Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


Walter looked at the device as they walked. "You know, for a great villain, this device appears rather simple..well for a man of his standard anyhow." He stared at the unique weapon Roger carried. 'Mr. smythe, that is very well made, and extremely useful I'm sure. When this is all done, I would very much like to examine it. I may be able to improve it's design."

Walking onward. "Now, I intend to stay a bit farther back while you both interrogate this man. If he speaks lies, I will inform you at once." Walter began to examine the man, taking every inch of his body in with his eyes, methodically, mechanically to determine how,and if, he would not speak the truth.


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


An Hour Later

   Woolf had changed back into his normal garb, with the pistols on his thighs, and Elisabeth was in her uniform (tight-fitting as ever). Smythe was standing in the brig room as well, wearing his uniform still, along with the Webley pistols. In the corner stood Walter stood in the corner, a human lie detector for the sake of the interrogation. Smythe had given Tuskegee lead status on the interrogation, seeing as he had more experience. As they sat, the prisoner in the room began to awake.
   “Wha. . . wha. . . wha. . .”
   “Quiet, scum,” said Tuskegee immediately.
   “Where am I?” Asked the man dressed in the garb of a crewmember.
   “You’re in the brig, you sniveling traitor,” replied Tuskegee. “And you’re going to stay here for a long, long time. You’re also not going to do anything but talk to us until you give us the information you have.” Suddenly, Tuskegee slammed a fist down on the table in the room. He hadn’t once looked at the man. He was satisfied at the sound of the man’s quick cry.
   “Look here, chappie,” said Smythe condescendingly, “We can make this quick, which I much prefer, or this could get ugly.”
   The crewman’s jaw quivered. Behind him, he heard boots clacking on the deck of the brig. “We don’t really want to hurt you, Quincy,” said a female voice he recognized—Elisabeth Adler-Woolf’s. He’d eyed her for days on the bridge deck. “But,” she said quietly, sitting next to him, “we will if we have to.”
   “I swear,” said Quincy quietly, “I know nothing.”
   Tusk looked at Walter. He shook his head vigorously. “I’ve gotten a read on his body language, Tusk,” he said.
   “Good,” replied Tuskegee. He finally turned to face the crewman. “Do you know who I am, boy?”
   “Yes. You are Tuskegee Woolf.”
   “Very good. And do you know my reputation?”
   “No. What the hell do I care?” Wide-eyed innocence had changed to (what Tusk interpreted as false) toughness.
   Woolf smiled. “Oh, you’ll come to care, scum, as I open your skin up to let the information out. Or as I whip you bloody. Or whatever else I pick.”
   The boy’s false toughness fell back some. “You don’t scare me.”
   Woolf made an ugly face and grabbed a tuft of the kid’s hair. He gasped in pain and moved his head so that it wouldn’t hurt so much. “Now, tell us who put you up to this.”
   “Quincy,” said Smythe, “I hate seeing him do this to you. Just tell us, please.” Quincy’s jaw quivered. “I can’t! He’ll kill me!”
   “Was it Ignatieff?” The boy gasped and tried to get out of Tusk’s grasp. Tusk looked at Bennet. He nodded.
   “Where did you meet?”
   “He sent an agent! He told me he’d kill me like he killed that shopkeeper!”
At the word shopkeeper, Woolf shot a glance at Bennet. They had the same thought at the same time.
   “What else do you know?”
   “Nothing! Nothing I swear! On the graves of my parents!” Tuskegee looked again at Bennet. Slowly, a nod.
   Tuskegee let go of his hair. Slowly, he backed away from Quincy. He quietly conferenced with Elisabeth, Walter, and Roger. “What should we do with him?”


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


Walter looked at Woolf, a fire in his eyes. "Well, to start I wish to know of the shop keeper. If he has no more information, there is something I and Mr. Woolf may need to desperately attend." Walking toward this young gent..Quincy was his name. Walter spoke. "You will speak, boy. Reveal all that you know." "

"Never, I ain't tellin' you nothin!" Quincy said toughly, obviously a front. "Well then boy, this may not please you. Do you know what this is?" Walter produced a small oblong object from his pocket. It had odd engravings, intricate in nature." QUincy shook his head. "NO? Well, then you are about to find out. Hold still, this will be extremely unpleasant for you." Walter's entire demeanor had changed. Gone was the congenial man they all knew. Here was a rather mad looking fellow, his tone, his body movement subtle, but he seemed very agressive in nature.

"The shopkeeper! Hi-his name was Ba-something! He had a white beard and looked kind of short! Odd bits of things were in his dirty dirty shop! That's all I know please don't!" Quincy cowered, unable to speak any longer, he was completely struck with fear." Walter smiled, placing the object in his pocket. "Very well then. Thank you, Quincy." Walter had seemed to change back in an instant, back to the kind individual they had known.

Brushing his coat off, he walked toward Tuskegee, Elizabeth and Roger. They gazed at him in astonishment. "What is that object precisely, Mr. Bennet that would make this man speak so easily, as if water flows through his mouth?" asked Roger. "Nothing at all, Mr. Smythe, simply a piece of metal decorated. A trick, a bluff if you will. It seemed to have worked. Now, Mr. Woolf, we must be going. There is a situation we now must attend to." Staring at Tusk, they knew they must be going to see about the welfare of Barnabas


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


Quote from: Fleet Admiral JD on July 22, 2007, 02:30:21 PM
Tuskegee let go of his hair. Slowly, he backed away from Quincy. He quietly conferenced with Elisabeth, Walter, and Roger. “What should we do with him?”

Roger spoke, quietly..
  "Ah well, now, there's the question. He is a traitor, in England, it'd be the rope, in the military, the firinq squad, no questions there. The truth is, he's a danger to us. He knows our faces, our plans, and how to get to us. If he lives, who knows what further treachery we can expect?. However we should find out if he has other accomplices aboard, before we commit to any final decision"
  He looked over at Quincy...
"Sorry lad, but thats the way of it, you made your choice some while back"
Turning to the others he said...
"Thats my way of thinking to it, but I'm one voice in many. If it is to be death for him, I can make it quick and painless,
best I can offer"


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


Isaac took the parchment from eden. Upon viewing, his spirits sank without remorse. " The map to the "Island of lizards. Who sent you?" The boy just stared, then attempted to run. "Hey! Come back!" Chasing him across the deck, the spy agilely jumped into the now smoldering exploded engine room. It would have been idiocy to jump after him, but it would have also been idiocy to let the secrets of the island into the wrong hands. With the last bit of spirit in him, he catapulted after Eden.

It was a trick. The boy had simply turned, jumped off the docked ship, and blended with the crowd. But now Isaac had landed in rubble, with little chance of pulling himself out. Charred shards of wood scraped against his skin and he slowly felt the blood leave his leg. It had been pierced terribly, making it impossible to get up. "Help!" he cried pitifully, as his orphan was given enough money for a week's dinner.


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


Walter, Tuskagee and Roger all walked down the hall, considering what to do after they were done attending to business Berlin. Roger had requested accompanying the two, and they hesitantly agreed, unsure of what else to say. "You may need another set of hands, and a weapon or two gentlemen. I believe it would be beneficial" Roger said.

Continuing,they heard a faint cry for help. "It sounded as if it came from the engine room." Tusk said." Then let us go" said Walter. Running toward the room, they saw a rather pitiful Isaac stuck in the rubble. "Oh my, he's bleeding." Walter said "Tusk, you and Roger grab him..carefully, yes! That's it! Good show, gentlemen!" Now, allow me to see...Oh, dear...he's lost quite a bit of blood, and there appears to be a large opening..it appears something completely pierced his leg. Damn..Very well. You there, yes, you two! Get Mr. Macklin to the sick bay and make haste!" Walter motioned to the two crew members closest to them. "You should be fine, Mr. Macklin. If nothing else they will stop the bleeding and do what they can to mend your leg..although I'm not sure what can be done. For now, we must take leave. We shall return and I will see what I can do then. I apologize Mr. Macklin."

Isaac was silent and simply layed on the stretcher as the two crew members carried him to the sick bay. Walter, Tusk and Roger walked out of the Peril, into Berlin, and soon enough, on to Barnabas' shop.


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"


Shorlty after they reached the shop. All apperaed as if nothing was amiss. Roger and Tusk scouted for traps, but found none. They entered cautiously. The shop was intact, nothing appeared to be taken, but there was the stench of death and burned flesh in the air.
Searching cautiosuly, they found the source, Barnabas, bound to a chair, his body a twisted mass of charred meat. Only his face had been burned less , to show who he once was.
A long silver dagger was through his chest, on it a note, penned in blood.
Tusk pulled the dagger free, and read the note:
  "Death will be  your fate , as it is for all those who stand against  my vision of true progress. Heed this..."
Penned below this were these words, in smaller script...
  "and to my old enemy the Major, remember this as you consider your choice of allies --
    I still have the reach of Kali's scarf!"
The note was signed simply  "I"
Roger went pale at the words, he clenched his fists in anger and grief, and sat down  heavily, moved to tears..


Re: The Peril of Power 1: "But Through a Glass, Darkly"

ACTAEON, JULY 23, 2007

Dawn was finally breaking as Berlin settled once again into its daily routine. The small explosion on the Peril had made some news headlines, but was mostly relegated to small footnotes and blurbs in a city where airship disasters were so common. No, Ignatieff scoffed as the German press instead chose to immortalize yesterday with such useless trivia like local elections and charitable old men. How they lacked the vision of the coming world, one in which new technologies, man's own brilliance, lead the way to the future. The old was giving way to the new, and Ignatieff felt a pang of irritation as his contemporary journalists refused to see that fact.

Indeed, it could have been a simple matter of giving his inside man slightly different directions, and his little bomb could have wound up in the airship's explosive storage, sending them all up in one spectacular funeral pyre. But that was easy. Too easy. And it lacked an artist's touch. The league was on the move, drawn like rats in his trap to the places they had visited, to the people they feared were in danger or, of course, already dead. Like many things, he equated life to a good game of chess. Stay several moves ahead of your opponent, feign weakness, then strike like the cobra when they are weak.

And the best part, this was but the opening move. The first move of pawns that dictated the flow of the game. Already the league should have found the body of their turncoat informant and his little letter. Thus would the panic set in and rational thought be abandoned by certain party member. Thus would it be easier, when the time came, to divide and strike them all down one by one, until just one remained. The king in this little set, even if he didn't realize it yet.

Ignatieff watched the sun rise for a moment longer before turning back to his sparsely used bed. There was an opium fiend of a whore lying there, paid for but not used. Though he felt the rush of excitement after the night of flames, he quickly realized it was too early to celebrate and let the poor woman nearly overdose herself on her one source of joy. He didn't know if he should end her misery or not this morning, or let her suffer the inevitable consequences of her chosen life. Either of those choices would be endlessly cruel, but were like so many other choices this life had to offer.

After a moment of silent debate, he finally chose not to spare the woman a quick death. The local authorities would finally begin to sniff around both scenes of his actions as the sun finally rose, and the second move would have to begin sooner than later if he were to trap them all in Berlin.

Grabbing his coat and golden watch, which he was relieved to see hadn't been stolen by the whore and secreted into one of her... orifices, he made a quick dash for the door.

But then something stopped him. Thoughts swirled back into his head about the cruel fate of his near-mistress and the life of misery she would live out because of his inaction.

No, maybe there was something he could do.

With a turn on his heel, Ignatieff went to the room's small desk and began to write something quickly and as crude as he could. Though he would spare her the knife of flesh, he would stab her with words. Maybe, just maybe, the passage that flowed from his mind to the paper would begin a train of thoughts in her own dope-addled mind and seek to rescue her from such a life of depravity. Maybe, though the shot was a long one, he would one day run into her again in a convent or making a true life for herself with a good man. It would make his new world all the better.

As he finished, Ignatieff walked to the panting whore and gently laid the paper over her chest, where the verse would be impossible to miss, and once again strode to the door.

"Good bye." he whispered as he silently exited the room, to let the woman sleep the rest of her drug induced dreams, and hopefully begin life anew.

"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
Now we see but through a glass darkly; then we shall see face to face."

1 Corinthians 13