[center][h2]Underworld Underhandedness - Part 1[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/3GBuBnl.jpg[/img] [/center] JP/Collab from [@Gunther], [@wanderingwolf], and [@sail3695] [center][hider=Teenage Anarchist][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8i4h_y0SAc [/youtube][/hider][/center] “Well,” Cal spoke plain and dry as he looked about, “we’re sure to blend in here alright.” All around them, the organized chaos and postured anarchy of The Underworld, Capital City’s most well known counter culture bar, seemed to point Cal, Hook, and Yuri out for the three ‘sore thumbs’ they clearly were. The entire space was festooned with posters from either bands who’d played upon its’ stage, or stylized images of historical revolutionaries. “Rebellion chic,” Yuri said as he took in the spray painted [i]Viva Zona Libre![/i] slogans as the music blasted from a high quality speaker system. “Never seen so many children with such thick beards,” the first mate observed as the captain led them toward an open table. “Then again,” he chuckled, “I gave up wearing sunglasses in the dark first time I barked a shin.” “The birth of wisdom,” Cal replied as they settled in around a sticky table. “Sister said she’d be right along. Anybody want anything?” he asked. “One-Arm’s buyin.” “Ah’ll have a whi-, err, How ‘bout some ah that bob’s cola, Miss Abby always be drinkin’?” Joe would have enjoyed a whiskey, but he swore to the captain, he would quit. Now didn’t see the time or the place to go back on his word. “Thanks, mister Yoo Ree!” Joe smiled at the first officer. Yuri, caught off guard, looked every bit the deer in the headlamps as his eyes darted from one to the next. “Oh…uh…shiny,” the first mate replied as he took to his feet. “Three Captain Bob’s…comin’ right up!” “Uh, wait, get me a…” Cal held an index finger aloft, a futile gesture as Yuri hustled away toward the bar. “Ah well,” the captain’s eye met Hook. “Listen,” he leaned toward the cook to speak in quiet. “You know how this plan’s ‘sposed to work, but plans got a funny way of goin’ sideways. You’re here because we need a man inside the blackout zone. Somebody to act like our job foreman…give the guards their daily bread…and see to it that we march some of our folk out each day. If anything crawfishes, I need you in there lookin’ out for The Sister and helpin’ us come up with a Plan B…copy?” Joe listened to the captain. [i]‘Ah’m gonna be the inside man, eh?’[/i] he thought to himself. “No problem, captain.” Joe considered how he would do this. He knew all he needed to do was appear confident, he belonged there and knew exactly what he was doing, even if he didn’t. And so it was with baited breath that Ly quit the Club Banebdjedet, her message successfully passed in and among the community. The plan was in motion, even as footsteps carried her toward an uncertainty; it all rested on her shoulders now, and she knew what must be done for the people which she championed. Once she arrived she paused, collecting herself: she had a job to do, and the end was finally in sight. [center][hider=Exodus][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nv584jRwh0s [/youtube][/hider][/center] The back door swung open and Sister Lyen entered the Underworld, with a nod to the closest busboys and bartenders. Once inside, the darkness of the club morphed into shuffling bodies in and among each other, but it wasn't hard for the Sister to spot her quarry, if from nothing else than the look of distinctive dissimilitude on the captain and his crew. Like water passing downstream, the nun picked her way toward the conspiratorial pair as the captain righted himself in recognition. She returned his nod with a veritable smile, turning toward Hook. "Amituofo, I am Lyen Giu. I don't believe we've had the pleasure," the nun said, bedecked, as ever, in her orange kasaya robe, her hand outstretched for his. Joe quickly took the nun’s hand to shake. “Very nice to meet ya, sister. Name’s Hooker, Joe Hooker. Most folks call me Hook.” He didn’t feel it necessary to discuss the first time he saw her. They had more important issues to deal with. "Mr. Hooker," Lyen replied, taking an open seat at their table. In the brief connection they shared, Ly felt something heavy inside the man whose hand she returned now. The 'Verse seemed to be telling her that there was more to Joe Hooker than met the eye, and at first glance the eye revealed a man who clutched a soda bottle like it was an old friend. The woman’s look at him made Joe feel uncomfortable. He didn’t know what it was, but it made him uneasy. He remained vigilant around her even though he felt probably did not need to be. “Sister,” Cal settled back in his chair after rising to greet the nun. “We think we’ve cooked up a plan, but you need to hear it out and let us know where the holes are.” He gestured toward Yuri, who’d just returned with three bottles. “Got you a soda,” the captain said as he passed his own cola toward her place at the table. “You met Yuri last night. It’s pretty much his plan, so I’ll let him lay it out.” He cast meaningful eyes upon his first mate. “Without the joke this time, One-Arm.” The presence of The Sister had created a quiet stir among the college aged counter culturalists in the club. Little groups huddled together, murmuring excitedly as the trim figure in the orange kasaya robe made her nondescript passage. Yuri watched as along her way, she paused, delivering comfort and blessings through the simplest of gestures. A kind word here, a touch there. It was clear that to these idealistic young minds, Sister Lyen Giu was a living embodiment of the better angels they all hungered to develop in themselves. “Yes sir,” he replied before dutifully taking his seat. “Hello, Sister. Here’s how we think it works. We’re salvaging old bricks for a trendy restaurant on Pelorum…” Over the next few minutes, the young man explained the job, cleaning and hauling bricks out of the Blackout Zone to load them aboard China Doll. One of theirs would play the role of a well to do client who’d make arrangements with the guards. “Mr. Hooker will be the job foreman,” he continued, “somebody on the inside for you to pass messages and help keep us organized.” As Lyen sat quietly, he explained the notion of swapping out the Anabaptist refugees for volunteers. “Once they push their wheelbarrows aboard China Doll,” he whispered, “we’re hoping you can supply volunteers to take their places for the return to the Blackout Zone?” As she listened to Yuri lay out the particulars of their plan, she felt herself tuning into his frequency; the scheme taking shape in her mind, too. When he finished, Lyen sat for a moment, absorbing the information. 'Look for any holes' the Captain had said, but from where she sat, Yuri ran a water-proof plot. "It's a good plan," she concluded, "I wager we may have more than a few selfless souls among us willing to join the cause." The wheels turned as she ran down her mental list of who she could call on in this time of need. Time was getting short for the Anabaptists; the local establishment was of no help in waylaying the slaver ships who arrived unscathed, somehow, in the Blackout Zone, and the Anabaptists were too gentle a people to see that enslavement and serving their God might be two paths diverging. The idealistic students here in the pulsing Underworld who stole glances at the four of them seated there, heads craned together, were beginning to quiet their murmurs as Lyen's calm gaze swept over the club. Many of them were the children of wealthy aristocrats and politicians; untouchable to the local constabulary or slaver alike. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she considered the statement of what Yuri's plan could become for the Blackout Zone, even to all those important and powerful men and women, if it didn’t get swept under the rug. "Yuri," she said, returning vibrant eyes to him, "That is one blessed plan, and now I'd like to hear that joke, if you please," she shot a belaying look at the Captain. Yuri’s smile conveyed his satisfaction. “Thank you Sister,” he replied before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Just one thing that eludes me right now is the checkpoint. I’ve watched some folk come and go…headed back this evening to watch a bit more. When people walk through, the guards may stop them to check bags or pockets…but I never see any ident come out. That vexes me a bit. How do they track folk going through the checkpoints?” "No idents," the nun's brow pulled down, her eyes sharpening, "The Anabaptists didn't arrive of their own accord; they were brought in like cattle, and branded. Tech injected into their arms so they can't go [i]astray[/i]." Lyen chewed her cheek for a moment before continuing, shaking her head. "The arches above the checkpoints scan for the chip when they come and go... product on loan to whichever foreman paid the slaver's price." [i][b]...to be continued…[/b][/i]