[JP] Marshall & Sienelis - A Legacy is Denied (Part IV)
Quinn Reynolds
((Dungeon Rock, Hai Tac Outpost))
::Swiftly ascending the stairwell led them straight up to the Dungeon Rock. Dark-haired Ollie stood leaning an elbow on the bar, surrounded by a group of like-minded pirates hanging on his every word as he spun some kind of tale. It was dark, darker than he remembered, and Bear wiped his hand over his face to try and clear up his vision.::
O. Marshall: Can you see Lena?
Sienelis: No.
::Beside him, she was peering about the room with anxiety pulling at the corners of her eyes. While her gaze swept across the pirates and assorted miscreants of the bar, a small group made her suck in her breath, even as she forced herself to continue searching as though she'd never seen them at all.::
Sienelis: But I think I spot more of my kinfolk. At the back, near the card tables.
::Trying not to appear as though that worried him as much as it did — for her sake and, selfishly, for his own skin — he didn't chance look in that direction, taking her word for it that she could spot a Romulan at twenty paces. He dropped his open jacket onto Valesha's shoulders and approached the Iotian at the bar, snagging the laughing man's elbow with the crook of his finger.::
O. Marshall: Storms or not, we're leaving. There's a sudden increase in the minority presence.
::Ollie, to his credit, picked up his glass as though he didn't have a care in the world, and took a long pull of it while Bear spoke into his ear, then responded so apparently and so casually, Bear worried for the man's sanity.::
Zuccaro: Don't worry about that, old boy, there's a… ::he waved his glass around,:: dynamic mongoose in the grass for the snakes. ::Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Valesha and looked back at Bear.:: Say, why don't we take this to a private party?
::Rolling her shoulders underneath the extra jacket, Valesha glanced at Bear and then nodded toward the Iotian.::
Sienelis: I'm really not in the mood for any uninvited guests.
Zuccaro: Suit yourself. ::Polishing off the rest of the liquid in the glass, he slammed it back down on the bar and leaned toward Bear, dropping his silken voice low.:: I'm sorry about this, by the way. Do try to keep up.
O. Marshall: ::He frowned deeply.:: Sorry abou—
::The rest of the sentence didn't get a chance to leave his lip as the dark-haired Iotian drew back his fist and collided it within the side of Bear's cheek. Knocked back, Bear fell onto the Nausicaan nursing a pint of Cardassian ale behind him, who reactively shoved him away. Ollie sidestepped the human as he fell head first into the Osaarian on the other side.
::Hitting the deck, dazed and bewildered for more than a second or two, cradling his stinging jaw in his hand, Bear propped himself up to see the Nausicaan and Osaarian lurch toward one another — both of their respective parties leaping into fracas with delighted enthusiasm. Bottles smashed, chairs were lifted, weapons were brandished, all with murderous intent in mind.
::And, in the midst of it all, Ollie checked the thin silver device in his coat pocket with all the nonchalance on the moon, then grinned at Valesha and indicated to the door.::
Zuccaro: Time to fly.
Sienelis: You know, I like you too.
::She snorted something akin to a laugh, ducking a bottle as it flew past and offered a hand to Bear. He grabbed it and with little effort, courtesy of her superior Romulan physiology, she hauled him up. Said flying bottle smashed against the back wall, the Klingon bartender grinning far too widely as he produced a stowed bat'leth, and in one swift movement, leapt up onto the bar.::
Zuccaro: I'd say that's our cue to leave. Quickly now, don't make eye contact.
::Not a tall order for the Romulan, in her current mood. Keeping her head down and her reflexes on full alert, Valesha followed the Iotian scoundrel as he made for the exit. Her hand went briefly to Bear's arm — confirming he was there, and perhaps reassuring herself that he was (mostly) alright — and once satisfied, she let herself feel a little resigned amusement. It was either that or cry in despair, and she'd already cried enough for one night.::
Sienelis: You know this all like something out of a trashy holonovel, right?
O. Marshall: She's not wrong.
::Holding his cheek and nursing it like a wounded animal clocked with a nine iron, Bear worked his jaw back and forth as the three darted out of the bar and into the artificial atmosphere of the street beyond. In the light of day, when they'd first landed, it'd been lively, full of bustling pirates going about their business. In the dark, it was the same, only seedier.::
Zuccaro: Refrain from an existential crisis and questioning the nature of your reality until after the ride is over, if you please. ::His dark eyes narrowed as he glanced up and down the concourse leg.:: Now, where did she park the car…
::The howl of engines overhead answered that question in short order, a boxy, rugged shadow further darkening the depths of the street. Klingon once upon a time, it had clearly had "upgrades" since the time it had fallen off the production line, looking a great deal like someone had rolled it through a debris field and half of it stuck. Hovering about a metre above the ground, the door at the rear dropped down to form a ramp, and a head crowned with curls popped out.::
Josett: How long 'til the bat'leth came out?
Zuccaro: Seconds! Dras and his itchy trigger finger! Nothing like a good bar fight to get his axles spinning.
::Ollie hopped up onto the ramp, military coat picking up the wind from the engines, and he held onto the side of the shuttle, offering a hand down to the Romulan. Still glowering with all the power of a dying star, Bear angled a look down the side of the shuttle; bits sticking out in all directions, half of it looking as though a stiff breeze could take it all off. He looked back to Lena with a cocked eyebrow.::
O. Marshall: You actually fly this thing?
::Valesha hesitated for a moment before taking the Iotian's offered hand, scampering up and into the shuttle. Lena grinned down at Bear with undisguised amusement, leaning her arm on the bulkhead.::
Josett: I sure do. Handles like a dream and hardly anything important falls off. Mostly.
O. Marshall: “Mostly”. ::He jumped up onto the ramp, causing the shuttle to dip a little with the added weight of the additional three passengers, and met her eyes.:: You sure know how to fill a guy with confidence.
::She chuckled her reply, patting the cheek that Ollie hadn't introduced to his fist, and glanced toward the dashing pirate. Bear bristled, keeping a brave face on it, but internally wondering if she had a medical kit on board that didn't just consist of pliers and duct tape.::
Josett: Are you coming on this little excursion, Ollie?
Zuccaro: Alas, my love, someone has to keep an eye on things here.
::Seeing the two safely on board, the Iotian jumped back down onto the dusty floor, shielding his eyes from the bright lights of the engines with the palm of his hand. He grinned at Lena, then saluted with a flutter of two fingers from his eyebrow.::
Zuccaro: Fair winds, girl. Try to bring yourself back in one piece. ::Spreading his arms out, his grin widened.:: We need something to tell the children, after all.
::Thumbing the door controls, she laughed, pressing a kiss to her fingers and throwing it in his direction as he began to vanish from view.::
Josett: We'll weather the storm. Save me some of that vodka!
TBC...
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Orson Marshall
Fugitive
G239304JM0
&
Fugitive
T238401QR0
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Oliver Zuccaro
Dashing Pirate
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Scallywag
Orion Syndicate