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Somewhere beneath the floorboards, within the depths of the Crescenzo and past a maze of steel and smoke, there was an old, silver box. It was sitting somewhere near the front of the ship the last time John had seen it, sitting between two white pipes which permeated the walls of what lay beneath Deck Zero. There were other such secrets to be found in here, but now was not the time.
The lid opened with a creak as the only key to open the box was turned to its side. Atop a dated velvet lining, eight keys with eight silver, engraved labels sat untouched for more than a decade. And while the ship that climbed far above this box had gone through renovation after renovation, a few things had remained. These were one of the untouched.
John grabbed each key individually—careful not to mess with the other objects in the box—and locked the lid once more. He crawled back through the mass and mechanics and climbed back through the false door that had led him so deep within the ship. Standing out here was Captain Chris Maddox, holding the only key into this section of the ship. Climbing out, Maddox quickly locked the false door yet again, and placed this key back into his breast pocket. Like many things that took place today, this hadn’t been done in quite a while.
“The others?” Maddox asked, looking closely at John. No one but the two of them could ever understand what he was referring to.
John gave a quick nod.
Maddox, letting out his first smile of the day, patted his crew member on the back. Hard.
“Well then,” he beamed. “Let’s get to it.”



The Crescenzo had been an empty vessel. Aside from his two allies and crew members, John and Doe, Maddox led a hollow shell of a ship through the open waters of the earth. And for quite some time. It had come as a great surprise to him that all eight tickets had sold so quickly. And hopefully it would be of some joy to have others around him after so long. The oceans are barren, and what better way to pass the time than to enjoy a story or two.
Over the next few hours, the three men made sure each key worked to each room. They checked the pool, the bathrooms and the living quarters. John met with their delivery service on the shoreline and made certain that the needed food and supplies had been loaded on, before disappearing to make a final inspection of the ship.
As for their bearing, Maddox did not know. It was always his tradition to sail off in whatever direction felt right when loading new passengers, and he was certain that this time would be no different.
After ensuring that the doors to the staff quarters and control deck were locked, it was time to simply stand and wait. On each card delivered to each guest, the instructions had been simple:
Arrive at the docks at five, and look for the Crescenzo. Bring no one with you, and take only what you feel will be necessary for your travels. Board the ship, take your key, drop your things off in your room, and wait with the others in the living room on the first deck.
Satisfied with the preparations, Maddox knew there was only one thing left to do.
“Doe,” he said, turning to his silent companion. The hulking man gave Maddox a look only slightly nicer than a glare.
“It’s nearing four-thirty. I believe it’s time for you and I to make ourselves scares until our guests arrive.”
Doe nodded, and—like his brother—disappeared into the intricate workings of the ship via a false door. Maddox followed suit, and soon, the halls and rooms of the Crescenzo enjoyed a quiet they would not feel again for a long time.



It was four thirty-seven, and Dustin wasn’t going to wait any longer.
The night before had been rough enough, and after checking out of the local hotel before noon, he had been left to wandering the city for several hours. He had seen many faces and many people. Perhaps one of them would board with him tonight. Perhaps none would. Details seemed to be scare when it came to this voyage he had booked for himself.
Still, beyond all that, Dustin couldn’t say he wasn’t happy when he saw the word Crescenzo scrawled out in complex lettering alongside the ship. He wasn’t sure if the word was another language, a surname, or anything of the sort. To him, it meant Solace.
Dustin approached the ship, which grew more massive the closer he got. It looked to be something near two-hundred feet, and several stories high. He hadn’t been expecting as much, even after the price he had paid.
At the foot of the boarding plank, there was a small table. On top of it were eight keys, each with a label engraved with a room number.
Hesitating, Dustin pulled out one of only two things given to him when he had purchased the ticket; a small piece of paper. On the paper, it gave instructions on boarding the ship, as well as a number.
For Dustin, it was 101.
Suppose I’m first, then, Dustin thought to himself. He picked up the key, and boarded the ship, landing on what he thought to be a walking deck that surrounded this floor.
Here, Dustin pulled out the second thing given to him when he arrived; a map of the ship. Following the outdoor walking deck to the back of the ship, Dustin opened the door to find himself in what was labeled as the Smoking Room. In here, two separate bars lined the walls. In the center, two billiard tables sat. Dustin made a mental note to return to this room as he walked down the staircase to Deck One.
Passing the bathroom and laundry room, Dustin quickly found his room out of only the four on this level. Turning the key, he opened the door.
Inside was hardly more than a bed, shelves, closet, and a window. With a scoff, Dustin set his suitcase down upon his bed. He’d look around more once he had everything figured out. After grabbing a pack of Marlboros from his things, he made his way to the living room he had been instructed to go to—after locking his stateroom door behind him.
Dustin had expected to find at least one person aboard, but soon after passing the dining room and ending up in the living room, he was surprised to find it wasn’t the case. However, it wasn’t at a total loss.
The living room was quite well-made. Nice chairs all angled to the center of the room, while the bar along the back wall seemed freshly stocked. After taking another look around, Dustin walked behind the bar and poured himself a pint of whatever was on tap. From the smell and taste, Dustin assumed it was an apple ale. Dustin took a swig and confirmed this in his own mind, before moving to sit down in one of the empty chairs. He made a mental note to ask the first crew member he saw about the smoking policy, before taking another sip of his drink.
Maybe I should’ve bought the other rooms, too. Dustin thought. I could get used to this.
In the silence, Dustin set his head against the chair, and let out a sigh relief. Perhaps it was truly all over.

It was four forty when Gabanre entered the docks. He took out his phone checking for any left messages, only his dad whishing him the best of luck in his life, with a picture. He then called the office of the phone company, he wanted to change his number. After this was done he went towards the nearest beggar and gave him his expensive Golden Nokia(Worth 2700). The beggar thanked him and said: "Thanks for this gift". Then he praised god for his kindness and blessed Gabanre. Gabanre then told the beggar this: "For you my friend, call this number (His Dad's) now". And so the beggar did, Gabanre's dad took the phone, then Gabanre spoke:
"Dad, this is my last message, i have given my phone to this beggar, And i would like you to take care of him. My heratige money i would like to see spend on a beggar resort place."
His dad reacted: "Gabanre the best of luck in your life, my dear son. I shall spend the money on this project, as he truly ment."
Gabanre said: "Thanks Mister Charis. The best of luck for you to, my dear dad." The beggar reacted: are you Gabanre Charis, the son of Mister Charis. And the answer was yes. Gabanre asked his dad one last favor: "Could you give Robert B. Abrams a thanks?" Then he said" Goodbye." And he stoped the phone.

He walked away at seven forty, He went on to the Cresendo, He had one suitcase brought with him, one with his trusty Sniper, with 150 bullets and his handgun with 100 magazines of 10 bullets. He had a trunk full of clothes with him. He also brought a bowie knife, a fire lighter and his favorite books, mostly militairy. He went onboard, on a Giant ship. Then after he went onboard, he saw a table and noticed keys. He took the one belonging to him. Noticing one was taken already. Then he took the map of the ship. And went to his room taking everything in him what he saw. First was the smoking room, which he went through pretty fast, since he was no smoker. He was in front of the door. He entered it. Suprisingly there was a bed, shelves, a cabinet and a window. He put his suitcase in the cabinet, taking out the handgun and bowie knife. He took his trunk, putting all of his clothes in the shelves together with the books. He took out a nice suit and redressed himself. Then he went out, locking the door behind him. He went on to the living room. There was a man sitting there drinking something. Gabanre said: "Hi there, i am Gabanre Charis, son of Mister Charis, and former LTC in the army. It's a pleasure to meet you, Who are you?. @HangYourSecrets
He took a chair in front of him.

Watching the numbers on her watch wrapped around her slender wrist go from 4:44 to 4:45 was a signal that she could now move forward to the boat. It would (as you may have not known) been in bad taste and bad luck to do such an event on an even number. Or so Tiffany truly believed. Dragging behind her 3 things of luggage: a trunk, a small bag, and a cross body purse. The contents were quite eclectic ranging from the much needed things such as clothing and toiletries to the odd things such as her first lost baby tooth in a small envelope. These things all had reason to be with her, though the reasoning wasn't always quite logical.

Reaching the table Tiffany found her documents and room key quite quickly. She gripped it in her fingers tight, and before moving up to board the ship decided that she would arrange the remaining papers and keys in reverse alphabetical order- just in case. After completing said task, she boarded the ship with her head up high and her large round eyes glancing around taking in every detail of the magnificent vessel. "It's beautiful" she thought to herself, tears almost forming in her eyes as she thought of what this journey meant to her. Shaking her head, she paused for a moment to look at the map of her room, and which room she would be staying in.

201

Odd. Thank goodness.

Upon reaching her room she placed both the trunk and bag inside, leaving the purse wrapped around her petite body. She had been dressed in a yellow cocktail dress with white polka dots adorning the entire thing. Perhaps it was a bit bright and cheerful for such an occasion, but it was what she had wanted to wear. Taking another look at the map she traced her fingers a long the path towards the living room where she was meant to meet the rest of the passengers. She folded up her documents and key and placed them securely into her purse and walked down quickly to her destination.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Entering the room her painted red lips formed into a small smile. The two men in front of her look friendly enough. "Pardon me." she said quietly, not wanting to interrupt the two having a conversation as she walked in fast strides to the bar that she noticed in the back. She mixed herself a small drink and took seat in a chair next to one of the men, trying not to cause much attention to herself.

Emma opened the burner phone, checking the time. 4:49. Right on time. Emma paid the cab driver, and then waved him off. She pulled the card that had come with her ticket out of her pocket. She re-read it, and then put it away again. Emma paused, listening to the waves sighing against the dock. Then she snapped the phone in half and threw it in the trash. As she approached the ship, she gaped at its size. She had never seen a commercial ship this large. The table proffered a card and key with her name, which she picked up, gave a once over, and then pocketed.

She crossed onto the ship, the black fortress of a suitcase rolling along behind her. She stared at the luxury the ship composed. She didn't know what Crescenzo meant, but it must have been something magnificent. Emma checked her small map, and then found her room. She noticed the neighboring door - and the one across the hall - seemed to have suitcase tracks leading up to them. Some of the others must have already arrived. She opened the room, glancing about at the elegant yet simple layout. It would work.

She didn't bother to change, leaving the Cargo shorts and tank top on. It had been hot outside, and it would probably stay hot. She set the suitcase down, resolving to unpack later. She turned and, consulting her map yet again, made her way towards the living room. She peeked into the kitchen, just glancing around, before moving on. She swung the door open. Three people occupied the room already. A large, bearded man, who looked rather perturbed; a rich-looking, clean cut man, slightly shorter, also bearded; and a tiny young woman, fidgeting nervously. Emma beamed at the trio. "Hello. I'm Emma. This looks like it should be exciting."

The heels of her boots clicked softly against the pavement as Rathe made her way along the docks. She'd been walking for a while, hefting a camel-colored Prada backpack across one shoulder and struggling with a military-style duffel bag. Truth be told, she hadn't been walking nearly as long as she'd been sitting atop the duffel, but she'd felt claustrophobic back at the hotel, despite the lavish accomodations. Hell, the city itself felt like it was closing in around her even as she dragged that damned bag like an anchor. She'd likely have ditched it and gone into a sprint for the Crescenzo but for the 5pm boarding time and the thin cigar hanging loosely from her crimson lips, it's smoke encircling her in a hazy wreath that smelled of cloves and hashish. As it was, she'd apparently just made it. The confirmation needed no watch nor cell phone because the ship was still there and, though she was certain the margin was thin - and that was all that counted. Letting the duffel down with a soft thud, she turned her left arm over and glanced at her wrist with trepidation, before resuming her march toward the ship with a sigh of resignation.

It wasn't what she expected, but she had no idea what to expect really. It was beautiful and clearly well-maintained, but much more than she'd anticipated. Given the circumstances, she'd half expected a Somali freighter packed with borderline pirates who'd ... If she'd let her imaginings wander that far she'd have never shown up at all. Per the instructions, she collected her key and found her way to cabin 102. Barely inside, she let the duffel fall and the door close behind her, leaning her body against it and, for a moment, allowing her emotions release. Rathe choked a single sob into her fist and then slapped the polished wood door in frustration. Leaning back against the door, she pulled in a long drag from her cigar and closed her eyes, whispering words of encouragement to herself. She slid the Prada bag about halfway down her arm before hefting it back up on her shoulder again and slipping from her quarters.

The living area was within staggering distance of her stateroom, and that was a silver lining if ever there was one. On entering, Rathe's eyes shot past the others in assemblage and set themselves on the bar, leading the rest of her. It was a tequila, neat, that finally lured the cigar from her lips. She stood there behind the bar for a moment, dressed in a loose-fitting linen skirt colored in earth tones and a plain white ribbed tank top, which revealed easily a dozen different tattos, before taking another long drag from her nearly-spent cigar and chasing it with a shot of tequila. "Can I get anything for anyone while I'm here?"

As expected, the silence didn’t last long. Soon came a barrage of people, and Dustin analyzed each as they came in.
First came a military man, sharp and cordial. Perhaps Dustin should’ve expected someone of this type to board. From looks alone he seemed far to straight-edge to make due for any real discussion, but he was willing to be flexible with him, due to the circumstances.
He introduced himself as Gabanre something-or-other. Dustin was sure he’d forget it soon. Maybe there was a passenger list he could get somewhere…?
“Dustin,” he said, shortly, shaking the man’s hand. He provided no more information than that. “Glad not to be the only one aboard,” he lied.
Before he could really get any farther with the military man, another person entered. This one was a girl, and looked more like a doll than a person. Aside from the outfit, she didn’t really draw any attention to herself, so Dustin simply nodded and let her sit.
Next came another woman; who walked in as Dustin was finishing his drink. She introduced herself as Emma. Seemed nice enough. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t come first, as his presence seemed to be drawing others near him.
“Hopefully,” Dustin responded to Emma’s comment about excitement. Making a note of her name. He took a second to put names to faces. Emma, black haired girl. Military man, Gabriel? Gabrane?
Before he could figure it out, yet another person filed in. This one, a long-haired man who asked if they could smoke. Before he could respond, yet another person came into the room; this one, a girl covered in tattoos. It only took one look at her pouring a drink and smoking a cigar for Dustin to realize she’d probably be the only reasonable company.
“If she’ll smoke, I’ll smoke,” Dustin joked to the long-haired man. He lit a Marlboro as he turned to the bar.
“I’ll take anything with rum,” he called out to the tattooed girl, “thanks.”
Dustin sat back, taking another drag and hoping the stench would chase a few people off. He realized that even on here, eight passengers was still a lot to keep up with. And they were only up to six.

Gabanre just entered the living room, as there was the first women coming in. She was wearing a yellow dress with white dots, cheerfull and happy. The woman went to the bar, took a drink and a chair. She did not bother talking to Gabanre or Dustin, the man he just met. Then another woman came in. She did talk, she introduced her as Emma. She was hoping for Fun. Gabanre introduced himself to her "Good afternoon miss, It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Gabanre Charis, Son of Mister Charis and formeer LTC and Sniper in the US army." After he said that a man came in, the first thing he did was asking Dustin if he could smoke. Then he took a chair. Then a women with tattoos came in, she went to the bar asking everyone if she could take drinks for them. Gabanre reacted implying he would like a Cola if possible, thanking her for the offer. Then he went through the names. We have Dustin, don't know what is with him, he does not seen to be happy. We have the women in yellow dress, She did not say Anything. We have Emma, the one he likes the most out of the others. We have the smoking man, he did not smoke himself. And we have the tattoo woman, She was Kinda Nice asking for drinks for everyone.

Elvira was happy.
She beamed at the darkening sky, looking at the clouds passing by. Sipping her coffee, she smiled. It was even better than usual today.
Elvira glanced at her watch. 4:50 already? "I think I spent too much time enjoying the scenery..." - she muttered, walking towars the enourmous ship.
It looked gorgeous just from outside. Maybe it actually wasn't, and this image appeared because of a lack of luxury in Elvira's life, though... Why would she care about her past life? She's leaving. Leaving everything and gaining everything in return. She's leaving for the Crescenzo.
Elvira walked on the deck, focusing on a small table as soon as it came into her sight. Two keys lay on it, with 204 and 203 on them. She remembered a small paper that was given to her when she bought the ticket. Oh, Elvira memorised the number by heart. Excited, she took the key with the even number.
The room was on the second desk, above the one she took the key from. While dragging her suitcase and backpack on the stairs, Elvira began to question herself - why did she take that many things again? Ugh, her physical strength was definitely worsening. There was a pool on the map of the ship... "I might start working out." - she muttered.
Finally, she reached the room. It was amazing - she can't say that it was quite what she expected, but it had everything needed. Elvira let out a laugh, left her bags in the corner of the room and took of her jacket. She didn't have time to rest, she needed to get to the living room - later though, she'd have plenty.
The living room was also on the first deck. She opened the door confidently, expecting to find a rather empty room.
"Oh, so I have company." - Elvira smiled at others. Three more ladies, one of which was already enjoying a drink, and three men. Well, the more the better, they say. "I'm Elvira." - she said, walking towards the bar. There was a wine fridge placed just besides it. Elvira picked a bottle from it and turned towards the others - "The collection of wine here is amazing. Would anyone like to enjoy a glass of Pinot Noir while we're still here? It would be a shame to let such great wine go to waste".

“Anything?”, Rathe quipped, arching her brow with a smirk.

Rathe slipped her pack from her shoulder, setting it carefully on a cushioned stool toward the side of the bar. She poured herself another shot, downing it nearly as quickly as it'd been poured, before dutifully setting herself to task. By her estimation, the best mixer for rum was a couple ice cubes and a squeeze of lime, the latter of which she was surprised to find already prepared and chilling in the ice bin. Rathe passed over the cheap well shit and went for a clear bottle behind the bar with a dark, molasses-colored spirit, combining it with the ice and lime in a quick stir with her finger. Licking her finger, and apparently satisfied with the result, she poured a second and added a splash of club soda to give the "cola" some fizz.

Rathe slipped around the bar, her hip lightly brushing the recent arrival rummaging through the wine fridge as she passed, and presented the gentlemen their drinks, "cola" first, followed by "anything with rum". "Saluti!" She let her gaze linger a little longer than necessary on the latter man, seeing Jørgen's face instead. She hadn't been in love with Jørgen, but he'd been good to her and, more importantly, he was a great lay. It bothered her, though, the way she'd left things - he believed she was actually coming back. It was cruel to let him think that, and she'd done it without a thought. A pang of guilt, remorse, or whatever formed a sick pit in her gut prompting her to break eye contact and return to the narrow space behind the bar, which she shared with the wine enthusiast. Sliding a broad-bottomed glass from its rack, Rathe set it gently on the bar, "Perfavore caro. I'd love a glass."

Elvira set down the bottle and bent down, searching for a bottle opener. And there is was, in one of the shelves below the bar itself. She grabbed a glass for herself before opening the bottle and filling both of the vessels with a burgundy transparent luquid. Elvira pushed the bottle towards the Italian and answered, smiling: "Prego. May I know your name?"

While waiting for an answer, she looked at the other people in the room. A petite, quiet girl with a doll-like face, a slender dark-haired woman who hasn't spoken a word since Elvira's arrival and three more men. One was smoking and holding a glass of rum the italian brought for him, another was holding a pack of cigarettes and the third one, standing next to the slender lady. If she remembered correctly, there was one key left. One more companion... "I wonder, who will it be?" - she muttered under her breath.

The amount of people arriving since Tiffany had sat down was almost overwhelming. Though the young woman was friendly and did well with people, she couldn't help but feel a bit shy with all the new faces to remember. She would be stuck with them for quite a long while after all. "Would anyone like to enjoy a glass of Pinot Noir while we're still here? It would be a shame to let such great wine go to waste." one of the women asked the group and Tiffany raised one finger up, placing her glass of rum and coke on the nearby table. "I'll take a glass as well." she said quietly, as she rose up and flattened her dress and walked back over to the bar where the woman was pouring glasses. A small smile went across her face as she looked between the two women behind the bar. They seemed friendly and had been good at making everyone seem comfortable so far.

"I'm Tiffany by the way. Tiffany Vtlanko" she said, her teeth sinking into her painted bottom lip as she waited for a glass to be sent her way. She didn't really even like wine, but it seemed in bad taste to reject any drinks that had been offered, even though her own glass sat full on the table next to where she had been sitting originally. Her large eyes gazed between the two women to recognize their distinct features. Soon names would be associated automatically but for now, despite several of the greetings exchanged, she would wait to use names in fear of mixing them up.

Emma gazed around at the others in the room. Another bearded man, also a smoker; a tattooed woman; and a thin, short haired woman. They were missing one, presumably a man looking at the pattern. She turned to watch as the small woman approached the other two at the bar. She shrugged and, after a second, followed. As she approached, she beamed at the other three women. "Hello there. I'll have a glass too please." Emma had never really been one for wine, she preferred whiskey or bourbon, but she'd drink it.

"I'm Emma, by the way. I think, umm..." she paused, and turned to the smaller woman, gesturing, "...you knew that, right?" She smiled again, thanking the vaugely European woman as she was handed a glass. She leaned onto the bar slightly, glancing at the door. "When do you think somebody will show up? They're going to be late, and that can't be good." She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the others. "Oh, I forgot to ask, what are your names?"

"I don't know but I've been told," sang Richard in his distinct Cockney accent, making his way to the dock. Despite not being from a military background or even being from America, he knew quite a variety of military cadences from there. Sometimes he just ab-libbed the words, though this wasn't one of these times. He continued: "Eskimo pussy's mighty cold." A few more songs later and he arrived at the dock, the Crescenzo waiting there. It was rather late, almost six o'clock, and he presumed that he was the last one to arrive.
Just like him to be late.
'Fashionably late,' he thinks to himself. He boards the ship, whistling a tune, and finds a table where there were several keys on it. Or where there was several keys on it. One key left, Room 203. He grabs it, and after shoving it into his pocket walks on. He arrives at the living room, and finds seven people already there. "I'm late to the party I see," Richard walks to a couch and sits in it, sliding down so that his back was almost on the cushion and his legs were far apart in a fat 'v' shape.
"The name's Richard Haddock. The rest of you got names?"

(Elvira) "Prego. May I know your name?"

The blunt glowed a brilliant orange as Rathe burned out the last of the hashish in a lingering drag, which she held, eyes closed, for a good while before letting the smoke escape slowly through her nostrils. "Rathe." Opening her eyes, she looked at the woman who'd served the wine, studying her momentarily before reaching across to run her finger gently along the outline of the sun tattooed across the woman's shoulder. "That's nice work." Rathe's finger trailed down her biceps along the paisley design before disengaging. She'd been leaning back against the bar, from behind it, and hadn't seen the other women approach. Roused would be the word for her reaction, since she was high enough to not be startled when the voices rose behind her.

"Rathe," she offered, flatly, as she looked past the other women toward the men seated in the parlor proper. "Credo che stiamo andando per rendere più facile per loro stasera." When there was no reply, she tossed back the wine and chased it with an exasperated, "Cazzo! Sorry. I said we're making it easy for them tonight." Indeed, the ladies had all congregated around the bar and were happily drinking away. "I hope they'll be gentlemen," she added, "but I wouldn't count on it."

Soon enough, everyone was here, and it wasn’t quiet at all. Dustin made a mental note to find that smoking room as soon as they had finished whatever business they had been called for in here.
As he took the drink from tattooed girl, he could help but notice something in her eyes as she passed the drink. He wasn’t sure what it was. Recognition? Sadness?
She looked away before Dustin could figure it out, and it soon passed his mind. The living room felt much smaller when it was this occupied. He tried listening in on the transference of names, but it soon became too much.
Another girl with tattoos came in; this one with shorter hair. She introduced herself as Elvira. Or was it Olivia? Wait, black haired girl was Emily. No, Emma? And the military guy was Gabe? Or Gabanre?
Shit.
The one doll-faced girl marched her way over to the bar with the other women. Made perfect sense. Dustin figured she’d say her name but she was too far out of earshot to really hear it.
By the time the British man had walked in (Dustin got his name clearly: Richard. Easy enough with an accent like his), Dustin was about done with the name-questioning. He took the opportunity to scoot near the empty void where doll-face was sitting in order to gain some breathing room from long-hair and military-man.
“It’s Dustin,” he said, short.
At least he’s comfortable, he thought.
A part of him wanted to march over to the bar and get another drink. Both the buzz in his head and a drink in his hand gave him a vague reminder that he might be overdoing it. Regardless, he took another drag from the Marlboro and waited it out. Now that all eight passengers had made it aboard, it was only a matter of time before this Christopher Maddox finally revealed himself. And the sooner he did, the sooner Dustin could leave this room.



Watching through one of the many secret openings within the ship, John watched the passengers arrive one-by-one.
Each had been easily memorized by John in the days before. A host of information and photos are taken of each passenger weeks before they ever step foot on the ship. Part of it is safety. Part of it is protocol. Part of it is wanting to know what people you’re sharing space with.
This crop was especially interesting. Many social extremes. Straight-edges. Outcasts. Not like before. Before there was less diversity; more normality. It made for easy sailing, usually. Sometimes, however, it didn’t. Provided this crop doesn’t decide to off each other, it shouldn’t be too hard.
It was too bad about last time though. The blood took weeks to clean up.
“Get Doe,” Maddox said to John’s right, looking through a separate peephole. “Haddock’s arrived. That’s the last of them.”
Nodding, John moved out, climbing up a set of stairs to the upper floors, where Doe had been waiting. John could see his massive figure from half of the ship’s length, reading and waiting.
“Hoist anchor,” John said to his brother. “I’ll get the engines running.”
Doe nodded, and immediately began the process of turning on the crank and lifting the multi-ton anchor from the ground.
John, however, marched off, making his way around Deck Two’s promenade and walking off the boat. He undid the ship’s rope ties and walked back on board, making sure to lift the walkway. They were officially separated from land. Flipping a switch alongside the deck, the Crescenzo slowly began it’s journey.
Looking down into the sea, John could see the swirling clouds of dust and foam as the side-propellers slowly pulled the boat from shore. Satisfied, he made his way around and up, climbing the passenger staircases to Deck Four, opening the door and taking control of the ship. After a moment, Doe came up as well, wordlessly taking the co-captain’s chair.
“I hate missing orientation,” John said aloud to his brother. “I like seeing the looks on their faces when it dawns on them.”
Doe gave a look to John. What dawns on them? The face asked without moving.
“What they signed up for,” he responded to the look. “That the only thing they’ll be seeing for years is nothing but open waters.”



The vibration of the ship’s hull was indication enough that departure had gone as schedule. Making sure to exit via a door out of view, Maddox left the inner workings of the ship and came out somewhere near Deck One’s bathroom. Closing and locking the false door behind him, Maddox marched his way through the stateroom hallways, through the dining room, and into the living room, where his eight passengers were waiting.
This might just be my favorite moment, Maddox thought to himself, seeing eyes across the room lock onto his.
Sure, the voyage is tough. The destinations are as wild and secretive as my passengers themselves. But this moment; looking across the room at eight strangers, not knowing what is to come of them. Not knowing who’ll fight who, and who’ll fuck who. Not knowing friend from enemy. Only knowing names and information. This moment, with infinite possibilities and nothing but time? This is my favorite moment.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Maddox called out, standing in the space near the bar and the couches with arms wide open, in plain view of all within the room. His standard, BBC-style received pronunciation echoed through the walls of this ship.
“Welcome to the Crescenzo! If you’ll just take a moment to get comfortable, I have a few words for you all.”

"I'm Emma, by the way. I think, umm...you knew that, right?" the woman known as Emma said and Tiffany nodded slightly, remembering that the girl introduced herself when it was only a few passenger in the living room. "Oh, I forgot to ask, what are your names?" Emma asked, and Tiffany repeated herself once more for the new member to join the congregation of women at the bar. "Tiffany." she replied, taking a sip of the wine, "And it's a pleasure to meet you all." she added, quietly- not wanting to seem too eager to make friends.

"I hope they'll be gentlemen," the woman named Rathe added, "but I wouldn't count on it." Tiffany smirked with the glass between her lips. Though the men we're handsome, one did have to wonder why they decided to come along this voyage. Then again, the women had the exact same issue. "We can only hope" Tiffany added, holding the glass down at her side. The young woman had never been with a man, let alone ever kissed one. Not that she hadn't want to, but the opportunity just hadn't came about yet.

Suddenly a man assumed as Captain Maddox himself came into the room and began to speak, "Ladies and Gentlemen" he began as Tiffany, turned her body to have her back planted hard against the bar counter. He almost seemed like a mirage in this fairy tale of a journey. After being asked to get comfortable so that he could have a few words with the group, Tiffany looked towards the women she had been talking to and gave a small smile before retaking her seat from earlier. She placed the glass of wine next to her previous mixed drink glass on the table as she folded her hands into her lap, her slender legs crossed at the ankles almost childishly as her wide eyes paid close attention to what Maddox had to say to them.

Maddox locked eyes with each guest individually. In their eyes, he could sense each person.
Dustin’s eyes showed a great pain; a pain he may not have yet overcome.
Rathe’s showed a mystery…a closed book of forgotten, soon-to-be revenant secrets.
Gabanre’s showed confidence; a strength, a willpower and drive to survive.
Emma’s showed knowledge and intelligence, but with it, naivety.
Christopher’s showed stoicism, escapism, and just a hint of grey.
Tiffany’s showed innocence, paranoia, and superstition.
Richard’s showed pride, hope, and intrigue.
Elvira’s showed an analytical mind behind indecision and instability.
And yet each and every one showed promise.

My name,” he started, “is Christopher Maddox. I see someone else in the room shares my name.”
Maddox gestured to the other Chris in the room.
“I’m sure you’ll all just getting to know each other, so I’ll keep it brief. On the Crescenzo, there are a few rules you must know.
Rule number one: on this boat, there is but one Captain, and that is me. I sail the ship. I pick the destinations. I make the rules. So please, don’t do anything that would make me need to remind you of this rule.
Rule number two: An unlocked door means come on in. A locked door means do not enter. A word of advice; if you feel like you shouldn’t be somewhere, odds are you’re right.
Rule number three: this space around here, is your living space. Not mine. I only supply the materials. Your staterooms, your living room, your food, your pool. So please, keep your space nice. There is no one here to clean for you. Food, drinks, and supplies will be re-stocked once-per-week. Same with smokes—if you use them.”
Maddox gave a sharp glare to Dustin, Rathe, and Christopher; the three smokers in the room.
“And finally: you own a ticket on Crescenzo. Which means, you live here. I could care less about your reasonings, your plans, or your ideas. As long as you remain on this ship, you’re safe. If you leave, you forfeit your ticket. If you die, you forfeit your ticket. If you sell your ticket, you sell it back to me, and you get the hell off my ship. And if you think you can break my rules, ignore my heeds, and attempt something you shouldn’t? Well—”
Maddox opened his jacket pocket to reveal to his new passengers perhaps the most important lesson of the day:
Inside was a silver pistol.
“—If you ever make me…I will take my ticket back.”
Maddox let out a small smile, instantly transitioning back to lighter matters.
“You’ll be seeing me around. As well as my two crew members. John and Doe. If you’re wondering, John’s the smaller, more talkative one, and Doe’s the strong silent type—but you’d do good to leave them their space.
They’ll be announcements every morning over the intercom about the day’s events, and who knows? Maybe I’ll join you for dinner sometime.”
Maddox turned on his heel and called out over his shoulder as he left the room:
“Enjoy your stay!”

---

---





Holy. Shit.

Dustin had figured the man willing to sell tickets like this with no questions asked was crazy. But maybe not this crazy.
He could only wonder what other secrets awaited him, but now was not the time.
Now was the time to make his leave.
“Well,” Dustin said as he stood up. “If you’ll be needing me, I’ll be upstairs.”
Dustin quickly exited the room as soon as he could, making his way past the dining room, his room, the bathroom and laundry, up the stairs, and into the smoking room.

This room was much more pleasant.
Darker, dimmer lights shone around, with the pool table illuminating the red fabric on the tables.
The windows shone out to the now-black skies. The floors vibrated with the roar of the engine many decks below.
Content, happy, and alone, Dustin’s buzz kept him from going to the bar, but he made sure to put out his cigarette on the ashtray that was alongside it. He pulled out another cigarette, and lit it, before turning and looking around the room.
Another turntable, like the one the long-haired man had used in the living room. Go figure.
Smiling, Dustin put on an old record, enjoying the calm mood music.
Moving to one of the two pool tables in the room, Dustin set up the balls within the billiard triangle, and made sure to line up his cue ball just right. Striking it with the cue stick, Dustin managed to send the balls flying with a sickening crack, sinking two solid balls.
He still was good at some things, he thought to himself.

"As long as you remain on this ship, you’re safe."

After Maddox departed, Rathe gave a slow, soft clap. "A little fucking dramatic if you ask me, but worth the price of admission." Inside, she hoped to Hell it wasn't just theatre and that she hadn't paid a ridiculous amount of cash for a poorly-acted dinner party mystery that would never end. Shit, if that was the case, she off herself with that damned pistol. Momentarily, she glanced at her pack uncertainly before shoving a hand into a small pouch at the back to retrieve another hand-rolled "cigar" and a lighter. Rathe inhaled sharply, coaxing the smoke through the fibers, and held her breath as smoky threads drifted up from the end of the cigar. She stole a lingering glance at the woman with the sun tattoo as she slipped her pack across her shoulder and snatched up the bottle of tequila. Passing by the other ladies on her way around the bar toward the exit, she exhaled a long stream of hashish-laden smoke. "A dopo."

Rathe hadn't seen where he went after leaving the living area, but how far could he have gone? It was a damn boat, or ship, or whatever, after all. Jørgen, or Dustin. She shook her head, sending ropes flopping about her shoulders. It took some poking around before she found him. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame and watching, as he put on a record and, of all things, something slow and kind of sad. It took her back for a moment, or maybe it was just her high kicking in again, to a night an eternity ago when a handsome Dutchman approached her for a dance. It had seemed almost old fashioned, and she'd nearly brushed off the invitation, but it somehow felt familiar, like it'd happened before. Like they'd happened before. "Yeah, it's just the fucking high," Rathe said to herself as she walked toward the pool table, setting down her pack and the bottle of tequila, which she only now noticed had to be the high-end shit given the ornate crystal, curved shape of the bottle, and deep golden hue of the liquor within.

Rathe took a stick from the wall-mounted rack, glancing down its length appraisingly, and gauged its weight with her fingertips. Satisfied, she looked down at the table before walking around it to within inches of Dustin. She locked his gaze, her own eyes a bit glassy from the hash, then withdrew the cigar and exhaled a puff of smoke to encircle him, "Care to place a wager?"