Coping Mechanisms (Crimson Sea)
| Coping Mechanisms (Crimson Sea) | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 11 December 2016 |
| Location: | Port Royal |
| Synopsis: | After the collapse of everything, someone is looking for something |
| Cast of Characters: | 286 |
Port Royal, Age of Sail iteration. Several years have passed since the West Indies Trading Company, with Union support, had wiped piracy from the region and turned this den of filth into a respectable harbor city. Red-coated soldiers walk the walls and streets, carrying rifles, while the well-dressed gentry go about their business. Out to sea, a schooner slips into the harbor, drawing her sails.
One of the guardsmen on the battlements squints, then shields his eyes as he watches the ship turn, his eyes drawn to the unnaturally large, black reflection it casts across the clear blue waves. A reflection that seems to sprout spines.
Thunder of cannons suddenly roar across Port Royal, as the schooner's appearance melts into a ghastly, enormous black vessel of sharp modern lines. The nearby cannon tower explodes, ripped open by the artillery barrage. In a panic, the second tower's gunners open fire. The shot sails true, impacting the ghost ship's side and ricocheting into the sea with the screech of tortured souls.
--
Sundown in Port Royal, the city burns. Gunshots and the clash of steel fill the streets. Mayor Bradsbury completes his writing and pushes it to dry, his final wishes and testament, as he rises to his feet. The door crashes inward and he finds himself face-to-face with the bloodstained, white-clad figure of the pirate captain.
"My city is in ruins. I know by now that my life is forfeit. The world as we know it has come crashing down. For all we know the very Multiverse is on the verge of death," Bradsbury mutters as he draws the cutlass from his side. Assuming a fencing stance, he lifts the blade in a salute, then sweeps it aside, "But you nor whatever evil purpose that drives you will have me easily."
--
Paying no heed to the crumpled body on the floor, the pirate captain steps around his desk and slumps down in his comfortable seat. Her boots are lifted, casually balanced on the desktop over some official-looking letter or another and she places a still-smoking moonsilver glock on the finely lacquered wooden desktop. Single eye closed, she rummages inside her bloodsplattered surcoat until she produces a flask of black jade, deftly unscrewing the cap.
This is poured into a glass left by the former mayor, then nudged forward, "Have yerself a drink, lad."
"I'm surprised," a shadow detaches itself from the surroundings, "Not many are able to sense my presence so easily."
"We're th' same sort o' monster, you an' I," the Silent Wolf lifts her flask and gives it a shake, then downs the contents, "Like is drawn ta like." Her head inclines, concealing her eye behind the brim of her combination cap, "Th' only reason yer still breathin' be me curiosity."
"The Multiverse goes to hell and you become a very difficult person to find," the ninja admits, eyes closing with a shrug. Once the pirate proves the drink is safe, he collects the glass, lifting it to examine the contents, "With so much chaos, the usual trail of bodies was much more difficult to pick out, you know."
"Everyone has their copin' mechanisms," the pirate admits with a shrug, tucking her flask away, "Ain't no shortage o' murders waitin' t' happen."
"I will not mince words. I represent an organization which is familiar with your work. They have need of someone with your particular..." A glance is cast towards the deceased mayor, "...Skills."
"If those skills are killin', lootin', an' plunderin', than yer talkin' ta th' right lass," the pirate queen admits with no hesitation. She swings her feet from the desk and leans forward, resting an elbow on the desktop. Her hand comes to rest dangerously on the discarded pistol, "I'm listenin'. Keep talkin' b'fore I decide ta do somethin' else."
