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Aug-19-2005 17:38

<Jake Fenton slammed the door lazily behind him and poured himself a bourbon. No ice. Rather too casually, he slung his jacket and shoulder holster down on the cot in the corner of the room, and slumped tiredly into his chair.

Almost by instinct, he reached to the breast pocket of his shirt and brought a cigar up to his mouth. He chewed off the ends and spat them onto the floor, where the detritus of the last few busy days had been building. What the heck, it was somewhere to lay his head.

His expert fingers flipped the zippo alight, and casually tossed it in the air to light the cigar, before catching and closing it in one movement. He took a sip of the burning liquor, and turned to gaze out of the window at the rain-sodden streets, below. The streets teemed with people, covering their heads with newspaper as they scurry their way home to their wives or off to their mistresses. He found himself idly wondering who they all are, what they all do... What makes them tick...

Sep-3-2005 21:02

She had been in the alleyway behind the Gypsy camp watching the lurking shadows, knowing she should have been in the safety of the theatre rather than indulging in her curiosity, when the message had been delivered with her boarding pass for the next ship to Delhi. The hunt was over. It was time to go home. She pulled herself reluctently from the damp and dreary passage and quickly made her way to the docks.

As she boarded the ship she heard a commotion behind her, but she was still upset from the events at the Opera so she ignored it and pushed her way up the ramp. She couldn't believe she'd behaved so poorly. She owed Jake an apology and she only hoped she'd be able to make it in person rather than by telegraph. She'd have to find her way back to New York soon.

She stood at the railing overlooking the bay...looking down...watching the water lap gently at the side of the boat. A gentle breeze wisked her dark curls from around her face and her dress shimmered like sapphires in the silvery moonlight.

She turned to make her way to her cabin when she saw Giry storming down the halway and glancing over her shoulder. There was a sight she hadn't expected in the least. She wrapped her fingers around the distracted girls shoulders and watched with concern she jumped. "Daniella, what are you doing on a ship bound for Delhi?!! Is everything okay?"

Sep-3-2005 22:58

As Giry disappeared around the corner he heard R Anstett laughing at him from the other side of the street. "Dames, eh? Can't live with 'em..." he said rhetorically.

"Can't kill 'em..." Jake muttered in response.

If he didn't have a problem before, he sure did now. This Giry woman clearly had some kind of a grudge against him, and it was going to have to end soon.

That afternoon, Jake headed over to DaRu's office. She got most of the gossip round there. DaRu told Fenton that Giry had been on board the cruiser in the harbour earlier that day but she wasn't any more. Jake thanked her and left, thinking he may have to speak to that woman again. She was holding back on him.

Jake went down to the harbour office and spoke to the Quartermaster. He told him the boat was going Delhi in the evening, and they weren't allowing anybody aboard without their papers from now on. If Giry was aboard that ship then it seemed she was going to be out of his hair for a while, but he had to check with the ticket office, which was at the other end of the docks. About half way down the harbour, he passed by a small alleyway on his left he hadn't noticed until it was too late.

**BANG**

He seemed to hear the gunshot a split second after he felt the white-hot pain searing through his shoulder as the bullet struck him. He fell to the ground and hit his head on the concrete. As his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness he heard footsteps getting fainter, running away down the alley.

Sep-4-2005 07:15

Nealy tripping over Jake after a night partying and dancing, the Lady Devon or Emz as know by friends, finds one last bottle of concentrate Red Bull and an Herbal Energy Pill in her bag. She places the pill in Jake's mouth and pours Red Bull down his throat. A rude awakening perhaps, but one that wakes even the dead. Seeing, Jake's at least conscious, she walks into a restaurant to order a breakfast of Bacon, Eggs, Sausages, Mushrooms, Hashbrowns, Toast with Butter and lots of coffee.

Sep-4-2005 07:42

(ooc) Hang on Lady Emerald, Jake's squirting blood out of his shoulder all over the pavement! He needs a doctor, not breakfast...

Sep-4-2005 07:46

Finishes her breakfast and walks out, rips off the bottom of her dress (which is her favourite white dress too). "Do I look like a doctor? Here, use this and apply pressure with your one good hand." She pulls out her cellphone and calls an ambulance before stumbling into the nearest hotel for a much needed nap.

Sep-4-2005 14:44

As Giry took the first step onto dry land, she was thankful. The trip was rocky, and she made the mistake of eating on the ship. As she checked out her new surroundings, she felt the full effect of the happiness. She was overjoyed that Fenton was out of her life. Time to start it over (ooc: I haven't been to Delhi yet, so I'm making it up as I go along). She saw the enticing sign of a podiatrist, and felt the pain anew that can only come out of 5 years in nothing but stilettos. She was relaxed, she was happy... but somehting was missing. No. She couldn't possibly.. is she? Is she actually missing Fenton. The rat was charming, sure. A great dancer too... hold on. He created this mess, whyy is she the one crying over spilt milk?
She did something she hadn't done in 3 years. She sang. Now, this was a great event. She heard that she had the voice of an angel. She filled the tub with lavender scented bath oils, and invigorating candles lined the rim. She began in a low deep voice, a blues, with a dollop of jazz.

"What am I to do? It's not the pain, or the truth. But my baby's gone. I have no friends. But until springtime, my sorrow will, depend... on my permission. Silent sweet thoughts, oh, think of all the love. But my baby's gone. He's fled, to above..."
OOC: Welcome new writers/typers!
A solitary tear floats down her pale cheek. She loves. But with hate, she loves, eliminating thought of return...or does it?

Sep-4-2005 18:01

{Back in New York}

An oddly tall Chinese man was walking along the docks. He was waiting for a ship, the "Xiao Chen", to arrive from Shanghai; there was a parcel on board he needed to personally take care of, and he still had an hour or so before the scheduled arrival. The Chen was usually late anyway, so he decided to take a short walk.

The Asian man had lived in New York for seven years now, but he still could not get used to American culture. He was both disgusted and enamored by their love of nonsensical entertainment. Take their dancing for instance. Instead of something formal like a waltz, they jump up and down like animals, or lean over and start running in place doing something called "The Charleston." Just yesterday he went to an opera about a boat in the British Royal Navy. He was hoping for something tragic with several voices, complex harmonies, and emotional singing. Instead he got "treated" to some silly song and dance numbers. Heck, the only character with any ounce of respect for tradition, Dirk Deadeye, was portrayed as a foil. But despite his personal distaste for this foolishness, he did enjoy watching how the American populace ate it up. It made people happy. And in a way, this made him happy too.

As he meandered down the docks, he saw something he has seen far too much of recently - A bloodied body. It was slumped over and most likely dead. As he approached the body, he noticed the blood stains were starting to dry, but that the wound was bandaged. The man was not dead, but unconscious, and with the pattern of the blood stains moving all about, it looked like the poor soul had been slipping in and out of consciousness for a while. Someone had done a good job bandaging this guys wounds. Using his skill in thread analysis, he figured the it was probably a woman, as the bandage was made from a woman's clothing. Hopefully she had gone to get help.

Sep-4-2005 18:02


Figuring help was on the way, he took the opportunity to examine things further. In addition to the obvious gunshot wound, this fellow had a lump and a bruise on the top of his head, and he had a small scratch across his cheek. The scratch looked like a married woman slapped him while wearing her wedding ring. Hmm, if that were the case, maybe it was a jealous husband who shot him. One thing was for sure - this guy, whoever he was, was not having a good week.

Sep-4-2005 18:04

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[ooc What follows below doesn't really happen, but I couldn't resist puttng it in - for chuckle points]
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While waiting for help to arrive, the unconscious man started to stir. The wounded man introduced himself as Jake, and the Chinese fellow said, "I might be able to help you investigate this attempt on your life. Tell me who might have done this" ...

Jake gave the names of some people of interest. Then, he made it very clear which way his suspicions pointed.

Topping his list was a man simply known as "Shady" who hangs out in the Tricky Mister bar. Shady wanted revenge for Jake helping to capture a friend of his, Lenny Sheepram.

Another person of interest was Daniella Giry, a fiery lass who might be insane, although more likely she was just running scared. But running from what he didn't know. Perhaps running from herself.

Also under suspicion was the well known Mojo Jojo Detective Agency. Were they worried about competition from this greenhorn? Unlikely; although his inquires into their business may have gotten them nervous.

Another person he suspected was Lemony Shephard, a P.I. he had a misunderstanding with, and who had assaulted him in the past.

Another name that kept coming up was the mysterious cfm, although why suspect her? ... ... ... Maybe he had forgotten two birthdays in a row?

Sep-4-2005 20:04

Finally waking from her nap and ready for lunch, the Lady Devon strides confidently out her hotel, walks down the street, only to bump into an oddly tall Chinese man.
"Ni Hao" as her eyes flick down to see the same bloody guy slumped at her feet just as the nearly forgotten and alchol ridden morning...
"Oh, so it wasn't a dream? Hmm, I did wonder about my dress..."