Walking the line

[morrigan]

He hated it here.

The press of people all mingling around him, the hand on one side near a gun, the other near a pocket as he looked over the ships and shrugged a shoulder to maintain that carry sack, whilst he let the world travel about him.

He saw somebody bite into an apple and the flinch was instinctive, expecting the explosion that never happened as he breathed a sigh and a hand curled about his waist band whilst the coat started to hang heavy on his shoulders once more.

he felt something start to graze his inner pocket and one hand moved like a snake eyes gripping down to the young boy, a runner a little rat and he smirked letting go of his wrist and speaking up finally.

"Find somebody else Boy, ain't nobody's ruttin' target."

The child moved away from him, Disappearing into the container alleys as he blew another sigh and shifted to meld with the crowd some, eyes scanning the ships before he got a little closer to the boards to have a look who was going where, and how much he'd have to pay.

This wasn't getting any easier, and he felt eyes on him , he'd have to make this quick before the seedier element got word he was on the sand again.

If there ever was a god, he'd find himself an angel to get his gorramed ass out of Persephone.

He'd grown up here long enough to know it wasn't somewhere he really belonged. The division that lay in the undercurrent of that particular world was not something he liked to see.

Reminded him of all that was bad in the world.
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OOC: Add this part to the first.

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The winter campaign had dragged on longer than anyone had anticipated, the snow was falling over the blighted soil, the artillery had made Pox marks of the once beautiful moon, Breath curled into the air forming a cloud of steam against the cold, the squad had been holed up in this damned trench for too long...Food was getting low, Billy had done what he could, rationed himself to barely nothing and still the food was running dry... The snow had meant the Alliance were holding off their attacks.. the pats few days had been nothing but banter between the two sides, anything to take their minds off the cold that crept up form their soles and into their heads, a couple of the guys had already gotten hypothermia and were being tended to.

It had started out like any other day Billy and Jackson were sat in their assigned section staying low to avoid the snipers as a voice came hovering over the killing fields, the Londinum accent cutting clear through the air.

"Hey ...Browncoat... are you still there?"

Billy thought for a few seconds and retorted "Well I ain't dead yet, you can't seem to get the nerve t' shoot me!"

"Very Funny Browncoat, we have a present for you..."

Billy let loose a mock gasp as he covered his heart with a hand and chuckled "Gorram , you fellas goin' sly on us?"

Then, the apples came. Raining over the wall of the trench like a tidal wave. Everything froze for a second before a swarm of bodies moved in from all quarters to pick up the apples. Food! They did have hearts. They Cared. Maybe it was something else..

Billy paused a second from biting into the apple.

No...it wasn't right ... he looked at the apple... And then he looked up to Jackson as he bit into the apple.

Billy's face was covered in blood, grey matter and skull fragments as the Grizwald exploded his friends head in a shower of gore across the trench... several more little 'whoomps' filled the walls of the trench followed by the laughs of the Alliance troops in the trench opposite...

Billy pulled his knife and carefully sliced into the apple taking a small segment out to reveal the explosive inside .. His eyes narrowed as he tasted his friends blood on his lips ...and then he tasted apple..

Didn't make sense to starve.

A quick blink and he started to back away from the docks hands curling into a ball as he retreated a little further into himself and took a breath.

He really needed a drink now.

[pinkerton]

The Captain woke. The Captain rolled out of bed. The Captain went to the latrine and relieved himself. He shaved his whiskers. He got dressed. He walked up to the deck and checked with his pilot. He went to the hold and checked on his cargo. He inspected the trunks thoroughly, even the ones that weren't suppose to be on the ship. He cleared the weapons from the weapon cabinent, inspected them and placed them back. He went on the mess hall and talked to his crew as they ate. He spoke to the mechanic and the pilot and Charlie his first mate. He spoke at length about the job and that which they would need. First to Persephone for supplies, then onward to the Rim. "Be on the look out for Reavers and Alliance. We get this right and everything is shiny". He went down to the hold and fixed a centrefuge and retaped the axis line. He double checked the fillers and decided that they would by new saline distrubutors once they make landfall. He sat the stairs and made a list of what they'd need and handed it to Charlie. He went upstairs to fix something to eat.

He made a plate of home fries with onion and celery. He scrambled some eggs in a small iron skillet and plated them in a ceramic bowl. He sat at the head of the table with his back to the door and ate. Something was off about the 'tatoes as soon as he bit into them. Something sour in the spuds. He licked his teeth and looked at his plate. Someone entered the room and he glanced over his shoulder. " These potatoes taste funny " He said.

And he was shot.

The heart of Persephone pumps and the people are it's blood. They spilled out intto the streets like plasma down ventricle. They carry coins and commerce, the oxygen of this world. They boarded ships and sailed away from the sun, bringing their breathe to other words. Here the people moved and swayed like a gray sea, their packs on their backs afloat like narrow ships. Some moved with many things. Most move with not much at all. He packed light. A suitcase and a trunk with wheels and a handle. He kept all his documents close to vest. He kept his hat low above is eyes. He spoke not a word and he looked no one in the face. His gait was that of a small and timid man. Shoulders hunched, gangly legs shooting forward as if on hinges. Hands in the pocket of his overcoat. His suit was charcoal black, worn but good. His hat was the same color and equally beaten. His face was that of a young man with a sad eyes. He was not unhandsome, though his eyes were unkind and his lips were too thin. His hair was wavey and short, the color of a ring-spun sack. He walked amongst the ships and he marveled at them silently. Some were as big as a building, others were a size of a large carriage, all of them had the rough and weathered look of travel. Tranished steel, rusted copper, the unmistakeable black-brown of re-entry burns, the sploches of motor oil like bloodstains. Strangely beautiful in a broken sort of way.

As he looked amongst the ship he felt someone collide with his shoulder. He stumbled forward and nearly lost his brief-case as regained his balance. His knees brushed the ground and he took the time to dust himself before glancing around. The figure was a cowled man, doubled over. He seemed to be hurrying as he pushed thorough the crowd. Sam frowned deeply, wondering if he should have apologized to the man before he left. Then he felt his pockets and found him empty. He turned. " Hey. Hey! " He called out to the figure but the figure did not look back, he simply charged forward faster, away from him. " Hey, stop that man! " He said before giving chase.

[morrigan]

There was a dull shout as he started to step back, those eyes shot up into the crowd with a keen awareness as the words "stop that man" rung out. he saw the figures jostle and he walked forwards, there was a sense of self to Eavedowne.

A flow even, follow it -just- right and you could get anywhere.

Most people wouldn't help but Billy was a strange man like that a romantic playing at being a cynic, the cowled figure moving into the crowd just ahead of him and turning sharply aw ya as the thief sensed another figure joining the chase and he Cursed some as he moved to the right rather than the left, between a space in the containers, and then Left as he sped up as the cowled figure came into view.

The brown coat turned shoulder first to impact with the cowled man, and they both bounced off the container and went spilling to the floor.

Billy started to stand up dusting himself off with a cough, before his eyes met the Thief's and caught on the figure who was catching up, the Thief lunged forwards to try and get past Billy, who was quick to get to his feet as the punch slammed into the face of the thief, who shook it off and punched the solider back.

Okay, that hurt, Billy glanced backwards to step back another step with wild eyed panic as the knife sizzled past his clothes and almost caught the billowing fabric of his coat, the thieves often used it to cut into bags and the like and fish out money, it also handled it's self as fine protection against the gutter snipes.

Billy took a few steps back smirking as he looked at the man's chest.. not his arm, stumbling backwards with a soft "woah there" the thief advancing to silence the browncoat, who started to kneel down a hand goign into the dirt before throwing a ahnd ful of the stuff into the guy's eys and moving quickly to take the knife, with a stomp of arm against arm and a twist of wrist, the cowled man was into the dirt and a browncoated figure stepping away quietly.

He just kpet his eys on the man as his flesh quickly reddened and his ahnd started to hurt as he then quickly drew the pistol as the Theif started to getup and there was a soft.

"Nuh-uh"

And the Hammer came back with a definitive "click".

[pinkerton]

He stumbled, stopped, rolled the trunk back onto it's wheels. He was careful not to shove everyone aside as he ran. His thief had no scruples as such. He lost him for a moment when he cut right around the containers. The flow of bodies pressed Sam toward the left, around the pile of trunks that diverted the way. The thief seem to stop behind the obstruction because Sam didn't see him flee from behind. At first Sam though he simply plan to hide there but then heard the sound of a scuffle. Someone grunted heavily. A cart shook suddenly, knocking down a trunk from the top of the pile at Sam's feet. He moved around quickly, laying his back nearby just in time to see an unfamiliar figure draw down on his would-be pickpocket. The sound of hammer clicking back the determinate answer to his query. Sam looked at the man, all narrowed eye and looking darkly and then he looked down at the thief.

" Excuse me sir. I think you have something of mine. "

*****

[OOC: Hope you don't mind I move things a bit forward]

Ultimately, he decided to let the man go with a few dollars and a small smile. He knew that the man wouldn't abide his ways, but he hope next time that he'd take care to not harm others in the taking. A bad thing was avoided today. He was glad to be so lucky.

It was next to his bags that the turned to the man and said Thank you. He took his suitcase and his trunk and nodded and after a while he said. " I don't want ta' seem inconsiderate. What with you placin' yerself in a precarious situation in my behave, I think I am indebted ta' repay such altruism. I'd like to buy you a drink Mr..." He said, letting the words hang in the air like clothes on a line.

[morrigan]

{OOC: Not at all sir}

The guy was walking off wit ha few dollars and a smile, pay the man for getting his backside handed to him, Billy for his sins was touching idly at his face where the punch had connected as the man near him asked his name, Mr.

Those eyes traced on the other man and his case and he found himself almost rolling them inwardly before he replied, remember Billy No good deed.

"Yung, but most folks call me Billy."

He touched at his own face again and muttered softly to himself about being so stupid, or something like that, there was a dull ache that spread form old wounds as he then straightened and gave a smile.

"And it weren't nothin'..Just doin' a fell a good turn.." a pause. and he then chuckled.

"But a Drink sure does sound Handy Mr...?"

Cue the looking all inquisitive and manly, and thankfully I would hasten to mention, unarmed, that wonderful little gun un-cooked and back in holster, handled with the care and grace it should be.

[pinkerton]

" Pinkerton. " he said and lead on.

Montegomery wasn't anything special. A room and a half with a bar lining one end and spare set of chairs and tables hugging the other. The place was flooded with an ugly red light. It limbered the eyes and made the blackness seem almost welcoming, but it turned the stomach like nothing else. One sought the comfort of drink to dim the mind and settle the gut. He lead the man Yung to a table at the corner, unoccupied and out of others. " What do you take? " He asked the man and went to fill the order. He returned and put the drinks down in front of the man and took a seat. He dropped his bag behind him and gingerly placed his suitcase out of the floor. He dusted his knees and took his hat and put it on the table and nodded at the man. He took his drink and he downed it quietly and placed the glass upside down in front of him.

" What do you know about insurance, Mr...I mean...Billy? " He asked.

[morrigan]

Billy followed, finding himself a seat that faced a door, keeping the world about him in a quiet tactical view as they dropped into that corner, there were good lines here and he knew at that Moment Mr Pinkerton was much more than he appeared.

Then came the question.

"From what I figure and have been told, It's like layin' a bet that something -won't- happen.. but winnin' if it does, that about right?"

Well you had to say, Mr Yung was certainly direct in such matters.

He'd asked for something akin to rot gut, one of the few things in Eavesdown he knew was relatively free of anything that would hurt you besides your own pride in thinking you can take a drink.

The dust settled about him and he looked across at Pinkerton with a soft incline of his head.

"Though I can't help but think why you're askin' such a question."

[pinkerton]

Sam looked up toward the barkeeper and raised his hands, but the bartender ignored him and began to wash a glass. Sam sighed, looking down at his empty glass and regretted downing it so quickly. He held the glass in his hand and made tiny circles in the mouth. It made a dim whistling sound and not much else. He looked back up at Billy and said " It pertains to my business. I'm a claims investigator for the Doubleday insurance company. Have you heard of it? "

He brushed his hand underneath his nose, wiping the residue of bitter whiskey from under his nose and continue. " I've been given a commission to investigate claims in and around the border, out far to the rim. I was hoping to track a ship to take my there, but no luck finding anyone shy of unscrupulous 'round these parts. Good ships are hard to fine, as you can rightly tell. I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction. " He said, though his words were seemingly devoid of hope.

[morrigan]

Billy Had to chuckle a little and hake his head smiling softly as he sipped his drink.

"I'm lookin' for a bird myself sir, So I'm a mite shy of ideas that are shiny.."

He didn't comment on the insurance company, really, he couldn't, we was sure he'd seen the name on a few billboards and cortex ads even the odd printed paper out in the rim, shouted advertisements where they were welcome, but honestly? He couldn't really remember.

A long sigh and a soft.
"Sorry sir"

[pinkerton]

He bowed his head and took his glass in his hand and went to stand, but didn't just yet. "Well, that's mighty discouragin', that is. I was hoping to git 'bout the evenin' time and get down to it but..." He looked at the door and peered out and pretended to sea the night and the street light start to fire, twinkling like jewels in a water bowl.

" No sense goin' out 'till morning. The harbor can be might precarious this time a'night. " He nodded to himself and stood.

" I'll inquire about lodgings. " He looked about for a moment, the shadows played across his face and he seem taller in standing in the sickly red light.

" Perhaps they might have something. "

[morrigan]

There was a long moment where Billy found himself leaning back a wrinkle of his nose as he peered out to the docks, a small smirk on his features whilst he thought to himself about how dangerous the docks were if you didn't know your way, even if you did.

He knew his actions today would earn hi ma little more enmity from those people who hung in the shadows, the kings of the heap so to put.

His jaw idly tightened as he just thought about that Dayton Colony accent, the bowler hat, those steely eyes and more goons with guns than you could shake a stick at.

The the man stood and Billy felt his hand graze his pistol out of habit,and he reminded himself to keep cool, the fella talked about getting lodgings.. then seemed to get distracted by the light

"Perhaps, Nothin' ventured..Right?"

[pinkerton]

He inquired about lodgings and ordered two rooms in the back, one for himself, one for his acquaintance. He made mention of it to the man and offered it to him. Whether he took it or not made no matter to him. He simply wanted to make the gestured. He said his good nights and retired to the room. He turned on the light from the door.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him and locked his. His bag he sat down near the door and he went about the room, trying to get the space of it. It was small, lightly furnished with a wool cot and a small desk for writing. There was a footlocker at the end of the bed and a pan in the corner. There was a sink with a faucet and a mirror above it. There were no windows and no way out save for the door. He dragged his bags to the opposite side of the room and put them on the wall facing the bed.

He took off his coat and hung it by the door. He took of his jacket and laid it neatly on the bed. Next his vest and his watch. He sat on his bed and untied his shoes, stepping out of them, then he rolled his socks and placed them next to the bed. He stood up and took off his vest and placed it near his coat. He took his clothes, folded as they were, and with reverence placed them on the small table at the corner of the room. He went to the sink and ran the faucet and washed his face in the cold water. He dried himself with a hand towel from under the sink and went to his bags at the corner beside the bed. The trunk consisted of simple clothes, toiletries, things one needed for a long journey.

The suitcase, however, was different. It had red satin silk and it had a false bottom that flicked open at a touch. In the false bottom was a maplewood gun case and in it was a gun. It was a strange gun, very unlike most. It was chrome with a silver finish. It's chamber and barrel were one and the same, a cylindrical tube with eight holes the end. It was of a top-break construction and the cartridge where brass brown and gray. The bullets were chambered by a speed loader that laid next to the gun.

Beside the case was a round of bullets and beside that a small photograph. Sam took out the gun and broke the top and inspected the chamber and clicked it back and thumbed the hammer back. He sighted the gun and looked out the barrel and pulled the trigger and the hammer pulled and made a click. He lowered the gun and then leveled it again and then pulled the trigger and the hammer pulled back and went forward in one smooth motion, once again with a sound that went click.

He sat down on the bed and loaded the bullets one by one. He clicked the chamber in place and he stood up. He closed the suitcase with the false bottom and placed it next to the bag. He turned off the light and laid down, gun in hand.

[morrigan]

Well, seemed to Billy to be so good to the man for offering him lodgings, he'd accept the idea.

The room wasn't spectacular but it was at least comfortable, the carry sack came off his back and that brown coat of his found a spot near the foot of his bed, hung over and around something to give the impression of a figure watching over the room.

A chair was grabbed as he took the gunslinger rig from about is waist for a minute the gun sliding out before he opened it up in a smooth break action, removing each bullet and the reaching into the carry- sack to withdraw a cleaning kit and brushes.

The cleaning was a daily ritual he practiced whenever he could, a focus for the mind and body, something to not think about those darker times..

"Corporal Yung!"

The younger version of himself turned toward himself as the fire battery whizzed overhead, people kept their heads down as the Sergent looked down at Billy from his position, dirt clustered on them both as he explained in a loud shout.

"Corporal I want you and three men to move head and strike that bunker! Paint it up for our angels next stop, New Kasmir!"

Billy nodded and turned around moving toward the west side of the bunker as the world was rocked by an explosion and as he blinked he found himself looking at his pistol again , brush smoothly pulling out the dirt and grime that accumulates.

He felt a little bad not being able to direct Pinkerton to a bird, he glanced up-wards toward the door and checked his back-up pistol was still in easy reach, it was.

He thought some more on the problem, there wasn't a bird around anywhere really, his eyes bored into the darkness for a minute as he finished cleaning the gun and reloaded it, cylinder spin click, a sigh has he felt old aches start to rise and he dulled them with a spin of the gun, slipping into the holster smoothly, the back-up went onto the bed as he leant back in the chair a second and mused some more.

There might be something to finding himself a job as crew...

He deigned to sleep on it.