[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/895368216371691534/929559062708887662/Travisheadpic.png[/img] [h3][color=cyan]Travis d’Arcy[/color][/h3][/center]
[h3][b][i]CABIN 252[/i][/b][/h3]
[i]“Bit rude, innit?”[/i]
[hr]
“One…two…not even three hundred?” Travis sighed as he thumbed through the loose currency from a pilfered wallet. He stacked it with the rest and tapped out a couple of credit cards. “Who goes on a world-class cruise with less than a grand? Someone who don’t live enough, that’s who.” A handheld scanner copied the cards perfectly, and Travis slipped them back into the wallet just like he found them. Cards could be tracked, he would probably only get one or two purchases off of them before they were canceled or locked, but if the owner thought the thief only took the cash and left everything else, it’d be easy to believe that it was “too troublesome” to bother with the cards–so maybe they wouldn’t call their bank right away. “This was…cabin 103.”

Every passenger’s suite on the ship had a personal safe, which could only be accessed with a single magnetic card obtained by paying a deposit at the room steward’s office. Unless, of course, you had an awesome power to bend space and time. Cruise ships and hotels were some of the easiest for his powers to work with–rooms, safes, everything was almost always an exact carbon copy, all lined up right next to each other. Once he learned the dimensions, he could wait until a room was unoccupied, get in unseen, and transfer the contents of the safe. But keeping track of where you got what was important–some people would go longer without checking their belongings than others, and if those who opened their safes earlier found someone else’s stuff that wasn’t even known to be missing, it would start a domino effect across the whole ship. And that would be a [i]lot[/i] of unnecessary attention.

Speaking of unnecessary attention…what the hell was going on outside? Sounded like the whole damn ship was in the hallway–and then someone screamed. Travis grimaced as he put his ear to the door. Then his face paled. [i]Oh, shit.[/i] His head turned on a swivel as he backed away. The bathroom, or the closet? Under the bed? No, that one was right out. He yanked open a bedside table drawer, scooped all the stolen belongings into it–[i]Gonna have to sort ‘em all over again, dammit![/i]--and grabbed his 9-mil lying at the back. Then he vaulted over the bed–just as the first impact shook his doorframe. He slammed the bathroom door shut, and turned. The cabin door splintered inward under the butt of a weapon. The thief ran back across his room in a panicked sprint. Travis drew the closet door shut with a silent click, just as two men burst into the room. 

The adept’s breath was slow and shallow as he peered through the slats of the closet door’s blind. They each swept the cabin with…a harpoon gun? Were they afraid of bullets ricocheting in the ship’s interior? Then again, maybe their scuba getup didn’t have a waterproof container for a firearm? He [i]did[/i] see pockets, with at least one knife. And there were layers…armored plates, maybe? His pistol wouldn’t get through that.

“It’s clear, on to the next one!” said the first.

“Not yet! Check the side rooms!”

“Aw c’mon, if someone was in here they’d have heard us and screamed or somethin’! Let’s just go!” There were several loud crashes outside, and the unmistakable sounds of a struggle. The men didn’t seem too perturbed–which meant they weren’t alone in this heist.

“Screw you, we’re doin’ this [i]right[/i]! Check the bathroom, I’ll cover you!”

“Screw [i]you![/i] What if they’re taking a dump in there, huh? That’s just awkward for everybody.” The second scuba-man ground his teeth hard enough Travis could hear them creaking against the rebreather. 

“Then check. The. Closet.”

Travis held his breath. The first intruder shrugged, and headed for the closet. The thief backed away from the door. The man’s green, rubber coated hand grasped the handle and threw it open.

“Empty!”

A cyan light flashed around the edges of the bathroom door. Both whirled towards it and jerked their guns to position.

“If that’s what their dumps are like, I don’t wanna see what this fella’s been eating. Get in there!” Despite one giving his companion the order, both moved together to the bathroom. Without even checking to see if it was locked, they both kicked at once to shatter the latch. Less stable than the cabin’s entrance, the door exploded into the room. Both thugs followed, one crouched, both with weapons at the ready. The barrel of each harpoon gun swept the room. Both missed the second flash, back in the closet.

Everything in the restroom was covered in that same eerie cyan light. The tub, the tiled floors, the toilet…

“What the hell?” One of them reached out to touch the mirror, and watched as his hand passed through some kind of intangible wall. He poked his head out next, and saw that the color only applied to the part of the bathroom in which they were standing. All the other fixings of the room were just colored by it as if they were wearing sunglasses, because they were boxed in on all sides.

“This definitely ain’t normal, let’s–” He turned back to his companion, re-entered the glowing area in the process…and saw Travis, across the room. The Englishman looked smug as he stood in the closet, waving at them.

Then there was a flash, and the two found themselves outside Cabin 252’s window, about ten feet away from the body of the ship. They had just enough time to look down before they plummeted into the ocean. As if on cue, the ship lurched with a burst of speed, leaving them behind. The thief steadied himself against the door, then looked out the porthole to watch them struggle.

“Wankers.” Travis sneered. 

[hr]

Travis surveyed another empty cabin and another broken door. The whole level had signs of struggle here and there, but very little damage. No blood, either. So the frogmen, corsairs, whatever they were wanted captives alive. Hostage and ransom, then. That meant most folks on board would get away with their lives, so long as they didn’t do anything stupid like try to fight back. This might actually be a lucky break for him–the various stolen articles could easily be blamed on the pirates and keep him out of the spotlight. 

He couldn’t hear any more noise on the deck above him–he thought maybe he’d heard someone knocking on a door, and a woman’s voice calling out, but he couldn’t be sure and certainly wasn’t going to go check. He needed to find a place to lay low until either the coast guard cleared this mess up, or the pirates docked the ship somewhere else. But, if the upper passengers and the main deck had already been covered by the frogmen…that meant he needed to go lower.

Unfortunately, the lower decks were [i]not[/i] silent. From below, the engine roared, and the deafening echo bounced up the stairwell and down the hall towards Travis. For it to be that loud…had someone left the door to the engine room open? Had the frogs secured that, too–or were they doing something to it? If they wanted to stop the ship before it could reach shore, why not just take over the controls? Travis gulped as he realized the possibility. [i]A bomb?[/i]

Then the gnawing fear in his belly turned to an icy bite. Travis slowly turned his gaze. He caught a whiff. It was not a pleasant aroma–but one he knew quite well. One he tried to avoid, at all costs, whenever he could. But in a life like his, that scent was all too common. The smell of blood. And it came, slow, with leisure, down the hall. Toward him.

[@EnterTheHero]Another figure walked through the hall, and in their hand a sword dripped crimson. Nonchalant and smooth, their movements told Travis that this was a [i]professional[/i]--the kind of guard or muscle he always made a point to avoid when burgling some rich target’s mansion. On top of the fear factor was also the weird factor. They wore traditional Japanese garb, which matched the sword, and had some crazy two-tone hair. [i]If that don’t scream ‘sod off’ I dunno what does. No thank you, ol’ chap.[/i]

He started to duck into one of the cabins–if he crouched low on the floor, he could maximize Trick Room’s distance, and then visualize the spatial dimensions of the ship well enough to move between floors…but that might drop him right in the laps of those frogmen messing with the engine! Was this killer part of their crew? Their outfit certainly didn’t match…but then wouldn’t that be a trend for a leader type in a gang like this? 

He had to calm down. They were already too far up the hallway, no way they hadn’t seen him by this point anyway. Dealing with one person–even a dangerous one–beat dealing with who-knew-how-many. Travis swept one hand through his hair, then adjusted his glasses. The other eased into his coat pocket. 

[i]Travis, chum, what the[/i] hell [i]are you doing?[/i] Time to take the gamble. Roll the dice. He stepped further out into view as the robed figure closed in, and put on his most charming smile. 

“Don’t suppose you’re with them, then?” he spoke up, wincing as his own voice echoed. “The dodgy gits goin’ round bashing all the doors in, I mean.”