Ensign Roy Bancroft - Ze Munitions, Zey Are Glorious, No?

[Carter Schimpff]

(( Holodeck 2 - USS Artemis-A ))

(( Miami Bay - Earth, 1984 ))

Cole: Yeah, but we look cool wearing them.

Bancroft: ::nodding once:: Quite right. Computer? … Shades.

A fresh pair of aviators shimmered into place directly on his face, the lenses catching the last light of the bay as though they’d always been there.

Bancroft: ::leaning into the wind, resetting into ‘cool mode’:: Initiate Operation: Look Effortlessly Dangerous.

An errant pelican swooped across their bow – far too close – forcing Roy to duck with all the grace of a man avoiding low-hanging laundry. 

Cole:  ::laughing:: Heads Up!

She yanked the wheel sharply – more flourish than necessity – though if the pelican was an agent of chaos, she’d just ruined its follow-up attack. 

Cole: So let me get this right, the plan is we’re posing as arms dealers to bust up a cartel drug ring.

Roy turned to glance at the arsenal nestled under a thick blue tarp. The sheer number of weapons underneath gave off just enough menace to make their plan look plausible – assuming no one actually tried to fire any of them.

If Cole’s roommate were here, Roy imagined he’d say something like ‘firearms… a plethora of firearms.’

Bancroft: ::smoothing his mustache:: That’s the gist. Show up, offer them an aggressively generous shipment of military hardware – all of it helpfully inert – then slap on the cuffs and call it a night. Home in time for dinner and, if we’re lucky, a slow-mo freeze frame ending. 

Natasha eased the throttle down as they approached a crumbling warehouse on the edge of Miami’s industrial sprawl – the kind of place that practically demanded a synthwave soundtrack.

Cole: So what made you pick this program? Fan of a late 20th century entertainment?

Bancroft: ::chuckling:: Not especially. I just kept flipping through the ship’s library until I found something with neon lighting and low emotional stakes. Figured we’ve earned a break from moral quagmires and interstellar judgment calls.

Cole: ::nodding:: I’ve thought about spooling up a historical one, but ::shrugs:: I don’t know if I want it to change the idea I have in my head of what it was like. ::sliding her shades off:: Know what I mean?

Bancroft: ::raising his eyebrows:: Completely. That’s why I stick to the heavily fictionalized stuff. I tried a program last week that swore it was an “entertainingly accurate simulation of 14th century London.” Thought I’d get some jousting or something. What I got instead was… the bubonic plague. Gods, Cole, the smells…

Cole: Response

Bancroft: Exactly. Turns out, dropping a physician looking for a quiet weekend into medieval England is a bit like sending a Vulcan to be a birthday clown. Noble, but doomed. ::beat:: So what’s your favorite Earth era?

Cole: Response

As she answered, a low engine rumble floated over the bay – smooth, deliberate, and far too quiet to be friendly. Roy turned just as a boat nearly identical to theirs emerged from the darkness, its hull slick with starlight, gliding toward them like it had a secret and no intention of keeping it. 

Bancroft: Showtime. ::grinning:: What’s the play? Good Arms Dealer / Bad Arms Dealer? Maybe we go vaguely European? Ze munitions… zey are glorious, no? ::beat, really getting into it:: Ooh – or! Hear me out: we’re estranged siblings reunited by our father’s secret weapons cache. One of us wants revenge. The other wants redemption. 

Cole: Response

TAG/TBC!

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Ensign Roy Bancroft

Medical Officer

USS Artemis-A

A240205RB1