Jim Dancer kicked open the door and clapped his hands. [color=929292]"All right, everyone out! AMRO orders, nobody comes back 'till I say so!"[/color] The shout resounded through the bridge, and sent technicians scurrying as the towering Asylum strode forwards, heading directly for the man who seemed to be in charge. [color=929292]"You the captain? I want neither the crew nor any of those Bloodline prats coming near us, got it?"[/color] The man's eyes widened in fright, but he stood firm. "Is something wrong? If there's a threat, I should alert the passengers immediately-" Dancer cut him off with a wave. [color=929292]"Nothing's the matter, just a security inspection. AMRO wants to make sure we don't get any morons trying something. I won't take long, and you can have your ship back afterwards..."[/color] His eyes narrowed. [color=929292]"So long as nobody gets in my way."[/color] With a quick nod, the captain scampered off to join his fellows. Perhaps there were doubts left in his mind, but you didn't argue with an Asylum- particularly not one who looked like he could crush your skull with one hand. Withing seconds, the room was clear, and Dancer breathed out, glancing around as if searching for something. A moment later, Maya Song appeared out of thin air in front of him. [color=b536da][i]That was more polite than usual.[/i][/color] Dancer scowled. Try as he might, he still had trouble tracking her when she went invisible. [color=929292][i]Can't scare the fuckers too much. They were pissing their pants already, and the Bloodlines'd notice if they panicked.[/i][/color] [color=b536da][i]Nice to know you have [/i]some[i] sense of responsibility.[/i][/color] Song turned around, her eyes sweeping over the bridge. [color=b536da][i]I'm not picking up anything yet.[/i][/color] [color=929292][i]Has to be one in here, they wouldn't just miss the bridge. You blow a hole in the side of the ship, the damn thing can take minutes or hours to sink, and everyone on board gets a lifeboat or a helicopter to bail them out. But if you take out the controls- the ship can't steer away from hazards. Can't radio for help. Can't stop all the passengers from panicking. Add an EMP to that and you've got a fucking deathtrap.[/i][/color] [color=b536da][i]And how is it that you're suddenly an expert on maritime explosive placement?[/i][/color] [color=929292][i]You don't do mercenary work for as long as I did without blowing up a few boats. Now come on, do your bloody Sniffer thing and get this over with.[/i][/color] With a barely audible [i]hmph[/i], Maya looked around, taking in her surroundings. There weren't many places one could hide an explosive, up here. Open space, well-lit, and all the monitors and switches were mostly built into the room, difficult to take apart and stick something inside. A few laptops and coffee mugs had been left behind, but nothing evident as a hiding place. Nothing could be ruled out, of course, but it was most likely to be somewhere out of sight and relatively easy to access... [color=b536da][i]The chairs. Check the chairs for stitches.[/i][/color] Dancer gave her a silent nod, quickly moving towards the nearest one. They were good seats, well-cushioned for those who would be stuck in them for hours. Easy enough for someone to slit open some of that cushioning and slide a device in, behind too much padding to easily feel. He leaned in, looking carefully over the soft black surface which still bore the imprint of some sailor's ass. His hand swept over it, feeling for any unevenness. Then the back, then the headrest. Then onto the next chair, where after a few seconds he stopped, and gestured at Song. She threw him a knife, which he caught with one hand, and carefully cut into the chair, slicing through the almost invisible line of stitches where the faux-leather had been cut open and repaired. With the incision made, he slowly stuck his fingers in, and pulled apart the edges, peering inside. [color=929292][i]It's small. Not an explosive device. This better not be a fucking neurotoxin...[/i][/color] There was a sudden [i]click[/i] in front of him, followed by a slow [i]hiss[/i]. The two Asylums glanced at each other. No need for any mental communication here, they both knew what this meant. Song pulled up the collar of her coat, covering her mouth and nose while squeezing her eyes shut, while Dancer muttered to himself, and incantation to protect his insides against whatever the bomb had just released. But this was no mere airborne toxin. [color=b536da][i]Well, that was unexpected. Any idea what this-[/i][/color] [color=929292]"Song?"[/color] [color=b536da][i]We shouldn't talk, you never know who might be-[/i][/color] [color=929292]"Song, I want you to know... I've always hated you less than I should."[/color] That hit her hard. Too hard. Her eyes grew watery as she stammered, surprised. [color=b536da]"Dancer, I... is that really how you feel about me?"[/color] [color=929292]"Damn it, I'm fucking sorry, but I just can't help it! From the moment I set my goddamn eyes on you, I just couldn't hate you like I despise all the other dumb fucks who call themselves alchemists. They're all bastards, and you're a bitch too- but less of a bitch than you could be."[/color] He breathed in, steadying himself. [color=929292]"And if this all ends here... or wherever this all ends... I just want you to know that those stupid missions we did, all the bullshit we dealt with together, even working with the shitheads at AMRO... it was [i]almost[/i] worth it, just to work with you. Almost."[/color] [color=b536da]"Oh, Jim!"[/color] Song mumbled through her tears, [color=b536da]"I... I hate you too. After all we've been through, you still can't pay me a... [i]fucking[/i] compliment!"[/color] [color=929292]"I'm not sorry."[/color] Sobbing, they fell into each other's arms, and tried to strangle each other.