Post by synistarna on Feb 17, 2011 20:24:55 GMT -8
The deal was done as most were; a quiet, out of the way place in the dead of night. An empty hovel where a couple of misbegotten curs could do their business out of the sight of any prying eyes or eavesdroppers. The two men sat across from each other in the cold, leaky shack with only a sputtering lamp between them to provide the only source illumination on this moonless night. The figure on the left, a man wrapped in black cloak that kept his face from view leaned forward and held out his right hand, uncurling thin, knotted fingers.
"This is it. This right here, just like I promised." A small, black lacquered case was dropped onto the scarred surface of the cheap wooden table. It was a fairly ordinary looking object, it's smooth black surface held no decoration or indication of what was inside. It's cap had a small hoop at the top with a dirty brown string through it as a makeshift necklace of sorts. There was nothing fantastic about the object, but the dark blue eyes of the man on the right gleamed fever bright underneath the brim of his black hat. He reached out a rough, dirty hand to take the case, but it was quickly snatched away by the original owner. "I hope you brought what you promised, sir."
"O' course I did." The blue-eyed man replied sharply, his voice gravelly and dark, the low growl of a man who'd spent too many years shouting orders with salt in his throat. His eyes stayed fixated on the case even as he reached into one of the pockets on the inside of his worn, black coat and pulled out a small brown pouch. The contents caused the sides of the worn sack to bulge out strangely. He held it up for the other to view before he set it down on his side of the table. "Just like ya wanted. Now give it here."
"Not until I get a look at the goods, Irvin. You know you have a reputation." The cloaked figure let out a wheezing laugh that more resembled a cough than a gesture of amusement. The man on the right snorted rudely and shoved the bag across the table into the other man's waiting gnarled hands. The cloaked man picked it up eagerly and plucked the drawstring open to peer inside. Another one of those breathless laughs shook the thin figure and the bag was tied up again. "Very good. I knew you wouldn't let me down...considering how bad you wanted this."
"Ya got what ya want, now give me the damn thing." Irvin snarled, holding out his hand expectantly. His eyes followed the case's progression back from the other's sleeve until it was dangling just above his eager fingers. He drew a soft breath and licked his dry, chapped lips as he watched the case swinging from it's dirty string, it's black surface gleaming like obsidian in the dim light. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, a strange feeling going through him like lightning through a storm. To have it so close now, after so many years...
Then the door suddenly burst open, startling Irvin out of his trance just in time to watch that case be yanked away from him. He cursed as he reached for his pistol, but it was too late. Before he could get his fingers curled around the grip, there were five large men surrounding him on all sides with their own weapons drawn and the business ends were pointed in his direction. Irvin raised his hands in surrender, turning to glare murderously at the cloaked man through the fall of his gray hair. That wheezing laugh drifted up again and it was all Irvin could do to stay where he was and not lunge across the table to strangle the bastard's scrawny neck.
"No need to look that way, Irvin. Really, you should have expected this." The cloaked figure laughed again and the goons filling the small space of the shanty chimed in with their own greasy chuckles. Irvin trembled with the urge to murder them all. "I have a reputation of my own. You knew what you were walking into."
"Engle, I swear..." Irvin growled, clenching his fists. They itched to bury themselves in that smug face looking up at him and he would have gone ahead and done it if not for the very sharp dagger poking into the small of his back. Another dry laugh wafted up from Engle.
"If I had a shilling for every time I heard that, I wouldn't need to be in this business." Engle rose from his seat, pocketing both pouch and case. He turned away to head for the back door and waved dismissively to the group behind him. "See Mr. Hahn out, gentleman."
Irvin's eyes widened and he turned to look back at the thugs who looked back at him with their own smug expressions. He raised another curse as he slowly backed away from the enclosing circle and reached for his own weapons again. Hell, if he was going to go down...he was going to do it fighting.
Dawn came and never was there a man so displeased to see the sun than the one currently lying on the beach with a face full of sand and seawater filling his boots. Irvin groaned, pushing himself up on shaky arms and trying not to think about the many aches and pains that decided to scream their presence all at once. He couldn't remember much about what had happened after Engle had left, other than that he'd managed to find a way out and stumbled halfway down the beach before collapsing. He winced as he climbed up to his feet, pressing a hand to his bruised ribs. He couldn't remember a time he'd felt worse without the excuse of liquor the night before.
Irvin headed up the beach towards the harbor town, trying to ignore the sloshing in his boots and the salted, crusty cuts that were reopening under his coat. He had a task that needed to be done; Engle needed to be found again. He was going to get back that case and his revenge. No one double-crossed Irvin Hahn and got away with it. No doubt the little rat was halfway across the sea by now. Well, Irvin was nothing if not determined once he set his mind on a task. Now all he needed was a ship and a crew to help him carry it out.
Coughing hoarsely, he stumbled into the first inn he came across. It was a seedy looking place, no doubt filled with the scum of the sea. Perfect. He didn't need good honest men. Good honest men wouldn't be willing to do what he needed, no matter how much he paid. He stood in the doorway, one hand clutching his side and the other at his mouth as he coughed. The occupants of the slum squinted over at him, obviously perturbed by the sudden burst of sunlight he brought into their dark hole. He cleared his throat and spit a mouthful of blood on the floor before stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him.
"I'm lookin' fer a crew." He announced, looking around at the sorry lot. Hm...doubtful he'd find any diamonds in here, but he'd take what he could at this point. "Who's lookin' fer work?"
"This is it. This right here, just like I promised." A small, black lacquered case was dropped onto the scarred surface of the cheap wooden table. It was a fairly ordinary looking object, it's smooth black surface held no decoration or indication of what was inside. It's cap had a small hoop at the top with a dirty brown string through it as a makeshift necklace of sorts. There was nothing fantastic about the object, but the dark blue eyes of the man on the right gleamed fever bright underneath the brim of his black hat. He reached out a rough, dirty hand to take the case, but it was quickly snatched away by the original owner. "I hope you brought what you promised, sir."
"O' course I did." The blue-eyed man replied sharply, his voice gravelly and dark, the low growl of a man who'd spent too many years shouting orders with salt in his throat. His eyes stayed fixated on the case even as he reached into one of the pockets on the inside of his worn, black coat and pulled out a small brown pouch. The contents caused the sides of the worn sack to bulge out strangely. He held it up for the other to view before he set it down on his side of the table. "Just like ya wanted. Now give it here."
"Not until I get a look at the goods, Irvin. You know you have a reputation." The cloaked figure let out a wheezing laugh that more resembled a cough than a gesture of amusement. The man on the right snorted rudely and shoved the bag across the table into the other man's waiting gnarled hands. The cloaked man picked it up eagerly and plucked the drawstring open to peer inside. Another one of those breathless laughs shook the thin figure and the bag was tied up again. "Very good. I knew you wouldn't let me down...considering how bad you wanted this."
"Ya got what ya want, now give me the damn thing." Irvin snarled, holding out his hand expectantly. His eyes followed the case's progression back from the other's sleeve until it was dangling just above his eager fingers. He drew a soft breath and licked his dry, chapped lips as he watched the case swinging from it's dirty string, it's black surface gleaming like obsidian in the dim light. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, a strange feeling going through him like lightning through a storm. To have it so close now, after so many years...
Then the door suddenly burst open, startling Irvin out of his trance just in time to watch that case be yanked away from him. He cursed as he reached for his pistol, but it was too late. Before he could get his fingers curled around the grip, there were five large men surrounding him on all sides with their own weapons drawn and the business ends were pointed in his direction. Irvin raised his hands in surrender, turning to glare murderously at the cloaked man through the fall of his gray hair. That wheezing laugh drifted up again and it was all Irvin could do to stay where he was and not lunge across the table to strangle the bastard's scrawny neck.
"No need to look that way, Irvin. Really, you should have expected this." The cloaked figure laughed again and the goons filling the small space of the shanty chimed in with their own greasy chuckles. Irvin trembled with the urge to murder them all. "I have a reputation of my own. You knew what you were walking into."
"Engle, I swear..." Irvin growled, clenching his fists. They itched to bury themselves in that smug face looking up at him and he would have gone ahead and done it if not for the very sharp dagger poking into the small of his back. Another dry laugh wafted up from Engle.
"If I had a shilling for every time I heard that, I wouldn't need to be in this business." Engle rose from his seat, pocketing both pouch and case. He turned away to head for the back door and waved dismissively to the group behind him. "See Mr. Hahn out, gentleman."
Irvin's eyes widened and he turned to look back at the thugs who looked back at him with their own smug expressions. He raised another curse as he slowly backed away from the enclosing circle and reached for his own weapons again. Hell, if he was going to go down...he was going to do it fighting.
~*~*~
Dawn came and never was there a man so displeased to see the sun than the one currently lying on the beach with a face full of sand and seawater filling his boots. Irvin groaned, pushing himself up on shaky arms and trying not to think about the many aches and pains that decided to scream their presence all at once. He couldn't remember much about what had happened after Engle had left, other than that he'd managed to find a way out and stumbled halfway down the beach before collapsing. He winced as he climbed up to his feet, pressing a hand to his bruised ribs. He couldn't remember a time he'd felt worse without the excuse of liquor the night before.
Irvin headed up the beach towards the harbor town, trying to ignore the sloshing in his boots and the salted, crusty cuts that were reopening under his coat. He had a task that needed to be done; Engle needed to be found again. He was going to get back that case and his revenge. No one double-crossed Irvin Hahn and got away with it. No doubt the little rat was halfway across the sea by now. Well, Irvin was nothing if not determined once he set his mind on a task. Now all he needed was a ship and a crew to help him carry it out.
Coughing hoarsely, he stumbled into the first inn he came across. It was a seedy looking place, no doubt filled with the scum of the sea. Perfect. He didn't need good honest men. Good honest men wouldn't be willing to do what he needed, no matter how much he paid. He stood in the doorway, one hand clutching his side and the other at his mouth as he coughed. The occupants of the slum squinted over at him, obviously perturbed by the sudden burst of sunlight he brought into their dark hole. He cleared his throat and spit a mouthful of blood on the floor before stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him.
"I'm lookin' fer a crew." He announced, looking around at the sorry lot. Hm...doubtful he'd find any diamonds in here, but he'd take what he could at this point. "Who's lookin' fer work?"