Episode 1 - "GATEWAY"
OOC: Joint post by Wandering Wolf and Sail3695
Persephone...Gateway to the Universe. The slogan, coined by the Wu Xing Travel Agency, was meant to enhance the artist’s rendering of a colorful, modern cityscape in their destination poster. But nowadays, that bit of artwork actually offered a more accurate picture through years of dirt, curling edges, and the yellowing brought on by grime and soot. Persephone, and the city of Eavesdown, were both a study in “have” versus “have not.” The cosmopolitan districts still gleamed with the lustre of the central planets, proudly displaying the trappings of extreme wealth and an ostentatious social scene.
Despite this grand facade, one didn’t need to look far beyond a border of regentrification projects to find the opposite end of the spectrum. The warehouses and slums which sprawled about the Eavesdown docks could’ve been lifted from any one of a dozen worlds on the outer rim. In this seedy underworld, anything...or anyone...could be obtained for the right amount of coin.
It was here, in the rough streets around the docks, that a tenacious little man nicknamed Badger had carved out a fledgling criminal empire. An unrefined narcissist, Badger attempted to put on the airs of the local aristocracy, fancying himself a modern day Reginald Kray, while those he sought to impress regarded him more as an updated Fagin from ‘Oliver Twist.’ His place in the caste thus locked, Badger sported his bowler hat, a necktie with no collared shirt, and a worn suit jacket to secure what illicit trade he could grasp. Those around him might have laughed him off, but for the gunscans of his ever present henchmen.
It was two of these who jostled Cal Strand through the rabbit’s warren of freight containers that comprised their base of operations. Suddenly, a third gunman barred the way, his Alliance issued autorifle pressing into Cal’s chest as he waited for permission. A dim light filtered through the overhead camouflage netting, falling onto a peeling copy of the Wu Xing Agency’s poster.
Persephone...Gateway to the Universe. “Send ‘im in, lads.”
The rifle’s muzzle was withdrawn, as beefy hands shoved Cal into the crime boss’ inner sanctum. “Well, well, well!” With practiced grandiosity, Badger turned, made a show of straightening his lapels, and fixed Cal with a predatory grin. “Call the eye doctor, boys. I must need spectacles!” the little man’s Cockney accent broke into a patronizing chuckle. “Captain Calvin Strand...or is it “Strand-ed?” he teased. “Come to grace my humble enterprise. Fallen on hard times, have you?”
“Badger, always a pleasure,” Strand nodded, eyeing the pistols trained on his chest, “how long’s it been? The Osiris job? I recollect you made a pretty penny when last we crossed paths.” Cal, missing the weight of the firearm on his hip, removed his hat and draped himself over a chair opposite the little man’s desk, his Tom Mix hat perched on the corner.
Leaning forward, Cal picked up a bauble from Badger’s desk, an arrowhead. “Nice, one this. You pick it up on vacation to some backwater dust planet? Course not, a man of business such as yourself ain’t got time for such a venture. Not when you got people what can do the dusty work for you. How much is this worth, you reckon? How much would a crate be?” Setting it down among the other motley assortment on the trinkets, Cal straightened in his chair.
“Now I think you know why I’m here, and businessmen like we are, we see silver linings in damn near every rain cloud.”
“That,” Badger’s glance touched upon the arrowhead, “comes with a tale that I share only with my most trusted business associates...typically them as don’t leave a mess for me to clean up.” At the lift of his hand, a lackey set a small tray upon the desk, poured two shots from a corked bottle, and hastily withdrew. “A penny was made,” the crime lord agreed as he lifted his glass, “though it should’ve been two. Endeavors,” he offered the toast, a serpentine smile on his face as the shot rose to his lips.
After the home distilled alcohol made its’ way to his gullet, the little man regarded his guest. “Now then, word is that you find yourself without a working boat or a crew to fly her. Harbormaster’s not an understanding gent like myself...makes me conjure you’re about a day off being land locked for your fees..” A mocking sympathy crossed his brow as he poured two fresh drinks. “So tell me, old chum, how might I be of service?”
Clearly, Badger remembered a bitter version of the incident which broke out after Cal collected a particular circus performer, one of a double act, from Delphi. The job ended up tarnishing the little man’s namesake with a corpse or two from the other party. But, hey, Badger failed to mention he wanted kid gloves, so Cal reckoned strong and loud would get the job done as good as anything. Strand frowned as he considered how the man might choose to exact revenge in his own hour of need.
The tray appeared, and Cal took his shot at Badger’s toast. The alcohol burned from top to tail and had a faintly wooden flavor, not like oak or maple. It was more akin to saw dust. Eyes squinting as the flame traveled up his nose, he gave a decisive nod in the negative, replacing the glass.
“It ain’t no secret I need off this rock,” Cal leaned back to survey Badger’s whole persona, “I got a decent ship what runs, we’ve done business before; I conjure there’s still coin to be made with such a booming enterprise as yours. So I’m offering you a deal. Put me in the black, I’ll find some crew, and when the bill comes callin’, I’m offering twenty-five percent return on your investment. One-time deal, no strings attached. Besides, I got a job lined up that’ll turn around your dollar, and we both know the auspicious Badger never misses a trick,” Cal eyed the crime boss before glancing at the second shot he poured, holding back a rising in his stomach.
Truth be told, Cal was in dire need to get out of Eavesdown for more than the colossal berthing fees. The ‘job’ he mentioned had brought him more heat than he liked, and he felt a powerful urge to put as much distance between him and Londinium as possible at the current moment. If winds were fair, he might just tickle the little man’s ear enough to bite, but not enough to take Cal’s cargo at gunpoint for himself.
Badger offered an amused chuckle. “Twenty-five...most generous. But then again, begs the question as to just how much investment might be required to ‘put you off this rock.’ To opportunity,” he grinned with a subtle lift of his glass.
Once the second shot had joined the first, the criminal boss leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as if the matter he now pondered bore significant gravity. “My old friend Calvin needs a rapid egress,” he voiced aloud, “yet his fortunes would not add up. So here he is.” The viperous grin returned to his features. “It just so happens,” Badger swivelled to one side, offering his posture, “that I’ve need of a bit of hasty movement for both cargo and a passenger. A nice three day hop to New Melbourne could be just the trick for us both. But as to balancing the books on your repairs and restock, I’m more inclined to a flat rate percentage. Ninety,” he turned, propping his elbows upon the desk. “Puts your boat in the air and food in the gullets of those what you can hire. Ten percent leaves you some coin to refuel and have a brew on old Badger.”
Strand listened, working his jaw as Badger proliferated his own plan, “If you want us to make it back from New Melbourne we’ll need at least double that, and that’s if passenger and crew starve to death. Sixty-five. Ship can’t fly hasty-like on less. Bodies can’t eat.” Cal fixed his eyes on Badger’s, hands on resting on the chair’s arms.
“Lots of lovely fish on New Melbourne,” Badger chuckled at his own joke. “You might turn a nice coin hauling some to...Ezra, perhaps? Tell you what,” he relaxed once more into his chair, “I’m of a generous mind today. Seventy-five,” he countered as the smile fell away from his face, “and no body count. This run goes silent as the grave…
dohn mah?Cal turned his head to eye Badger, “Silent as the grave, now there’s a stretch. If they play nice, then so do I!” Picking up his hat, he tucked it around his ears, “Seventy, and I leave my pistol at home.”
A whimsical roll of the eyes preceded a crooked smile. “Well,” Badger tilted his head, the bowler hat threatening to fall off as he replied, “I might be taking a bath, but speed and discretion are of the essence. Seventy it is. Now drink up, partner.”
Against his better judgement, Strand rose from his seat, collecting the remaining shot from the tray. “To opportunity,” downing it eyes closed, he could already picture the smug look from those beady little eyes.
The little man rose to his feet. “Done and done!” he exclaimed. “My associates will deliver the cargo after nightfall...three sealed crates. The passenger’s name is Ms. Baker...delightful woman,” he grinned. “Lovely singing voice...and she knows her way around engines. Am I not generous?” Badger glanced toward his guards. “Our business is concluded. Show Captain Strand out.” As two beefy escorts fell in behind the departing captain, Badger drew his third close with a crooked finger. “Get those crates ready. I want ‘em out of our hands as soon as the sun drops.”
“Yes, boss,” the henchman nodded. “And ‘de woman?”
The crime boss stroked his chin. “Hustle her aboard. Tell her she’ll need her tools, and no undue lip.”
“Not sure she’ll tink ‘dot was in the deal.” he answered dubiously.
Badger smiled. “Good, fast, or cheap. Choose two.”
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