SLAVERS PLOT LOG |closed-ish. this is why we don't get nice things, bud.

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max, Tempest, and a buttload of others who want to be involved (and slavers).
Broadcast: N/A
Action: that shitty junkstation what up
When: IDK TODAY SURE.

SUMMARY:

Max helped Beverly out with some shady people a while back. Well. They didn't appreciate that. Cue them deciding to wail on Max and Tempest and drag the guy off to sale on the slave trade market. That just won't do, who else is gonna grunt and complain and accidentally punch or threaten small children on the fleet? Rescue squad, assemble.

(AKA there will be a Part A thread and then future open threads for rescuing or just... y'know, an excuse to beat the tar out of some terrible people. Also maybe a thread for Max after the fact?? Who knows.)

Comments

[therewerefifty]

[Makie's exotic weapon probably hadn't helped matters either, though the slavers are finally growing accustomed to it, learning to avoid its reach where they can. But that just puts them in reach of Tempest instead, and it's easy to adjust so the rest have no choice but to fight one or the other. Death by fire or the blade, guys, take your pick.

She catches the heavy metal rod that swings toward her on the iron midsection of her staff, eyes widening as it flares to life with electricity a few inches away. It's an unfamiliar weapon for a samurai, and she gives way under the attack, letting him stumble forward. Then she spins on her heel and slam him in the face with a kick hard enough to crunch bone.

One breaks and runs. There's swearing-- fuck it-- and another finally raises his gun, white-faced, and opening fire. He'd like to leave here alive, thanks very much.]

[noprophecies]

[for the ones she can't handle on her own, it's simple enough to knock them back, letting Makie do the rest with her blade. Their strengths work in tandem with each other and without a word.

Tempest ends up with one particular slaver too big to knock down easily, and he's caught on to her strategy - he grabs her wrist and disarms her, while the other grabs her free hand - at least, thinking that would stop her from using her magic. Instead he's greeted with fire engulfing his hand and a knee to the groin, and she's quick to grab him by the face and slam his head into the floor with all her strength.

That leaves the last one firing his weapon, too far from her to hit easily with a spell]

[therewerefifty]

[Makie's aware of him on her peripheral vision but she's still fighting on other fronts and he's out of her reach. She makes an effort even so-- her knife pulls free from its sheath and she flings it in his direction. It's too little too late; spoils his aim enough that the shot punches through high in the shoulder instead of a more lethal place, and Makie staggers.

Well, fuck that guy. Her mouth tightens in a line of pain, but Makie follows through with her opponents without more than a small hitch to her movement, blade swinging back to catch in her hands as she finishes the fight. Kind of leaves the dead, the dying, a couple runaways, and one gunman fumbling to keep his grip on the gun with Makie's knife buried in his forearm.]

[noprophecies]

[well, that just won't fly. Tempest curses as she sees Makie get it, but she has to be impressed as well - the woman keeps going, taking out the last few standing save for the gunman, and the body count alone is worth being impressed over. She glances from Makie over to the gunman - and Tempest takes off at him.

He turns and lifts the gun, but she's is a moment quicker and grabs it, jerking it downwards as she rips the knife out of his hand. He has little time to cry out from the pain; she kicks at his knee, putting him off balance and sending him to his knees, releasing his hold on the gun. Tempest is quick to shift her grip on it to point the barrel at his head.

When she finally speaks she's calm, though a little out of breath, and she turns her head just enough to glance at Makie]

Are you all right?

[therewerefifty]

[Damn, woman, you're brutal. Makie approves. And now that all in the vicinity are accounted for, she sags just a little, her free hand going to her shoulder with a wince. It hurts... a lot more than she'd anticipated. But she's never been shot before.

Nevertheless--]

It's not critical. I'll be all right. [She needs treatment and it's going to slow her down, which is unfortunate given they're still down one man. But it's not going to kill her.

She gives Tempest a reassuring nod, and then shifts her gaze to the sweating gunman. Dude, you're so screwed.]

[noprophecies]

[she gives a faint nod, watching Makie for a moment before she turns her attention back to the gunman. He's so incredibly screwed.

She still has Makie's knife, and she twirls it between her fingers, purposely in view of their prisoner]

I'm glad. Shall we question this one, then? [he opens his mouth to respond but she cuts him off] Every time you refuse, I will cut something off. So I would mind your tongue, sir.

[therewerefifty]

[Makie straightens. Interrogation is not her forte, but she gets the distinct impression Tempest might be good at it with the way she's twirling that knife.

But that doesn't mean Makie can't make an impression to unnerve, and she steps across the blood smeared on the ground almost delicately to loom by Tempest, face schooled back into the same blank mask she just slaughtered his allies with, the pike blades held in loose fingers by her side.

The guy darts a nervous look from one to the other, mouth opening and shutting a few times. "Look, I don't-- I can't-- you're just gonna kill me anyway, right?"]

[noprophecies]

[for a moment Tempest glances over, and were this any other situation she might "break character" to grin. She had the feeling Makie could get the man to talk with a look alone. Her threats weren't necessary.

She tilts her head back to the gunman, eyebrows raised. The knife moves a little faster, almost at an impatient pace; she wouldn't say she's good at this, but she has the experience. Much more than she'd have liked]

If you want to walk away alive, I suggest that you tell us where your lot took the man I was with. Quickly.

[therewerefifty]

[The gunman stares back and tries not to look at the knife, but his gaze keeps twitching toward it. He has some loyalty to his crew, but all the same his own survival is more important. His lip curls back.

"Ship's a junker called the Ripperjack, but you won't catch 'em anyway. They'll know you survived, they're gonna clear out, you watch." Not that there's anything that really qualifies as law enforcement here, but the guy they took obviously has allies. "Even if they don't, you're way outnumbered, okay? Just cut your losses. He's not worth it."

It's a wheedling kind of bargain. Maybe if he plays up how nasty the slaver ship is, they'll just bail out and abandon Max and leave him alone.]

[noprophecies]

[she gives the man a long, long searching look before she directs her attention to Makie. She finally stops with the knife, tossing it up and catching carefully by the blade so she can offer it over]

I believe this is yours. [she still has the gun she took earlier, and she keeps that trained on him, just in case] Is there anything you would like to ask him?

[therewerefifty]

[Makie takes the knife with a hand gone slightly shaky now that adrenalin has started to wear off, curling bloodstained fingers around it; her face is as impassive as ever, still staring down at the gunman.]

Numbers. How many are on this ship of yours? What can we expect when we arrive in terms of defense?

[noprophecies]

[her own hand is shaking now that it isn't busy with the gun, but she presses it to her side instead, keeping the other arm steady. Another world away taught her a bit about guns, at least in the movies she watched, and when the man hesitates to answer she pulls the hammer back with her thumb. She presses it harder against his head.

The man, perhaps banking on them sparring him, does speak up again. "Couple dozen, more than what you saw here. You really shouldn't be worrying 'bout defense, you aren't gonna make it past the entrance."]

[therewerefifty]

Do you say that because you assume your crew is strong enough or do they have an ability to lock us out?

[She glances at Tempest when his eyes shift away from her at that last, muttering so quietly it's almost missed. "Both." Her own ship had passcodes to let people in for a while-- they can easily take this idiot with them. And as for the former, they'll deal.]

[noprophecies]

[Tempest glances at Makie as well, her frown deepening for just a moment. She's thinking along the same lines, though she knows nothing of passcodes or even how to lock people out. But bringing this one along? That was the only reason he was still alive, aside from questioning him]

I would not be opposed to asking for further help from the fleet, if you aren't.

[therewerefifty]

I am not opposed. We'll need it. [Her mouth twists a little in dissatisfaction, but Makie's no fool. This lot are armed with weapons she probably won't be so lucky with a second time, and she can't fight as well as she'd like with a perforated shoulder .]

We can use him to bypass any locks on his ship. I'm sure we won't be the only ones who would like to put an end to these slavers.

[noprophecies]

Mmm. [it's an agreeing noise to everything Makie says, particularly the last part; she had been indifferent, having only known the waystation to be full of criminals. Slavers were a different breed entirely, and after what had happened earlier, she felt justified in going along to get a bit of revenge while she helped rescue the idiot.

The man opens his mouth to protest, something along the lines of "Wait, you said I could walk away&mdash" but they're done with him for now. Tempest mutters a few words under her breath and smacks him in the head - and he tips over to the side, asleep. She gives him a disgusted look]

That will keep him from running off for a few hours.

[therewerefifty]

[Once he's out, Makie sags just a little more, because wow bullet wounds hurt and that's rude. She flicks the blades of her pike free of blood with her good hand and takes the closest seat available.]

Good. I'll make a call.

[-->on another post.]