Put to the Test [Open]

[vin]

"...right?"

Silence occupied the room. The Ringmaster was caught in an unfortunate position. He wasn't listening and now his accountant waited for a response. The bespectacled man looked over his shoulder from the desk to see the Ringmaster staring back at him. "You weren't listening, were you?"

"No," the Ringmaster admitted without remorse or sincerity. The paper in his hand, though torn, ragged, and scribbled, commanded his attention entirely. "What's that you're reading then?" The accountant's head turned toward his work and his focus was back on the pile of money before him. He was jotting down notes as he counted the earnings of their last show now that they were safe in the sky.

"The manifest," the Ringmaster answered. His brow dropped. "I don't recognize half these names." He trotted to the desk where the accountant sat and ripped a sheet of paper from the pad, along with the pen the accountant had been using. He said nothing to this, merely picked up another pen from the drawer and continued with his work. Meanwhile, the Ringmaster took a seat on the couch and began to make a new list.

"Just who exactly am I giving my money to when I don't know half these people or what they do? Who's Dent? Or Potts? Or this Roland?" He was so irritated, the pen scrapped at his leg through the paper as he wrote. "Do you think this reflects poorly on me as captain?" The accountant knew better than to answer. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "Countin' here still. Don't distract me." The Ringmaster didn't pressure him for an answer.

"You goin' to get that?" he asked. The Ringmaster didn't budge. "Ringmaster?" the accountant nudge him again. "What!?" "The door. Someone's been knockin' it for a minute now. I'm still counting here. You shouldn't let anyone inside just yet..."

The Ringmaster shoved the manifest and his own notes into his pocket before answering the door. Knocking was Jara, one of the acrobats. Her lean, muscular frame was obstructed by the loose, over-sized clothing she wore. Still, the performer in her was obvious by the way she stood. "I'm sorry to bother you Ringmaster, but there's a problem in the cargo bay. We found a stowaway. The musclemen are ready to tear into the poor guy so..." The Ringmaster was already off and on his way to the cargo bay, but not before locking the door behind him (and thus trapping his accountant inside).

He stopped and Jara nearly bumped into him. Ringmaster turned to her and said, "get me a gun," before marching again.

[Noelle "Sapphire" Star]

Another day at the Carnivale. A fairly common occurrence after the ship leaves a planet, some random person hiding amongst the cargo. A drunk, a criminal, a kid who wants to join them. They got all types. Today was no different, except that the musclemen had found the guy first. They helped with security like Noelle did, but sometimes they got a little too excited. She wasn't about to interrupt them. Instead she perched herself on one of the crates, taking out one of her daggers and began to twirl it through her fingers. Watching the large men do whatever they wanted to the stowaway.

Jara, the acrobat, had run off to get the Ringmaster. As she should have. Someone should have at least. Noelle wasn't going to be that someone though, she preferred as little contact as possible with the man. Though she had grown up around him, there was still something about him that made her nervous.

The man started to try and struggle against the other men, Noelle gave him an icy glare and pointed her knife at him. "Don't you go to trying to fight them now mister. It already might not end well for you here, probably might not want to make it worse." It was unclear what the man's purpose was with hiding on board. That also, was up to the Ringmaster to find out. To decide his fate.


--------------------
Outfit

[vin]

The excitement in the cargo bay could be heard even at his distance. It did not, however, quicken the Ringmaster's pace. He knew what the musclemen would do to the stowaway because they were perhaps the most predictable of all the members of the ship; they'd "play" with him until they were bored and push him out into deep space to rid themselves of the inconvenience. These men had idle thoughts and childish desires. They got their rocks off this way.

That's why there was once a time that the Ringmaster wouldn't concern himself with stowaways. Let the others tear them apart, he would think. That changed the day one stowaway wasn't the average bum, kid, outcast, etc. This one was an Alliance agent. Or more accurately, an Alliance spy.

The spy took inventory, scoped out the ship's weaponry, and collected a near perfect account of every member aboard Carnivale Exotica. What he planned to do with that information, or why the Alliance wanted that information, no one learned because when the Ringmaster found out, the spy fell off the face of the Verse. There had been an investigation, but it went nowhere because the ship had made three stops before the spy went off the grid. "He could have left at any one of those ports. How could we know? He was an accomplished spy. Isn't their job to remain unnoticed?" a then haughty Ringmaster said before leaving the Alliance interrogation room.

Spies are dirty people.

Jara caught up with the Ringmaster just before he entered the cargo bay. He took the gun from her hand which he hid in his long coat. She followed after him into the bay area. The musclemen surrounded the stowaway who was curled up in a ball on the ground, writhing in pain from a blow to the gut. It wasn't loud, but the stowaway sobbed.

"What's going on here?" the Ringmaster said, his voice echoing in the spacious room. His eyes met with Sapphire as he passed the crate she was on, overlooking the beating like a vulture perched on a tree. He continued until he stood alongside the musclemen. "How did he get on board? Who let him on my ship?"

[roland]

(Sorry, little rusty.)

"Look, it's either you put this on twice a day or that's going to get infected. Then I'm going to have to use something shiny and sharp to help you out. And by help you out, I mean lop it off." Roland was using his index finger to the thigh of a carnivale employee that received a decent gash from a rusted piece of metal while curling the rest of his fingers on a small vial of ointment. For such a situation, antibiotics would be best, but Roland was running a bit low due to a small thieving issue with his supplies and was attmepting to supplement alternative options to help with the situation. He tossed the vial in the air as it gently hit the employee's chest with a hand securing it there.

As the employee was leaving, Roland picked up a cloth and started cleaning off his hands when someone in passing happened to poke his head in and make a comment that was considered joking but with some truth tucked in it. "Better get down to th' cargo bay...someone's gonna need yer help." Roland raised a brow, placing the cloth on one of the beds in the med bay before his making his way toward the cargo hold. He made sure to lock up his medical supplies as he left in hopes that they won't be stolen. He'd have to talk to the ship's captain about that, a man he really hasn't spoken to before.

Moving quietly into the cargo bay, he said nothing to make his presence known as he blended in with the people surrounding those who formed a tight circle around the man bleeding on the ground. Unsure of the situation, he merely listened as his attention was drawn to the Ringmaster, who began asking the questions that he himself would have asked. Able to assess the condition of the man just from what he saw, there could be a broken rib or some internal bleeding. Either way, he was alive and was in no real danger of dying within the next few minutes. If Roland felt that there was a chance this person was going to die right on the floor, he would intervene and do his job.

For right now, he remained silent and watched the altercation unfold.

[vin]

(Ugh! Sorry for the long post. I promise it's going somewhere! lol)

"No one did, Ringmaster. This one sneaked on."

"It's 'snuck' on."

"Nuh-uh. It's sneaked. Learn yourself some English, sah gwa."

"Whaddya call me, huen dahn?!"

The attention shifted from the stowaway to the moronic debate of imbeciles. The two arguing musclemen began to wrestle, prompting the others to elbow each other with the prospect of collecting bets. To say they had short attention spans was polite. To say the Ringmaster planned to feed them to the tigers one day would be more accurate.

"Enough!" The Ringmaster's voice, usually quiet and stern, shot out like a missile. The ruckus came to a calm. He approached the stowaway still beaten and huddled on the floor. He circled around the man with sharp eyes, detecting what he could before speaking again. By his looks, he had to be in his early twenties. By his clothing, he had to have grown up in a decent home that could afford that fabric. By the rest of him, he hasn't been far from home for every long. No scars, well-nourished, and there wasn't even dirt underneath his fingernails. There's only a handful of reasons someone like him would run off to join the circus.

The Ringmaster reached down and pulled the man's face from his chest, forcing him to make eye contact. "Hello," he smiled (however, not much comfort can be found in a smile so pointed). "You've met our welcoming committee. What's your name?"

"A-Adam."

Straightening his knees, he pulled Adam up along with him so that the two stood side by side. Adam could hardly stand straight, let alone at all, but he tried anyway seeing how the Ringmaster wasn't going to let him lie back down and bleed on his ship's floor. "Everyone this is Adam! Adam, this is everyone," the Ringmaster introduced his crew to the stowaway, and vice versa. No one said a word. Jara, ever the sweet girl, waved awkwardly.

"I must apologize for that welcome, Adam. It's not often we have stowaways, but when we do, we like to roughen them up. Not for any particular reason, we just like to," the Ringmaster smirked. The musclemen chuckled. "We're actually a real friendly bunch here. This is a haven. A sanctuary for those looking to escape from...well, you probably already know what." The Ringmaster's unusual, and somewhat disturbing light tone made the musclemen grin.

The Ringmaster's eyes scanned the crew as he wrapped his arm around Adam's shoulder. The stowaway winced at the added weight. "And while I would love to add you to our little family, you've caught me on a bad day. Because before I was INTERRUPTED," he shouted the word, sending an awakening jolt through the crowd, "by the excitement you caused," he smoothed out his hair, "I was overlooking our crew list." All remaining smiles in the crowd disappeared. "And according to that list, you should join us because our doors are always open. Anyone can join. It doesn't matter what I have to say about it. It doesn't matter if it wasn't my decision. Here, any circus freak can collect any and all wandering mutts. ON MY GORRAM SHIP!"