[color=silver][h1][center]Enemy Mine Part 1[/center][/h1][/color]
[color=white][center][b]Silverhold | Barnett Silver Mines[/b][/center][/color]
[color=silver][center]Summary[/center][/color]
[color=silver][center][i]Kinneas tries to keep heads cool and reasonable.[/i][/center][/color]
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OOC: JP between [@Winters], [@MK Blitzen],[@Aalakrys]
The miners had all but taken over the Black Burrow Silver Mines camp. It was as dusty here as it was in town but you couldn’t really escape it. The Camp was not a rinky-dink operation. There was a building for storage of various equipment, fuel, and repair. Some amenities included a basic shower and latrines. It was all made of wood which added more to that rustic feel or the fact that like most Mining companies out in the Rim only wanted to invest so much.

It was just past noon and while the day was warm and the wind was picking up. The miners were all sitting in groups by fires divided into various camps of thought. Morale was getting low.

Gideon Barnett sat next to a low burning fire by himself idly nibbling on a dry, brown roll that passed for bread here. He was a man who was entirely out of place in this picture. He was dressed in nice if not slightly rumpled clothes, with a neat bowler hat and a meticulously trimmed mustache. He was young but thin, clearly far more used to being behind a desk as opposed to being on-site. The sad fact was his ‘Kidnapping’ had been entirely accidental with was mostly running in the wrong direction when the riot broke out. It was then he had been grabbed and dragged bringing him to his current situation. Watching a group of very large, hairy, slightly smelly men arguing what to do with him.

“Ah say we cut off a thumb and send it out to show’um we mean business!” Retorted one snaggle-toothed man, coming to a stand as if to emphasize his point.

"Pipe down. Also, the hell is wrong with you? Chopping off a man's parts all willy nilly!" Another miner argued.

"Even if you did, no one here knows how to stop the bleeding, just saying, it might do more harm than good." Another shrugged. 

“Then they’d hurry to meet our demands - give’um a sense of urgency.” The pro-thumb cutter grumbled but didn’t press the issue as he crossed his arms and sat back down. 

"I can't believe this is even a conversation." Drawled someone from the back.

"I prefer to keep my thumbs. Please?" Gideon piped up.

“Thumb-losin’ could do ya some good - give ya some character,” Snaggle-tooth said, the line between sincerity and joking not quite evident. “More’en your privileged mustache wax an’ fancy little hat.”

“Let’s stop hassling the man about his image and focus on what your actual goal of capturing him entailed.” Kinneas Reed sounded as exasperated as the man leaning against the crate beside him. He’d been listening to this nonsense that was going nowhere for about an hour and was the point of bridge pinching. When he released the hold and looked up at the men who’d all turned their attention to him, which still weirded him out, he wondered once again how he got into this mess. “Anyone? Rational reason or was it a heat of the moment thing?”

“We need him,” one of the men in the back replied as he stepped forward. “For leverage. They won’t do anything to any of us while we got him trussed up.” 

"Ok," Kinneas brought his hands together as if this may actually be leading to something, falling short of an actual clap to stop himself from sighing as he dropped the gesture to push off the crate. He dusted off his pants more out of habit than anything else as he stopped his stride before the spokesperson. "And, so that means this is an important man. Who is he? Do you know?"

“Barnet,” the man replied. “Office big wig. Gets paid more than a bunch of us combined.”

“Uh-huh…” Kinneas said with a rub to his jaw. “Though they pay him more, I can say from experience that he is just as expendable. Sorry, man.”

The last was said to the captive with a glance and shrug, simple truth. Gideon gave an ambivalent shrug of his shoulders.

“We’ve got to look at a few facts here. They’re broadcasting this demonstration as a riot rather than a strategic, stand-in strike.” Kinneas didn’t bother riling them up by pointing out that was their fault. “They’re saying people are dead, and now you have a hostage. Now you’ve got the silver of this supplier on hold [i]and[/i] have lost public sympathy. That won’t end well, so… aside from cutting this poor sap’s thumb off and fully committing to both feet in the grave, do we have any other options?”

"We can stand our ground. If we don't it's back down to the mines and that's after they may fire off anyone they seem 'bad apples'." The one miner said standing up. 

[i]Safe to say this whole bunch is spoiled…[/i] Kinneas wasn't quite sure there was anything he could accomplish with this group. There was not much question that all the men here were prepared to fight, it was their ability to actually win that had the sniper wanting to prevent the undoubted massacre. 

“And if they don't even bother sending in troops to stand against?" Kinneas asked with a lifted brow. "They could just wipe the slate and start over unless you start some communication - that doesn't involve dismemberment."

“Pretty boy is right,”  Martín Reyes agreed, once again stepping forward. “The only way they’re going to listen is if we have Barnet - in-tact. We been telling them for months that the mines structurally ain’t sound no more. They had a cave in not six months ago up in Cobb’s Creek, lost 11 good men. I don’t think we’re looking for anything unreasonable. Send in an inspector - a real inspector, not no one’s mother’s cousin’s brother-in-law twice removed getting a fat cat salary. Every day we go down that mine it’s a crapshoot to whether we’re coming back up or not, and now that Mulligan bought up Wellspring and Nordic Ventures, they don’t even pay us a living wage.” 

There were a few grumbled agreements all around. At the usual haunts, Kinneas had heard these things, which is likely how his sympathies led him here. Being addressed as ‘pretty boy’ hadn’t phased him this time either, especially since he was glad someone else was taking the lead in crowd control and progress was being made in a decent, non-fatalistic way. 

“That sounds like a reasonable demand.” Kinneas nodded along. “Anyone writing this down? Start a list, yeah?”

“I’ve got it,” Someone else replied, settling down with a clipboard and yellow pencil.
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