#rosedamion113

[rosedamion113]

The Crew of the Peregrine: Chapter One

           Matthew Larkin had always had a fascination with the sky. When he was little, he loved to run to the open field down the road from his house, lay in the grass, and watch the clouds swirling above. Like most kids, his mind would wander and the clouds would take shape. He conjured brave heroes and magnificent creatures out of clumps in the sky. He told himself stories; he would sit there for hours doing nothing else but sending them into barren cities or creepy caverns to discover hidden crypts filled with great, unknown treasures.

           Occasionally, his parents worried that he wasn’t being active enough. He wasn’t making friends or doing all of the other things ‘normal’ kids are supposed to do. When his baby brother was born, they hoped that he might be a bit more outgoing, that he might help Matt straighten out. But Emerson was just like his brother. Matt had ten times as much fun creating adventures with a mind as creative as his own. Together, they moved beyond laying on the ground simply telling stories. They started to make swords out of twigs and go into the cities and caverns themselves. Matt always led the expedition, and Emerson was happy to follow so long as he was second in command of all their imaginary party members. Together, they’d venture into the unknown and face all sorts of horrible dangers, but they always made sure they got out of it without losing a single man. That was their motto from the start: Once you’re in, you don’t leave the team and the team never leaves you.

           Matt has never worked any other way.

 *          *          *

             He stood there, staring at the clouds below through the frosted window pane. He watched the engines whir and spin as they kept the ship aloft. Not for the first time, he marveled at the ability of a few pieces of spinning brass and a bit of steam to keep this hunk of metal airborne several thousand feet above the ground. Well, it’s a little more complicated than that, he could hear Emerson saying in the back of his mind. No doubt he’d be offended at the simplicity Matt was projecting onto a complex and delicate machine. He might have even pulled out a schematic just to prove his point. Or rant about the amount of hours he put into keeping the engine running so they don’t all crash into the earth.

           Matt meandered around the cockpit. He hopped up the stairs to the piloting console, adjusted the steering levers ever so slightly, checked his pocket watch and sighed before thumping down the other side and making his way to the starboard window. The window itself stretched around half of the room in a big semicircle, allowing the pilot to see a little more than 180 degrees of the surrounding sky space—Matt thought this to be one of the better benefits of this ship. It was more efficient, and the view was killer. He stopped at the glass and peered over the side to see the upside-down, backwards letters engraved in the hull: The Peregrine. Another aspect about this particular vessel that he was pleased with; the name had always suited him.

           Another fifteen minutes passed, during which he fiddled more with the controls and whistled a few songs, wandering aimlessly around the room until he finally stopped at the door and stared. For a moment he was silent.

“Okay, yeah, this is ridiculous”, he grumbled. He pushed it open and started making for the med-bay.

Immediately, he ran into John.

His head hit the floor. “Oh shit! Sorry!” he heard from a deep, friendly voice. He looked up at the giant in front of him. Matt wasn’t the biggest guy around, but that shouldn’t underscore the fact that John was about three times his size. And about half as threatening. In fact, he was kind of a teddy bear, and it showed as he eased Matt up off the ground, still apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Matt! I didn’t see you—”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re good,” Matt stammered, trying to regain some composure as he stood up, his head pounding.

“I’m so sorry, man!” John said again. “I was just coming up to tell you that Jo might be awhile.”

“She’s been down there for half an hour!”

“Well, Lavinia doesn’t want to risk her getting infected.” Matt sighed. Lavinia was a good doctor, but sometimes she forgot that the crew had their own jobs to do.

“Look, just take over the helm for a little while, I’ll handle it. Some of us have better things to do than fill in for others,” He muttered as he started off down the hall.

John scrunched his eyebrows and turned after him. “By ‘better things’, are you talking about taking a nap in your quarters?”

“I’m talking about completing official Captain’s business.”

“Sleep well, dude.”

“Captain,” Matt reminded him from down the hall.

“Uh-huh,” John replied as he shut the door.

Matt made his way into the med bay, where Jo sat on the exam table and squinted as Lavinia dabbed a cloth over the cut on her hand.

“…and I know it’s not always your first concern but Sweetie, you should take a little more care.”

“Well, that would be a lot easier,” Jo replied, looking pointedly at Matt as he came through the door, “if somebody would do a once-over of this death-trap every so often. You know, so that they don’t lose a perfectly good pilot because of a tetanus-infested, loose screw.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I keep the place in perfect condition,” Matt said with mock offense.

Jo was not amused. “No, you’re brother does. Kate does. You, not so much.”

Lavinia pulled out of strip of clean cloth and wrapped it around the wound. “All better!” she announced with a twinkle in her voice. “Just stop by later on your way to bed so I can change the bandage.” Jo hopped off the table and made her way past Matt, thanking Lavinia as she headed out the door. “Oh, and be careful to—” Lavinia started.

“I think she can survive a scratch,” Matt interrupted. “A scratch that most doctors, by the way, can treat in five minutes.”

“We were just catching up a bit. She’s up at the console all day so I don’t get to see her much.”

“Well, first of all, that’s her job, especially during a 32-hour non-stop flight. And second, what could you possibly have to catch up on if she’s been up there all day?”

“Just personal things.”

“Did you have news about her sister?”

“I told you, Matthew, personal.”

“My crew, my problem. ‘Personal’ includes me if it could affect their performance.”

“You don’t need to worry. I just had an update. Nothing’s changed.”

“Not really an update but, that’s…good, I guess.”

“Well, it’s not worse, so that’s something.”

Lavinia went around the room, straightening the tables up—which was pointless considering she kept everything close to godliness in the first place. Matt stood there for a moment watching her. She always cleaned when she was anxious, when there was a patient she knew she couldn’t help.

Suddenly, a loud blast came from downstairs and the ship shuddered. Matt and Lavinia grabbed onto the nearest table and braced themselves, but the shuddering placated. Matt ran out the door, and headed for the end of the hall. He slid down the ladder and turned around to find Kate and Emerson shouting at each other while simultaneously trying to put out the flaming coals scattered around the room.

“See?! I told you that much fuel would overheat the furnace! You can’t add more coal to the engine if you don’t compensate by adding more of the cooling agent and reducing the flames!” Emerson screeched as he stamped out the embers around him.

“Oh, don’t you ‘see’ me! I told you to add the cooling agent right before I threw in the fuel! It would have been fine if you were paying attention!” Kate yelled back.

“Well excuuuuuse me for making sure we don’t drop several thousand miles before drowning in the Atlantic!”

“We would die from impact before we had a chance to drown, moron.”

“I was being hyperbolic—”

“I’m just trying to get us there faster! You’re the one who’s been stressing about meeting the deadline!”

“Whoa, whoa, hey! Guys! What the hell is wrong?” Matt asked, cutting them off.

“He is!”

“She is!”

“Matt, tell your brother to keep his head out of the damn clouds and the ship in them.”

“What do you think I was trying to do?” Emerson retorted.

“First of all, it’s ‘Captain’. Secondly, is there anything we need to worry about? Anything that needs to be replaced or that will keep us from arriving in London in seven hours?” Matt asked, checking his watch.

Emerson sent one final glare to Kate before kneeling down and checking the mechanism underneath the furnace. “Yep, we’re gonna need a new ignition system. The blast damaged it.”

“Which also means that once we land, we can’t get back up in the air until we replace it,” Kate added.

“How much is that gonna cost us?” Matt asked.

“Three, maybe four hundred silver,” Emerson replied as he stood up, trying to wipe the grease off his face.

“Three to four hundred—! Are you serious?”

“If we want a functional one, yeah.”

“That’s almost half of what we’re making for this job!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t sign us up for jobs that pay jack squat,” Kate commented from the other side of the room, tightening the bolts on the pistons.

“Not helping.” Matt turned back to Emerson. “We can’t afford one of these and still pay all of the crew their share. Even if we cut out ours.”

“For the record, I’m not taking a pay cut for this,” Kate interjected again.

“Still not helping, Kate!”

“This is your fault!” Emerson started to rile up again, “This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if you had just double-checked with me before—”

           “Emerson! Let it go for a second!” Matt grabbed his brother’s shoulder and got his attention. “You’re telling me we don’t have the money to fix the part, but we can’t make more money until we do? Come on, man, give me another option.”

           “I don’t know what to tell you. We need the new part, or else we can’t fly.”

           Matt sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “We’re going to have to find work in town. Or else make a trade. Maybe we can scrounge up some spare parts lying around and see what we can get for them. In the meantime, keep this rig in the air and try not to use each other as fuel.”

           “That’s ridiculous, our bodies wouldn’t produce nearly enough heat to keep us aloft.”

           “Kate, would you just—”

           “She’s right,” Emerson acknowledged, “But maybe we should look into other sources of fuel.”

           Kate perked up. “Like what?”

           “Something that burns hotter and longer. We should do some tests when we land,” Emerson suggested, walking over to the papers and blueprints piled on the table in the corner. He began making some notes.

           “Yeah!” Kate hurried over and looked over his shoulder. “You know I bet we could find some cheap things in the marketplace to try out. See if we can lower our expenses on fuel.”

           As they continued to mull over their idea, Matt made his way up the ladder and headed for his room, shaking his head as he wondered what in the world had possessed him to hire this crew.

[soliloqueenie]

Guaranteed to track you down: Alison Argent deserved to die!!! Renaissance Fairs are stupid and boring!!! Literally anything negative about women as a collective group!!!

*Parts the crowd like Moses at the gotdam Red Sea* 

You found me now step the fuCK UP 

(ง︡’-‘︠)ง                        (ง︡’-‘︠)ง                           (ง︡’-‘︠)ง

[rosedamion113]

The Crew of the Peregrine Chapter 3

Read Chapter 1 here: http://rosedamion113.tumblr.com/post/164955101247/the-crew-of-the-peregrine-chapter-one

Read Chapter 2 here: http://rosedamion113.tumblr.com/post/167885355407/the-crew-of-the-peregrine-chapter-two

Crew of the Peregrine: Chapter 3

             Lyra resisted the urge to turn around and put a bullet through the Baron’s knee. “Do I need to remind you, Mr. Spuddick, that your title is no more than a self-appointed nickname?” She faced him and watched with suppressed amusement as his ridiculous grin melted into a wide-eyed look of panic.

           “W-w-w-well, technically speaking, y-yes, but I am good friends with—”

           “I don’t give a damn who you’re friends with. I’ll take it from here.” She turned back to the woman in front of her, keeping the pistol aimed straight at her head, unwavering. Jo’s hand was still on her own.

“Drop it,” Lyra ordered.

Jo didn’t move. Lyra cocked her gun. “Did I stutter?”

Jo’s eyes narrowed before slowly unfastening her weapon and lowering it to the ground. “Better.” Lyra kicked it to a guardsman and glanced around at the others. “Alright, let’s have them.” The crew slowly surrendered their weapons in turn.

“And the boots?” Lyra added, looking pointedly at John and Kate. John, irritated, pulled a knife out from each shoe and laid them on the table while Kate pulled out three from her own.

She looked at his pile. “You’re slipping.”

“The boots are too small, what do you want from me?”

“Enough,” Lyra turned her eyes to the guy sitting in the middle of them, the one with red hair. In her briefing, she had been informed that he was considered the captain of the crew, but looking at him, she couldn’t quite see it.

He laid his gun down on the table, and she noticed the others look to him for their next move.

He gave them a careful, steady look before facing Lyra.

“So would you care to join us for a round?” he asked, picking up his glass. “You can do the toast.” She stared back at him. “Or do you not drink on the job? That’s one of the perks of my line of work, I guess. I don’t have to be sober to do it.”

“You sure about that?” Jo asked.

“Well, no, but it’s a pretty hairy situation right now so I think I’m entitled.”

“Would you all just shut up?” Lyra signaled to her team and the guards all cocked their guns. The crew froze. “I know you’re used to working with half-arsed morons who think that just because they can sneak a bag of fireweed under their shirts and shuffle past the guards with a bottle of booze between their legs, they’re the kingpin of the West End,” Lyra started, “but let me be clear: I’m not one of them.” Her gaze was icy as she holstered her pistol and pulled up a chair in front of Matt.

“Wait, I’m confused, is she talking about the guards or the idiots?” John whispered to Kate.

“So how about I make this easy for you? Speak straight with me, and you’ll walk out of here instead of crawling.”

Matt met her glare. “What exactly were you hoping to talk about?”

“Your contacts.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you know about me, but I’m not a snitch.”

“How far do they extend?”

“I’m not selling anybody out.”

Lyra fired a shot two inches from Matt’s knee. The bullet shredded the fabric of the couch and she heard a squeal from behind her. The Baron whimpered something about pure Ottoman satin. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Matt eyed the hole by his leg, but before he could say anything, the Baron said, “C-Commander? He told me, remember? Italy, Japan, some areas in—”

“He didn’t tell you everything. He didn’t say anything about South America, but that fireweed downstairs is from Chile, isn’t it?”

Matt glanced at her again. “Yeah.”

“Where in Chile did you get it?”

“I’m done telling you about my associates. Either take us in or let us go.”

There was a pause. She eyed him carefully before turning to her lieutenant.

“Take the other three down to the cellars. Anyone makes a break for it, shoot them in the leg. Don’t let them leave for any reason, bathroom breaks or otherwise. I don’t care if one of them’s suffocating; you bolt the door and you keep it that way. I’ll be down shortly.”

“And the other one?”

“We’re finishing this talk in private.” She picked one of the knives off the table and started twisting the tip into the wood. The crew members were led out of the room, shrugging off the soldier’s grips. The Baron followed them out, practically in tears with the damage that had been done to his favorite parlor. Lyra and Matt sat alone in the room now, Matt trying not to stare at the knife and Lyra continuing to carve up the surface.

“Part of me feels bad,” Lyra started, breaking the silence. “Clearly, this piece of furniture is a work of art, and it’s a shame that I’m sitting here chipping away at a piece that must have taken the carver three or four years to perfect.” She grasped the knife by the handle and drove the point into the center of the table. Matt jumped ever so slightly. “But see, I don’t like the ‘Baron’ very much. He’s petty and irritating and wouldn’t be able to survive a splinter if he didn’t have attendants to take it out.”

“I heard he started with nothing.”

“Yeah, he likes to tell it that way. In addition to all his annoying traits, he has an ego the size of Buckingham Palace. But he’s not invincible. Quite the opposite, really. And now, even after he removes the knife from this table, there will always be a little notch in the wood to remind him that outside of his heavenly, little palace, he’s helpless.”

“Good speech. A little long-winded though.”

“I require a lot out of the people I deign to work with, Mr. Larkin. My gut is a pretty good indicator of whether I’m going to be able to tolerate them. And so far, you’re on the fence.”

Matt went a little slack-jawed. “Wait, what?”

“On the one hand, you’re not bad at keeping a level head. Good at controlling your crew. On the other, you cracked after one gunshot, and it didn’t even graze you. And you didn’t even try to lie to me. So either you have an extremely low pain tolerance or you’re just stupid.”

She relaxed in her chair, picking up an untouched glass of brandy and sniffing it.

“Hold on, I’m totally lost. Are you…giving me feedback?”

“I think it’s a pretty important part of the hiring process, don’t you?” She explained, putting the glass back down with a look of revulsion.

“Hiring process?”

“Are you hard of hearing as well?”

“I thought you were arresting us!”

“Oh, I will. If you say no.”

“Say no to what?”

“My offer.”

 *          *          *

 Lyra paced back and forth in the Queen’s study. A light, brisk breeze slipped between the silky curtains as she nervously tapped out short rhythms on her hands, racking her brain to find the right words. Despite the long emerald and purple cloak resting on her shoulders, she felt chilly, and she was certain that it wasn’t the wind that made her want to curl up in the corner. She looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the far wall, gazing at the London streets, and couldn’t help but imagine them engulfed in flame.

Footsteps clacked on the marble floor outside the office, growing louder, and Lyra abandoned her aimless wandering to stand at attention, saluting as Her Royal Highness came inside.

The Queen was not an old woman, nor was she very young, but she held herself as though she were the wisest and most beautiful woman in the world. Too many, she was. Her long dark hair was pinned up in a complicated style, and even the streaks that were beginning to gray appeared elegant. Her dress was enormous, and yet she moved gracefully and with purpose, not allowing the expectations of the court to stand in her way.

The Queen hurriedly closed the door and commanded, “At ease,” as she turned the key in the lock. Lyra relaxed and walked quickly forward to meet her in front of the desk.

“Have you found someone yet?” the Queen whispered anxiously.

A pause. “No one I trust enough to handle this,” Lyra regretfully replied.

“For God’s sake, it’s nearly been a month! You must have someone.”

“Your highness, it’s remarkably hard to find someone trustworthy who also has the kind of connections we need.”

“Then what have you been doing for the past month?”

“The Baron has put me in touch with a number of his employees, but none of them are capable of keeping their mouths shut. That’s what happens when you attempt to entrust a criminal with a secret.”

“You haven’t actually told them what we need, have you?”

“Of course not! But before I can even make the offer, they do something to show me that they can’t handle the task.”

“Such as?”

“They sell out their ‘friends’ or tell me all about their hideouts. They have absolutely no backbone.”

“We are running out of time. You need to find someone immediately.”

“I’m a soldier, not a miracle worker!”

“Watch yourself, Commander.”

Lyra averted her eyes.

“We can’t afford to be thorough at this point,” the Queen continued. “We have a week left before the ceremony, so you need to choose someone now. You are hiring the next available crew you find, and that’s an order.”

“Your Highness, I’m sorry but that’s absurd!”

“Just do it!”

The Queen looked her up and down before continuing, “I need you to be more than a soldier right now, do you understand?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“It doesn’t matter who the crew is. It doesn’t matter what you have to say or do to convince them so long as you keep them silent. I trust you to keep things running smoothly. This empire will not fall in my lifetime. But we must fight for it. And when I am not there to ensure our side is winning, I know you can lead the fight in my stead. And you will help her know what it is to be a leader.”

The Queen reached her hand out, gently touching Lyra’s, who realized her grip on her weapon had been so tight that her hand had gone white.

 *          *          *

  “What kind of offer are you proposing?”

“A simple one. You do what you do and smuggle something out of the country for me. In return, I don’t haul your arse to prison.”

“What are we smuggling?”

“Can’t tell you that until you say yes.”

“Okay, where are we smuggling it to?”

“Can’t tell you that until—”

“What CAN you tell me?”

“Nothing.”

“So you want me sign up for a job I don’t get to know anything about?”

“What do you know, he’s catching on.”

“That’s ridiculous and it’s not how I operate.”

“Well, we all have to adjust our business model a little when we’re being threatened by the Elite forces of the Queen of England.” Matt threw his hands in the air and opened his mouth like he was about to argue. He paused, the pointlessness dawning on him, and his hands fell heavily.

“Fine. We’re in.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“But I can’t help you until my ship is repaired.”

“Excuse me?”

“We underwent a little mishap on our last flight, and we need a new ignition system. You can consider it an advance for our services.”

Lyra gritted her teeth and Matt smirked back, enjoying the momentary upper-hand. She pulled out a small pouch and gave him some bank notes. “Satisfied?”

He eyed the notes. “Why would you pay for this out of pocket?”

“I’m not. This money belongs to the Crown.”

“Um. No. It doesn’t. Commanders don’t carry the Queen’s cold cash around with them. You don’t want this on the books, do you?”

“Does this transaction sound like the kind of thing the government wants records of?”

“No, but—”

“Keep asking questions and I will terminate this contract immediately. When will you be ready to fly?”

“It should only take three or four days, assuming we can find someone to do it in the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll be at the Port of London in seventy-five hours with the package. Make it happen by then. Upon my arrival, we will depart immediately.”

“We?”

“I’m accompanying you. I don’t trust you or your people to take care of this cargo.”

“We don’t—”

“Really, Mr. Larkin, do you expect anything you have to say will actually change my mind?”

“…Seventy-five hours it is.”

“Very good. Your pilot will be kept under my watch until we depart—”

“Are you kidding me?”

“—to ensure you don’t try to leave and your tongue doesn’t start slipping. If so much as a word reaches me that you’ve been talking to anyone about our deal, she will be carted off to the Tower, and I will come for you next.”

She stood up and eyed his clenched fists and set jaw. There was hatred in his eyes, but also slight desperation. She knew he’d be discreet. Crossing to the door and opening it for him, she concluded, “The rest of your crew will meet you outside. Good day, Mr. Larkin.”

 *          *          *

 Lyra closed the door to the queen’s study as the dawn’s light snuck over the horizon. The Queen remained inside, and Lyra saw her tiredly sinking into a chair just before the latch clicked into place. She rested her head against the door, suddenly aware of how many hours she had been awake without respite.

She turned and nearly gasped aloud with surprise. The King stood looming over her, nearly a foot taller, and his cold, unreadable stare was so piercing she could almost feel it cutting into her skull. He was dressed in full regal attire, clearly having not slept the night before either. “Commander.” His voice was deep and rich, but coated in thinly veiled distrust.

Lyra bowed. “Your Majesty.” She waited for him to indicate she could rise, but he stayed motionless.

“What, exactly, were you doing in my wife’s study?” He spoke slowly. Deliberately.

“Her Highness had called on me to discuss a matter of personal security,” Lyra responded, her face still to the floor.

“And she decided to ask this of you in the early hours of the morning, did she?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Her Highness was having trouble sleeping because of it.”

“And what, pray tell, was the matter?”

“A triviality regarding the coronation next week. Nothing of consequence.”

He leaned in close, his sickly-sweet-smelling breath creeping down the back of her neck. She withheld a cringe. “What. Did. She. Ask of you?”

“…She asked that I designate a percentage of her guards to your daughter’s protection. She is concerned about that more than her own.”

There was a pause. A long, lingering pause where Lyra tried to focus on anything but the tickling urge in her legs to step away from him. Finally, he stood up straight and quietly commented, “As well she should,” before strolling away.

Lyra refused to stand straight until she heard his echoing footsteps fade completely from her ears. When she did, she took a long, shaky breath. Through the chaos of her thoughts as they attempted to regather themselves, a little voice in the very back of her mind declared that she was certainly not tired anymore.

[rosedamion113]

The Crew of the Peregrine: Chapter Two

Read Chapter One Here: http://rosedamion113.tumblr.com/tagged/crewoftheperegrine          

The screeching of the tilt lever drove a dagger through Jo’s eardrums as she heaved it forwards. That sound was probably one of the worst she’d ever experienced, and yet she came back to make it daily. In a strange way, it was comforting. It kept her alert as she steered The Peregrine down towards the clouds. They enveloped the aircraft on all sides. She didn’t care much for clouds either, but she could navigate through them without much trouble. Her father used to tell her how much he loved sailing through the clouds. He always felt there was a certain peace and solitude about it; she just found it dangerous from not being able to see.

           But the space above them was a different story. To her, the sky was a thousand times more magical from a thousand feet in the air. Dusk was her favorite time to fly. She never got tired of the rainbow of color, from the red bleeding out of the setting sun to the dark purple silhouette behind the stars. That was peace for her. While some people fear the vastness of the cosmos for the way it makes them feel small, it relieved Jo to remember that the world did not revolve around her. Not everything rested on her shoulders, which was ideal as she had enough of her own problems to deal with.

           The bow of the ship broke through the clouds and the city of London unveiled itself beneath her. The first thing to draw her eye was the towering Big Ben, the symbol of the great city itself. The humongous clock face glowed in the twilight, and soon countless streetlights ignited around it like fireflies, surrounding the beautiful, golden tower. She adjusted the controls and began heading east to the outskirts of the city: the only place to land a seven-ton airship and not be searched by the royal guard. The ship’s cargo wasn’t harmful by any means, but the Elite would still refuse a few caskets of Chilean fireweed being dropped in the middle of their fair city.

           She aimed for a shipping yard that was a few miles outside the city proper, where His Majesty’s security was scarce and the black market reigned supreme. She pulled her watch out of her pocket, wincing as her bandaged hand contorted to grasp the dingy, copper clock. She was in need of a new one, but wouldn’t give this one up for anything in the world. Her sister made her promise to keep it safe. It sprung open to reveal the second hand clicking into place on the twelve. 9:03 pm London time, exactly. She groaned. The Baron was not going to be happy.

           Jo slipped the timepiece back in her pocket and prepared to land. She slowed down the ship as they neared an empty space in the yard and lowered it to the ground with all the grace of a ballet dancer. No sooner had she touched down than Matt came through the door, stifling a yawn.

           “Another productive day, sir?” she asked, a smile touching her lips.

           “Maybe it’s time for a change. A respectful, non-judgmental crew for starters.”

           “You couldn’t find one that would work for what you pay them.”

           “Yeah, yeah, I get it. There’s not enough money to go around.”

His tone made Jo turn. “What’s wrong with you?”

           “Nothing.”

           She waited.

           “You’re just not the first person to complain about their salary today.”

           “Kate?”

           “…yep.”

           “You know she’s only messing with you, she’s not really worried about money. And she certainly wouldn’t leave, especially after everything you’ve done for her.”

           “I’m not worried about her leaving, I’m worried that it will be awhile before we can all leave together.”

           “Meaning?”

           “The ignition system had an accident.”

           “Again: Meaning?”

           “We can’t fly again until we make some more silver. And The Baron’s job isn’t gonna cut it.”

           “So let’s make more money in town.”

           “That’s the plan, but I’m worried it’s going to be a long time, and the crew gets restless pretty easily if we’re not on-the-go—”

           “Matt, no one’s going anywhere. We’re here and ready to help you get this bird in the air again, soon as possible.”

           “You can’t speak for everyone.”

           “Maybe not, but I can speak for myself. You’ll still have a pilot when the engine’s up and running. And really, what more do you need?” she added, presenting herself.

           “Mechanics and a strong-man certainly help.”

           Her smile briefly faded. “Take the encouragement, Matt.”

           He laughed. “I’ll try, thanks. Go ahead and settle her down. We might be here awhile. Soon as you’re done, pack your weapons. We’ve got a shipment to deliver.”

           He headed out the door and Jo set about shutting down the ship. She heard a quick, “And it’s ‘Captain’,” from down the hall, but ignored it and continued working. As she flipped the switches and pulled back the levers, she smiled at the thought of her first encounter with Matt.

 *          *          *

             The streets were far too crowded as she slipped out from the alley and onto the main road. She ran past the overpriced suits that adorned the over-privileged citizens of Greenwich Village. She struggled to weave in-between the dozens of excessive petticoats that blocked her way. Behind her, she heard the faint shout of the local constable, but didn’t dare turn around—fearing she’d trip on someone’s giant, ruffled dress. She continued to shove her way past, ignoring the indignant huffs of the women around her, and hoped that no one tried to get in her way. Her head only came up to the chest of most of the people in the crowd, and if someone tried to grab her, she wasn’t sure she could throw them off.

           A left, a right, a shortcut between two town homes. She ran for what felt like miles, and still could hear the officers shouting behind her in the distance. A park came into view and she aimed to cut across it. The crowd began to thin as she neared the other side. A gate let out onto a cobblestone street, and Jo could see the start of the docks towards the end of the block.

           Just as she made the gate, an officer on horseback pulled up in front of her and aimed his sword at her chest. “Hold it!” he shouted. She froze. “You’re under arrest, by order of the—”

           Jo dropped and rolled under the horse’s belly, drawing a knife from her boot as she came up the other side. She slashed the restraints that kept the policeman in his saddle. Before he’d even turned around, she smacked the horse’s hide as hard and she could and he reared up. The officer slid off the other side of the horse and hung by his left leg as it took off through the park. Jo was already halfway to the dock.

           She slid to a stop at the water’s edge. Nowhere to hide, and she definitely couldn’t swim fast enough to get out of range of the constable’s pistol. She turned to the airships parked on the docks. The closest one had an open cargo door. She took her first step to run towards it when an ear-shattering crack echoed on the street behind her and a white hot pain encompassed her side. She let out a cry and fell to the ground as another gunshot resounded and whizzed over her head. Behind her, the constable reloaded his pistol as he ran, followed by three other officers with swords drawn.

           Jo heaved in a breath and forced herself onto her feet, biting back a cry as she bolted for the open cargo door. Spotting the door controls on the wall to the left, she smacked the button and made for the flight of stairs in front of her which led up to a catwalk. The ramp began to retract and the door was sliding closed as she reached the top. She looked back to find the constable jumping through the door just before it cut off the light from outside and left the room in darkness. A rush of fear surged through her as she heard another shot ricochet off the nearby wall, and a cry escaped her throat. She bit it back and ran for the door at the far end of the walkway, furious at herself for being weak at a time like this. Her hand felt increasingly warm and sticky as the blood from her wound seeped through her fingers. Her head was feeling light and her breath was faster, but she made her way towards what she hoped was the front of the ship.

           When she finally climbed up the stairs and stumbled into the cockpit, she slammed the door behind her and bolted it shut before slumping against it, heaving breaths in and out. Tears burned behind her eyes and her throat threatened to close off as she restricted it from sobbing. She stopped. Five seconds of weakness, that was all she was going to give it. She counted: One, Two, Three, Four—

           Another shot rang against the door, and a small hole ripped open beside her. She gasped and scrambled away. The constable’s voice bled through the door as he boomed, “Forget it! Back-up is on the way and we will blow open this door if we have to! Give up now or the consequences will be fatal!”

           Jo’s head spun around and her eyes scanned over the controls. “We’ll see about that.”

           She started flipping switches and powering up the engines. She grabbed the power thrust and shoved it forward. It screeched like a banshee and the ship jumped into the air. Taking hold of the directional levers, she aimed for the open, glittering sea. She grabbed on tight to the hand rail and threw the throttle up to full speed. The ship tilted up and zoomed forward, and she heard a loud thump from outside the door and the officer swore. She steadied herself as she heard the constable again. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

           Shit, this guy is slow, Jo thought to herself as she banked a hard right and sent the officer slamming against the opposite wall. For a second, she was sure she’d knocked him out, but then another shot fired through the door. How much ammo does he have? she worried.

           Another shot went off, and then a new voice came through the door. “I swear to God, if you fire one more shot through my door, I will drop your ass in the middle of the ocean!”

           “Back away, sir! I’m in pursuit of a fugitive!”

           “You’re in pursuit of your own damn death sentence if you don’t stop firing your weapon in this ship! If you damage any of the instruments in that room or in these walls, we’re all going for a swim!”

           There was a moment of silence. “Fine, you open this door and I’ll take care of the prisoner!”

           “Thanks.” There were a couple loud thumps, and then a crash outside the door. Jo began to panic and black spots started appearing in the corners of her eyes. She looked for a weapon, anything she could use to fend them off, but there was nothing. She tried sharply turning the ship again, but this time no one fell outside. For a minute, all she could hear was the roar of the engines. Then another crash sounded directly behind her. She screamed and whipped around to find a vent cover clattering to a halt on the floor. She glanced up and found a messy head of red hair and a pair of dark brown eyes peering at her upside-down from a shaft in the ceiling.

           “Sorry, did I scare you?”

           She stayed silent, eyes wide.

           “Stupid question.” For a moment he disappeared, then dropped down from the hole and landed in front of her. As he stood to full height, he looked a lot less threatening. He was tall and lanky, with a sleek, red vest and a holster strapped to his hip carrying a .45 Colt. He briefly fixed his hair and dusted his jacket. “It’s really disgusting up there. I tell my mechanic to do a spring-cleaning or something every once in a while, but I guess he just failed his workspace inspection.” He looked up and smiled at her. His eyes darted to her side, and the smile fell away. “Were you hit?” he asked, his tone deadly serious. She nodded and her head swam. She started slumping to the floor.

           “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said running forward to ease her down. “Just take it easy, we’ve got a doctor on board. She can patch you up.” He reached over her head and eased up on the controls, slowing the ship down to hover in place.

As he turned and ran to unbolt the door, Jo protested, “No, wait! The officer—” The door flew open to reveal the constable crumpled on the floor, eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids.

The man ran to the end of the hallway and shouted down the stairs, “Vinny! Get in here!” before turning around and running back to her. He kneeled down, pulled a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and held it against the wound. Jo cried out. “I know, I’m sorry, but we gotta stop the bleeding. You’re already turning white…Not that I know what you looked like before or anything, I just assume you’re…Lavinia! Where are you?”

Jo felt her head start dropping and began to close her eyes. To her surprise, she felt the pain fading, and the darkness at the edge of her vision didn’t seem so scary now. After all that, all she wanted to do was sleep.

“No, no, no, no. Wake up, come on,” she heard, and a hand whacked her across her face.

Her eyes flew open again. “Um, OW!” she screeched as she cupped her cheek and glared at the man in front of her.

He just smiled back. “That’s what I like to hear. You gotta stay awake for now. Doctor’s coming.”

A girl with long blonde hair and bright eyes appeared at the door, took in the scene with a glance, and knelt down beside Jo. Lavinia, she assumed, pulled her black bag close and took out of pair of scissors.  She quickly cut away the cloth around the wound and examined it. “Just a graze, but it still needs stitches. You’ll be fine, sweetie! Use this staunch the blood,” she said, handing the man some white, sterilized cloth. He knelt down and did as she told him.

As Lavinia turned to pull more supplies out of her bag, the man said, “I’m Matt, by the way…So, is this your first time attempting to hi-jack an advanced aircraft?”

Jo side-eyed him. “You mean this hand-me-down from your grandmother?”

“That’s an awfully mean thing to say to someone who’s currently saving your life.”

“She’s the one saving my life.”

“Technicality. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Would I tell you if it wasn’t?”

“Hear that, Lavinia? You’re sewing up a repeat offender.”

“What else is new?” she responded, not taking her eyes off of the needle she was sterilizing. She stuck the needle in Jo’s arm, and almost immediately Jo felt herself getting tired.

“That’s the spirit. So, we’ve established you’re sassy, you don’t get along with the cops, and you know how to fly.”

A mischievous smile spread across his face before everything went blurry. And right before she fell asleep, she heard him ask:

“How’d you like a job?”

 *          *          *

             Jo finished shutting down the controls, grabbed her pistol and strapped it to her side. The weapon was a little over the top, but she found the golden insignia of the lighting strike on the side of the barrel caught the eye of anyone she came up against. It was a sign that told them she was not to be messed with.

           She headed for the cargo room and walked in to find Matt and John loading the fireweed into bags and throwing them onto the transport vehicle while Kate pumped fuel. As the guys threw the last bag onto the car, Kate and Jo hopped into the front seats and Kate revved the engine. The guys climbed in back while Emerson hit the loading door button and lowered the ramp. Kate steered the vehicle out onto the grass and aimed for the cobblestone street at the edge of the shipping yard, weaving around small cargo ships and people transporting boxes in and out of them. No one made eye contact, but everyone was watching each other out of the corner of their eyes. Jo checked behind them to make sure Emerson closed the hatch. They didn’t have much worth stealing on the ship, but they didn’t want to appear too inviting either.

           They hit the street, where makeshift stalls lined the sidewalk selling everything from knockoff jewelry and pocket watches to guns and ammo. None of the shops were permanent, and all could be struck in a matter of seconds should the call come out that the cavalry was on its way. The houses beyond the shops were pretty run down, but even the richest townspeople could be found wandering these streets, looking for some cheap fakes they could pass off as the real thing. Some people came here to hide, some to find others, and some to get a fix of whatever poison they chose to keep their mind out of the real world.

           The crew headed northwest, and it wasn’t long before they came upon the one building in the whole quarter that truly didn’t belong. The Baron’s white mansion protruded from the dank shanty-town like a crystal from a cave. It was three stories high and four times as long as the widest house in the district. Ornate, rounded windows adorned the upper floors and a spiked iron gate surrounded the premises. Several years back, The Baron had the brilliant idea to buy a huge chunk of cheap land in the middle of a place no one wanted to live. He used the rest of his fortune to build the perfect home with the even cheaper labor of the local, unemployed residents. To ensure that the treasure within the house didn’t tempt the neighboring criminals, he established the kind of security that never fired a warning shot. Deaths were inconsequential as The Baron was a friend to the British court. The gates were eight feet high and at night, surged with the power of Edison. Windows were only built on the upper floors so as to discourage anyone who got past the fence, and the patrolling guard was managed by London’s finest. No one stole from The Baron. At least, no one who did had ever made it back over the gate.

           Luckily, the crew of The Peregrine wasn’t in the business of stealing. Today, at least.

           Kate coasted up to the guards at the gate entrance. They searched the vehicle for anything out of the ordinary. As they attempted to open the bags, John waved them off. “No one but The Baron gets a look at the cargo.”

           “No one gets in without getting searched.”

           “Come on, Ben, you know who we are,” Kate interjected. “We come by every few months. You know the system: only the guards inside get to inspect the cargo.”

           “Not today. Open the bags.”

           “What’s so special about today?”

           Ben paused for a moment before saying, “There have been some attempts on The Baron’s life in the past few weeks. We’re not taking any chances.”

           John glanced at Matt, who nodded assent. He undid the bags and Ben searched through every one of them. When he had finished, Kate suggested, “Do you want to burn some of it too just to make sure it’s not actually explosive?” Ben gave her an icy glance and waved them through.

           They parked the car on the lot near the front door, grabbed the bags and were escorted inside. Of course, the inside was ten times as lavish as outer perimeter, and when Jo walked in she was reminded of the house she grew up in, even though her parents were never quite as well off as The Baron was.

           The man himself stood poised at the top of the stairs, greeting them with a booming voice and a sweeping gesture. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t my adorable little band of errand boys! And girls, excuse me ladies.” Jo stopped herself from rolling her eyes. There were some days when she couldn’t decide whether The Baron was a genius or an idiot, but today was not one of them.

           “You’re looking well, sir.” Matt responded with a smile, not daunted by the undermining words of the master of the house. They were used to being talked to like subordinates by him, rather than business partners. It was probably one of the reasons he liked them.

           “Why, thank you! I have been trying to get in shape. I was thinking about buying a zeppelin to race in the national competition, but I decided I should be in top physical condition before I tried.”

           “Sir, I don’t think athletics are required in a zeppelin race.”

           “Oh, hush, don’t take away my excuse to doing something good for myself. Either way, I see you have what I ordered.”

           “Yes, it’s all here. If you’re ready, you can come down and take stock, give us our settlement and we’ll be on our way.”

           “Oh, there will be time for all of that. For now, why don’t you come up and enjoy a drink with your favorite employer, hmm?” He turned around and started heading for the parlor behind him.

           Jo exchanged a look with Matt. While The Baron was usually pleasant (in his own way), he was never this hospitable, and had definitely never extended a glass of his expensive liquor. Matt glanced back up to where The Baron had just disappeared. “That’s very kind of you, but unfortunately we have some other business to take care of, so we really need to—”

           “If you want your money,” he called, “You’ll take the invitation.”

           Matt hesitated. Jo was equally suspicious, but they couldn’t turn down the money; they had no means of making more while the ship was inoperable. “Drop the bags and come join me!” he called again.

           Matt set down the bags and made his way up the stairs. The rest of the crew followed suit.

           Inside the parlor were a number of couches and cushy ottomans, along with several polished cabinets full of exotic, useless trinkets that only the ridiculously wealthy would buy. Maps were mounted on the walls of all the places The Baron preferred to do business, from his favorite cities in the Southern Americas to the encampments just south of the Sahara Desert. Most were places Jo recognized—they had been sent all over to pick up other illicit supplies—but there were a few maps that were unfinished. They had no titles and only a few scribbles on the legend, and though the drawings were detailed, there was scarcely a word on them. She’d almost taken them for paintings.

           The Baron picked up a bottle of brandy from the liquor cabinet seated below the maps, pulled out five crystal glasses, and began pouring a cap into each of them. “Come in, sit down. Normally, I’d have one of my maids serve us, but they’re a little busy at the moment.”

           “What with?” Matt asked, placing himself carefully onto a nearby chair. The group took other seats around him, and Jo perched on the armrest of the chair Kate chose. She wasn’t about to let down her guard.

           “We have a special guest in the house, and unfortunately they are very needy. Taking full advantage of my hospitality, I assure you.” An annoyed edge crept into The Baron’s voice, but when he turned around, he was his usual cheery self.

           “Who’s the guest?”

           “No one important. Why is it only you talk to me, Matthew? Why are your companions always so silent and stern?” The Baron handed out the drinks and settled luxuriously on the couch facing them.

           “It’s an agreement we have. I do the talking.”

           “Well, let’s dispense with the formality. I want to hear what they have to say,”

           “About what?” Jo cut in.

           “Well, there we go! They’re not dumb after all! Young lady, do relax, I’d just like to know about some of your…adventures.”

           “We don’t talk about other jobs,” Matt stated.

           “Humor me. Where have you all been that I haven’t sent you?”

           “I believe he just said that it’s none of your damn business.” Kate interjected.

           “Kate…” Matt warned, always the one for professionalism.

           “It’s quite alright. She has a point. Tell you what: We’ll do an exchange. I’ll ask you a question, you answer honestly, and then vice versa. Sound fair?”

           “That’s not—” Jo started.

           “Deal.” Matt agreed. Jo flashed him a sideways glance, but didn’t continue.

           “Fantastic! First question: Where else have you gone in the world besides where I’ve had business deals?”

           “North America, Australia, Japan, Italy, and a few parts Asia.”

           “Which parts?”

           “You owe me a question first. Why do you want to know about us all of a sudden?”

           “I have a friend who is interested in you. Which parts of Asia?”

           “Mostly in India, a bit in Taiwan, and a particularly strange place in Mongolia. Who’s your friend who’s asking about us?”

           “The guest in the other room. Do you have contacts in all of these places?”

           “Pretty much. Who is the guest in the other room?”

           “How about I introduce you?”

           Before anyone could move, a hoard of Elite guardsmen came crashing through the doors and had them surrounded, guns loaded and aimed. Jo’s hand flew to her pistol but as her hand touched the grip, a double-barrel flintlock appeared right between her eyes, and a voice said, “Bad idea.”

           Her eyes followed the gun up to the hand, the arm, and came to rest on the dark brown eyes of the woman in front of her.

           The Baron scoffed as he crossed behind the woman. “Why Commander Sterling, I do believe these are the ones you are looking for.”

[soliloqueenie]

I think you would be Melinda May from Agents of Shield. Nuff said.

Hello you beautiful Californian sunfish omg

Also....okay...shame on me but I haven’t seen Agents of Shield I’m so sorry.  BUT I’m gonna watch it this summer and then we shall discuss ily

[soliloqueenie]

rosedamion113 replied to your photoset “Six selfies whaddup thanks rubyted and bxifong for giving me an excuse...”

P.S. You're sexy as ever.

THank youu!! I am actually sad that I will not be receiving 6 Ellen selfies but I guess now I just have to skype you all to see your face huh...