Scene #7356: The Theft of the Royal Anne

Owner	Pose
Captain Flint	London Harbor December, 1705 As a major city on this world, London is naturally possessed of a warpgate. It drops you off near St. James' square, a garden square (technically in Westminster) quite representative of the aesthetic sensibilities of this world's time period. This time of year, most of the trees are absent any leaves, and it's cold enough that snow is a distinct threat--though thankfully the night skies are clear. The paved roads are still slightly damp, lit by streetlamps. There are census-takers here, put in place by Whitehall to gauge who is coming and from where--but you can tell these people anything and they'll write it down without any trouble. It's just a job, and it's getting late, besides. For those who prefer to know details, Flint's set up a meeting place in a less posh part of town, closer to the Thames, where the Royal Anne is docked. In particular, it's a hole in the wall tavern run by an old man willing to turn a blind eye for a price--and Flint will pay any price for privacy. His information is... very, very detailed. He seems to know everything from patrol routes, to guard strength, which berth the Anne is docked at, her crew compliment, and even what will be going on in the harbor. It's as if he has an inside man, but who would be bold enough to aid in the theft of such a ruinously expensive ship? Moreover, assuming he does have a plant... what would he have offered in return for their info? Flint and Silver are seated at a table tucked away in that hole-in-the-wall, which is, as a matter of fact, mostly full of Walrus men at this point. "There are two concerns of utmost importance," says Flint in a hushed tone. "The first will be the ship's skeleton crew. They'll need to be dispatched quickly and quietly, because of the second concern." "The river Thames," says Silver. Flint nods. "At present it's our only way out of the city--and the eastern coast is quite far from here. As she's a ship of the line, our escape will be obvious enough without any such alarms being raised." The Royal Anne was rebuilt from the ship before it, two or three years prior. She is easily spotted, for a number of reasons, not the least of which the English colors she flies, or the uniformed skeleton crew aboard it. Compared to the Walrus, a square-rigger frigate, she is much larger, and much better armed--for even though the Walrus boasts an extreme number of guns for a ship of her size, at 26 cannons and 4 swivel guns, the Anne is an out and out warship. It was designed explicitly as a 'ship of the line,' a vessel meant to pull alongside enemy ships and broadside them with a brief but rapid cannonade. It is docked in London Harbor, held in reserve should the war which currently ravages this part of the world necessitate its use. The harbor itself is decently abuzz with activity, mainly civilian and commercial. There is, however, as Flint mentioned, a skeleton crew on board the ship. The air is heady with the scent of fish sold fresh, with that of pitch, of the offal of particularly enterprising butchers with stalls meant to catch and entice returning sailors, and, most especially, the briny scent of sea salt.
Guzma	IN LONDON The Team Skull grunts, Tupp, Rapp, and Zipp, give the censure takers the information that they're 'Team Skull, yo' from 'Alola! it's sweet'. Then, they head straight to the tavern, where they proceed to not get carded because it's the early 1700s and also they're just buying food. Once they have Whatever Food An 18th Century Tavern Serves, they meet up at Flint's table. "Yo! Guzma said he'll meet up on the ship. We can radio him stuff. What's the plan?" Tupp says, trying to be a Cool Leader since the boss isn't here. OUT IN THE THAMES Guzma has been swimming for miles. The only reason he hasn't passed out and drowned is because Golisopod is doing basically all of the work since they left the ocean warpgate, a super strong, super tough, super fast, giant deep sea bug. Inside his scuba suit, Guzma's stretched over the rapidly swimming Golisopod, when he looks up and speaks up, excited with a dose of exhaustion from the pressure riding puts on him. "Yo, there she is. The Royal Anne. Alright. Let's get the show on the road." Guzma's exercising he's begun since Seifer gave him some advice has at least made him not a wreck right now, as he has Golisopod submerge and approach the Royal Anne. Guzma knows Nothing About Pirate Ships, so his first thing is to look for a hatch, a window(?), or a way to climb up without being seen. Some way to get him and the giant bug onto the ship without immediately blowing their cover.
Hesinca	"Bah, stealth." In addition to the walrus men, the tavern is also full of penguin things. (Calling them 'men' would be a stretch.) There's also Hesinca, who's taking up a non-trivial amount of space even when she's trying not to. "I don't have any quiet options," she states. "The prinnies could be quiet, but they're idiots." "Yeah, but we're your idiots, dood! Hashtag heartwarming moment, gotta social media it, dood!" says the nearest prinny, holing up a camera on a selfie stick and attempting to get everyone in frame. Hesinca dumps her beer on its head without looking over at it. "If you want to clown car some forces onto the ship, I've got a pocket dimension," she says, holding up what looks like a glowing floor tile. "Otherwise I'm probably on support - distractions, taking out forces on the shoreline, smashing up whatever ships are trying to get in the way of your escape."
Captain Flint	TAVERN This is, mercifully, just a hair before the period wherein English cuisine was obsessed with the 'essence' of flavors--so the food in this tavern is greasy, but actually seasoned and decently good, like any bar that knows its clientele ought to have. Flint nods graciously to Tupp, gesturing towards an open seat as Silver grins at the naked eagerness on display. "I admire Mister Guzma's initiative," says the captain. "The plan is this--remove the crew in whatever fashion we're able, sail the ship out to sea, and be prepared to defend it should anyone in the Royal Navy realize what's happened." Silver nods, the bearded quartermaster expounding a bit. "The guard changes in about a quarter-hour, according to Flint's... sources." He seems a little sketchy on that. Is there something that Flint didn't tell him? It seems unlikely, given how close they've grown. "There'll only be a token complement on board, easily handled assuming we can manage them all at once. The difficult part is the escape. Warships don't normally depart in the dead of night." THE THAMES Guzma decides to make a stealthy entrance. The river is very cold, owing to the time of year, the water an inky blackness in the night. The Thames is miles long--but the pokemon trainer is well prepared for that, his companion more than able to handle the exertion. The Royal Anne is hard to miss even from below, its underside hosting notably less barnacles than other ships in the harbor, and easily distinguished as a warship by its sheer size. There is indeed a hatch wherein he might enter, and a place where no one ought to be at this hour--one of the starboard gun ports. They're a little hard to spot in the darkness, and the ship is slightly difficult to climb in the darkness, especially since boarders usually do so with the assistance of grapnels. But, the ship isn't going anywhere, there's no danger of being left behind, so he can take his time. Above, he can hear murmured conversation between the soldiers as the posts change. The gun hatches are noticeable, if not by sight, then by the texture of something clearly meant to open. With some finagling, he can open one of those batteries and clamber into one of the gundecks--there are two; this is, after all, a hundred-gun ship. There shouldn't be anyone on the gundeck... but there are clearly two voices, coming from somewhere on this level.
Yuuki Kuran	London Town, London Town, off for a night in London Town! Kuran Yuuki has arrived in an 'anime period perfect' set of attire, looking more like some sort of grunge steampunk protagonist with a teacup tophat than any normal member of society. Black laced ribbons tied into a bow control her hair a few inches from the base of her mane's fall. It provides quite the effect, causing a weighted sway that drags the ribbon's tails across the rain-damped streets. She gets right into it, after a moment of sitting. "Okay, Flint. I understand. Mostly." She raises an ale flagon of tap water that she had to mind whammy a bartender to serve her quietly and without laughing, gesturing piratically. "But can't we just buy a ship? Are we roleplaying, James? It is fine if we are, but really, we can just buy a ship. Hold on, I'll get out my pocketbook..." She starts going through pockets. As a Grunge Steampunk Protagonist (Female Ver.) she has about seven hundred thousand of them.
Captain Flint	>Can't we just buy a ship? Flint shakes his head. "The Urca account is primarily for the men," he says, nodding to a couple of crewmen. They're in a sour mood because he isn't letting them drink, but that appears to have balmed the indignance, slightly. "I consider it a line of credit; something which must be paid back in the event it is spent for any other concern." They could buy another ship, but why do that, when you can steal one for free? >I don't have any quiet options. "Well, Hesinca, was it?" John Silver tilts his head. He's heard that voice a few times, though he's never met her. Looking at her, he certainly seems to believe what she says. "We may very well need just that--this is not something either of us would have ever entertained doing, absent the Multiverse." "A distraction might be just what we need," says Flint, stroking his goatee. He has a map handy, and points to a spot along the river. "There's a garrison here." It's closer to Whitehall, the seat of England's government, than the tavern is, yet close enough to the river to allow for rapid responses. Maybe about ten minutes away. "If you were to draw them further inland as we make our escape, it would minimize any damage to the ship." He checks a pocket watch. "The guards have changed now, and Mr. Guzma is boarding the ship presently. If we make for the harbor now, we'll arrive by the time the old guard has left. We'll keep our radios on to answer any further questions, but we should depart." Flint rises from the table, as does Silver. He and his men file out in uneven fashion, each of them splitting off to make for the harbor in their own way, so as not to draw attention by traveling in a group.
Hesinca	Hesinca does some thinking. Meanwhile, the prinnies crowd around Yuuki in case she pulls out ice cream. "... Okay, well, I can make the ship a silence zone temporarily once we get on board. It'll affect everyone standing on there, though," she says, trying to work out how to cheat her way into psuedo-stealth. "... Actually, nevermind, if they light a flare or something..." A non-quiet option is presented. Hesinca takes it. "Right, Garrison, inland. See you when it goes south. The plan, not the ship." She checks the map just in case the ship is going south, and then departs. A moment later she returns, forcefully rounds up her prinnies, and then departs for good.
Starbound Flotilla	"Him? Again?" "Don't 'him again' me. Remember you and that Queen?" "You must admit this goes beyond simply a motivation for pay." "Motivation for a giggle too, yeah." "Isss ideological. Floran thinksss, that good!" "Gets most killed, but hey, if it gets you to whatever heaven..." "Asserting. I think it's a good cause. We should support it." "See? We know it's good when Little Blue backs it." The nonhuman members of the Flotilla take the backseat on this matter. When it comes to this type of thing, George is the expert among the captains -- though not always, necessarily, the expert among the operatives. "Well, I know what I'm doin'." George asserts, in a cheery way, getting out a cigarette -- though he doesn't light it, he just sort of rolls it around his fingers. "You got the designs for the ship, in proper kinda detail? Can ya tell me those colors, get me a good look at those uniforms, maybe you got some old photos? I can whip you up a real solid escape pretty quick." What can the Flotilla do here? That's a complicated matter. "What, truly, is your plan in this matter?" "Plan is, I wing it, you trust me. We'll make it happen." "Inspiring. Can we go work?" "We'll come aboard later to help with the sailin', if it's needed." If George can get what he needs, he's gonna head out. And... Towards the river. Just a bit ahead of the vessel, one assumes? He intends to get to a less active part of the river rather than the harbor, and change quickly into their power-armor mid-dive -- whereupon they immediately begin to sink to the bottom of that river.
Guzma	As Guzma approaches starboard, he finds the lower gundeck most appealing. It's hard to climb...but he can parkour, and he's assisting by Golisopod launching him up to the hatch, which he grabs onto narrowly, forces open, and climbs into, returning the blue bug to its ball at the last moment. This leaves the scuba-clad Guzma to try and sneak through. But there's people down here. He starts creeping, one hand on a different pokeball - and then a different pokeball once George teaches him about gunpowder safety - and tries to listen in on the conversation. Why are they down here? Maybe he can dig up some dirt. The trio, meanwhile, move to split off for the harbor as Flint and Silver does. They kinda goof around on the way, but they just look like late night miscreants, not ship robbers, as they move to try and scout out the entrance to the Royal Anne on the land-side.
Captain Flint	>You got the designs for the ship, in proper kinda detail? Did Captain Flint come ridiculously prepared for a criminal pursuit, in an effort to bowl over the opposition before they knew what hit him? George is given, by the curly-haired, superstitious Mr. Turk (who crosses himself in Pavo's presence), a schematic for the Royal Anne, circa two years ago. The ship boasts three gun decks, a total spread of one hundred between them, of various shot. She's full rigged, about 170 feet long at her longest, about 1700 tons. "She'll be flyin' colors like so," says Turk, pulling out a filthy white handkerchief and drawing imaginary lines with his fingers. "Red in a cross. Up here," he says, pointing at the top left quadrant, "Littler red cross, with some blue and white. Uniforms... Uniforms, uniforms." It takes the sea-battered man a moment. Then he gives up and asks Flint, over the radio. Flint, mercifully, has what George is looking for--a picture of the Royal Navy's uniform, circa 1705. Blue coats with white trim, over white cotton shirts and matching pants, tucked into black boots, with a black cravat and navy tricorne hat. The river is less active west of London Bridge, as there's no sea traffic there, and no private citizens in their right mind would be out in this cold, on that river, at this hour. It's the perfect place to sink beneath the waves.
Yuuki Kuran	Yuuki understands Flint on a deep level. There was something wonderful about taking, seizing, prizing. In this, Flint aligns with a Yuuki that many do not. "But it's not free, is it? Johnathan." The extension of the name comes stylized, declaratory rather than needling or looming. "You price you pay is an enemy. That's why a deal is a social exchange as well. Still, such a large ship should go to a kingly man, shouldn't it?" Yuuki leans forward, hands clasped behind her back. "I hear the royalty of this time have terrible chins. And yet see here, jawlines and hard eyes! Befitting of those with teeth and claws." "Are you sure Guzma will be okay going ahead, though? He seems like he needs... mentorship. An education perhaps you could provide?"
Captain Flint	>Garrison, inland. The map, thankfully, does not indicate that the ship will be going south. It'll be going east, but there's quite a lot of river between the open sea and the harbor. The garrison is alive with only token activity, at this hour. Hesinca can tell, the closer that she gets, that these people are not at all prepared for the brazen theft Flint has in mind. As far as potential distractions, there are plenty of places she might try. As this is a more posh part of town, she could employ the tried-and-true method of destroying private property--there are storefronts closing up now which offer all manner of haute couture, accessories, antiquities, and the like. There's a museum, as well, exhibiting works on display from ancient Egypt. Either of those two options might take a moment for a response from the garrison--if she desires an immediate response, she could attack directly, rousing immediately any sleeping soldiers. She's essentially got time and choices, at this point.
Captain Flint	>Guzma: Listen to the voices. There are two voices. One is older. That's the one that he hears first--like someone's father or uncle, perhaps. The formality of address means that it's absolutely someone authorized to be here. Especially since he refers to the other voice first. "Your... judgment on this matter remaining intact?" "I apologize, sir. Good sense escaped me for a moment." That voice sounds... it sounds eerily like Flint. "An insult to the man's wife that had to be answered. It reflects not upon my fitness to continue handling Lord Hamilton." There's a pause. "I know how important this posting is." The other, older voice sighs. "I know you know. My concern with you is that which... cannot be known. That... thing which... arises within you when passions are aroused. 'Good sense escapes you,'" says the older voice with weak amusement, repeating the younger man's excuse. "All men have it... but yours is darker. Wilder," he says with a measure of fear. "I imagine it's what makes you so effective as an officer. But when exposed to extremes... I could not imagine what it is capable of. And with greater concern," adds that older voice, "I'm not sure you do either." One of them is clearly of higher rank than the other--that'd be the older man. But the younger man... THE HARBOR Silver takes custody of the trio, evidently having a kinship with mischievous little miscreants. Perhaps when he was their age, he was one, too. The port side of the ship is guarded by just two Navy men, each wielding a musket at parade rest. They're freshly rested and alert, their posting having just begun. Around the harbor, the trio will recognize familiar faces from the tavern, Flint's men getting in position. The captain himself is engaged in some late night haggling with a fishmonger hoping to catch ships arriving late and hungry. Silver turns to the trio, ushering them behind a closed-up merchant's stall to keep from out of the guards' sight. "I think we can get rid of them quietly--but we'll need to work together. How about..." He smiles. "I'll ask for directions. Then you lot come up and mug me. Take my leg, if you want," he says, tapping his crutch against the prosthesis. "Make it look good. When they try to scare you off, dogpile one and I'll get the other. What do you think?"
Starbound Flotilla	"Alright, I'm on main hull. Fuzzy, take guns." "Imitation or functional?" "Imitation." "Hmh." "Moonie, get those colors going, bring out some teleport setups." "So quickly?" "Don't wanna keep our boy there waiting. Bitey, get me all the fresh wood." "All? Really?" "Well, enough for this. Hey, prayin' for a little help here, Pavo." "Oho? What?" "I need some crew who can sail. Bare minimum." "I'll have your blessing for you." "Seft, get on sails. Canvas is basically armor, isn't it?" "Exasperated. Every word there was wrong, but I can make the equipment quickly." "Good shit. Alright, everyone split and work!" The tremendous power of the Starbound Flotilla is such that they can dig out and start work on a pseudo-shipyard in the riverbed of the river Thames. And, importantly, get to work. It's the dead of night. This area doesn't have searchlights. And while the Flotilla can't reasonably recreate the ship without MASSIVE expense... they can use their extensive ship-crafting to make rickety approximations that might last one river-ride and exactly zero fights or even time on the open seas. That's the plan, in fact: The bottom of the river is slowly becoming host to an effort to counterfeit the ship a few times out of ultra-cheap space-pine wood. Wouldn't hold up under daylight, much less a fight, but... It'll be a whole lot harder for anyone who musters some guard to figure out how to stop four Royal Annes booking it down the river!
Captain Flint	>The price you pay is an enemy. Flint's response to Yuuki comes primarily over the radio. He keeps his responses generic, so as not to arouse confusion or suspicion from the fishmonger, but she'll know what he means. "A fair price to pay. Especially for one already accustomed to it." England has, and always will be his enemy. But why? What did the crown do to warrant such bold and dangerous attacks from the pirate? The remark about jawlines causes his facade to crack--for an expert liar like Flint, that means a momentary pause, forcing neutrality onto his expression. The urge to break it with laughter is strong. "You favor me," he says. He allows the fishmonger to make a response, but his reply is for Yuuki's ears. She's concerned that Guzma needs a mentor. An education he might provide. The thought did cross his mind, at Archdragon peak. There is a greatness in him, waiting to be coaxed out. "I'll not deny it." "Very well then. I shall be back with your money shortly."
Hesinca	Hesinca considers. "I've never been one to beat around the bush," she says to herself. "Megaphone." She holds out a hand expectantly. Nothing happens. "I said, megaphone," she says, turning her head towards the prinny squad. "You have it, dood!" says the lead prinny. "It's literally hanging from your belt, there!" "Shut up," says Hesinca, reaching for it and clicking it on. The megaphone comes to life with a satisfying bit of feedback hum, which satisfies her. "AHEM, TESTING," says the demon, pointing it at the garrison. "AHEM. CAN EVERYONE HEAR ME? MAYBE? DOESN'T MATTER!" She summons up every bit of her willpower, focusing it into her voice, as she counts down from ten in her head. By now people should be stirring, waking, reaching for lanterns, matches, candles... anything that should produce light - and, more importantly, flame. "OKAY! NOW!" "SET YOUR BEDS ON FIRE!"
Captain Flint	>Flotilla: Create a shipyard from scratch in the Thames The Thames is cold, but what's cold to a team of spacefaring captains perfectly equipped to handle it? The shipyard gradually rises from the water, and construction begins on four counterfeit space-pine Royal Annes. As the ships begin to take form, their bulk will undoubtedly, given the buoyancy required of such vessels, cause them to rise above the waterline, barring intervention or preparation from the Flotilla. That said, there is little in the way of those who might protest, even if they saw. The types of people who are paid to know whether 'building ships in the dead of night without permits' is illegal or not are already either at home by their fireplaces or in bed. With plans in place to effect a shell game, and Hesinca in place to draw soldiers away, the heist is proceeding handsomely, save the one kink no one foresaw in the Admiral's presence.
Guzma	Guzma overhears the conversation. Is that...? He radios what he hears, and gets immediately frustrated, feeling like he's being accused of causing a problem he had no control over. Timing. Ugh. He has to prove he's better than that. And so when the group talks about capturing the admiral, Guzma gets into gear. The two men on the gundeck might briefly hear an electronic noise, something weird for their era, and then footsteps, and then- Guzma's behind the voice that sounded like Flint. It is Flint, according to his ally. Young Flint is here. One of Guzma's hands goes to block his sword, while the other goes to karate chop at his throat - not hitting it, just threatening over it goofily. "Make any sudden movements, and he'll make mincemeat of you." Behind the admiral is Guzma's backup, who is the Actual Threat. Scizor, the giant red mantis made out of solid metal, has a warm pincer to the back of his head, ready to crush. Neither of them are actually gonna kill, but they want to make a threat. Scizor's much better at faking it than Guzma is. "Admiral Hennessey, Officer Flint. Yo." ---- Meanwhile, the trio are with Silver. When he gives the plan, they enthusiastically agree with a 'yo', and wait. As he goes to ask for directions, they wait for the right time, with Zipp monitoring that as the 'smart one', and then rush forward. "Yo, old man!" He's probably older than them, at least. "Give us your money!" Rapp says, with a surprising amount of 'probably did this before, once', before Tupp and Zipp move to manhandle him. "And the leg, too! That'll fetch a pretty price!" Despite manhandling him, though, they're not as rough as they could be. They're not actually gonna take his leg. How would he walk? What if he got hurt? What if they broke it? They're good kids. But they want to succeed, and if this lures in the guards enough, they'll break off to dogpile one of them and allow Silver at the other.
Captain Flint	>Set your beds on fire. Lights do indeed begin to turn on, throughout this part of the neighborhood. Hesinca couldn't have picked a better part of town for it, as, even in the distance, where the shops end and the townhouses begin, she can see candles and lanterns indignantly being lit, windows opened as the more well-to-do Londoners look out to see who dares disrupt their attempts to sleep. Closer to the river, there is the garrison, itself both a fortification and a place where soldiers may sleep. Her command given, a section of the city is ablaze in moments. Every citizen and soldier in range of a bed sets it on fire, the flames quickly spreading across floors as those under her spell stare dumbly at the destruction their hands have wrought. It isn't until it's too late for the flames to be easily handled that people begin to realize what they've done--and then there is chaos. Screams of panic ring out as people in nightgowns and sleeping clothes attempt to escape their burning homes. The soldiers are caught flat-footed by their own arson, hurrying out of the burning barracks, some with buckets in hand, to attempt a fire line with water pulled from the Thames. She'll want to stop that--but because of her creative diversion, none of the soldiers realize that there's a hostile presence at all, at first glance. Many of them which now make for the Thames to save the city are barely even uniformed, having been roused from sleep--and not many at all are armed even with a pistol.
Yuuki Kuran	"You'll get it for me, James? It's fine if you don't bring it back. When you come back to home waters, I know those that you'll return to after dropping anchor." She winks. "I've been practicing, but I'm borrowing from your man Silver. Does it sound right?" She smiles as she follows along for a few paces more, long ponytail swaying with her steps. "Still, doesn't this place feel like home, James?" Yuuki wonders as Flint moves through London. Were he inclined to look back, all he'd find is mist. ELSEWHERE: Up high in the crow's nest, Yuuki sits on a sleeping sailor's shoulders and watches the fires in the distance. "When you oppose yourself, can your victory really be absolute...?"
Hesinca	"... Oh, right, they'd form a bucket chain..." "... And this is less 'distraction' and more 'chaos'..." Hesinca spends a few seconds taking in the spread of destruction she's caused with just four words. It's important to take time to stop and smell the burning thatch, and admire what you've caused. "Jeez, dood, and you only had to spend a single pip on this," comments one prinny. "Pip, dood?" questions another prinny. "You know, pips, dood. English money she spent on the megaphone, dood." "That's... that's pence, dood, and we didn't get it here, what the heaven are you talking about, dood." "Man, even your inane chatter can't get me down right now," says Hesinca. "Let's go mess with the bucket line." --- There's no stealthy approach made to the bucket line. Hesinca's ten feet (or 30 hands) high, obviously not of this world, and accompanied by a squadron of unrepentant sinners who just won't shut up. But noticed or not, as soon as she's within range, she stamps her forehoof on the ground - and the ley lines respond to her unspoken command, twisting and shaping into visible forms as the energies usually hidden underground come to the surface. ... Which is a fancy way of saying that a row of blue floor tiles springs up underneath the feet of the bucket chain. They have the property of 'No Melee Attacks' - which apparently is broad enough to encompass other 'short range' actions like passing a bucket full of water, with anyone trying to running into a mental block on their movements. "Don't you think this is being a bit too mean, dood?" asks the lead prinny. "No," answers Hesinca simply.
Captain Flint	>Guzma: Prove yourself. The Admiral raises his hands. 'Officer Flint' is... confused, for a moment, until he realizes Guzma means him. With his own hands raised, he introduces himself properly, turning to face Guzma without making any such sudden movements. "I'm Lieutenant James McGraw," he says, pronouncing the rank in the English way--'leff-tenant..' He... is certainly a younger version of the man who calls himself Flint, however. The only difference is that he holds himself like one who stands heavily on propriety, and his face is obviously younger as well, not yet as weathered by sun and sea as the Flint Guzma knows. He's clean shaven, too, his hair much longer than Flint's, tied with a bow appropriate of the times. "If you know the Admiral by name," says McGraw, "Then you should also understand what a mistake you and your..." Scizor gets a wary look. "Friend are making." He smiles. It's very charming and carefree, his seafoam eyes twinkling slightly as he poses, amused, "Or perhaps you do, Mr...?" "Lieutenant, have a care that your time with Lord Hamilton does not see you overly familiar with this... young criminal." >Goonzmas: Hustle a couple of guards This is exactly the kind of thing that bored, freshly awake guards hope for. Action. The chance to actually guard something as opposed to just standing around a very expensive post. The two of them holler and shout, attempting to pull the kids off of Silver. "You little devils! Let him alone!" One of the guards cries, taking absolute umbrage that these three would steal from a man on such hard times as the scruffy-looking quartermaster. As Silver falls to the ground, he smiles up at Zipp and Tupp. "Now." Right when they dogpile the one guard, Silver, quite used to ground-fighting from his time as a boarder even before the loss of his leg, expertly trips the other guard. In a flash, his arm is around the soldier's throat, holding him in a submission hold as the kids subdue the other. The guard's arm flails, of course, searching for the musket--but it isn't Silver's first rodeo. Kicking with his prosthesis, still attached thanks to the virtue of the trio, he pushes the weapon into the water. Perhaps a second or two after the splash, the guard passes out. With the use of his crutch, Silver gets back to his feet. Previously dispersed around the harbor, the Walrus crew drops their acts of pretending to do late-night shopping, all threatening and coercing those few merchants which remain into leaving, before boarding with Silver and the Trio. Flint is among them. "Sweep the ship from the quarterdeck to the hold," orders Flint. "Remove anyone who isn't one of Guzma's hostages."
Starbound Flotilla	"Anxious. George, do you think anyone is going to... stop us?" "Do you look like you think someone is going to stop you?" "Confused. Huh?" "Do we, as a group, look like we think someone might stop us." "Confused. I guess... not?" "Then nobody's gonna stop us. We know what we're doing. Boat things next to water." "That's insane." "That's how it works." "It will not stay below for long. How will we keep it there?" "Floran hasss idea! Let Floran do!" Biteblade dives deep. While she can't really maneuver much, she can slowly walk the riverbed, placing down... seeds? Yes! Seeds that will quickly sprout a few aquatic plants that she'll swiftly use as tethers. After all, this still has to be workably cheap but it doesn't have to last more than a few hours. If she can get it all in place, it'll be something the gang can slice to release the boats right as it's time -- and get them going so that they can cover the true ship's escape! Once it begins, at least. Does the setup look stable? Can these false ships await their moment of glory here while the rest is sorted?
Captain Flint	>Doesn't this place feel like home? Not anymore. He turns, looks over his shoulders, ready to say just as much. But Yuuki's gone. His response, then, comes over the radio, while she spies the fires in the distance. "I feel nothing but contempt for this place. For these people. They paint the world full of shadows, and tell you that the only way is to stay close to the light." He ventures belowdecks, his crew fanning out, moving heel to toe, swords drawn. There are only a few sailors sleeping on the ship, most of what would be the crew instead at home. But those who remain are granted no quarter. Flint, after all, had said to remove them. Placing his hand over the mouth of one such sleeping sailor, he slides his saber between the man's ribs, just as his eyes open in fear. "Their light."
Guzma	When Flint identifies himself as McGraw, Guzma frowns, and then lies, poorly. "Oh, thought you were someone else." Coughing, Guzma gestures to Scizor, who stays still. "Me and my friend don't make mistakes. We're the top dogs. Call me...G." An alias, clearly. Guzma's smart enough to not give an identifier... But his entire appearance is an identifier, so, yeah. Guzma sniffs. "Nice ship you got here. Will be really useful." Meanwhile, the Trio are pushing up with Flint and Silver. As they move to secure guards with rope, they walk in on Flint stabbing one. The reaction is...not good. "YO! What are you doing?! W-we can't ransom them i-if you're killing them!" Tupp tries to be brave and strong. Rapp goes as white as a ghost, and then immediately flees down the hall. Zipp gags, and then the two pursue after Rapp. They're probably being a bit noisy.
Captain Flint	>Hesinca: Stop the bucket chain Empty buckets clatter to the ground as the soldiers are knocked off balance by Hesinca's impact with the ground, even before her mental blocks are set up. Those who managed to get to the waterline manage to pass it up, but the water doesn't even make it halfway before Hesinca's mental block breaks the chain. "What are you doing, man?! Pass the god-damned water!" "I... I can't!" Another soldier points at Hesinca. "It's that monster! Kill it!" The soldier, one of few here actually fully uniformed and armed, attempted to close the gap and strike her. In close combat. "Call for reinforcements!" Those soldiers armed with pistols open fire, but most are unarmed completely. Some of them run to the armory... which is part of the garrison now currently ablaze. They realize this too late, as an explosion from stores of black poweder blows the side of the building away, knocking them once more off their feet and in some cases, causing grievous harm to those too close. Others still make for the stables, attempting to ride further into the city for reinforcements. Not a one has so far noticed what's going on at the harbor--not the ongoing theft, or the shell game the Flotilla is preparing.
Captain Flint	>Biteblade: Conceal the shell game The aquatic tethers hold the false ships, granting more than enough time to complete the work. Beneath the water, the Flotilla likely can't see it this far below, but Hesinca's efforts have guaranteed that they'll have the time, as anyone with the authority to object (if not the knowledge) is know currently either trying and failing to draw water, dead or injured from a black powder explosion, or running further into the city in search of reinforcements. Flint's voice comes up through the radios in their helmets. "Captains, we're clearing the Anne of her skeleton crew presently. How much longer until your own preparations are complete?" There is, then, the sound of hurried footsteps. The captain sighs. Still broadcasting, "Mr. Silver. Why did you let the children board before we'd handled the crew?" "I suppose I imagined you wouldn't kill the crew in front of them." "We haven't the time to do this the pleasant way. In case you hadn't noticed, the whole fucking city's on fire."
Hesinca	"Hah! Tremble, mortals!" yells Hesinca, getting into it. "For I am Demon Lord Hesinca Disastre, Foul Hellspawn of The Pit, Inheritor of Earthquakes, Master Geomancer, and Consumer of the Flesh of Babes!** Prepare yourselves to meet your feeble ends at my hands!" * It was a nice pit. A keeping-up-with-the-Joneses***** kind of pit. They remodeled it after her next oldest sister was hellspawned, even. * Hesinca made this part up. Natural-disaster-related abilities run in the bloodline but there's no official title to them. Not a master. Hesinca had a veal sandwich for lunch. *** The Oth'talens, technically. She laughs further when people try attacking her, a deep, evil laugh from the diaphram, throwing back her head and gloating, playing the part - and utterly missing that some of them have guns. "OW!" "Oh that does it!" she calls, reaching down and grabbing one of the prinnies. "Prepare to-" The armory explodes. "Oh, that's nice," she says, momentarily distracted, before refocusing. "Prepare thyself for the afterlife!" "Wait, dood!" calls the prinny as Hesinca winds up. "I haven't finished reading all of those footnoooootes-" BOOM
Starbound Flotilla	"Hey hey, cap, we just wrapped it up here." George calls back, voice echoing underwater. "Are you still, y'know, revisiting your past? That's some tough stuff. A man can get lost in the sauce goin' back to redo old stuff, y'know. Mostly on account of he starts puttin' his narratives into it, instead of thinkin' about it as a series of random events and people in no ordered protocol." "You need any help up there, maybe? I got the team under, but we only need Bitey to cut the tethers, so you got us for whatever comes next. We got a classic scam for ya! Couple fake ships. They won't last a single day and they won't take a single shot, but they'll sure as hell fuck with the heads of anyone takin' a look from the shore and givin' orders." George calls out, as he uses a grapple-powered tether to yank himself back up to the surface, accompanied by most of his allies.
Yuuki Kuran	YUUKI PLAYER ONE: High atop the crow's nest of the Royal Anne, Steampunk Protagonist Yuuki sits across the back of a sleeping sailor face-down in the nest, looking out over London while the whole place burns. She studies the way the fire leaps, ember by ember, house by house, across streets of rain-slick cobble and struck-incapable bystanders. "I wonder if London will try to bill me for it." She wonders, laughing into the night at the idea. Wouldn't that be fun. Billed for a city. >James Flint: We haven't the time to do this the pleasant way. ENTER "YUUKI PLAYER TWO" A hallucinatory pale girl dressed in paler white sprawls across a beam near Flint's head, her mane of brown hair tumbled over her lambent red eyes. "Now that's not right, is it?" He nearly trips over her, sprawled out like a corpse or a petulant child across the dock or deck. "Is that it, then, James?" She walks besides him, hair apart, hands clasped in the small of her back, feet making quiet sounds that only he can hear on the deck. The spectre follows his eye, ever in the periphery. "Is that why you've named yourself flint? After your own heart?" She jumpscare flickers before his eyes, though rather than sharp fangs and clawed fingers, the flashing expression is warmly entertained. Like a mirage. "I will take it back, then, Flint." Hallucination-Borderlands-Angel Yuuki bubbles with amusement. "Perhaps 'Flint' isn't the name of a clean-shaven jaw."
Captain Flint	>Guzma/Trio: Converge "Tupp--" Silver tries to interject, to be the voice of reason. But they're not pirates, being talked out of their base instincts. They're kids. They're reacting how kids do. They run off, and the quartermaster extends his hand. "Wait!" He cries, genuinely concerned. "It's dangerous!" "Handle it, Mr. Silver. The rest of you, finish your tasks and meet me on the quarterdeck when it's done." Silver looks over his shoulder reproachfully at Flint. There is compassion within the captain. But getting it to come out when his mind is focused on something like this... can be difficult. Silver is faster than one would initially think. In the lower gundeck, those footsteps are heard. There's no one sleeping down there--but the Admiral, McGraw and Guzma can easily hear the chase and the shouting going on above. "It would seem, Lieutenant, that 'G' has more than just the one friend." Hennessey is an older man, definitely a career soldier, and as cold as ice. "Tell me, young man, are you prepared for the hell you'll go through to take this 'nice ship?' I don't believe you are--especially if there is any doubt that you'll have to kill to take it," he says, pointing with one finger on his still-raised hand to the deck above. Silver and the trio are now just one deck above, but there's a problem. On the middle gundeck, there is one soldier, roused awake by the commotion, a pistol pointed at the stairs just as Rapp comes down. He fires, before he knows what he's shooting at, his face going pale. Mercifully, it's just a flesh wound, the shot avoding any vital areas. Silver gently, nimbly pushes past her, his eyes locked on the soldier with cold, determined fury burning in his eyes. Hurriedly, the sailor reaches for his sword--but Silver's is already in hand. Advancing with his crutch forward, Silver roars and springs forward, kicking his foe in the chest and knocking him off balance. There's a clatter as barrels of black powder are knocked over. The soldier rolls over, reaching for the sword which clattered to the ground--but Silver's boot presses into it, his own sword leveled at the soldier's throat. "Don't."
Captain Flint	>Hesinca: Relish a job well done The exploding sinners drive the scattered remnants of the garrison further into town, throwing those not fast enough to escape the blast zone high into the air. Without the soldiers to coordinate firefighting efforts in this neighborhood, the only ones who can even get water from the Thames are those residents who managed to escape--but even they, for all but a few valiant souls, cannot bring themselves to do anything other than watch in mute despair as their homes and possessions go up in smoke. Flint's voice rings out in her radio. "We've finished securing the Anne. I can see your handiwork from here--I recommend making your escape, handsomely. There's room aboard for you, and the harbor is all but empty at present." She could also take the warpgate, if she'd prefer a more scenic route, but there's likely danger that she'd encounter soldiers who are actually ready to fight, if she does.
Guzma	Guzma doesn't get a response to Hennessey. He knows that shouting is probably at his gang. They're fools. But before he can make a rebuttal, the gunshot goes off. ---- Rapp runs straight into a bullet. It hits into her arm, sending her backwards screaming onto the ground. Tupp and Zipp follow up behind. Zipp immediately kneels to try and staunch the rapidly-bleeding wound of his comrade, while Tupp turns to Silver. Silver just Absolutely earned the trio's respect, but Tupp coughs out to him. "Don't kill him!" They hope he won't. ---- Guzma immediately grips hard on McGraw's shoulder with his knife-claw hand. The scream makes him growl. "If she's dead, you're dead." That is an actual, legit threat, even if he might not act on it in the actual moment - they get the feeling that right now, he thinks he'd kill them in rage. Instead, Guzma taps his radio with his elbow. He's not hiding his words. "Flint. Get the hostages in position. I need to get to Rapp."
Hesinca	"Some part of me wonders if I should feel bad for basically setting the town on fire," says Hesinca. "Basically - no, dood, literally you set the town on fire. Literally, dood," says one of the surviving prinnies. "Eh, still, whatever. People die all the time, are gonna die eventually anyway, and if I didn't do it someone else would have set this firetrap ablaze. All it took was one little spark." "Coordinating dozens of people to light things on fire all at once, dood," corrects Surviving Prinny. "Yep, just one little spark." "You've probably ruined countless lives and dreams, dood." "And we got the ship, which is the important part," says Hesinca, as she finds a quiet spot and tosses her base panel to the foor, steps on it, and is gone. "... I dunno, I still feel kinda bad, dood," says one of the prinnies as they start filing towards it. "Not supposed to feel bad, dood, we're prinnies," adds another. "... But..." "... Well, I kinda do too," it finishes, before disappearing into the base panel.
Captain Flint	>George: Ascend with the Flotilla Flint wasn't lying. Hesinca's distraction has woken up everyone in London. The flames rise high into the sky, trails of smoke disappearing into the cloudless darkness of the night sky. Screams and panicked shouts are carried on the wind, which only worsens the flames, and figures can be seen running through the town, illuminated both by the flames and the streetlights which now seem superfluous in the bright light of the inferno. It is the starkest possible contrast compared to what the Flotilla saw going under the water. As absolute bedlam reigns, Flint's men come back abovedecks. From the quarterdeck where the helm is located, he begins ordering the pirates to prepare the ship. The anchor is pulled up, the ship pushed out of its mooring, sails unfurled. "...I'm fine," He isn't. George can tell. But George knows him as well as Silver; knows that Flint talks about these things when he's comfortable, and not a second sooner. He's the sort who keeps his mind on the task at hand. "Tell Biteblade to cut the tethers. We're leaving."
Captain Flint	>Yuuki: Is that it? After barking a series of orders that are likely complete gibberish to someone with Yuuki's contemporary sensibilities, Flint is hailed on the radio by Guzma--no doubt a complication from earlier. It is with an irritated frown that he orders his navigator, DeGroot, an older man with greying wavy hair, to take the helm. Descdending the stairs to the quarterdeck onto the main, he nearly trips over the hallucinatory Yuuki. "If you suffered the injustice that I did--if you gave every part of yourself to something, as I did, tried to leave the world in a better place, as I did--and were betrayed, as I was, by nearly everyone you thought to be friends, allies..." His lip curls in disgust as he turns his attention to the stairs leading towards the gundeck. "Family..." He slowly returns his gaze to her. "Perhaps you would not think my behavior so cold. One of those men will understand, one day. The other will be the one to let it happen. To drive another knife in him, because propriety demands it. If you want to understand, then come with me." He ventures belowdecks to secure the hostages. Himself and the Admiral. >If she's dead, you're dead. "I understand," says McGraw. There is an understanding between the two of them. McGraw has felt that anger before. Very recently, if the conversation he spied on is any indication. Flint is present, before long. Both the Admiral and the Lieutenant are, in a word, stunned. "No doubt you recognize my face. My voice. Let me present the facts to you, in no uncertain terms. I am the man you think I am. I am what you think I am. You--the both of you--are indeed hostages, as my associate said." "I would never put children in harm's way," growls McGraw in disgust. "Never kill men in their sleep." "Easy, Lieutenant," cautions the Admiral. "Men can be driven to all manner of things," says Flint, "When everything is taken from them." He locks eyes with Hennessey, then looks at the hallucinatory Yuuki. Does she understand, now? His anger? His heard-heartedness? He doesn't say anything to her, the look thought to be sufficient. When next he speaks, it's again to Hennessey. "You and I will have words--but at present, you're both needed abovedecks. Get there. Now." He levels a pistol--more modern than this world by far--at the both of them.
Starbound Flotilla	"Alright, Cap. Bitey, cut the tethers. Pavo, hit the deck with the crew." "You are ascending! Everyone, costumes, places!" "Floran cutsss!" "Anxious. This won't hold long, but..." "Only needs to hold an hour or two! Focus!" The ships ascend abruptly. If one looks closely, they can see the men aboard, soaked from the ride up, discarding oxygen masks, rapidly shaking the water off of their outfits, and taking their places. Biteblade does her best to time the ascents so that the boats occupy the front and back of the ship, and then they tear ass to match speed (their poor, awful construction makes it counterintuitively harder for a lighter vessel to keep pace. "Come on, come on! Big money, big money, keep your eye on the prize, don't let it slip, don't let it shake you." George whispers in a scamming con-man voice that only he can hear. "Let's mix, let's re-sort, can you see it?" The boats weave horribly a bit, making sure it's hard to keep track. In the dark, lit only by the fires of the burning London, it ought to be hard to tell what's going on -- and if you can, it ought to be impossible to tell which ship is which on its way out to sea!
Yuuki Kuran	Belowdecks-- The hallucination fades. The figments of his imagination (and in Floor Yuuki's case, inner ear) had no ears to hear. She felt his response, felt the rawness of the emotion, the bitterness held within the man whose heart self-identified with sheer-cut stone. So two become one, belowdecks, as the real Yuuki twists out of the lamplit dark in a ripple of mist and an audible flutter of small wings. Flanking her are the two men Flint aims down the barrel of his anachronistic at. "James. I can feel your great pain. This ship can be your prize. It is a thing. A heap of wood on water." Eyes aglow, Yuuki lifts her hand to her tiny tophat to tip it to the admiral. "No offense to you, of course. It is a very nicely shaped piece of wood on the water." "There is no excuse for an unprofessional pirate, is there? Come, James Flint. Let us disappear from this McGraw and his admiral into the misty night." She winks at James McGraw, which probably is confusing to HIM given HIS mood. It makes sense to her. "If you'd like to avoid furrowing your brow that deeply, James McGraw, please learn to love yourself, or, failing that, what you do. A world of pain is tiring to live in."
Captain Flint	Once, the English were shocked into suing for peace when a fleet of ships sailed brazenly up this very same river. Now, the Empire's eye has been spit upon, the same trick being pulled in reverse with a fleet, spun within its very own waters, sailing out with a warship stolen from under her nose. The Flotilla's vessels may have been constructed hastily, they may be ungraceful--but those few soldiers who remain pay them only a passing glance. "Isn't that the Royal Anne?" "It looks like about five of them." "I don't remember--" "GET A BUCKET IN THOSE HANDS!" cries a third soldier, this one an officer. "The whole fucking city's on fire, and you're watching ships leave the harbor?" The way is long. But all of London's resources are, in this moment, focused on quelling Hesinca's raging inferno. With the demon gone, the soldiers can finally begin making bucket chains to do just that, but even that endeavor takes longer, now that the nearest garrison has been utterly consumed. It's doubtful that this part of town will ever recover from the destruction, especially given that among the damage done is a museum filled with priceless artifacts now lost to flames. Abovedecks on the real thing, Flint has his pistol trained on McGraw, Hennessey, and the sailor brought up by Silver. All three look on in startled fear at the destruction wrought upon the city. Yuuki cautions Flint against unprofessional behavior. That seems to have chipped away at his armor, slightly. It reminds him of someone he knows, one of few people he's shared himself with, which the world hasn't taken from him. But it is her remark towards McGraw--that he should love himself--which lets him know what he must do. As McGraw is indeed confused by Yuuki's remarks, utterly off his guard, the captain turns to Yuuki. The captain places his hand upon her shoulder, looking her in the eyes. "There's something I must do, before that." As the Anne and its crew of duplicates leave London behind, Flint turns. He steps closer to the Admiral. Presses the pistol against the small of Hennessey's back. McGraw's fists clench at the sight of it, clearly a dangerous mix of afraid and angry to see the Admiral in danger. "Years ago... for you, scarcely an hour ago--you said that you couldn't imagine what I was capable of, when driven to extremes. You cautioned me against growing too familiar with Thomas." That name makes McGraw go as white as a sheet. He looks, for all the world, like a man whose infidelity has been discovered. "I didn't listen," continues the captain. "Perhaps that was my mistake. Let me now offer you the same courtesy you no doubt feel you offered me," says the captain, his voice a low, menacing rumble like a predatory cat pacing in its cage. Waiting to be let out. "A warning. In a short time, you will have a choice to make, between what you know to be right, and what keeps you comfortable. I will keep watch on this place. You will never find even a shred of me, but I will have eyes here. If I find that you have selected the latter of those two choices... that you have thrown a good man to the wolves, to preserve your own good standing with vultures... I will return." "And then..." His lips curl into a snarl. "...sir," Spits Flint contemptuously, "You will find out /exactly/ what I am capable of. And it will make the bedlam you see before you seem a fond memory, by comparison." She had asked the Lieutenant to love himself; but she was really asking him to do the same. To leave this place without preventing the grievous injury that will be done to McGraw in a few months time... all because of who he chose to love, that would not be loving himself at all.
Captain Flint	Silver, apparently just as much in the dark about Flint's past as anyone else, heads belowdecks to check on Guzma and the trio. Meanwhile, Flint makes another order. "Billy," he says, addressing the strapping blonde boatswain. "Watch over our guests while the Director and I have a word. If we haven't returned by the time we clear Southend, put them on the launches and send them back to shore." Billy nods. With that, Flint gestures to the captain's cabin, where he and Yuuki may disappear to quit from these matters, as she had requested.