Adventures of the Exodus

[Luned]

More people seemed to be chatting now. That was good. And that bleedin' arsehole of a man seemed to have retired to his cabin, so that made it even better. Luned turned back to Lacroix just in time to hear about how savage he thought hunting was. Oh, he wasn't one of those elites. Boy, in her time in Oxford, did she get tired of the "I say, shall we go shooting this Sunday?" "Why, I say, what a jolly idea, chap!" That was pinky-out hunting, to be made much light of when she recounted her adventures abroad back home. In her semester in England Odette was the only person she talked to socially more than once, impersonal as their interactions were, and that was just fine.

Hmm… a lightbulb crackled into life at this thought. Why did the name Lacroix seem familiar all of a sudden? Maybe she'd met him at a public lecture or at one of those dreadful teas.

When Lacroix offered Luned a beverage, she was torn. She was just starting to socialize, but she didn't drink. Not a drop. Not since the Texan tornado that was Alice whisked her into a froth many years ago. But she wouldn't go there, not even in her thoughts.

Luned didn't have time to conclude that mortifying trail of thought by the time her dear friend sauntered over. She knew that walk; it was the prowl. Luned sought an escape, but she was cornered. Damn.

It probably helped her case that she wasn't the kind of girl to blush and cover her face at this kind of blatant flattery. (Was it flattery? She couldn't tell, but it was disgustingly embarrassing.) Instead she stood there, hands on her hips, looking at Alice as if thinking "Are you quite done yet?"

Well, at least she didn't tell the story about the time she fed Luned rum punch until she puked on her dance partner's shoes in the middle of a Texas Tommy.

Okay, time for damage control. Luned laced her arm through her glamorous friend's and gently pulled her away, sending Lacroix a gracious smile. "Thanks," she referred to his offer of a drink, "But we old friends have much catching up to do. Nice to meet you." Then she'd remove Alice by force, if necessary. And was there more refinement in her accent just now? Perhaps she was playing up her ruffian side in order to feel a little more substantial in the midst of the professional adventurers.

[mattm]

"Fall asleep..." she echoed, watching him quite like she might have watched a bug crawling on the wall, "Leslie Ida that is the dumbest story I've ever heard, that is so dumb it would have taken an...an Irishman to make it up!"

Duke made an obvious whimper of indignation as he pawed at the ground lightly. The hound's involvement in the conversation was simply because of the fact that he had been ignored for more than sixty seconds at one time. Leslie patted him on the side of the head, but maintained eye contact with the cook that stood directly in front of him with an intense look in her eye.

"Look who's talking," she said wiping at a tear with the back of her hand as she was shaken by another semi-hysterical giggle, "here you are comin' up in the world and you've not got any shoes. What's in your head, Lez?"

"Oh, you know me, Molly. Just going through life by the seat of my pants."

As his old friend went through to recount what happened in the time after his departure from Boston, something suddenly came to mind. While he was so preoccupied with figuring out his own life after stepping off the train, he never considered what happened to the Pitters. It wasn't like he could have included When her tears began to flow, Leslie could feel himself growing red as the awkward moment could very well be seen by the rest of the crew.

They were only an hour into the flight and he already looked like he was bullying the chef to tears.

"At least you're not dead and I guess that's not nothin'."

A chuckle finally escaped Leslie. His gaze passed across the room and we was sure that he wanted to spend the rest of the night going over every minute of each other's lives that they had missed. Events that he had never thought to put down on paper and simply send to the last address that he knew she had- for all he knew, her parents were still tending to the same apartment he climbed the fire escape of so many years ago.

"Listen, Moll," The Lieutenant started, clearing his throat slightly. "My shift to navigate for the night's about to start- we should be getting to Giza tomorrow and I don't want anything to get us off track. Maybe after you get breakfast done for this little army in the morning we could go to the observation deck and talk. I'm sure a lot's happened to both of us that we could find out for hours."

Leslie extended his hand, which barely brushed against Molly's wrist. He wasn't sure if it would be crossing boundaries after all these years and he sure as hell still wasn't sure if she was going to clock him in the jaw. "I'm sorry, Peach Pitt. Really."

With that, he exited the common room and headed to the front of the ship; Duke trotting lazily at his side.

***

Far away from the crew floating aboard the Exodus, along the west bank of the Nile river, there was a rather large tent with two men sitting inside. The state of well-being between these two men were vastly different. The first sat at a wooden table for one with a silver dish piled high with delicious, exotic food. Silver, steaming clouds extended to the canvas ceiling, making a division down the center of the room. The other man was tied to the opposite chair whimpering with his head rolling back and forth on his shoulders in pain.

The first man was Nikkos Flauros, who took no notice of the man sitting in pain across from him. Instead, the only noise was the sound he made picking at the food with his grubby, bandaged covered fingers, eating it unceremoniously like a ravenous animal. His hair was long, unkempt and covered in dried mud with a beard to match. Even slouched over a meal, the man was imposing and had seen his fair share of fights in the past.

"I've learned much from you today. At first, you thought my questions were ignorant, with the threats of physical harm as empty as the urn sitting in front of you." Nikkos broke the silence in the voice so low and gravely that it was fitting for the personification of a mountain. "But I believe once we extracted the first tooth, you began to understand the dire importance of what I have to ask you."

Nikkos took a sip of wine and threw the half-full cup across the room as if it didn't matter. It was sour anyway. He stood and for the first time, Nik was visible as a massive man well over six feet tall. There was a moment of silence, which was broken by the second man's muffled plea for mercy in slurred Arabic.

"I don't think you remember the question, so should we review the information so far?" Nik crossed the wide tent to a small wooden tool box, only to continue to speak as he rifled through the supplies. "Your name is Abi. You live outside Giza with your wife and three children. An American contacted you to supply a landing strip for his crew in the next few days. Fortunately, it only took two broken fingers for you to let me in on the time of arrival."

Abi shouted for help from anyone outside the tent, which he had attempted multiple times that evening with no help to arrive as of yet. Nikkos crossed the room and stood behind the wounded man's chair before stooping down to be level with the hands that were tied roughly behind the wooden seat. Abi whimpered and kicked his feet as Nikkos clamped a pair of pliers to the thumb of his left hand. It was obvious what was coming.

No warning. No hesitation. No mercy. With a quick, forceful tug of the pliers, Abi's thumb was relieved of its fingernail as his screams bled into the night. Nikkos did the same to three more fingernails before hesitating to step in front of the man he had been torturing for hours.

"The location. Give it to me." He said in a low growl, pulling some hair aside only to place a streak of blood across his cheek. "No amount of money for grain that Belaford gave you is worth your life."

Abi trembled in the chair; as white as a ghost and only seconds from fainting from shock. Although his lips were moving, Nikkos couldn't hear the words that were escaping his lips. He leaned forward, a grim smile spreading across his face as information flowed like water from the tap. He needed to know every move of the Belaford's treasure hunting crew if this hunt was going to go as smoothly as possible. Unfortunately for the Exodus, Nikkos Flauros was one step closer to his goal...

[raindrop]

Molly knew she was a mess, semi-hysterical tears, half-giggling and ice sloshing in her glass. She wiped her eyes again, people were going to think that she'd been hitting the bar before they were ever in the air.

Peach Pitt. So many memories came back with that name.

Someone should clean up from the meal and Molly was pretty certain that someone should be her. First, though, she needed to pull herself together.

She didn't meet anyone's eyes as she slid from the room and went quickly to her quarters. Once there she shut the door and sat on the bed, feeling like a little fool. What was she thinking, bursting into tears like that in front of everyone? Lez didn't seem upset now but she's sure enough embarrassed him and even if he deserved it she felt bad now.

Molly took a swallow of her drink and set it aside absently, having no more taste for it. She remembered that she wanted to talk to the captain regarding Jack Gibbs and somehow try to make sure the man didn't spoil everyone's food again. She sighed and drew her knees up so that she could rest her arms upon them and then her forehead on her arms.

After a time Molly washed her face, fluffed her hair, and added only a touch of makeup before slipping her feet back into her shoes and heading out to the dining room.

She donned her apron once more and began clearing things away.

[ElRey]

A passing smirk whisked across the short doctor’s face, something Lacroix had said had obviously taken her back. There was a clear and deliberate intelligence behind her eyes as she listened to Felix speak; no doubt to that despite her somewhat unpolished nature. Her eyes narrowed to slits for a moment, as if remembering something long forgotten, the look only to be replaced by one of apprehension as he poised his question concerning the drink. A bad experience perhaps?

There was little more chance to ponder such things as Luned’s body language quickly soured, eyes widening and motion freezing, the universal signal of a cornered animal. Or a deer in headlights. Lacroix couldn’t be sure. The rogue scarcely turned his head to mirror Luned’s cone of vision when their benefactor’s daughter burst on to the scene. Lacroix’s features shifted, the predator surfacing, hidden behind a disarming smile. Deep jade orbs remained locked on the pair of women as a hand snaked behind him, scooping up the shot and tossing it down his throat in one liquid motion. Alice had instantly launched into a none-too-subtle advert of her ‘dear friend’ Luned, recanting some story of times past concerning a touch of the liquor and a burly sailor. He let out an amused chuckle, though he couldn’t help but notice Cunningham’s obvious distaste for Alice’s actions.

This was sure to be an interesting trip.

Lacroix wasn’t one to shy away from romance while on the clock, but to a careful eye it would be obvious his eyes spent more time assessing Miss Belaford than it had Dr. Cunningham. It wasn’t a matter of attraction, his baser instincts could be stirred by either of the women. Perhaps unfortunately for Alice, his draw towards her was not one formed out of respect. If she succumbed, it would be a conquest, nothing more, nothing less. The same could not be said for Luned. He wasn’t sure either woman to be the type, yet, but at least with Alice he had only worry about her father should things go sour; he wouldn’t run the risk of being beaten to a pulp only to end up as a trophy skin rug in front of the fireplace.

The Frenchman’s musings were interrupted by the doctor pulling her friend away by the arm. Regardless of anyone else’s thoughts on the matter, it was clear Luned had decided the conversation over. She graciously declined his offer for a drink, though he had largely forgotten all about it, her accent tensing up, her natural drawl kept under wraps.

Was it for the sake of appearances? And if so, was it to set Alice at ease or impress him? Certainly a question worth figuring out.

Now standing fairly uselessly at the bar alone, Lacroix became acutely aware of how late it had become. Apparently he had spent more time recollecting himself in his small quarters than he had thought. He slowly strolled to the thick glass viewing windows, the vast deep pitch of the ocean sprawling beneath them. Though there were still the faintest tinges of twilight lingering upon the horizon, but the thousands of pin pricks of stars which speckled the sky were quite clear without the urban drown of city lights. Knowing full well their world class vessel would likely have them arriving in Giza in time for brunch, Lacroix drifted lazily back to his room, hoping sleep could overpower his eager thoughts on getting started.

[Melodym]

The dry heat from Giza could be felt the moment they landed. The blazing hot sun created distorted waves along the horizon, and desert was clear to be seen for miles in either direction as well as the large ancient structures which stood out amongst the sheer flatness of the land. The sphinx stood tall and proud in the distance, a welcome beacon of the journey still to follow.

"Alright, everyone gather close and listen carefully. I would first like to thank all of you for accepting my father's generous invitation to come on this journey. I expect this first leg to go smoothly, but if, for any reason, it does not, please stay together and keep calm. I simply will not be having anyone being left behind. I hope I make myself very clear. Now we will ride into Giza where a base camp has already been arranged. Several private tents with all the necessary furnishings in each have been provided for your comfort. Jack here will ensure our safety in such a rugged environment as we mingle with the locals. Our guide and linguist will be very helpful in that regard as well. Once we have met with our local contact and have become situated at camp, I believe it wise if our more experienced members create a plan of attack, and then we shall set out in the morning for this glorious adventure." Alice had changed this morning into a long emerald green silk gown with a silver brooch pinning the draping fabric at her hips, along with some rather conspicuous matching jewelry that would more than likely gain the group some unwanted attention of pick pockets and thieves. Not that she thought about any of this of course. In Alice's mind, this was a grand adventure like in a novel, where everything goes perfectly unless there is need of danger for romance and intrigue. "If you're all ready, let's continue."

Picking up the hem of her dress, Alice sauntered down the walkway, Jack begrudgingly carrying her luggage behind her. The young woman looked instantly repulsed when she spotted the camels waiting for them. She wanted adventure, not fleas! She was an accomplish equestrian but this was completely different.

it soon became apparent that the camels were mostly for the small luggage that the crew was allowed to take with them. The bags were strapped to the backs of the stubborn animals which were hissing and spitting like some wild behemoths. But if anyone thought Alice was walking anywhere in these satin pumps, they were sorely mistaken. Even if the town was just a couple miles away!

"Jack, be a dear and help me onto this filthy beast." She stood by the least horrid looking camel of the bunch as Jack rolled his eyes and stepped forward, hoisting her roughly up and onto the saddle. Alice adjusted her dress and her balance as well as she could while trying to sit side saddle on some demon spawn creature of the desert, and she thought she did very well, all things considered, until the terrible creature bucked back, trying to throw her off. A string of very unladylike curses escaped her lips as she held on for dear life until finally the beast settled down and Alice was able to regain her composure. "Well come along then."

The trip into Giza was unbearably hot, but luckily not too long. Soon the buildings and bustle of crowds came into clear view along with the stark white tents set up safari style all around a camp fire just outside of the town. Hammocks, woven rugs, folding chairs and even a table or two were in each of the tents, and a partially enclosed shower was just off to the back.

Just further ahead was the bazaar where movement was almost as vibrant as the colors of fabric people wore as they hurried along the narrow streets, passing stalls of food and other exotic trinkets. Beside a large urn in the fish market was their contact, a young man in his late 20's with copper tan skin, dark eyes and wavy hair. He had the look of a local but the air of someone educated in the western world.

[Luned]

They were there, finally! Well, maybe not finally. That was very fast. Luned was impressed.

She did her best to dress for the climate, largely keeping in mind that she'd turn into a giant lobster-hued freckle if she didn't protect her skin. Luned tucked a long-sleeved blouse into her usual knee-length pleated skirt, pulling on some dark stockings underneath. They'd be a little warm, but better than the odd tan (or rather, burn) lines she'd get without them. Topping that off with her old boots, a wide-brimmed hat over her dark braided hair, and a gauzy white scarf to keep the sun off her neck, she felt rather smart. She tucked her slim purse into the front of her waistband, figuring that was the safest place for it, and her travel-sized English-Arabic dictionary in alongside it. She had a good handle on grammar and the Semitic roots of the language, but she might need reminders of every day use vocabulary. Once she felt ready she hoisted up her now much lighter suitcase, since she'd decided to leave most of her reading in her cabin, and strolled out to leave with the rest of the crew.

Luned was a good sport for the first half of the walk to the city but eventually gave in and tried riding a camel, something with which she probably had to enlist a little help. Once she scrambled atop the beast she rode astride (and rather indecorously) compared to Alice, spending the rest of their trip convincing her friend that she needed to read the copy of the Decameron she'd brought her. To anyone paying attention to her always changing accent, she spoke with the practiced diction of a trained actor or, in her case, a linguist. "No, it's not a boring history book. It's like one of your novels, except––" she lowered her voice here, whispering incredibly debaucherous things about nuns.

By the time they arrived at the campsite, Luned could barely contain herself. Once she dismounted (well, more like tumbled off) the camel she was ready to dive headfirst into this exotic new land. But, knowing her duties as one of the few who knew some of the local language, she took a moment to address the others before they disbanded. She hadn't had the pleasure of conversing with every single one of them in the past two days, but knew them in passing well enough.

"I'm going to check out the bazaar if anyone would like to accompany me," she extended an open invitation to them all. But she was itching to go, so once anyone who seemed interested spoke up, Luned took off toward the bustling market.

[raindrop]

Molly enjoyed riding the camel, perched up among all of the boxes and luggage like a pixie, soaking in all the new sights and sounds as they went. She'd chosen a pair of navy pants and a tailored navy-and-white pinstriped short-sleeved shirt that she left unbuttoned from the ribcage down, just knotting it instead. A pair of ankle-boots with a small heel completed her ensemble and the dusty breeze played at her glossy blonde curls as she rode, incredulous that she was actually here! GIZA! Another world, a world away from what she knew.

No sooner had they reached the campsite and Molly had gotten things half-organized when Luned spoke up and invited everyone to the bazaar. She considered the parcels and weighed shopping against them. No contest.

"Wait up for me!" She called and set a few more things to rights so that mealtime would be easily accomplished on her return.

She had to trot to catch up with Luned.

[mattm]

The landing of the Exodus went extremely smooth considering the range of complications that could arise in even the most simplest of landings. There had been a few reports of cyclone wind pickups in the area over the wire, so the Lieutenant was relieved that no dust devils managed to block their view on the morning descent. Part of the maintenance crew remained on the craft to prepare for the follow exit of Giza, but that didn't stop others from taking a break to stretch their legs.

Leslie's change of attire from the ship's uniform couldn't have been anything more fitting of his true personality. This time, with sturdy leather boots, he also wore khaki trousers tucked in to prevent his shoes from filling with sand- a little trick he had picked up from the army. He wore a white, light linen short with buttons half way down with a few undone, which was also tucked into his trousers. He didn't carry any money or items on his person while wandering the city with the exception of the hunting knife attached to his boot and staff-issued revolver in his hip holster. Only barely visible was a small glass beaded rosary that peeked out from the opening of his shirt.

Half way through the walk to the city, Leslie helped the ship's Linguist onto a camel until they all reached their destination. Duke, who trotted like a pony next to the rest of the staff, was as happy as could be. After being stuffed on the ship for far too long, the fact that he could leap and bound around the huge horse-like spitting creatures was more than a delight to the canine.

"I'm going to check out the bazaar if anyone would like to accompany me,"

Duke's ears perked up, along with his master's as well. They had been leaning on a fountain near the entrance of the city; Leslie splashing some water on the back of his neck and Duke quenching his thirst heavily.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea, Doc Cunningham." Leslie responded and nodded his head in the smaller woman's direction. He had taken the time to associate the names of everyone with their faces but hadn't felt comfortable addressing many of them by first name just yet. "I'm not sure what the rest of you are here for but my job keeping the Exodus in the air is done for a minute- so Duke and I are on break."

The dog shook his head in agreement and approached Luned, sniffing her hands and shoes merrily as he cataloged and remembered every smell associated with the girl. To Duke, at least, she smelled strangely similar to the crates of paperwork, novels and textbooks that sat in the cockpit.

As the group began to divide, Leslie extended his hand to Luned, offering to shake upon actually meeting for the first time. "Nice to meet you, Doc. My name's Leslie and happy to have Duke, here, and I come along."

He wasn't ignoring Molly, but felt terribly awful about their morning's conversation after breakfast. For some reason, everything didn't seem entirely resolved between the two and he wasn't sure what to do in order to fix that...

[Melodym]

Jack was done helping the pretty little princess. This wasn't a fucking tea party, for Christ's sake. The priss was actually making his time in the air force seem like a relaxing holiday. Jack shook those memories from his head and focused on happy thoughts. St. Louis, Abigail, women in two piece swim suits, and some fucking ice cream. God he would punch someone in the mouth for some ice cream. The closest he was going to get to any of those things in this sand pit was a warm beer.

"I'll be at the bar if anyone needs me, so don't." He shrugged off his bomber jacket and tossed it into one of the tents, revealing a wrinkled western shirt beneath. He put his hands in his pockets and stomped off to the bar. Jack sat down at the counter and looked around at the small collection of men inside and then at the bar tender.

"You have a package for me." He said quietly while sliding some coins across the stone top. The bar tender looked around, then took the coins and exchanged them for a thick beige envelope. Jack quickly opened it up, scanned the letter, then put it in his back pocket and took the other item from the envelope out. A small vial with a thick but clear liquid inside. "Thanks."

Jack gave a curt nod to the bar tender then put the vial in his shirt pocket before ordering a beer. Apparently tonight's job would be to hinder one of the team members from thinking clearly tomorrow, and to do that he was going to have to get close to them, and that was going to require a few more beers. God he hated these types of missions. Why couldn't he just shoot the cocky bastard like he had wanted to on their previous mission together.

"Where would that asshole be." Jack murmmered to himself, then realized LaCroix would most likely be at the brothel, which honestly made this job a little more enjoyable.

[Faeryx]

"Rotten bastards, the lot of em," Catherine mumble under her breath, standing up and cracking her back. Looking around the camp that she had spent the better part of the day setting up with the help of a few hired hands. "Get out of here you lazy idiots, they'll be arriving shortly!" She shouted at the hired men. Cracking her back again she pondered the events of the day, slouching in one of the numerous chair set up around the small fire pit, she filtered through the list of curse words she felt would have applied at various moments during the day. Like pegging up the tents and slamming a three pound sledge hammer on her toes, at the time she refrained from swearing. Instead she launched the hammer across the camp and nearly maimed one of the Egyptian men also pegging tents. Now with sore toes and a knotted back she pulled a small, ornate silver flask from her belt and took several nips from it, cringing slightly at the burning sensation of the liqueur. Also from her belt she procured a large cigar and a British, military issue lighter. Cutting the end of the cigar with her knife, she lit it and savoured the light taste.

She sit in the chair silently as she smoked her cigar and watched the hired men leave the camp, the chair was much to short for her so she stood up grabbed a throw pillow and put it down on one of the sitting rugs, placing her rifle carefully next to it. Snuffing her cigar, she kicked off her boots and lied down, pulled her slouch hat down over her eyes and closed them. Strange as it was, she felt like for the first time in days she might actually sleep, and on a rug of all places instead of her own bed. Moments later she was snoring rather loudly. After what seemed like only a matter of minutes she was woken the sound of heavily laden camels moving into the camp. Smirking to herself she wondered whether or not it had been worth the money, putting up with more people than herself for more than a few hours. It wasn't necessarily the most pleasing of ideas, not to her anyway.

Not feeling anymore rested than she had when she fell asleep Catherine stood up and dusted herself while she laced up her boots and adjusted her hat. "Well lets have a look at what the cat dragged in," she mumbled sarcastically. Walking slowly over to the opening in the tents where everyone was coming in she looked each and every person that entered the camp over carefully. Shaking her head condescendingly at them as she leaned casually on her rifle. "What a sad lot," she said just loud enough for them to hear her, but not quite yelling. As she watched in silent awe at the seeming unpreparedness of the group she thought to herself how little these people knew about what they were getting into, how little insight their college educations and money had provided them as to what was probably going to happen. In retrospect it was ironic how well prepared she had been for getting into trouble. Upon arriving in Giza she had tried checking into a hotel only to have British MPs summoned because she was carrying a firearm. When they attempted to confiscate it she ended up hospitalizing four of the five. Mostly broken jaws, but one of them ended up with a double fracture in his left femur. She spent the night in prison, where the MPs and Catherine came to an uneasy understanding that she was not a spy, and she would not be relieved of her weapon.