rifle and a RPG launcher...

IC: Kazansky walks past the guard. He knew that he needed more practice. Hmm... This guard is just perfect.

After going to his room and putting his stuff away, Kazansky walks behind the guard and hits the guard in several pressure points...

*Note* The Guy should be immobilized and unconsciousness now...

When Kazansky just knocks out a guard from behind on the middle of the deck, several passengers wandering about start screaming in fear. A few other rush towards Kazansky, yelling for him to stop. Within moments, the entire crew security compliment of 12 guards is on the deck, pistols drawn and pointed at Kazansky. "Please come with us to the brig, sir." Meanwhile, Kazxansky's quarters are searched. A guard comes out with the bag full of weapons after a minute, holding them up to the other guards. "Jesus..." One of the men says. "From now on, search each incoming passenger thoroughly for guns."

Kazansky instead of responding takes out an oxygen rebreather and jumps over the side of the boat and into the water...

OOC: Kazansky is just a rich guy with too much time on his hands, so he's become a bounty hunter... He's hidden under the dock a large miniature submarine, a Hammerhead Class Submarine...

The guards open fire immediately, with the reflexes of thoroughly trained men. After the wounded and unconscious body hits the water, it's pulled out with nets and haul the body to the a cell in the brig, which is then locked. All the other arrivals are thoroughly searched for weapons, though Carmella and Franky got around this by arriving before the incident.

*Last bump, ship takes off with whoever's aboard next post*

Carmella grins to herself as she stands near her door. She's basically alone, with many other people in sight but none actually talking to her, but obviously very excited about something. She's dressed casually in red shorts, sneakers, and a white t-shirt. She frowns a little and turns towards the commotion. Then she shrugs and pulls her key out, unlocking her door.

Meanwhile, the guard standing by the dock yells. "Last call! All aboard!"

Schiff nodded. He had no idea at all how he was going to pull this off, but he knew better than to turn down a shot at a cool six million. Still, I don't know if I can even get one million out of this deal. Proof of death isn't really my thing, unless he's willing to accept front-page news as proof.

He checked his watch. He swore. And he ran.

He didn't stop running until he came to the dock. And mercifully, the ship was still there, a few late arrivals walking up the ramp, dressed in the standard tourist garb...

Tourist clothes. Blast. He shook his head. What I almost did. Ducking into the alley, he shed his rags for the gaudy Hawaiian shirt and board shorts in his backpack. He discarded his Beretta 9mm and detonators, keeping only the silencer, a few changes of clothes, a toolkit, and a survival knife, ceramic-blade so as to greatly lessen the chances of detection. The handgun was no great loss; he was capable of using it, but not a great shot by any stretch of the imagination.

Satisfied, he donned a pair of cheap sunglasses and approached the ramp.

(OOC Note: Schiff is no amateur. The knife, silencer, and toolkit are all wrapped up inside articles of clothing inside the backpack, and it would require a very close search to uncover them.

And don't worry, I don't actually intend to just blow up the boat.)

The guard goes through Schiff's things fairly thoroughly. He opens the backpack and runs his hand through it. There is one scary moment where he paused while his hand is on the bundle of clothes containing the knife but he shifts it aside without unwrapping it. After awhile, he hands the bag back. "Sorry about that, sir. But we had an attack here earlier and you can't be too careful."

Meanwhile, down the deck, Carmella tried to balance all her bags as she opens her door. She holds it open with one shoulder, a bag hung over both of them and also holding a large green bag in each hand. She groans faintly and then hops slightly, grinning as she heads in, the door hanging open for a moment.

A guard puts the rope down and the ship launches from the port. Though a man who ran might still have a few seconds to jump for it.

Meanwhile, Carmella threw her bags down and walked back to the door. She shut it and turned the lock. She pulled a tiny blade from her sock and laid it on the dresser by the bed. Then, as she undressed for bed, she took a tiny pistol from a very secretive hiding place and laid it under her pillow. She took of her sneakers and shorts and went to bed in bra, panties, socks, and t-shirt, falling into a fairly deep sleep in no time at all.

Carmella woke up the next morning, yawning. She went into the bathroom, took a shower, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. After she was dry, she slid into a black leather skirt, white t-shirt and sneakers, hiding the pistol under her bra and her blade in her sock. She looked about, pondering what to do during the day.

*Bump*

((Is the Klingon Empire still here?))

Possible to have her tailed once she gets out in the hallway? Also, what happened to all the weapons of that one guy? Any way to get to them?

((You can tail her. She may or may not notice, depending on what kind of precuations you take. And the weapons are in the guards headquarters area. It would theoretically be possible but it would be trickier to get them than it would be to get her without them, probably.))

Carmella stepped out into the hall. She looked around briefly at the odd other tourist passing by before heading for the breakfast mess with a friendly smile to all she passed.

Sit alone at breakfast?

((She isn't there yet. I thought you were going to try and trail her in the halls to know she was at breakfast at all?))

Finally arriving at the mess, she gets a tray and a plate and heads over to the buffet. She grins, deeply inhaling the scent of fresh food. She puts eggs and sausage on her tray and a cup of coffee. Then she heads over to a table for two, by herself, grabbing a paper. She reads quietly as she eats, focusing on a picture of the imperial family, seeming distracted.

OOC: I was. Im on the phone now so ill answer in a bit

Carmella smiles faintly to herself, flipping the pages of the paper. She eats her eggs quickly but frowns faintly after taking a bite of sausage. She sighs and gulps down the whole thing.

OOC: Slow down damnit... :lol:

((Well she didn't change locations. She's just eating.))

Two doctors walk towards the brig of the ship, one of them Kazansky's psychiarist. They are stopped by the guards at the brig.

Kazansky's psychiarist shows his license, "My name is Dr. Redman Toal... I'm Mr. Kazansky's psychiarist... He hasn't been right of mind since he was hit by falling debris from a terrorist attack. If he has done anything stupid, I have orders from his family to pay compensation. This is Dr. Edward Burnstei, he is here to treat Mr. Kazansky's wounds..."

The guard nods. "Of course, doctors." He unlocks the door of Kazansky's cell to let them in.

Both doctors rush into the cell. Dr. Burnstei begins to examine Kazansky's wounds.

"Hm... Five gunshot wounds... Luckly he was wearing this body armor or he would have been hurt more... He's pretty badly hurt... We need to perform surgery to get the bullets out or he's gonna die from an infection."

The guard hesitates, then nods. "You can take him to the med bay. I guess he can't do much harm in his present state." The med bay contains a table and surgical equipment where they can indeed do surgery. The equipment is already laid out for them on a tray. The lab is fully equipped with all typed of other medical supplies. The most notable for our diabolical kidnapper might be medical bandages, washclothes, ether, masks, and some discarded cord in which some of the supplies came wrapped.

A clean cut man, with closed trimed brown hair, and a well built frame, hadfollowed Carmella, basing a face he found off a picture they had managed to procure. He trailed her, rather discreetly, into the mess hall. After all, who would notice someone just going to breakfast. He grabbed some food, and approached her table. "Miss, mind if I sit here?" he asked in his thick Irish accent.

Carmella blinks a couple times, setting her newspaper down. She crossed her legs and looked up with a faint smile. "Be my guest. I was just having breakfast. They have some pretty good food here, well, except the sausage, but hey, whatever. I love these eggs!"

"Aye thank ya," he replied, sitting. He offerd her a smile, and nodded about the food. "Thats what I hear. Of course, its hard to mess up eggs," he joked. He extended a hand in greeting. "Ryan McMurry, pleased to meet ya."

Carmella extends a hand to him, palm down, with a light giggle. "Heya, Ryan! So whatever brings you to the mess hall all by yourself on a happy, snuggly cruise like this?" She keeps eating and glances around, eyes sparkling with good humor.

He accepted her hand, and kissed the top of it gently, before letting go. "Aye, its in my blood. We Irish folks normally arent far to welcome in the upper calss areas of ships, historiclly speaking."

Carmella blushes a little, pulling her hand back. "Really? Why not? I think the accents really neat. I thought all that stuff stopped a long time ago."

He smiled. "Aye, the accent is the first thing that gets the girls," he said, smiling and winking. "I guess I do it to honor me ancestors, in the name of the family and all," he concluded.

She giggles a little. "I'm not really looking to get gotten. I just think it's neat." She finishes up her breakfast and stands. "What is there to do around here anyway?"

Ryan winked. "Its all good an well. I'm not quite sure what to tell ya though. Never been on a cruise before, so I cant tell ya."

Carmella shrugs. "Cool. Well, see you around." She steps out of the mess hall and walks back down the hall towards her cabin.

"Right then," he said, smiling as she left. He pulled out his cell phone, and called a number.

"Aye its Ryan. Hows mom? Good good. Ok. Just a touch of breakfast. Right then, see ya around."
____

Waiting outside the mess hall, Franky leaned against a wall, dressed cassually in a rugby shirt and khaki cargo shorts. He watched Carmella walk by, and waitign to give her enough of a head start, he walked, following her through the halls.

Carmella sashays down the hall, her skirt swaying a little around her thighs. She stops outside her door and fumbles for her keys before heading into her room. Immediately, without closing the door, she walks over to pick up a brochure on the cruise's activities, flipping through it.

OOC: Damn, I was gonna off her in the hall...What is teh gaurd like around her room? Say two guys go in and jump her, what are their chances of subdueing her?

((Her room isn't directly guarded, of course. There's just guards for the ship in general. No one who shot someone in the hallway could get away a free man. No guard is going to notice whether someone walking into an open door is invited or not unless there's a scream. And they might well if they used decent tactics. We'll see how it plays out ic.))

OOC: Last question, her back to the door?

((Yes))

Ryan slipped quickly in the room, follwoed by one of his freinds. He leveled the gun on Carmella's head, and the other man pulled out a small piece of wood, driving down towards teh back of Carmella's head.

OOC: To knock her out, and they are moving quietly, as to not be heard.

As the men were trained well to be quiet, Carmella hardly heard them at first. As the man swung the sap at her head, she caught a glimmer of it and managed the beginnings of a dodge. She didn't actually get out of the wood's way and was knocked hard to the ground with a groan of pain, dazed, though not quite unconscious. Bemusedly, she started to push herself up, looking about, trying to piece together what happened.

The sap came down hard towards her head again, and by then, Franky had shut the door, and was walking over, gun back behind his back, looking down towards her.

The sap was brought down again just as she peeked up, slamming into her forehead painfully. Carmella falls down onto her back and meekly rubs her injured head. She starts to reach under her shirt for her gun before getting a sane assesment of the odds. Meekly she says. "It seems I'm at your mercy. What is this?"

The other man, who would soon be known as Johnny, kicked her one, hard in the ribs, and pined her, sticking his knee to her throat. Franky walked forward, and looked down at her. "Let her up," said, and Johnny complied, pulling his knee back. "Take of your shirt," he commanded her.

Carmella groans as she's kicked and gasps her throat pressed down by a knee. She was just getting ready to risk it all and strike at him, her fist already balled up, when he let her up. Carmella sat up slowly. "You have me hurt and outnumbered but.." She hesitates, scared by the situation. "...I could still yell loud enough someone heard it before you killed me. You don't have all the cards. I need an assurance you're not going to rape me before anything comes off."

"Because I'm Catholic, and I dont get paid to rape. Now take of your shirt," he said, in a cold, serious tone.

She frowns but nods, apparently accepting that. She slides the shirt over her head and tosses it aside. The barrel of a tiny, specialized pistol is clearly visible protruding from her cleavage, held in place by a white cotton sports bra. She keeps her hands in sight and away from the gun, raising them slowly over her head.

Franky nodded, and as Johnny appraoched Carmella, he withdrew the pistol he had been keeping, and slid a silencer over the barrel.

Carmella blinks slowly, breathing heavily with panic a moment. Then she realizes that if he wanted to just shoot her, he could have done it already with much less trouble. Stuttering faintly, she says. "Let me guess. Hand you the gun, very slowly, barrel first, and if I even think about trying to use it, I'll be dead before I can move a finger?"

"Hardly," Franky said. before she could repsond, Johnny reached down, and snatched teh barrel of the pistol, ripping it out from behind the bra, pulling the cloth with it.

Blinks once. Steadies her breasts for decency's sake without asking permission before putting her hands in the air again. Now more scared and trembling a little visual. "Alright...Well...Whatever it is, I'll co-operate, alright?"

"Go to sleep," was all Franky said. Johnny pulled back, and brought the sap down on the back of Carmella's head one last time.

This time she collapses, unconscious, her arms sprawling out, face down on the carpetted floor.

Franky nodded, and appraoched Carmella, placing a gag he had recieved in the mail over her mouth, and using a roll of duct tape to bind her ankles and wrists together. He pulled out a cell phone, and called Ryan, who came within moments with a large duffle bag. With a bit of effort, they stuffed her in the bag, and hid the bag. She would be sore as hell when she finally did come to, but by then, it wouldnt matter. Franky laid back on the bed, and sighed happily.

"Job well done boyos," he said. "Job well done."

Carmella is out for about eight hours. After that time, she starts to wriggles and squirm wildly in the duffle bag, with scoots about a little on the floor. "Mmmpphhggg..." Can be heard very faintly, through her gag. The cruise docks in 48 more hours.

*Bump*

Would respond, but busy tonight, so I cant deal with this.

*Bump*

*Bump for the others who've been away to catch up*

*Last bump*

A foot crashed into Carmella's side through the duffle, followed by three more. Soon, Carmella could feel the duffle come of teh floor, and and dropped on what must have been a bed as the bag bounced. A few clicks could be heard, and the bag opened slightly Franky and another man Carmella reckonized as Ryan looked down on her, before a needle was pressed into her arm. THey didnt know if it would keep her out for a full 48 hours, but it would last long enough. They zipped the bag shut, and locked the zipper, sliding it back into its original hiding place.

Soft grunts are all that can be heard of Carmella screams of pain through the gag and the duffle bag at the sharp kick. She looks up pleadingly and mews as they open the bag, passing out with the injection. It keeps her out for 24 hours at which point there is a faint, weak stirring as she suffers from severe dehydration. ((You do need to water her to keep her alive. be pretty ironic to go to all that trouble to take her alive and then have her die on you anyway.))

Some hours earlier...

Schiff heard a commotion down the hall as he stepped out of his cabin on the way to... Breakfast? Lunch? Damn time zones. His head came up sharply. Whether by design or coincidence, his cabin had turned out to be just around the corner from Carmella's. Maybe it's just the universe's way of making up for my incompetence in such matters, he thought grimly.

Turning the corner, he saw two men carrying a duffle bag. Probably just having some trouble lugging the thing around, he thought. Still, he stayed out of sight. By now, he'd heard about the man who'd been arrested while they were in port, and knew that there were most likely others who'd taken the same job he had. People who know this better than me.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that his best bet was to get in contact with one of them, and arrange to split the cash.

In desperation, Carmella strives to reach the blade in her sock, hoping to get free and get the water she needs to survive. Between her condition, the bag, and her bonds, however, she stands no hope. Her breasts and upper body chafe at rubbing against the inside of the bag as it bends only the slightest bit, every muscle in her body aching and every orifice dry, her eyes shot and wide open painfully.

"So, we gonna feed her or what?" Ryan asked. He knew he wouldn't mind a little bit of a romp with the girl, she had a good body, most obviously her breasts, and he had gone a few days without fun.

"Ya really think she needs it?" Franky asked, sitting back in a chair, thining back to the silenced pistol. He may be Irish, and have the Irish brotherhood, but he needed to feed his family. "Fine."

Ryan pulled a bottle of water out of a small refridgerator, and opened the top. He pulled the bag, with the very week Carmella, out of its spot and undid teh lock, pulling the ziper open. He looked down at her, and pourd the bottle of water over her. He pulled out another bottle, pulled the gag out slightly, and pressed the opening up to her mouth. "Drink," he said.

Carmella peeks up, looking at Ryan with betrayal in her bloodshot eyes. She makes a soft noise as water is poured over her, causing her tiny skirt to cling to her body, which probably doesn't do anything to reduce Ryan's impure thoughts. When the gag is pulled out but left fashioned around her neck, she immediately asks. "Why?" Then she is silenced again by the water bottle, which she gulps from greedily for as long as she's allowed, her sore body wriggling slightly, partly as a side effect of her intense drinking, partly to try to stretch her sore body slightly in the somewhat looser confines of the openned bag.

With the bottle emptied, he grabed another bottle, and stuck a straw into the bottle. Using a pocket knife to poke a hole in the cap, he screwed it on, andmade sure no water would spill between the cap and the straw. He stuck it in the bag, and placed teh straw in her mouth, and the gag over it. He eyed her over on more tiome, and proceded to zip teh bag closed. Before totaly closing it, he looked down at her. "Money," he said in his thick accent, then zipped it close, and locked the bag shut.

Carmella whimpers faintly and then begins to suck through the straw slowly. After awhile, she tries to use the leverage provided by the straw to work the gag loose. The way the gag is, she could manage it in eight hours, if nothing happens to prevent her in the meantime.

OOC: I doubt anythgin would, unless she starts making lotsa noise

Then eight hours later, with 16 left until the dock, she says loudly enough to be heard by her abductors but not loudly enough to be heard outside the cabin, since she doesn't want to get herself killed. "Please let me talk to you for just ten minutes. Then I'll even tell you how to gag me so that I can't get it out. I am a professional you know. I promise to be quiet. Just talk to me a moment. I could have screamed if I was going to."

Ryan looked at Franky, and shrugged. Franky nodded, and the one known as Johnny pulled out the duffle out. They pulled her out of the bag, and let her sit on the bed.

"Ya scream, ya die," Franky said quietly from behind her. He had the silenced pistol out, and centered on her back. "Ya move, ya die," he continued. She wasn't moving anywhere anytime fast, her ankles and wrists were ducked taped together, at both ankles and wrists. "Now talk."

Carmella let herself be sat on the bed, not resisting. She didn't really try to move but she did roll her muscles out, trying to release them. "How much are they paying you? I can get you more. I promise."

OOC: How much if she's brought back alive but bruised?

((5 million. It's basically a 1 million difference at each level of injury between fine and not even a corpse left))

"20 mil for your corpse, 25 for you battered and beaten, and 30 for you alive and untouched," Franky said. "Right now it looks like Im hittin the 25, a nice split. This is a new thing for us. We were gonna spray you down with 7.62 NATO from an M60. We actually got you alive. No how much are ya gonna pay me?"

Having no way to detect the lie, she just blinks. "25 million? No one could..." She sighs. "I think I could get you thirty. It's not a promise though. And I don't think they can really get you anything. My assassination isn't of enough political benefit to be worth 20 million to anyone. I think you're dealing with the kind of men who'll shoot you instead of pay you." She pauses. "Even if you don't go for it, could I travel more comfortably. I'm not seriously hurt and I think I'd be in maximum condition if you treated me decently the rest of the trip."

"I think I can deal with 25. Its a good cut for me and my boys. Consider yourself lucky to be alive. We could have had you dead a long time ago. Now back to sleep with ya." AS he finished, one of his men walked up, and injected teh needle with a sleeping chemical in it into her.

Her eyes widen slightly and she gasps a little at his words. "Wait. You said...And then I'll..." Her eyes flutter shut and she falls back on the bed, ankles and wrists bound with duct tape, topless, in a very wet black short skirt, socks, and sneakers. With her socks wet, the outline of the blade is probably visible.

"Bingo," Ryan said, looking at her socks. "looks like she tried to pull a fast one on us," he finished. He pulled the knife out and studied it. He used this as an excuse to pull her skirt and panties off, thinking other weapons could be hidden there. He looked her now naked body over, and forced himself to not smile.

No other weapons apparent. She is very attractive, though for reasons of appropriateness, no vivid descriptions of the newly revealed body, despite the warning in the topic label. She lies there, unconscious, taped, her mouth hanging open, drooling slightly, wearing only socks and sneakers.

Ryan looked over the body once more, and pulled the sneakers and socks off. With a little more effort, the pushed her in the bag, btu at the request of Franky, they tried to put her in a comfortable position. THe bag was zipped shut after more of the grey tape had been placed over her mouth, and the zippers locked.

She doesn't stir the rest of the trip. An announcement can be heard coming over the intercom. "We are now docked in Draconis Port. We shall remain in dock for the next eight hours. New passengers will come aboard in four. If you need assistance with your luggage, please ask one of our staff. Thank you for travelling Ocean Cruise."

OOC: How can one join this?

OOC: Baggage check? Will they look through the duffle? Chances of getting passed the gaurds.

((One can have a criminal from one's country after the contract. A little late but still possible. or a civilian on board who finds themself in an odd situation. As for getting past the guard, you saw what the guard was like coming in. Make an ic guess to their thoroughness))

OOC: Gotcha.

IC:

Franky looked around. "Aye this is gonna be a nudge tough thanks to the f*ck who tried to bring a feckin rocket launcher. We nned to find a way to get her out of here." He looked around, then grabbed a phone. He ordered a good sized meal from room service, one that would require them to bring a food cart in.

In fairly short order, a server knocks on the door. "Room service." When he's let in, he looks about. "We don't usually get orders this late in the trip." He stands there a moment, obviously expecting a tip, the large meal sitting there under tin on the cart.

Johnny quietly closed the door, and in a quick move, a man came out of the bathroom. He was rather large, yet suprisingly agile, and slid up behind hte room service man, cupping his hand over his mouth, and giving it a hard twist. THe 'pop' of the neck snapping was quiet, yet still audible in the room, and the body was brought into the bathroom, disposed of in the tub. He was stripped bare, and Ryan quickly pulled on his clothes. Franky tossed his pistol into a wastebasket, and stuck it in a side pocket in the duffle. Another shot, this time a lighter dossage, was injected into Carmella's arm as to ensure a sound sleep, and the bag was again closed and locked. IT was slid onto the cart, the table cloth drapped over teh edge. The handles of the bag (it doesnt have a shoulder strap) were taped securly to the top of the food cart, so that they wouldnt fall out the side. teh food was then torn up by the men, to make it look like it had been eaten, and the tops replaced. Ryan pushed the cart out of the room less than an hour later, and soon the other three men left.

OOC:

Before I continue, what are the chances of sneaking the foor cart off teh ship? Liek say it was going off ship to get it fixed or switched to another ship, or other wise just taken off the ship unchekced?

((Fairly decent)) The room service man is easy enough killed. He's hardly prepared for this sort of thing. Carmella remains unmoving in her duffle bag. The deck is full of passengers disembarking. A few are being pulled aside and checked but not that thoroughly. It's easier to get off public transit than on.

Ok then...

With a slight bit of dificulty and a hint of lying, Ryan managed to get the cart off the ship, saying it was being transported to another ship for use. He rolled the cart down teh gang plank, and into a back alley, where he discarded the table, and pulled of the overshirt, revelaing him in a 'ITech Football' tshirt and the black slacks he had been wearing as the waiter. He lifted teh duffle easily, and strode with purpose to a pre determined meeting spot. When there, he tossed the duffle in the back of a black Ford Explorer (assuming this isnt in Fiara, but a port of call in a nuetral nation), and drove away from teh ship forever.

((It is Finara but it's a port, which means lots of foreigners, which means a car or other modern tech wouldn't raise too many eyebrows.))

Carmella makes the very faintest of stirrings as she sits in her duffle in the back of the Explorer, still unconscious. It's more than a day's drive to the Fisherman's Inn.

OOC: Any chance of a private airfield near by, or any other deserted area that a bush pilot could land a small plane in without to much concern?

(9Not really. There's bushfields, but simply seeing a plane overhead at all will raise eyebrows. You can risk it if you want but driving would be safer.))

The men drove. They had plenty of gas to make the trip, and therfore wouldnt need to stop. One of the men stayed in the back with Carmella, and everytime she made a noise, he would kick or other wise beat her. Franky drove the first leg, with Ryan getting ready to take the second leg.

Carmella makes a faint mewing sound when she comes to. She groans when she's kicked. She shuts up when struck again. An hour or so later, she makes a faint, pleading whimper. When struck again, she quiets for the rest of Franky's leg.

After a day of driving, Franky slowly pulled of the road, and he and Ryan changed seats. THe bag was opened slightly, and the piece of tape removed from Carmella's mouth. "Want anythgin?" Johnny asked, looking down at her.

Carmella moans softly as the tape is pulled free."Food..." She says meekly but expectantly. "...and clothes." In a desperate, futile tone, as if she had to ask for the sake of her self-respect but didn't really expect to receive them.

The man looked down at her, and reached voer the bag to a cooler, pulling out a sandwich and a small bottle of Guiness. He unwrapped the sandwich, and held a piece out to her.

"Aye, hurry up and feed her, we still gots a ways to go now," Ryan said, slinding into the driver's seat.

Carmella arches her neck up, taking and eating the sandwich, talking with her mouth full. "I don't see why you have to hurry up and get me back in the bag. You're driving through empty countryside in a dark van."

"Eyes are everywhere," the man said. He helped her finish the sandwich, feeding it to her quickly, then pushed her back into the bag, zipping it up. He closed the back, making sure the child lock was on, and slid into the row of seats in the middle of the Explorer. He took a sip of the ice cold beer, and smiled. "Guiness, do the body good."

She tries to mumble into the sandwich a little more as it's fed to her to fast and then gets zipped up. She smiles slightly, realizing he forgot to resecure her mouth. "At least there's no way they can hear into your van."

The Explorer pulled back out on to the road, and headed off towards teh Fisherman's Inn. It wouldnt be to long before they got there. And the Irish men got their money.

Carmella starts to wriggle uncomfortably in her bag, thinking about what's coming. "Do you have any idea what's going to happen to me?"

"Dunno," one of the men answerd. "Not our concern," he concluded.

Carmella sighed. "I guess it's not. But you could at least give me some clothes and hide me under a blanket or something. This really hurts. And me being naked when I get handed over is likely to inspire them to things they wouldn't do otherwise."

Franky looked into the back. He was tired, and didnt want to deal with this right now. "Fine," he mutterd. One of the men reachd under a seat, and pulled out a small messenger bag. He pulled some clothes from it, and tossed them into the bag, closing it back up, making sure the lock was secure.

For about an hour, the bag simply squirms around as Carmella struggles to get some semblance of decency on while bound as she is and confined within the bag.

((What kind of clothes?))

Rugby shirt and kahki pants.

Carmella wriggles in her duffle bag prison, trying to find some way to get the clothes on. For awhile she has the tips of both ankles in one leg of the pants. The closest she manages, after a full hour, is to manuever her legs into the shirt up to her knees. She says to the men, who've probably forgotten their amusing way of dealing with her clothing request by now. "I can't get these on bound."

The sun had started to rise, and Ryan, tired of hearing her talk, nodded to the men in the back. The pulled off in a deserted area, and pulled out the duffle. It was opened, and as she was dumped out, she noticed three of the five men standing in front of her, all armed heavily.

Carmella grunts as she hit the ground, rolling over and managing to rise to her knees, wobbling a little. The clothes fall out with her. She looks with fear at the three guns levelled at her with wide eyes, swallowing and saying nothing at first.

The men wern't armed with Imitora based weapons. Instead, tehy were amred with general automatic weapons. An AK-74, an MP5, and a Mac-11. The two submachine guns were silenced, and Franky held a Colt M4 leveled at her head. One of the men, teh one with teh AK, appraoched her, walked behind her, and cut teh tape. "Get dressed," he said gruffly.

Carmella nods meekly and quickly puts on the rugby shirt and the khaki pants. "Thank you, sir."

"Aye, he said, before forcing her back down on her knees. They tapped her ankles and wrists back together, but didnt tape teh wrists to the ankles. They tossed her in teh back of the truck, and threw some heavy blankets over her. They ordered her to be quiet, and tossed two more sandwhices to her. They made sure to tape her wrists in front of her so she would have the basic ability to manipulate tha sandwich.

"Thank you." She says, not resisting. Under her blankets, she quietly eats her sandwiches and then lies quietly, fidgeting every now and again to savoid getting sore from being in one position, not talking for at least a few more hours.

Franky had slept off the effects of the near 24 hour drive, and was now looking at a map. "Few hours out. Stop here." The Explorer stopped, and Franly walked around to the back, pulling the blankets off Carmella. "How much can you get us if we let you go?" he asked, looking down at her.

Carmella looked back up with a little bit of tentative relief in her blue eyes. "Possibly as high as 30 million. I can guarantee ten."

"I need a gaurentee that beats 25 million," he said, looking down at her. His hand rested behind his back, on the handle of teh silenced pistol.

She shakes her head. "I can't give you that." Still a little confused that anyone would offer so much. Of course, in reality, the shadowy figure had never offerred more than six million for any possible outcome but she doesn't know that.

Aboard the ship, Kazansky has just died... The two doctors saddened disembark with the body intent upon returning to the city of Thungara to bury Kazansky...

(OOC: If there's still time...)

Blast, thought Mikhail Schiff as he disembarked. Carmella had disappeared shortly after the voyage began, and all his efforts to locate her had failed miserably. As he saw it, he had two choices now. He could call it quits, cut his losses, and find himself a new job, or catch the next flight back to Melros, stake out the Fisherman's Inn, and take whatever small chance he had left at hijacking the mark. With a much better chance of getting myself shot in the process. He shook his head.

Then it hit him. There was a third choice. I'll inform. Take it to the authorities. Pocket a significant reward. He grinned. Whoever beat me to the mark is going to find out what it's like to play with a sore loser.

------------------------------------

Six hours after disembarking in Draconis Port, Schiff was on a pay phone in downtown Melros.

"Hello, Melros Police Department? I intend to remain anonymous, so I'll be brief. I've got a tip for you on your missing captain of the guard, and I expect to be suitably compensated for my time and effort."

((Nope. Go ahead and post your informing.))

(OOC: Edited. Feel free to make me change it if six hours is too short for Schiff to have caught a flight.)

"Sorry tehn," Franky said, pulling the blankets back over her, and closing the back door. HE walked around to the front of the Explorer, slid into the passengers seat, and told Ryan to continue. They were less than two hours from the Fisherman's Inn.

"I'll do anything you ask." Carmella begs meekly from under the blanket. "They're probably going to kill me."

((There's not an airport or a plane or any payphones in Melros or a phone at the police department, which is called the Constabulry))

"I'll do anything you ask." Carmella begs meekly from under the blanket. "They're probably going to kill me."

((There's not an airport or a plane or any payphones in Melros or a phone at the police department, which is called the Constabulry))

(OOC: Well. Is there any way Mikhail can get a message ahead? Or any way he can get there quicker than the PIRA guys? Because otherwise I guess I'm screwed.)

((No. But you can turn the shadowy figure in without beating Imitora there. He isn't carting her off as soon as he gets her))

They pulled up to the Fisherman's Inn, and Franky looked over at Ryan. Carmella could hear murmers from the men, and the sound of two doors opening. However, after the doors closed, the rear door never opend. She head another door open, and somethign was pulled out of the car, and the words, "Aye, God be with ya," were spoken from someone. If Carmella listened carefully, she would be able to hear the sound of automatic weapons being loaded.
_____

Franky walked in and nodded at the desk clerk before walking into the back room. He looked at the 'shadowy figure, and nodded. "She's no more worse for wear, but alive. Just want to kow what ya gonna do to her before we hand her over. Want to make sure we didn't just go through the trouble to keep her alive just so ye can kill her."

The shadowy figure shrugged. "I intend to use her for political purposes, torture her for information, and then give her what she deserved, all in the service of God. Don't tell me you've grown attached to the little creature? You practically balked when I first asked you not to use lethal force."

"Well, with a body like her's its not hard," Ryan said. He looked around the office and then to Franky.

"We want more money. You cant split 6 mil easily. Not between six people. We want 30 mil. Cash, of course."

OOC: How many people are there armed at the Inn?

(OOC: Alright. Previous trip to Melros retconned due to obvious impossibility - I doubt anyone will object.)

Mikhail Schiff staggered up the steps of the Melros Constabulary, worn out from 24 hours of driving and only four hours of sleep. Unkempt, unshaven, and wearing his sunglasses once again, it was unlikely that anyone would recognize him, assuming the Melros police force had even heard of him.

Pulling the door open, he walked up to the front desk. "I'll get straight to the point. I have information regarding the kidnapping of your captain of the guard. It's probably too late for you to catch the perpetrators, but I know where they'll take her, and you can still rescue her."

The shadowy figure stares at Franky levelly for a long moment. He raps loudly on his desk and about six men with crossbows levelled pour from a back room, holding them steady. He stands. "I thought you were professionals. You should know it doesn't work like that. Even if I had that much money to give you, which, I, as any idiot could assume, don't, I wouldn't just change my price because you demanded it. If you should ever actually want the bounty, you know how to get in touch with me." With that he turns and leaves the room, covered by the crossbowmen.

Meanwhile, the constable at the desk blinked slowly at Mikhail. "Our captain of the guard? I don't know who you're talking about. Captain Miller is in the back room."

Meanwhile, Carmella pulls her taped wrists up to her mouth and begins trying to chew through the tape.

It took Franky everythign he had to keep from laughing. He turned, and raised his hands. "Alright boyos, you win, games up I guess."

Ryan, in a similar hand raising motion came up, this time with the Mac 11 submachine gun. He sprayed at the men, the loud clatter of the .45 ACP bullets slamming into them. Franky dove behind the desk, and came up with the silenced Browing. He fired, the soft 'Pink" noise all that could be heard as he put a round towards every man's head. He took of outside, reloading the handgun, chassing after the man.

In the Explorer, a man reached over to the back to find Carmella chewing through the tape. He pulled out the roll of duct tape, and put a piece over her mouth, then reached to the cas that her head had been resting on. He opened it, and pulled out the M249. He reached under the front seat, and pulled out the 200 round box of 5.56mm ammunition. He opened up the door, and the other two in the back seat did so as well, each exiting the vehicle well armed, with an AK 74 and MP5/10 respectivly. They walked into the Inn, looking for a target. The man that had been at the front desk (assuming he is still there) was the first to go, taking a burst of 10mm hollowpoint rounds at close range.

The man who vanished out the back door is nowhere to be found. The crossbowmen all shoot a well aimed bolt off before the guns are coked and they're mowed down.

Several hours later, the shadowy figure walked into a hidden building many miles away. "That, I simply have trouble believing. I thought I was hiring professionals and they simply refused to accept the promised payment with no grounds of any sort, asked for more money than I could ever conceivably give them, and then launched an unprovoked arm attack on my men." He snorts. "Petty imbeciles. In addition to not getting the promised payment, spread word of this. It's unlikely they'll get any work in the underworld after this and the live of such untrustworthy figures will doubtless be short."


((*Blinks* That I just...don't get.))

OOC: give me thirty, I'm workin on a new RP, and its kinda big...

Ryan pulled two of the bolts out of his arm. "Christ that hurts," he swore, looking at his blood stained jacket. He walked intot he lobby, where a good few people lay dead, victims of the 5.56mm SAW. "Right, Franky's probably back at the truck, lets go."

The group headed back out to the truck, where Franky indeed was waiting. "Right, lets hurry boyos, take our leave and all." He gunned the engine and the Explorer took off. He pulled out a cell phone, and dialed the number '1'. "Scically, this is Belfast, request evac now. All went to shit, trace line." He hung up, and continued driving. Sorry boys. It was a pleasure and all, but I need to feed my family some how, he thought. He pulled off the road, and before any of the other men in the car could repond, he turned and shot them all. Carmella was able to hear the mixed 'pfft/ping' sound of the silenced hadgun.

Carmella simply mews in panic, peeking her head slightly out from under the blankets to try and figure out what's going on.

Franky (who, if I havent mentioned, looks like a young brad pitt) walked around to the back of the explorer, and threw open the door, pulling Carmella out. He pulled a knife, and with great ease, cut the tape off her hands and wrists. He looked at her, his gun ready. "If I pull the tape off your mouth, ya promise not to scream?"

Carmella nods firmly, stretching her newly freed hands.

He pulled teh tape of her mouth, then stepped back. "Who would want you kidnaped or offed in your government?" he demanded.

Carmella looks around briefly and bends to start removing the duct tape from her legs as well. "Probably High Lord Angelo. What happened in there?" She tosses her raven hair slightly, forcing a slight, coy smile.

"More money if I bring you back alive. Thats all. Now, why would this guy want you dead or kidnapped?" he looked around, and decided to pull somethign with a bit more power out of the car, more specifically, the M249.

((Ok. Now I get it.))

Carmella finishes untaping her legs and then puts her hands in the air. "Partially as an example to warn others away from 'sin'. Partially as a hostage to force the hand of Princess Belra with."

Franky was curious, but right now wasn't the best time to learn more about Finarian politics. He had recieved his instructions, and was to find a place where he could get the girl out alive to Finarian officials without having to resort to the near armory in the Explorer. "Get in the car," he ordered. "We'll figure this one out in a bit."

OOC: Off to bed. Intresting thought->Maybe the other guy from Copiosa Scotia could run into our duo and try to rescue/take Carmella?

"Yes, sir." Carmella says with a genuine smile, climbing into the passenger seat.

Mikhael inwardly kicked himself. These strange foreign nations and their strange foreign titles. What kind of country has more than one captain of the guard?

"I'm sorry, not yours specifically. Carmella Weaver. The Princess's captain of the guard."

OOC: Off to bed. Intresting thought->Maybe the other guy from Copiosa Scotia could run into our duo and try to rescue/take Carmella?

(OOC: He's got very, very little to go on at the moment, but we'll see what happens.)

The constable nods. "So where can we find Captain Weaver?"

Schiff shook his head. "Not so fast. There was a good deal of effort involved in getting this information, and I expect to be well-compensated for my troubles. What's in it for me?"

The constable shrugs. "For the kidnapping of a common citizen, we could give you a "50 reward. If you want more than that, you'll have to contact Princess Belra."

(OOC: Fifty what?)

((Coppers))

Mikhail Schiff threw up his hands in disbelief. "Son of a... that's it. I've had enough." He made a motion with his hands, as though washing then in an invisible basin, then turned on his heel and walked out.

The constable shrugged apathetically, not caring much. Another guard chuckled slightly.

*Bump*

*Bump*

*Last bump, are you there, Imitora?*

*Ok, last bump for real*

Well, where do you want to take this. I can do a lot of thigns with it, I just need to knwo where to go

*This is Imitora

((Do what you would do ic and we'll see where it goes. Possibly to the unmasking of the conspiracy within the government.))

Well all Im thinking is getting her off the islands, liek on a sub or somethign, and then one of my page long rescue posts.

((Rescue from who? You already have her. She's in her home country. Why would you take her out? Didn't you want to try to get reqard money for the princess?))

yeah, but its easier to hold a prisoner out of her home country. I'll take her to Imitora, where some of my mainstream characters will get involved. Franky is gonna let the Finarian govt. know he haas her and ask for more moeny from them. Appeal to the princess and all.

((Alright. Post))

Franky pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, as he steered back towards teh coast. "Aye? A boat or osmething. Ok, trace the signal, and we'll figure it out from there. Aye." He hung up. "Im taking you out of here." he saiod, looking at Carmella.

Carmella nods. "Alright. I did promise you a reward so I'll voluntarily stay in your custody until it's been arranged, if you trust me to."

"Right," Franky said, not paying to much attention.

OOC: Migrane+Early class+tired=Bed time fro Imitora's player.

Carmella shurgs and sighs, glancing off. "Or whatever, I guess."

Franky pulled off the road again, this time driving in a straight line towards the coast. The Explorer handled teh rough road well, and they ended up on a small beach.

Carmella looks out the window. "Do i have to be packaged again here?" She sighs faintly and starts to open her door.

Carmella stepped out of the vehicle and onto the beach, glancing curiously out to see. She hops once or twice. "Some shoes would be nice, you know."

"I bet they would," he said, walkling towards teh shore. In the distance, the hum of a motor of a boat could be heard. "Theres our ride."

Carmella follows his gaze, eyes searching out the boat. "Oh, come on." Then she smiles a little. "So I get to make the trip unrestrained?"

"Well, it depends on if you decide to coperate," he said, watching as the boat came closer. It was a large fishing style boat, maybe 40 feet in length, and 15-20 feet wide.

Carmella laughs slightly. "I'd say I was rather or not I actually intended to, you know? I still want shoes though." She hops a little more.

Franky looked at her as the boat beached itself. "Deal with it." He took her hand and pulled her to the boat. The man on the boat threw down a lader.

"All aboard?"

"RIght, shut your trap Sean, we dont have mcuh time."

"Aye, I'm waitin for ya." He gunned the engine as Franky climbed over the railing, and the boat pushed away from the beach.

Gotta finish my math homework, so I'll be on in about another hour or so.

Carmella stumbles along with Franky, smirking faintly. She climbs the ladder with him obedient...for now, and stands on the deck, peering about. "Hey, Sean."

((Hello?))

*Bump?*

Sorry, flu=less post

"Aye," Sean said, not really looking at her. He pushes the throttle stick forward, and sped off.

Carmella sighs and leans over the railing, looking out at the sea.

Franky had disapeared under the deck, and had no emerged, beer in hand. "How long ya think?"

"Maybe three days max. Depends on the seas. Unless you dun wanna take her back to Imitora," he said looking at her.

Carmella glances over. "What happens if I don't get taken to Imitora?"

"We take you some place else," Sean said, punching a few numbers into the GPS system.

OOC: If I dont respond to your next post, I've gone back to bed, and might be on later.

She shrugs. "Oh, I guess that's not so bad. Can I have some food?"

Franky shrugged, and disapeard under teh deck, comming back up with a sandwhich a few minutes later. He held it out to her, and after she accepted it, he climbed teh lader up to the raised bridge. "I'd say Iansisle or Larkinia. We have freinds there."

"Aye," Sean nodded in reply. "I say tahts teh best to go."

Carmella takes the sandwich. "Thanks." She smiles slightly and eats it quickly. "So where do I stay for the voyage?"

After a breif conversation, Franky looked down at her. "When it comes time for that, we'll figure it out." He went back to talking with Sean. "Check the time, will decide durring dinner."

Carmella shrugs and sits down on the deck, leaning against the wall. She pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them. "I really need a shower."

Franky looked at Sean, who looked at the GPS read out. "Soon enough," he said, shouting down to her. He looked at Sean. "Larks the best choice. By far." Sean nodded, and adjusted the heading.

Franky looked at Sean, who looked at the GPS read out. "Soon enough," he said, shouting down to her. He looked at Sean. "Larks the best choice. By far." Sean nodded, and adjusted the heading.

Carmella just sighs and waits quietly, staring out to sea.

Sean nodded to Franky, who had been on a cell phone for a good hour. "Right then, we'll be there in two. Aye. Ok, see ya." He went down into the cabbin, and came back up with a M4/M203 combo. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, he took the helm.

Sean disapeared under the deck for a moment, and came back up with a very cut down M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. He climbed back up to the helm, and stood with Franky. "Shouldn't be to much longer."

Carmella glances over. "What are the guns for?"

Franky slid the breach of the M203 forward, checking to make sure the airburst grenade was loaded. It was. "Ya never know what your gonna deal with. Especially in our buisness."

She shrugs and looks back out to sea. "At least I get to stay loose."

Gotta talk to Lark quickly about this, will post story in a bit.

After a short hour and half 'sail', the boat came up to a rocky coastline. "Welcome to Larkinia," Franky said, leaping from the boat to the shallow water. He pulled a line, bringing the boat in close to shore, , and helped Sean guide it in. He tied the rope off on a tree, and assisted Carmella and Sean off the boat.

Carmella takes his hand and climbes down, looking around. "So what now?"

*Bump*