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Wade

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About Wade

  • Rank
    Fanatic
  • Birthday 08/27/1996

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Texas, probably
  • Occupation
    Student

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  1. Wade

    One Last Delivery

    “She’s crazy,” Milton whispered. Teddy had to agree. Listening to the redhead laugh, he thought she would’ve made a wonderful witch. It sobered him to the reality that he might have to shoot her. Stepping aboard the Siren’s Song, Teddy fought the urge to make eye contact with anyone. He wasn't the type to get easily psyched out, even though he was, admittedly, a little scared. It was just that he had the habit of pissing off the wrong people, as he’d done with Milton, and then Prescott. It was a detail that had been brought to his attention in his early twenties, when he first started out as a bartender in Tia. Drunks didn’t like dealing with him, nor did some of his coworkers. Arguments broke out regularly. Eventually his manager had to pull him aside, which led to a heated discussion where he vividly recalled being described as ‘the slimiest motherfucker on the planet’. Teddy, when you smile like that, it’s like I just swallowed a gallon of paint. It makes me want to punch you. It took him a while to figure out what that meant; to figure out that he was a vain, insensitive human being who oozed sarcasm out of his every pore. Internally, the realization hadn’t done much to change him. He was too self-abosrbed for a sudden shift in morality, much less an entire reworking of his personality. The real difference was in his demeanour. Exhibit A: comforting Jim about getting dumped instead of laying into him for being an alcoholic. People were puzzled. Weirded out, understandably. Here was the guy who picked his teeth with the bones of his victims, patting someone on the back and telling them everything was going to be okay. It wasn’t normal. Where was Teddy? Who was this charming young man with the velvety-smooth tongue? People started talking to him, asking him to hang out. They opened up to him, no longer in fear of getting chewed out. It was a new era for Teddy, one he figured he could get used to. Having other people buy him drinks for once was actually kind of nice. Unfortunately, the transformation hadn’t been flawless. Getting a rise out of people was a thrill he couldn’t fully get rid of, along with a temper that came back to haunt him occasionally. For the most part, it was a slow boil. Pretty standard, not really all that troublesome. In situations like this, though, surrounded by glowering thugs looking for blood- he couldn’t help but feel a bit of a spike. He knew that if he looked anywhere besides Prescott’s back, he’d suddenly feel tempted to wink, or spit, or compliment the crew on their stellar hygiene. All of which would feel exceptionally satisfying, but at the cost of digging himself a deeper grave. We’re not dead yet, bucko. Not yet. The captain’s quarters lived up to Teddy’s expectations. Lots of gold, lavish red drapes, scattered clothes that left him wondering what went on in here. It was the hallmark of any successful pirate captain. He watched the redheaded woman pour herself a drink, curious now more than ever. “We never did get around to introductions,” he commented offhandedly. “Who is she again?” “Aldren the Red,” Prescott said, almost shushing him. Behind them, the doors slammed shut. Aldren’s entourage circled around, taking place at either side of her desk. Teddy gave them each a good, long look before fixing his attention on Aldren’s glass. He couldn’t take it any longer. “Not going to share?” “For fuck’s sake.” Prescott shook his head. “Half my cargo,” he said quickly, obviously trying to change the topic. “Half my cargo, and everyone gets to walk away.” Prescott held his breath for a second, as if deliberating on his next sentence. When he let it out, it seemed he was more interested in hearing how Aldren would respond.
  2. Wade

    New, Old Face

    Checks Val. Sees post by Robob- Rubs eyes. Checks again. Starts crying.
  3. Thanks for the like, my ninja

    1. KittyvonCupcake

      KittyvonCupcake

      You're welcome! I like your style.

      I could make an attempt at echoing back another snappy nickname, but I believe it would be best to save us from any mutual embarrassment. 

  4. Wade

    One Last Delivery

    There were a few things running through Teddy’s mind. The first, of course, was typically male. By extension, it was uniquely stupid. He already thought the woman he'd spotted through the telescope was attractive at a distance. Now that she stood little less than ten metres from him, he found himself irredeemably smitten. Part of his brain kept telling him This woman is your enemy. That she was an evil, evil pirate queen who’d probably drowned a dozen babies. But then there was the other part of his brain, the one that insisted Look at her. And how could he not? He’d always had a thing for redheads, in the sort of way you had a thing for an endangered species of cute baby seals. Only the seals were hot, and curvy, and god have mercy there was something wrong with him. The second thing was: how the hell was this supposed to work? Most of Teddy’s naval experience stemmed from old movies, so he didn’t really know how much of what they were doing was actually bullshit. In the stuff he’d watched, you were supposed to yell- “Parley!” -and then you had a ceasefire. Like in wartime but again, he was a bounty hunter, not a soldier. This stuff rarely applied to him. In his line of work, waving a white flag was equivalent to farting during a marathon. Even so, there was a gangplank between both ships now. That had to mean they were doing something right. If he had his facts straight, that just left the negotiations. Someone would cross over, they’d have a nice little chat, probably with an unnecessary amount of posturing. After that they’d go back to their ships, having come to an agreement. Or not, and it’d come down to a slaughter. The weapons in-hand were proof that both sides considered the possibility, especially for the men and women of the Egremont, who stared on with the eyes of death row inmates. Teddy tossed the flag away in favour of his shotgun. Some of the pirates sneered at him but he didn’t give them so much as a passing glance. Instead, he tilted his gaze towards Prescott. He looked about as fierce as a nail in a sandwich. His arms were crossed diplomatically, and the slouch in his back was slightly better. He waited for a while, letting the silence drag on from hostile to profoundly uncomfortable, until finally he stepped forward, flanked by Teddy. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want with my ship?” A ripple of laughter surged across from him. Prescott’s voice was surreally calm. “Shut the fuck up.” A shocked pause seized the air. Everyone was staring at him in varying degrees of surprise, including his crew. Many of the pirates, predictably, began to laugh again. However, several of them didn’t. Teddy didn’t know whether it was out of awe or fear or respect. For him, it was a combination of all three. “Now then, this is how it’s going to work,” Prescott said, barrelling on. “You idiots don’t get to board my ship until I’ve had a proper chat with your captain. Which is you, I’m guessing.” He made a vague gesture towards the redheaded woman. “Unless you’re personally willing to talk in my quarters, we’ll talk in yours. I get to bring two men with me. Him-” This time he gestured to Teddy. “-and him.” Prescott turned around and pointed a finger at Milton. The cook didn’t seem to know how to react apart from stopping to breathe. “Me?” “Did I fucking stutter?” Milton lowered his head. His knuckles were turning white, grip tightening around his frying pan. “Why?” he asked meekly. “Consider it punishment for starting a fight,” Prescott said. “If I die over there, you’re dying with me.” He then stabbed a finger at Teddy’s chest. “Same goes to you.” Teddy smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Cap, but I’m going to live forever.” Prescott smiled right back at him, oddly enough, before facing the pirates again. “Arrogant piece of shit.” Teddy shrugged and watched as Milton hobbled over. He was ready to pat him on the shoulder, then thought against it. “So?” Prescott demanded. “Do we have a deal?"
  5. Wade

    Strange Occurrences [OOC]

    Solid piece of writing, my guy. Particularly the part with the beetle at the beginning. It was fun, had good flow, and laid out the groundwork for what looks like an interesting character. Overall, a good introduction. The only thing I might point out is that Inar's headed towards Harlow's ship. Which I'm pretty sure is totally fine, though I think everyone who isn't already onboard is supposed to meet at the Inn de Clairmont.
  6. Wade

    Strange Occurrences

    Well, Teddy thought. This is pretty fucking weird. As long he could remember, the world had always made room for moments like this. Even when he was busy, he inevitably found himself in strange, frequently occult situations that made him reflect on where he’d gone wrong in life. Granted, this wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the one time he’d been forced to cosplay for that warlord’s daughter- or the time he’d woken up naked in a necromancer’s attic (sign of the cross) -but it still left him feeling dumb and short-sighted, and that with a little bit of clear-thinking he could’ve avoided all of this. “Hey, Gramps. You think we can speed this up a little?” The man in front of him didn’t reply. Didn’t move, didn’t look at him, didn’t even seem to breathe. If Teddy hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought the guy was dead. All he’d done so far was sit on his stupid satin pillow and stroke the gunslinger’s palm at an intimate pace of half a millimetre a second. In the span it had taken to get midway, Teddy could’ve eaten lunch, dinner and dessert, and still have time for an early nightcap. In fact, he was kind of craving that right now. All around him, the Gipsy Market swirled with the smell of warm food. Fresh samosas. Cheddar perogies. Something that looked like frog on a stick. His stomach rumbled, almost painfully. If it hadn’t been for his audience of eager young street rats, he would’ve flipped the bird and hopped onto the next train headed for the splurgefest. Eventually some of the kids got bored and left. Not all of them, though. Teddy silently cursed those who stayed behind, along with his reservations about disappointing children. The old man was just reaching the calluses where his fingers began. It should’ve been a moment of celebration, until Teddy realized palm reading also extended to the fingertips. In that regard, it meant they were only reaching the halfway mark now and not, say, ten minutes ago. Screw it, I’m leaving- “HMMMMMM!” Teddy jumped. One kid who’d been sucking on his thumb nearly choked. “What?” Teddy started, his voice part excitement, part concern. “Are you done?” The kids leaned in as if to repeat the question. The old man was silent for a while, then finally opened his eyes. Inside them was a worrying slowness anyone could’ve mistaken for brain damage. “Yes,” he said, somehow stretching the word into three syllables. “I have… finished.” Teddy waited. “And?” “There is a cyclops looking for a second eye.” Teddy and the kids exchanged a glance. “It is here,” the man continued. “In this city. You will meet with it and…” There was another pause. “And?” The old man licked his lips. Teddy thought he saw the bastard smiling for a second. “You will…” “Yeah?” “Try to…” “Uh huh…” “…” “Uh huh-" “Mate with it." Teddy stared blankly. “What?” Laughter exploded in waves all around him. The first one came from the older kids, because they understood the meaning behind the fortuneteller’s words; the second one came from the peewees, who didn’t catch on but simply found the laughter infectious. Gritting his teeth was all Teddy could do to save himself from whipping around and telling them to shut up. “Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked slowly, emphasizing the else. “There is a beetle-" “Mhmm.” “-who looks like a girl-" Teddy suddenly retracted his hand. “You know what, nevermind. I don’t want to mate with beetles.” Standing up, he straightened his shirt and dusted off nothing from his pants. The kids weren’t laughing so openly now, as he caught their giggles and the way every glance prompted a fit of uncontrollable rumbling. He gave them all a glare, including the fortuneteller, then left the tent in time to hear the tension release in a chorus of delighted squees. On his way out of the market, he angrily snagged a couple of those frogs on a stick he smelled from earlier. Like any fried meat, they tasted like chicken. It was always chicken. He imagined they would’ve paired well with a beer from the inn, or two ounces of hard whiskey if he really needed it. Unfortunately, 'do not drink before meeting an employer’ was one of ten commandments he tried to live by. Once they’d get to know each other, it would be a different story, but for now he was staying as chaste as ice. I really need it, though. The Inn de Clairmont itself was a quaint establishment. Large and spacious, it offered plenty of room for travellers to rest. Teddy had grown particularly fond of the inner courtyard, since it was a great spot to catch a few rays while familiarizing yourself with the caravans’ horses. One of the mustangs, whom he’d nicknamed Chuckles, greeted him in a hiccuping whinny. Teddy fed the animal the rest of his meal, then gave its muzzle a good rub before finding a shaded bench. There, he flipped out his iCrystal and began scrolling through his contacts. “Foster, Foster, where are y- ah, there you are.” The messenger app opened to a tap of his finger. He typed out a quick message. Here. Sitting in the courtyard. Zoom, the message was off. They’d never actually spoken on the phone, just on text or through email. That said, Teddy was sure Foster knew what he looked like. She would’ve had to have gone through his dossier to contact him, because no sane person hired professional killers without checking them out first. Teddy, on the other hand, had no idea what to expect. His police friends in Tia weren’t legally allowed to divulge her papers to him. The most they’d coughed up was assurance that she was an upstanding citizen, who'd done nothing dramatic enough to earn a spot on their radar. As for the others- Foster said there’d be others -Teddy didn’t know what they’d be like either. Which was fine. Meeting strangers was part of the fun, he supposed. Once, he’d teamed up with a gorgeous vampire babe who he ended up dating for a while. That was great- until it wasn't. Shooting people and digging around lost temples went hand in hand with each other, but that didn’t mean passions always lined up. He was a cat person; she was a dog person. She was into neck-biting (like real, bloodsucking neck biting); he wasn’t. He liked pineapple on his pizza; she didn’t. It just wasn’t meant to be. On another occasion, he got together with a bunch of clowns. Literal, chainsaw-wielding, killer clowns. That had scared the shit out of him. All to say meeting these goons could go either way. There is a cyclops looking for a second eye. Teddy relaxed into the bench. He opened the eBook reader on his phone and tried to focus on where he’d left off. It is here, in this city. You will meet with it. “Reed Minola didn’t know what Gaia wanted from him,” he read aloud. And you will. “But he knew she wanted something." Try to mate with it. … “Fuck me, I need a drink."
  7. Wade

    Strange Occurrences [OOC]

    Harlow coming in clutch with the compromise. Sounds good to me
  8. Wade

    Strange Occurrences [OOC]

    I'm in favour of establishing a loose post order for now- something like 1-3 days to post per person, though we can play around with it if we need to. A little bit of structure goes a long way in keeping a thread on track, I find. That said, I'm willing to go first right after Harlow posts.
  9. Wade

    One Last Delivery

    “Geez.” Teddy mouthed the word atop a roiling gut, along with a silent curse. He was staring into the eyes of a shipwreck, quite possibly for the first and last time. “Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Prescott said. “I can’t tell if that’s a serious question.” Prescott laughed hollowly. “I know I am,” he muttered. Teddy’s eyebrows rose a few millimetres. Apart from a thin smile and the grips of old age, there weren’t any noticeable weaknesses in the captain's demeanour. “You sure don’t look like it.” “Good,” Prescott nodded. "The moment these dickweeds see I’m shitting my pants, they’re going to lose it.” For a moment Teddy forgot who Prescott was referring to until he caught a glimpse of the crew. They were all stationed at their usual posts, taut as the rope they carried onboard. Even Hux, who’d stopped fidgeting entirely. None of the mercenaries had made it onto the deck, which either meant they weren’t ready to play yet or they were also dealing with a case of the pre-game jitters. Prescott leaned onto the railing. “So what’s the plan?” Teddy raked a hand through his hair, then glanced around. “You got any secret cannons you want to tell me about?” “‘Fraid not. Companies stopped arming merchant ships a while ago when they realized ammo’s too expensive. Now they just tell us to run, sail the safe routes. If something happens on the way, they cross out part of the map with a big red marker and get the navy to check it out. Then they bitch for the rest of the day and tell our families they’re really sorry." Teddy was pensive. “Well, that’s shit." “You’re telling me-“ Teddy saw the flash before he heard the roar. It was almost like watching fireworks, when the rockets finally reached their apex and for a clear, split-second moment, you could see the way the lights bloomed without so much as a pop. By the time he caught the trail of smoke, a massive geyser shot up in front of him, showering the deck with saltwater. Some of it got it in his eyes and it stung like hell, but the fire in his veins was so sudden and alive that he barely felt the tears welling up. Backing away from the railing, Teddy kept low to the floor. He watched the pirate vessel for another attack, waiting, pondering. It was only a few seconds later that the stinging became bothersome enough for him to risk a sleeve across his face. Christ, they better not think I’m crying. Biting his cheek at the thought, Teddy looked out from the crook of his elbow. As far as he could tell, no one was shooting at them anymore. “That was a warning shot,” Prescott announced. He hadn’t moved more than a step back from where he’d been standing. Feeling oddly ashamed, Teddy rejoined the captain. “What do you want to do?” “Do you think we can take them on?” Teddy shook his head. “From this far? Not a chance.” He shrugged, then hefted up his shotgun with both hands. “Up close though? Maybe. Those cannons’ll tear through us like paper if they decide to shoot, but I’m willing to bet they’re going to think twice about potentially obliterating their merchandise.” “Or sinking it to the bottom of the ocean.” “That too.” “People are going to die.” It wasn’t a question. “You willing to live with that?” Prescott’s brow furrowed. He looked about as concerned as a man at a gelato shop deciding between pistachio and lemon, and Teddy suddenly felt ridiculous for holding back a smile. “Fuck it, let’s go kill some pirates.” Several minutes later, every mercenary onboard lined the deck. They wore their weapons openly, and their postures projected the same air a bouncer affected at a high-end club. At the same time, any crewman who could hold a hammer or a knife did their best to look as intimidating as possible. It looked a little silly in comparison, but Teddy thought it got the job done and that was what mattered. “Remember, no one shoot unless they start attacking,” Teddy yelled out. “No one give them any soft eyes either. We start looking like a bunch of pushovers, they’ll walk all over us.” From behind, Prescott clamped a hand over his shoulder. “Here,” he said. Teddy looked down. The captain was holding a piece of white cloth wrapped around a stick. “Why do I have to do it?” “Remember that conversation we had earlier?” Prescott tilted his head forward, dropping his voice. "You really think I’m about to look like a bitch in front of my entire crew?” Teddy’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said, then snatched the makeshift flag and started waving it. Let’s parlay, assholes.
  10. Wade

    Strange Occurrences [OOC]

    "Okay. I was at a bar with my buddy Roscoe. Which meant mainly beer, and you know Roscoe can't drink beer, man. But there was this olive oil for his joints that saved the day. It was delightful. And then he tells me about this girl, Alice, who we used to kick it with. Hot as hell but she's not into dudes-" "It's the wrong details. It has nothing to do with the story. Go." "So... uh, he tells me she's working as a private investigator now, right? And she's dating this girl, Echo, who's a robotics engineer. And she tells her about these emails she's been getting. Right? That they're from this big-shot airship captain, who's got some beef now but needs help dishing it? And so Echo's actually Roscoe's mechanic, and they get to talking, right? And here comes to good part. Echo says, 'Yo, man. This girl's got some big-ass jerk who needs some findin, some straight killin.' Of course, Roscoe comes to me because he knows I got mad shooting skills. Of course, I ask him, 'Did Alice tell Echo to tell you to get to me to go help out with this vengeance stuff?' And he says, 'Naw, dawg. All she said is is that she got like fifty emails, and that whoever sent them fucked up her inbox.' " tl;dr: god bless Michael Peña. Actual legit tl;dr: Teddy's not the merc Harlow wanted nor needed, but he's the one she got anyway. Officially speaking however, he just got one of Harlow's inquiries and said, "Dope." For now we'll just say he's in it for the money. Also... We can chalk up Teddy's sudden lore knowledge to his ex-girlfriend, Lara Croft, Chloe Frazer, Badass Hot Treasure Hunter. That's his story and I'm sticking to it.
  11. Wade

    Dice Rolling Thread

    Y E E T
  12. Wade

    Getting A Clue

    It had been a while, Teddy thought, since he’d been this out of breath. Roxanne rolled off of him and flopped onto the bed. She was still panting, like him though not quite as hard. Teddy watched her chest rise and fall, the way it gradually eased into a contented sigh. Through the blinds of his cabin, the light barely touched her hair, blood red strands draping her neck and plastering her forehead. She turned to face him and laid a thigh overtop of his, resting her head against his shoulder. “You do good work, cowboy.” Teddy nodded, not actually having the energy to speak yet. It was a miracle he hadn’t gone back to sleep. They’d spent the previous night together for what could’ve been hours and hours, and when he woke up this morning Roxanne had been on top of him. A part of him nearly frowned at the redhead, then at the clock which read 6:27, but she’d already lapsed into a steady rhythm and he was quickly swept into her song. The only thing left to do was to match her tempo and accelerate, until they were both aching, trembling, and then finally breaking. Teddy looked at the clock now. It read 7:00. “In a rush to go somewhere?” An empty chuckle marked his response. “Like there’s anywhere to go on this train.” “Mmm, we’ve got you to thank for that, don’t we?” Roxanne began tracing shapes along his abdomen with a single, slender finger. She smelled of sex and sweat and blood and strawberries. Teddy found the mixture oddly intoxicating. “Honestly, I never took you for the noble type. It’s usually money first with you mercenaries.” “I mean, we are getting paid.” “Three ounces of platinum a day,” Roxanne added. “Hey, that’s not bad.” “Teddy.” “Yeah?” “What the hell am I supposed to do with three ounces of platinum a day?” “Well, uh… I don’t know, buy new shoes-” The finger suddenly turned into a nail and Teddy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Okay, okay! This is a shitty job, you’ve made your point." The nail relaxed. “God, that’s jarring.” Roxanne ignored him. “There’s gotta be more to it than just, ‘Look at me, I’m Teddy Leon! I’m gonna go feed starving vampires!' You’re a nice guy, but you’re not that nice." “You wound me.” “And I’ll do it again,” she purred. "Spill the beans, hon." Teddy took a moment to retreat into himself. Absent-mindedly, he started running his fingers through Roxanne’s hair. “I used to live in Tia,” he said eventually. “No shit?” “No shit. Moved there when I was twenty and stayed a couple of years before I started doing all this.” He gestured to the rest of the cabin with one lazy sweep of his hand. “It’s kind of like a second home." “Ah,” she said, stretching the syllable. “So it's personal.” “It is.” Roxanne took his answer with a smile that told him nothing. Casually, she pulled away and propped herself onto the palm her hand, looking him over with sugary sweet eyes you’d never think to find on an assassin. “You really are a cinnamon roll, then.” “Shut up.” “What did you do while you were there?" “Bartending,” Teddy said simply. It was the truth, if not half of it. Roxanne ooed. “Is that where you learned to juggle?" “No, I learned to do that in my living room when I was eight. Ended up smashing the TV and my parents’ confidence in my budding intellect.” He shrugged. “But I won’t say it didn’t come in handy on the job.” “What made you leave?” Teddy raised his eyebrows. “Don’t I get to ask you a question now?” “I didn’t realize we were taking turns.” “Wow, it’s like you’ve never made pillow talk before. How old are you again?” She slapped him along the shoulder. “Rude.” “But that was my question!” “What?” “My question. You know, like my turn?” “Oh.” Roxanne blinked. “Sorry.” “That’s alright. You, uh, gonna give me an answer?” “Sorry, but a lady never tells.” “Lame.” She slapped him again. “Anything else you want to add?” “Apart from, ‘ow, that hurt’? No, not really.” “Good, ‘cause I’m hungry. Get dressed.” Beyond the cabin lay a narrow hallway that looked, to Teddy, the same as any hotel hallway built before his time: wood walls polished to a glossy finish, carpet-flooring decorated by an ugly floral pattern, drapes that looked more useful as blankets. The only real difference was the view. Past the windows, the Ponkapoang River sped by at a leisurely pace of eighty kilometres per hour, glittering with the serenity of the early morning sun. Still accustomed to the darkness of his room, Teddy found himself squinting against it. “Howdy, friends." Roscoe had been waiting for them in the lounge cart. Much like the river, Teddy found the robot’s southern drawl somewhat offensive. It was warm, gravelly and cheerily sycophantic, and it confused the hell out of his brain when someone who sounded like a total hick turned out to be exceptionally smart. “I thought I’d get you guys some breakfast,” Roscoe said, nodding creakily towards the table he sat at. On it were two plates of sesame seed bagels and some fruit, plus a glass of water and a yogurt each. “No doubt you’re going to need some energy after last night.” Teddy sat down. “Thank you, Roscoe.” “And this morning.” “Thank you, Roscoe.” While Teddy pointedly took a bite out of his bagel, Roxanne merely beamed at their companion. “And how are you doing today?” Roscoe’s eyes flickered happily. Teddy thought they’d fixed that. “Why I’m about as fine as a flea on a big fat dog, thank you for asking,” he sang. "Did you know that banging your head against the wall burns 150 calories an hour?” “What, did they program that fact into you?” Teddy jabbed. “No, siree! I learned that one from Jim just now. But I’ve got a few thousand more interesting ones, if you want to hear them.” “Who’s Jim?” Roxanne giggled. “The conductor, silly. You shook his hand when we boarded the first day?” “Oh, him. Right.” Teddy took an unconvincing sip of his water. "Why are you hanging out with the conductor again?” “Same reason you two spend all day in your room. There’s nothing to do.” Roscoe stretched in his seat, as if he were made of muscle and ligaments rather than steel and copper wiring. “Besides, every other guard on this train sounds like a pigeon with a concussion.” “That’s rich, coming from you.” For the third time that morning, Roxanne slapped the bounty hunter. “Did he say how long we have left?” she asked. “Yes, ma’am. Told me we should make it to Tia in four to five hours.” “Fantastic,” Teddy muttered. "I’m going back to bed.” Roxanne pulled on his sleeve. “Sit.” Geez. Quietly, Teddy lowered himself back into his chair. Roscoe and Roxanne kept the conversation going, but rather than join in, he tuned it out to thoughts of Tia’s fledgling revolution. None of them had heard about it until they got back to the airport after their job in Tekwell. News feeds at their terminal showed reporters in the heart of the city, where one of its most prestigious bloodbanks rested in a pile of ash. Apparently tensions were so high that people were killing each other in broad daylight, and the cops didn’t have the numbers to make a lick of difference. The news didn’t particularly shake Teddy, nor did it surprise him. Anyone worth their salt could’ve seen the action coming from a mile away. Still, it saddened him a little. He had friends in Tia, lots of them vampires. The idea that some of them might have been starving tugged at him, like an ache in his chest he couldn’t get rid of. When he’d caught word that there was a relief effort in need of security, he hadn’t hesitated to jump on the opportunity. On one long train ride throughout Terrenus, they gathered all the blood the major cities could spare. It added up to roughly a ton, which seemed like a lot but really wasn’t. When they’d arrive- “Earth to Teddy.” “Hmm?” Roscoe and Roxanne were looking at him. “Taking a nap?” A sudden heat surged through his cheeks. “Something like that,” he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. Before Roxanne could pout, the train lurched forward. Teddy was flattened against the table. So was Roxanne. Roscoe tumbled onto the floor in a mess of, “Crud muffins!” and “Dad blast it!” From below, the breaks screeched manically. Everything flew across the lounge, including plates and glasses that shattered on impact. When they didn’t inevitably crash, people were getting off the floor, dusting themselves off or nursing a wound. Teddy was part of the latter group, as he’d bumped his head pretty hard against the table. For a moment he was afraid he’d gotten a concussion and that Roscoe would laugh him out of his pride for the days to come. “Everyone alright?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” Roxanne groaned. “What the hell was that?" “I don’t know,” Teddy said. “But I think we oughta pay Jim a visit.” They made their way to the front of the train where the cockpit was located. Teddy opened the door, revealing a tall, nondescript man wearing a conductor’s uniform. Ah, so that’s Jim. “Why are we stopped?” he asked. “Are we under attack?" The conductor turned to them. “No, but uh…” His sentence trailed off, and he pointed at the window. Teddy followed his finger and noticed a dark shape directly in front of them. Roscoe whistled. “I’ll be damned.” “Is that…?” Teddy stared on disbelievingly. “It’s a fucking kid."
  13. Wade

    One Last Delivery

    Few people in the world put Teddy on edge like Hollis Prescott did. It was almost laughable, in a way. Physically speaking, the Captain wasn’t a particularly intimidating person. He stood at about average height, framed by a pair of shoulders more befitting of a ballerina than a sailor. The skin on his face sagged a little, and his stringy beard had long begun its voyage into the grey. As Teddy sat across his desk, he couldn’t help but see the poster child for crusty old farts worldwide. Had he really wanted to, he could’ve snapped the man like a twig ten times over and still have the energy for a lengthy jog. Prescott didn’t care, though. That was the scary part. You could've pointed a gun at his face and he would've just frowned and said something vulgar before finding a way to choke you with it. His second day on the job, Teddy watched one of the crew accidentally spill his morning coffee all over the Captain. He braced himself for the rebuke, along with the obscene language he’d come to expect from him. Prescott, however, was silent. No backhanded comment, no menial task-mongering. Just a stare cold enough to shave ten degrees off the galley. The crewman’s every pore seemed to shrivel into itself, and without a word he’d gone to swab the deck for a whole hour. Right now, sitting in his seat, Teddy was discovering what it meant to be on the wrong side of that stare. “Do you know why you’re here?” Prescott drawled. Teddy’s eyes casually drifted up and off to the side. “You need an opinion on how to repaint this room.” Prescott entertained him with an empty smile. “No.” “You need advice on how to spice up your marriage.” “Possibly, but not from the monkey who fucks in my pantry at two in the morning.” Milton visibly blanched. Noticing the chef’s discomfort, Prescott redirected his gaze. “Do you know why you’re here?” “I, uh…” Milton looked around, as if he’d find his answer in the walls of the office. “You… you know, well, I- at least I think you know-“ “Use your fucking words, boy, or else I’ll make you hold hands.” “I mean, you clearly know,” he finished uncomfortably. “Know what? That this idiot diddled your sister?” Teddy saw the jaw muscles working against Milton’s cheeks. “Yes.” “And that’s a reason to beat the crap out of him?” Prescott paused. "Actually, no. I take that back. You look like you got your ass handed to you." Milton didn’t know what to say, so he stopped talking altogether. Prescott took the opportunity to fetch a cigarette from his desk and start puffing away, staining the air with nicotine and what Teddy hoped wouldn’t be cancer down the road. “I’m paying this man good money to keep us all safe, you know,” Prescott said, stretching the last two words mockingly. “The last thing I want to see is you trying to break his legs over something stupid like not understanding that your sister’s a grown-ass woman. She can damn well do who she pleases without your stupid fucking approval.” Teddy’s smile was purely mental, but Prescott saw it anyway. “And you,” he continued, blowing smoke into the mercenary’s face. “Touch my crew one more time, we drop you off at the nearest patch of land in sight. All your shit stays with us. Got it?” Several questions cropped into Teddy’s mind. He made the wise decision to keep them to himself. “Aye aye, cap'n.” “Good. Now then-“ An urgent knock came from the door. Prescott sighed, exhaling more smoke. “Come back later,” he ordered. “Captain, this is urgent,” a voice replied from the other side. “There’s a ship headed right for us.” The door swung violently. The owner of the voice turned out to be the Hux, the fidgety man from before. He flinched under Prescott’s glare, though some reserve of discipline kept his mouth moving. “Looks like a frigate class vessel. No official colours or flags any of us recognize. We tried signalling them to find out their intent, but they haven’t given us a response. All we know is that they’re not changing course.” Prescott sighed. “Fucking pirates.” Hux nodded. “Some of the men are saying it’s the Siren’s Song.” A small silence fell over the office. Teddy was the one to break it. “I’m sorry, whose song?” “Doesn’t matter,” Prescott snipped. “Round up the rest of your outfit. I’ll go get my men ready for a fight.” And with that, the Captain was gone. Hux left as well, and Milton was on his way out with a sleeve to his nose. Teddy took a moment to contemplate the situation, then strode down to the crew quarters to gather the rest of the mercenaries Prescott had hired. One half was playing cards, while the other half was either lazing or cleaning their equipment. “Look alive, fellas,” he announced. “Someone's coming for our booties.” An ape of a man turned to face him. “You mean pirates?” “No, I mean Steve and his magic pedovan. What do you think?” The ape made a rude gesture. Teddy chalked it to a win because he also smiled in the process. In a loud shuffle, the mercenaries began to strap on their gear and assemble their weapons: swords, magitech rifles, mana crystals, the prayers of god- the usual accommodations Teddy had come to understand from Genesarian men and women. Meanwhile he rummaged under a bunk of his own, procuring an old pump-action shotgun. He checked to make sure it was loaded, along with his revolver, then flicked off the safety. Upstairs, everyone darted around in a controlled frenzy. Teddy snatched a telescope off of someone’s hip as they passed by, and took up his post by the wheel, close to the Captain. Extending the tool, he aimed it towards the fast-approaching ship. The first thing he saw was red hair.
  14. Wade

    Custom title raffle 3

    What's red and bad for your teeth? A brick. Hyuck hyuck hyuck hyuck. Gimme that title
  15. Wade

    One Last Delivery

    It had only taken three days for a fight to break out aboard the Egremont. None of it struck anyone as much of a surprise. Both men had been at each other’s throats from the moment they first met, over a dispute that essentially boiled down to stay the fuck away from my sister. Captain Prescott watched from the quarter deck, his presence doing little to alleviate the situation. Most of his crew hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing there for the past minute or so. They were too busy pouring gasoline over the fire, coming together in a loose circle burning with profanity. The older of the two fighters, Milton Beckett, head chef and resident motormouth, was putting up a decent fight. Decent, considering he nearly stood a full head shorter than his adversary. He was quick and slippery. Careful in his footwork. Odd traits for someone of his temperament. Prescott used to think someone would’ve put him in the ground for being such a little shit, until he’d seen him in the odd tussle. A few of the old fry earned some scars coming out, and they’d all been forced into a sort of grudging respect for the little man. Meanwhile the other guy, Teddy, the bounty hunter, had the kind of vibe you loved or you hated. He was taller, handsomer, built like a lion. Every fist slick with showmanship, every step chaotic in its diligence. You could tell he was made to bust heads- to make it look easy and fun at the same time. Which in truth, was part of the reason why Prescott had been so eager to sign him on. He needed all the capable hands he could get for this job. Half a ton of Exalta prisms wasn’t some delivery of the week he could blow off without protection. Pirates had never been a huge concern throughout his career, but he’d never handled a shipment this large before. Which was the other reason for hiring the merc. A little peace of mind went a long way for an old man like him. Teddy swung a fist into Milton’s nose. Over the crowd’s roar, no one heard the wet crunch of breaking bone. The chef spun to the side but didn’t fall down. Blood poured from his nostrils in dark torrents, turning his face into something out of a three-star horror film. It smeared across his arm as he wiped his face, and under the mess sat a dangerous smile. “Come on now, Teddy,” Milton called out. “We’re not doing love taps here.” Teddy’s grin was wicked. “Your sister says otherwise.” Milton’s smile vanished, like a crazed magic trick howling on its exit. He charged the blonde, forgetting all caution, and they exchanged a handful of blows before Prescott felt the need to step in. “What’s going on here?” he yelled. In a flash, the whole crew turned to face him. Milton and Teddy paused mid-fight. The vulgarities ceased, and the deck was left with a silence that meant trouble for everyone. Teddy was the first to answer. “Oh y’know, Cap," he said. "Just boys being boys.” “Is that so?” Prescott tilted his head. “Milton, would you like to add anything to that?” The head chef met the Captain’s gaze, then spat a wad of blood at Teddy’s feet. “No, Captain.” “And what about the rest of you?” Prescott started making his way down the steps slowly. He knew the drill, and so did his crew. They parted around him as he strode into their numbers, few of them mustering the courage to look him in the eye. He let the question hang in the air a moment, then spoke in a loud voice. “Did I hire men, or did I hire boys?” The reaction was instant. “Men, Captain!” Prescott nodded. “That right? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like I walked into the ass end of recess.” One of the fidgety men from the back stepped forward. “Captain, I-“ “Shut the fuck up, Hux. The grownups are talking.” Hux shut up and drifted back into the crowd. “Now,” Prescott continued. “If I don’t see everyone back at their posts in the next ten seconds, I swear to god you’ll eat nothing but shit and hardtack ‘till we reach Joran.” As if he’d just cracked a whip, everyone scrambled to return to their duties. Amid the chaos, Milton and Teddy glared daggers into one another until the moment passed and they followed suit with the rest of the crew. Prescott stopped them immediately. “Not you two. You’re coming with me.”
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