[IC] 🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope Docks

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The ordinary hustle and bustle of your average series of docks, such as the one they were moored upon, is easily stressed by something as ubiquitous (for a man like Foy, anyway) as gunfire. Many of the workaday pedestrians began to duck and cover, or run and scream as individual cases tended to vary, but some more world-weary residents of Newhope manage to continue about their day, barely noting the presence and use of firearms. Were Foy's hands not full of solid Colt craftsmanship, he might have tipped his hat to those who chose not to let a little thing like potentially mortal danger prevent them from moving along with the doldrums of their daily lives, ants scurrying about their little hill floating about in space. Might have. As it turned out, he was about to busy himself, and could not be bothered to mete any meaningful attention for these people at the present except to note that they were in his way.

"You are quite the presumptuous one, Doctor, handing along orders without holding contract. I am the consummately aghast, of course." It was true, he had not officially signed on with Anisa's crew as of yet. But circumstances were non-standard right then. "But I feel gracious, madame." He stepped out from behind his cover and made a cautious advance toward what he figured was the best position to hide, if one were injured and still concerned with being forcibly gifted yet another bullet. "Quite the endeavor to cure my waxing ennui, if I do say so."

He holstered one of his pistols and began the painstaking search for proper sign of their quarry's passing. In very short order, he noted a dark spot on the ground that looked like an irregular drop spatter, the direction of spill hinting at a direction to follow. Then he found another. He might have gotten a better look at yet another, a couple of feet forward, but a very nervous and portly fellow stepped right into the damned thing, anxious to clear away from the dangerous situation in any direction available.

Foy's eyes widened in disbelief for a half second before narrowing in frustration with the man's clumsiness. He drew his second pistol again, glaring at his new acquaintance, who kept moving in the same direction with an even more urgent twist to his face. Others were still moving for cover, making his efforts to track blood trails and tiny, repeating scuffmarks difficult, to say the least. "Oh, come along now, plebeians! Why all the hither and yonder like recently decapitated dining-fowl? Someone only got shot! It's not as if we're short on cognac." He puzzled that last statement. With a trace of worry, he asked aloud, "We're not actually short on cognac, correct? Our Dear and Shiny forfend..."

By the time he had made heads or tails of the actual route taken by their fleeing target, he had to contend with various indifferent and scared people alike, ducking and threading through the throng of persons and things around the docks. "Yes, female... moderate leg injury venting the good crimson stuff... erratic. She was here, and then stopped. And..." Seconds later, Foy turned to his companions with some measure of certainty. He motioned over to a seried of shipping containers off to the side, finishing up with, "To use the parlance best befitting the situation with lesser dictioned individuals, Sir and Madame: She went that-a-way."

"Now, we should give proper chase; the waif is obviously injured and moving none too quickly, though someone should ensure that our belongings are not absconded with upon our departure."

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William Harper

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Location: Captain's Office

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Harper's generally professional demeanor slammed back into place with the arrival of Jahosafat. He sat a little straighter, spoke a bit more straightforward and terse in nature "Dr. Moreau, this is a surprise for myself, too." The Captain's terminal beeped, and a signal from Harper's black box confirmed the terminal's notification. "Just a moment, please." Sure enough, the I.A.V Retribution's onboard computers had gone through a complete reformatting, and a bare command prompt blinked back up at him with quiet, unassuming patience for his efforts. Were he to enter a command now, he could begin resetting and customizing the craft's settings. Job done.

He wasn't ignoring Jahosafat, though. Especially he part where he had mentioned that Camilla had a copy of the picture. The revelation came at the same moment that he noticed the photo access slot looked a little different than standard, piquing his curiosity further. "No Doctor. I'm just about finished here. If I may?" he offered the picture over to the man with the notch facing him. "I have to admit, I'm very curious about this. It's probably nothing, sir, but I don't suppose you have something to open this with? I'm afraid I left my more delicate hand tools elsewhere." Risking a glance at it again before handing it over, he gave a light sigh, intoning, "Does that look like a keyhole to you, Doctor?"

[Lady Absinthia]

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Newhope

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Atticus felt completely useless right then but he prayed as kept an eye out. There wasn't much else he could do unless they wanted him to make something to blow up or it came to a all out brawl. Guns and tracking were not his thing. Yet, the Preacher did what he could, staying close to Dorothy and Foy but out of the way, directing people away as he could to keep the path more clear. Thankfully Anisa had yet to leave the ship, she was making a few final checks here and there. Probably a good thing because she was already a keg ready to blow, this would have surely made her go boom. (Though she would have to find out eventually.)

Over in the Captain office, Jahosafat took the picture frame and had a look at it. "Oh yes, I do see what you are referring to my good sir. I believe it may very well be. This frame matches the one that Camilla kept the same image in. We should compare them when we have a spare moment but alas time grows short," he said before handing the frame back over. He let Harper know then that he had run into the Captain during his rounds to clean up the ship and that she had informed them about the sale and the time line. "Currently we must make haste to complete our tasks and then my good man, we should investigate this further! Yes, quite! A good mystery breaks up the monotony! Let me finish up my rounds and I shall fetch the matching frame, perhaps we can devise something from there."

Out on the docks the crowd in and around the dock was clearing and going back to normal, or as normal as it could be in that area. Outside of the dock where people were exiting from it was becoming more crowded and hectic. The area seemed to have a general feeling of ~we will mess with this place later when there are fewer bullets flying~ about it. The further in town one got, the less crowded it became though the streets were anything but clear. It was after all a beautiful day on a planet rich in trade. vendors lined the streets selling their wares. A modern Portobello Road if you will, streets where the riches of ages were sold; anything and everything a chap could unload is sold of the barrels on Portobello Road. (Name that movie!) - The shops held more than the streets did of course and eventually one could find a toy store of sorts to check out.

In the crowds of people along the roads of the town the street urchins were numerous but it was hard to tell a pick pocket from just someone down on their luck in this area and those that had sticky fingers knew how to keep the attention off of them as they moved through the streets. The ~gang~ as it were that had set off from Lady Lucks seemed to have split off. Two by two they moved, one after the female and the others after the male. Both pairs stayed together for a bit before splitting up and seeming to see if they could strike from different angles. At least that is how it seemed, though it was not clear yet since none of them had made a move to go in for the so called kill yet.

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Docks

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Dorothy raised a bit of an eyebrow at Foy. While he may have volunteered to help with moving the items from the ship to the storage docks, she had expected that he'd be willing to help with the fugitive who had snuck onto the ship. But manners seemed to hardly make the person, and had they had more time, Dorothy perhaps would have argued that catching the woman was part of moving the belongings off the ship. But mostly, her irritation came from the fact that she often acted before she thought through the situation all the way, an impulsivity that made her gullible on occasion. It was one thing about herself that she'd wish to change.

"Thank you," Dorothy replied, as Foy pointed out the direction the woman had gone off towards. She had to hold her tongue to stop herself from calling the man a thesaurus. Time was being wasted with those long verbose sentences, time that could've been better spent catching the woman and getting the job done. They only had three hours to get off the ship. And of course, Dorothy imagined that Anisa would be furious that someone had been on the ship without anyone noticing in the first place. Catching the woman would be their only saving grace.

Still, not all three of them would be able to run after her. Foy was the only one with tracking talent, so he'd need to be in the small party of two. The real question then was whether Atticus should accompany him or if Dorothy should instead. Dorothy didn't trust Foy enough by principle to send him off alone, and none of the other crew members (to Dorothy's annoyance) had appeared to help with moving things to and fro. Dorothy then couldn't decide which would anger Anisa more: her second staying behind or her second heading off to chase a fugitive.

"Foy, if you're willing, then the pair of us will go after her," Dorothy then said, though she looked towards Atticus. "Atticus, I'll leave you in charge until we're back with the fugitive. If you see Daphne, put her to work and let her know she'll be getting hell from me. And if Anisa comes outside, let her know what's happening."

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Fitz Townsley

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Location: Town

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Fitz continued to make his way down the streets of the town, part of him wondering when the town would end. To him, it felt like there were endless blocks filled with tons of people, the crowd thinning slightly the further he walked but still being present. It struck him as strange to see all of the people, knowing that he was just a piece of the backdrop in their lives, just as they were in his. Fitz was tempted to imagine what the people he saw were doing there in town, but he couldn't tell a beggar apart from a crook.

Eventually, though, a smile slowly came onto his face. Like an oasis in the desert, he spotted it--a toy store! Of all the places, they'd be sure to have a board game or two! Making his way over there, he couldn't help but wonder what treasures he'd find inside of the store. Maybe he'd find a game he had never heard of before, one from a different planet, from a different culture. It excited him to no end, but also made him perhaps a bit careless. His fingers were still on the strap of his bag, but his mind was focused on getting to the store, rather than watching the people going by.

Hopefully, he didn't walk into anyone--again...

[FantasyChic]

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Mei Qiáo

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Location: Newhope - Town (Under)

It's not like she hadn't been in unpleasant situations before, but this took the cake. She had to give this place credit though, this wasn't the worst sewer she's seen. As she slowly made her way through, she wondered if they found out where she was. Would they kill her outright or capture her? From what she gathered, they weren't Alliance for the most part. Did that mean they were part of the rebellion? If so why were they on an Alliance ship? These questions bothered her and she wanted answers, but first she needed to heal her fricken knee.

She neared a crossing with three directions. She managed to avoid stepping in what she could only hope was water and she didn't want to get any disease and perish from it, so she opted to avoid it all together and go to the right. There was a ladder taking her up underneath the town. Hopefully it was near a place she could see about getting her knee patched up.

[BlueSky44]

Daphne Pender

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Location: Town -> Docks

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Daphne kept shoving her way through the crowd as she headed towards the docks. The crowds were just getting thicker, and it was getting even more difficult to walk. She did not like this, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Shoving her way through, the docks were getting closer as she went, but she was hurrying as fast as she could go with all of the people around her.

Finally, after what had felt like forever, Daphne found herself at the docks. It was a lot less crowded than the main part of town, and it made it easier for her to walk. She looked around, hoping to see someone that she would recognize, when she saw her sister. Letting out a sigh of relief, she started walking towards her, when she noticed something was off. Dorothy's gun was still in her hand, and after she got even closer, she noticed her expression. It was clear to Daphne that Dorothy was stressed out, and it probably had something to do with the huge crowd that had just ran out. She edged closer to her sister, daring not to say anything, since the gun in Dorothy's hand could easily change where it was pointing.

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope Docks

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Despite the suddenly more appropriate (to his mind) tone of voice coming from his would-be Executive Officer, Foy continued his role as Tracker, attempting to suss out the subtle changes of dust and blood spatter upon he ground that might have indicated a change in direction or chunk of "Red Herring-ing", much in the way the man himself would have utilized a Bacon Double Cheeseburger in the event that he were being pursued by a particularly girthy constable. "Shhh! Madame, such skilled displays of perception and proficiency require the utmost of concentration..." His voice trailed off, polite still but with a hint of irritation.

"Ah, by St. Swiven's cirrhotic sweetbreads!" swore Foy. He began pacing back and forth, forth and back, wondering to himself how precisely he had just lost what was a trail that was so blatantly obvious to the man just moments ago. He tucked his guns back into their holsters, as it was apparent that he wouldn't get to shoot at anything for longer than he'd been realistically expecting. He had lost the trail all by himself, but as there was someone who he could blame nearby someone who had attempted conversation while he was tracking, at any rate, he decided to vent his frustration at failure upon her.

The ordinarily proper gentleman spun his slender frame around to face Dorothy, face awash with negativity. He raised an accusatory finger, and began with "Now see here, Miss, you... ah, you, eh..." Foy's plan to berate and belittle her came to a swift and sputtering halt as Foy noticed the unmistakable combination of a errant, untrampled fragment of a footprint in the dust behind her, alongside a minuscule droplet of crimson. "...yes... Yes! Now see here, behind you, madame." His hand, once raised to signify frustration, now pointed confidently as if he wished all along to display his ability as a Tracker in the same manner as a child might request a favored crayon be magneted onto a domestic refrigerator. Undoubtedly, this bit of self-gratification was done to cover for the fact that he was about to launch himself into full "Snooty".

He hurried around to catch glimpses of more, fresher clues, eventually leading him around and behind a series of storage crates and over to an open manhole. "Ah, bebother and attend to the irrevocable damnation of this brazen phallus-monger! I just put on this suit..." His lamentations about the situation were minor, comparatively, but justified. "Ugh... Hopefully, it's merely a storm drain, and not a proper aqueduct for used epicure."

"Ladies first? ...nevermind."

Foy's role in the group, despite formal contract (and his general appearance), was as The Heavy. It only made sense that he take point with this endeavor. He just wanted to give the very professional lady to his side the opportunity to understand that he wasn't quite the chauvinist that he might have portrayed himself as earlier. At least, that's the excuse he was telling himself that second. With a regretful sigh, Foy lowered himself into the dusky and largely forgotten sections of Newhope.

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William Harper

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Location: Captain's Office

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"I agree, Doctor." remarked Harper, setting the picture in one of the voluminous cargo pockets on his grey and black coveralls. Time grows short, and I'm sure we all have arrangements to make. I for one do not want to spend any more time on this vessel that isn't necessary." Harper found this version of the Farraday Gentry easier to speak with than Foy. The barber/whatever seemed to eye him as a commodity, and pass off oddly short-lasting pleasantries followed by probing inquiry, followed by oddly short-lasting pleasantries.

"I'll be done here in less than a minute. Just need clean up my last tracks and I'll be out." His fingers danced across his personal terminal briefly, prompting a quick look of muted satisfaction across Harper's face. He disconnected his piece of personal electronics from the ship's system, set it into a carrying case, and rose from the desk. "Room is yours, Dr. Moreau. I'll be joining the rest of the crew in Cargo." Harper gave a last look around, just in case he missed anything. Content that he wouldn't have to come back to the room, he stepped from behind the desk in route to the main corridor. Before he exited the room, he voiced some concerns to Jahosafat concerning their next moves. "Doctor? I don't suppose you know if lodging has been arranged as of yet, do you? Otherwise, can you recommend a respectable place? Unrelated, has there been any discussion about the next ship our Captain will be procuring? Curious, is all."

[Lady Absinthia]

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Newhope

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"Me? In charge? God help us all," Atticus said with a smirk but he nodded and stayed put. He knew that Foy and Dorothy were more capable in a situation like this than he was, plus there was still a job to be done at the docks and someone had to do it. Thankfully it looked like he was about to have some help. Spotting Daphne, seemed she had finally gotten back. Stepping over to her he shook his head a bit.

"The prodigal daughter returns," he quipped quickly. "Listen, you are about to face fire and brimstone from your sister and Anisa, so you need to get back to work moving things from cargo over to the docks holding with Gods speed," he said motioning over to the ship.

Jahosafat waited for Harper to get finished up, starting on the other end of the room. A good portion of the ship was already complete thankfully. The Bridge was done, medical, galley, and so forth. Most everywhere was done and closed off with possessions already moved down into the cargo hold. He just had this room and a few others to do before he was finished. As Harper finished up he gave the man a nod.

"Good show young man. I will get on this with the upmost haste and be down toot-sweet. Oh rooms, yes. I believe our new captain is securing those for us when she goes to deal with the buyer. I am afraid though I have no information about the new ship though judging from the hot blooded woman I imagine whatever ship strikes her fancy will have some spunk to it," he said with a chuckle before getting back to work.

Thankfully for Fitz, the crowd seemed to thin a bit in front of the toy store. Though there were several street urchins standing out front looking in the window to see what was for sale. The largest and brightest of toys of course were in the window display, trying to get the attention of not the parents but the children. Hopes that one would strike a child's fancy and make them scream, and cry, and beg until mom or dad or the nanny gave in and bought it just to shut them the hell up.

Inside the store it was stunning. The more modern toys were set up in the front with various displays so children could test them out or try them. Several children running around looking here and there. Something grabbing their attention then something else. Clerks watched, several looking ragged already even though it was still early in the shopping day. Further back though was an adult only section but not for adult things. They were collectables and antiques, a quieter area that looked like it was out of a picture from hundreds of years before. The main thing on display was a hand carved marble chess set that an elderly man was dusting.

Down in the sewers, the ladder seemed in good enough condition though there were a few rungs that were loose or all together missing. It would make the climb a bit more difficult to get up, especially with an injury. Though truth be told, it was the far better option than trying to walk through the water that moved through the center of the sewers. It was dirty and lord only knew what diseases were festering in it, with an open leg wound it could complicate matters. The ladder went up a ways and then let off on a landing. Above that was the manhole cover.

Above the cover one could hear people walking and talking but it seemed a bit distant. As if right there was not in the middle of the street. This could get a good thing. That was, if one could get the manhole cover up and off to get a peak up there. Looking through the few holes in the cover itself, one couldn't see anything. There was light but where the light was coming from - the sky or something else, was anyones guess.

[FantasyChic]

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Mei Qiáo

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Location: Newhope - Town (Under) -> Town

Mei was sure they were following her now. While she was confident in her fighting capabilities, she didn't want to press her luck with an injury. She made it to the ladder without stepping in the questionable water. She made her way up and tried to listen to see where she was. All she could make out was random town noises, but they seemed distant. She wasn't directly under people, which was good considering if she saw someone climb out of a manhole cover, she would question them or probably report them to the authorities.

She tried to take the manhole cover off, but it was proving to be tougher than the last one. She kept trying, eventually, it moved. She got it part way through before it wouldn't budge anymore. She managed to squeeze herself out and saw why it wouldn't move. It was now wedged under a large garbage bin. She couldn't move it back, which left little time now. She got up off the ground and limped her way into town.

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Docks

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After Foy shushed her of all things, Dorothy was beginning to understand Anisa's legendary rage more and more. And then when the man turned around, clearly in the beginnings of a hissy fit, she wondered how stupid the man was. She still had her gun out, after all. After hitting the woman, she hadn't put it away. Narrowing her eyes as her eyebrows furrowed, Foy's exclamation of picking up the trail didn't win him any favors by her. She almost regretted asking him to track the woman at all. Atticus might be entirely unqualified and a pain in the pi gu, but he was a tolerable pain in the pi gu.

And of course, it was just then that her sister decided to show up. Typical. Atticus moved over to deal with her and Dorothy could just hear what he said, and she clenched one of her fists. "Listen to him. I'll be back soon," Dorothy said succinctly before following Foy back towards the storage crates. Her gun wasn't up and aimed anymore, but it was still in her hand, so that way she could fire in a moment's notice.

"It's just a suit," Dorothy muttered under her breath, thoroughly vexed with Foy. Holstering her pistol, she followed down after Foy, fully expecting the man to throw a fit at any moment. He was the only member of the Alliance thus far that Dorothy had formed a strong opinion of thus far. And while she was no tracker, she figured this next part would be simple. Hopefully the woman left more blood near the manhole exit she had gone out of. Reaching into her pocket, she took out one of her latex gloves and tied it to the manhole cover, as a means for them to find their way back if needed.

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Fitz Townsley

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Location: Town (Toy Store)

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To those walking by the toy store, an odd sight may have struck them. Next to the street urchins who were staring at the window displays in wonder was a fully grown man with curly hair, staring at the very same toys with a big grin. It didn't matter to Fitz that they were marketed towards children and not adults--he found them amazing either way. He was like the young adults from hundreds of years ago who were just as excited by the action figures made for five year olds as the five year olds were. And once he had gotten his fill from the window display, Fitz headed inside of the store.

With the kids running around and the tired clerks, he definitely related more to the former. He never understood the appeal of wine tastings and jewelry stores, always being one to just lose himself in a book store or a toy shop. If the kids hadn't been playing with the toys that were set up for people to try, Fitz would've spent a good hour using them. But while he didn't realize how odd his love of toys and games was, he did know that it'd be rude for an adult to play with a toy when a kid wanted to. Folding his hands, he fiddled his fingers and tapped them as he resolved to wait, until the adult section caught his eye.

"B-Beautiful..." Fitz whispered to himself as he headed over. There was so much to look at and so much to see, he wasn't sure where to fix his eyes. He wanted all of it and none of it at the same time, stuck in the indecision of a man facing the very things he loved most in the world. Purchasing one would mean not purchasing another, a decision he didn't want to make. The chess set the old man was dusting caught his eye, as he couldn't help but admire its quality.

"Th-that's a brilliant s-set you got there," Fitz squeaked, trying his best at small talk.

[BlueSky44]

Daphne Pender

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Location: Docks

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"Yeah, I figured I would, but I kind of got caught up in the humongous crowd that just ran towards the town," she said to Atticus as she started heading off to work. She saw her sister head off with Foy, so she figured that at least they seemed to know what was going on. She started racing around, working on moving things around as fast as she could. Which wasn't very fast considering the fact that she wasn't the strongest person around.

She was still wondering what was going on though, As she continued working now that she had actually managed to make it to the docks. Put straight back to work after practically running all the way back, but she didn't mind. Daphne knew that she probably deserved it considering the fact that she had taken a while getting back. It wasn't her fault that a crowd just so happened to get in her way, but things just happened that way. There was nothing she could do about it now.

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope Docks (Underground)

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The irrepressible gentlemanish individual scurried down the ladder underneath the manhole, and into the gloom below. There was a sort of change that came over the man as he descended, a set to his jaw perhaps, or a sudden wave of outward professionalism washing over him. For all his pomp and finery, Foy was a mercenary, with a history of asset recovery and elimination for the Alliance as well as private parties. You do not gather that sort of reputation by being a useless dandy.

You do so by being an exceptional dandy.

Foy's descent was punctuated by a sudden slip and catch as a foot lost traction, nearly pitching himself into the fetid unknown of what lay beneath the Newhope Docks. A slew of possibilities took hold of the perpetually tidy and kempt man in the split second of uncertainty, possibilities of what awaited him in the darkness of the underground. Was this a proper sewer? The ships had to decompress their bilge somewhere, after all. This dock didn't seem the type to have the untreated waste of a thousand ships a day flooding underneath their feet, though he did not know this planet extremely well. If he were very lucky, it would be a simple maintenance access space, dirty but relatively dry, nothing a good brush-off couldn't fix after they were done wit the hunt.

Luckily, he caught himself in time. The last few steps were solid enough, and he soon found solid footing on the floor of the subterranean passage. A sluice-way of dark water ran in the middle of the narrow passage, with raised access walks on either side. So it was a storm drain; the quaint middle ground between his best and worst case scenario. If maintained properly, they would find a straight and smooth pathway taking them wherever they needed to go; if it were not, this could get a little stickier. It wasn't his first time tracking a fugitive in a gloomy tunnel.

As Dorothy fell in behind him, Foy picked out the distinct outline of a footfall coupled with splotch of sanguine color. Silently, he waved it to her attention, and pointed in the direction that his experience indicated. He drew a revolver and took a forceful step forward, quietly waving Dorothy forward.

It was about at Step Number Two that his right foot made awkward connection with the edge of the sluice, giving him the split-second option of twisting his ankle or sliding further to the right. The very human desire to avoid crippling injury, even temporary in nature, won out in that very short time, unceremoniously depositing his foot damned near to the knee into the grey water flowing past them. His spine straightened and his arms flailed about for a second or two as he struggled to maintain balance. As Foy succeeded in keeping upright, his face adopted a look of restrained alarm and disgust. His foot was in the stale runoff of so many amateur cooks, people hosing down their ships, livestock cargo, and rainwater mixed with trace amounts of synthetic lubricant and vehicle fuel, all flowing and fermenting to parts best left alone. Rodent droppings and hangover vomit likely mixed in with this horrifying under-dock stew, which he was now stirring with his best pair of leather Madison shoes. Or at least, just the one.

Suppressing a shudder, Foy removed himself from the horrid water, or at least tried to. Be it a tiny denizen of the shallow, opaque fluid, or merely a bit of rubbish that caught upon him, as he withdrew his foot, his very fine shoe was painfully removed from his immaculately pedicured foot. Revulsion piled on top of him, and he pulled off his now sodden, black sock, splatting it upon the wall nearest him like grandma's homestyle test for cooked spaghetti. It stuck there, dripping foul fluid along the wall beneath it. "Just a suit, indeed." he whispered, aggravation evident in his voice. Foy hastily removed his other shoe with his free hand, shaking it in the air before dropping it softly upon the ground next to them. It was a noteworthy piece of footwear, one a laborer would never think to own, nor could afford as a reasonable purchase otherwise. And that was just a shoe, I presume?

Foy removed his remaining sock, and in the tradition of action stars everywhere, fixed a steely look of coming revenge as he tied it around his head in the form of a tailored, monogrammed headband. He quickly replaced his bowler hat and took up his gun yet again. Someone would answer for his damaged suit and ruined Madisons. Oh yes, they would answer, indeed...

"Come along. Where did you go, little rabbit?" Far from the usual verbose dialogue, the mercenary Coiffeur was a thing of cold business. He took a harder look at the spotting and attempted to determine what he could from the pattern; speed, gait, and the most important bit - direction of their intended quarry.

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William Harper

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Location: Cargo (and just beyond)

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It didn't take long to get back to Cargo, seeing as he really only had a picture frame and his personal terminal to carry with him. He debated stopping back by the Bridge and doing his best to urinate heavily upon the Captain's Chair, possibly behind a panel or two, regretting only that he did not dine on SoySparagus beforehand (guaranteeing none of the fresh vegetable flavor but twice the pungent aftereffects), resulting in a situation that the new owners wouldn't discover until they were well into the Black, with unseen hilarity ensuing. Ah, to be a fly upon that wall. But no, Dr. Moreau took great effort to make sure they had a sanitized vessel, it would be additionally insulting to the wrong person. So, just slightly unethical on his part. Damnit.

It really was a shame. Unfortunately, he did have to lay low, be a pilot of whatever ship whose console he was placed behind. Do his job for his employers. Browncoats this time, for two years. Just two more years. Ok... Time to keep being Harper.

His posture slowly crept back to the of the able Lieutenant, despite the fact that he was not Alliance anymore. It was the best way he knew to behave in the manner of a professionally spacefaring man, and most of these people had a background with the "bad guys" anyway. He was just another officer gone turncoat when given evidence that he was on the wrong side. Hell, technically, that was exactly what he was anyway, just with a different timetable than most people in the same situation. By the time he set foot back into Cargo, Harper was (aside from his unshaven appearance) every bit the solid Flight Officer.

Something seemed off, though, a sort of tension in the air he couldn't quite put his finger on. Tempted to draw his sidearm, Harper carefully made his way down to his belongings and, with eyes scanning are area, replaced his Terminal into his gear and carried it outside. He looked to Atticus and Daphne, the only two in the area, and inquired of them, "What happened? Where is everyone else?"

He was ready to assist in the hauling of gear, but a twinge of paranoia kept him feeling a little edgy. Much more of this, and he'd likely find himself falling back into the habit of claiming a chairleg as a bludgeon and/or sharpening a toothbrush before attempting to sleep whilst sitting upright in the corner of a concrete room. Such was the perception of his reality, half of the time.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Newhope

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---

Atticus eyed Daphne for a minute. Her pride showed no bounds it seemed. He could understand it taking a bit to get back to the ship considering what just went down but she shouldn't have been gone in the first place. She had responsibilities here. The ship was being sold, that was common knowledge. To just walk away and think that was fine showed just how irresponsible the woman was. He could accept that from perhaps a teenager but Daphne was twenty and six years. a full grown woman who was supposed to be a pilot for ship. Shaking his head a bit, he spoke "Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap." His tone was firm as he spoke to her, following her as she finally got to work.

"“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them," he added as he stood there and crossed his arms over his chest. "In other words it was a shit thing to leave the ship in the first place and let all of us do the work when you should have been here. Grow the fuck up," he said before turning and grabbing another crate. Hefting it up before he started to make his way out of the ship and back to the docks. Sure the preacher was full of vices and sins but he never left a job undone and others to carry the load for him.

Setting the box down he heard Harper speaking and sighed a bit. "Might want to ask Dorothy when she gets back, not sure if I am even allowed to say anything. All I do know is supposedly Dorothy left me in charge in her place while she went off with the barber," he said. He knew what happened but he wasn't about to say anything to the Alliance pilot without running it past Anisa first. "Oh well, lord never gives us more than we can handle." Rubbing the back of his neck a bit it popped before he continued. "Speaking of which, I need to go update her. Can you help Daphne with the remainder of the crates? There are only a couple left to be moved to the dock holding. Have you seen that ebony doctor?"

Jahosafat finished up the office and about ran smack dab into Anisa as he locked up the room. He gave her a quick run down of where he had cleared and where he hadn't. "Okay, heading down to the docks and then the buyer. Get it done and report to Dorothy," she said before she started to make her way down the hallway.

Over in the toy store the old man looked over to Fitz. "Why thank you lad, glad to see someone has some appreciation for it. Quite an old set it is," he said brightly, obviously very proud of the set. "Do you play? It has been ages since I have had a worthy opponent," he said as he motioned to the chair sitting to one side of the table it was displayed on. "Or are you in the market for something in particular?"

The alleyway in which Mei came up in was dirty but that was to be expected in these sort of town. The buildings were high, the alleyways narrow places to stuff unwanted goods and do horrid dealings. The main streets were cleaner but with that came crowds. Thankfully she had come out further north of the Docks than the rushing crowd she had caused. It was calm there and no one really seemed to be paying her much attention at that point. There was lines of stores and street venders, people walking this way and that. Out of the shops that seemed to have the easiest routes to go into were a dress shop, a toy store, a leather shop, and a book store. The rest seemed to be rather over crowded but they were tourist spots to sell trinkets and restaurants to feed the masses, so it was to be expected.

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Docks (Underground)

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Dorothy stood still as Foy stumbled a bit, watching him intently to see if he was in need of any aid. The man may have vexed her, but he was helping her and furthermore, he was her responsibility. Besides, if she had to treat him for a concussion it would waste precious time. She doubted that he would be a model patient as well, likely would insist on wearing a designer gown of some sort during any examinations. Giving her eyes a few moments to adjust to the comparatively dim lighting, she noticed as well that they were in a storm drain, spotting the bloody footprint when Foy pointed her attention towards it.

A sense of relief filled Dorothy. The eccentric man was worth his salt after all.

Taking a step forward after Foy had, her own gun drawn, her eyes widened as the man flailed about again. Fortunately, rather than twisting his ankle, he just put his foot into the water. It didn't seem to be much of a problem to Dorothy, until the man's prissiness struck her once more, as he was muttering about his shoes, mocking her earlier comment. And then, to Dorothy's horror, the man took off both his shoes and socks.

"You're practically beggin' to cut your foot and get a nasty infection like that," Dorothy sighed. She didn't understand this man. If the drain was too filthy for his clothing, why was it clean enough for his feet? "Borrow my socks, if you like. They might fit." But unless Foy consented to borrowing the pair of socks, Dorothy wouldn't remove her boots and hand them over. If she did, she'd use the wall for balance. She didn't much feel like sticking her bare feet in that "water" herself.

She would then continue to follow the man along the drain, keeping her eye out for any sudden movement or further bits of blood. Their time was limited and she really was looking forward to checking off all the tasks on her list. The more that got done, the better.

---

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Fitz Townsley

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Location: Town (Toy Store)

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Fitz smiled nervously at the man, happy to meet yet another kind stranger but scared witless at the same time. He was trapped in his own paradox: he wanted to meet people and to make friends, yet the very thought could almost paralyze him. The most obvious effect was in his constant stutter--around people he had known for ages, the stutter was almost gone. And with strangers, depending on the situation, it could make him almost unintelligible. But fortunately, the atmosphere of the store seemed to soothe his nerves, as long as he focused on one object at a time. Any more than that and a sort of panic claimed him, as there was just too much wonder to look at and not nearly enough time.

"Y-yes, I do. Th-though I doubt I'm very good at it," Fitz said weakly. As much as he loved playing games, that didn't always make him very good at them. He also didn't have much of a sense as to whether he actually would be a worthy opponent. He had mostly played his twin growing up, winning and losing about equally. He had played with some others at the University of Osiris, but those he knew there tended to go for games that allowed three or more players. One of those very same friends had made his bracelet, a twisted thing made of wires that he treasured dearly.

"B-b-but I'd love to play, if you don't mind," Fitz then added, worried that the man would get bored with him and move on. He pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and sat down, figuring that he might as well pass the time and play a game. This was what traveling was all about, right? Seeing new sights, meeting new people, hearing about the world outside of books and universities.

He could always peruse the games they had available for play after the game. And hopefully, provided he wasn't too rusty, it wouldn't be a very short one. Fitz hoped dearly that he'd be able to present some sort of a challenge for the kind old man.

[FantasyChic]

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Mei Qiáo

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Location: Newhope - Town

Mei looked around and was thankful she wasn't in a populated place. She could only imagine the chaos she would have caused should she have popped out in the middle of the road. She limped a bit into the crowd and looked around. She needed a place to lay low. One that wouldn't be too obvious and one that she could hide for a bit. It seemed most places were busy. A doctor would be too easy and too much to ask for at this point.

She noticed a few stores. She debated a bit on where exactly she should go. The toy store would probably have kids in there and they were rather loud and annoying. The leather store seemed decent enough. Perhaps they would have some spare things she could buy to help patch her leg up somewhat. The bookstore would be good for laying low, but not for getting tools. The dress shop may have some spare stuff as well.

She thought a bit, but had to make a choice. She made her way over to the dress shop and entered. She would find the nearest store clerk and ask, "Please, I've been injured. Do you have any spare items I could use to patch up my wound? I'm willing to pay."

[BlueSky44]

Daphne Pender

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Location: Docks

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"Yeah yeah, I got that already!" she said as she continued on with what she was doing. The preacher was really starting to get on her nerves, in more than one way. Why couldn't he just shut up about it, what mattered was that she was there now, so why couldn't he leave her alone. She still doesn't like the preacher, and just because her sister had put him in charge for a few minutes doesn't mean anything. She had to listen to him for now, but that didn't mean that she had to like it.

She hadn't really heard Harper until Atticus started talking to him. Daphne heard Atticus and him talking, and it made her even more curious about what had happened before she had shown up. She had seen her sister head off with Foy, but that was about it. Anything before that she had no idea about. She kept thinking about this as she continued to move crates, hoping that someone around here would be able to answer the question as to what the hell had happened. Clearly Atticus wasn't that guy, since he doesn't know if he is allowed to. Looks like she might have to wait until her sister returned to find out.

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope Docks (Underground)

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Foy hated when other people were right. But here she was, the First Officer of a ship-that-wasn't, being all logical. It irked him. But, as the thought hit him, the esteemed Mr. Coiffeur could not deny that she was, in fact, correct. And they would just waste time arguing about it. "Ah, contrarian fiddlesticks!" he exclaimed quietly, or at least as quietly as one could exclaim something, given that they were on the hunt. He sighed, and remembered his manners. While Foy was in only few situations a nice person, he endeavored in all situations to be a polite person. Sometimes he failed, but he was only human. Damnit.

"Forgive my outburst, I intended to exhibit frustration in myself purely. Of course, you are correct." Far from only speaking these words, the impressively moustached man was slipping a foot back into his remaining shoe on the ground next to him, and removing the sock from his head. He placed it onto his other foot, and with just a mild shudder, retrieved the wet sock from where it splatted upon the wall, twist-squeezed it a bit, and slipped it on over the first sock. Not the best, most charming look he'd ever sported, but it would assist somewhat in not casually impaling his foot on a bit of discarded machinery or shard of something. He'd just have to be a bit careful. "Being in a state of questionable dress is temporary when compared to a pustulated discharge and limp acquired by rash behavior. My gratitude, Doctor. Though I shan't require your socks."

Now, back to that blood splatter, and his best, most appropriate estimation concerning what he could from the pattern; speed, gait, and the most important bit - direction of their intended quarry.

---

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William Harper

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Location: Cargo (and just beyond)

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"Point of fact, Shepherd, I have seen the ebony doctor." remarked Harper in direct and even tones. "He is finishing up with his duties and should be reporting shortly." The straightlaced man did his best to ignore Atticus's unwillingness to share information about the location of the rest of the crew and the goings on of the last space of time. Just like in the Alliance, when there were things that were "above his pay grade" or on a "need to know basis". He didn't react, but inwardly chided himself, curious now as to what the huge difference was going to be between piloting an Alliance Black Ship as opposed to a Browncoat... well, Harper didn't know what kind of ship he was going to be at the helm of, really, but he did suspect he knew what crew he was going to be ferrying across the 'Verse.

He did, however, note a growing chunk of hypocrisy concerning the fact that he was expected to trust the Browncoats at the drop of a hat, but as a whole they were unwilling to extend the same courtesy. Survival tactic, he supposed. And moot - his new Captain knew most of the truth about him. He had no choice but to trust now.

"Be happy to help finish up, Shepherd. I came down here for that purpose." Harper hoisted a crate and grunted as he endeavored to get a better grip. "Can someone point me in the right direction? I don't think I was here for the first trip." Nevertheless, he stood ready to carry from Point A to Point B like a pro.

"Wait, isn't that the Barber's stuff over there, on the dolly?"

[Lady Absinthia]

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Newhope

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Atticus shot Daphne a look of fire and brimstone. "Lord give me patience for if you give me strength I'm going to snap her neck like a twig," he said under his breath. Letting out a short huff he looked back at Harper and gave half a smile, though it was easy to tell he was vexed. Patience was not one of is virtues right then. If that girl thought for one minute it didn't matter that she had abandoned the others while there was work to be done just because she was back at the tail end of it she knew nothing and had a lot more growing up to do than he originally thought.

"Right, okay yeah, we just need to move the rest of of our stuff over into those holding docks," he said pointing to the docks where the rest of the stuff had already been offloaded.

"Where the fuck is Dorothy?" Anisa bellowed as she came strolling over and her eyes darted about to see who was there and who wasn't.

Atticus rubbed his temples before taking another breath and held up a finger to Harper. He wanted to finish answering the mans questions but he wasn't about to ignore Anisa when she was bellowing. "We had, um, can we speak in private?" he said as he motioned for Anisa to step to the side with him.

"This had better be good..." she grunted as she stepped over with him. Atticus whispered a few things quietly and quickly. Ansia's face going tight with anger before nodding, her eyes darting to Daphne for a moment and narrowing before looking over to Harper and away again. When she returns remind her of her awaiting duties."

"Awaiting duties?" Atticus asked confused.

"She will know what you mean. I will be back within the hour, shot anyone who even begins to step out of line."

"I don't use guns Captain..."

"Then blow them the fuck up!" she snapped before turning on her heels and motioning for Harper to follow her. "Come on, I want my head pilot along for this purchase after all," she added as she kept walking towards the main area of the docks and swung south.

Atticus sighed a bit, guess he didn't need to answer about the barber chair after all. Rolling up his sleeves he glanced around hoping that Jahosafat would get down there soon to lend a hand but at least he was working from what Harper had stated before.

The old man smiled at Fitz and placed his feather dust into a holster on his hip. It looked like it used to hold a gun of some sort. Perhaps a relic of his younger days. Pulling out the chair he slowly sat down, the sound of his knees popping could be heard but he smiled nonetheless. "Oi, old age catches up with us all," he said as he looked over the pieces and turned the board around so that Fitz was white. "Guests first!" he said as he got as comfortable as his old bones would allow.

"So tell me what brings you to New Hope?" he asked. "Figured if you enjoy games and were from around here I would know your face already," he chuckled. "If I do know you, then my mind is far more gone than I thought and you shouldn't have a problem winning," he added with a light hearted laugh.

In the dress shop a lean woman with needle cushion affixed to her wrist looked up from her sewing to spot Mei as she came in. "Oh my, hun... yes, over here," she said quickly as she pushed back the curtain to the back room and moved several large spools of thread from a table. "Sit, sit," she said after dropping the spools on a stack of fabric. Rushing over to the front door she locked it tight and turned over the sign so it read closed.

The place seemed to be empty besides the two of them. It was odd, that no one was in there. The dresses that lined the walls and were on mannequins for display were all very beautiful and if one were able to take a closer look, they would be able to see that the needle work done on them was exquisite. Yet, the place was empty. The woman came over to Mei and offered her a shoulder to move to the back room and onto the table. "What happened?" she asked looking at Mei. She had a lot of things to ask but that was the first thing she was able to blurt out.

[FantasyChic]

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Mei Qiáo

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Location: Newhope - Town (Dress Shop)

Mei was thankful the woman was so helpful, but her guard remained up. You never knew where danger could lay. For all she knew, the woman was in on everything. However, she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. "You are very kind, thank you." Mei limped her way over to the seat as the woman closed her shop. Mei looked around and admired the fine handiwork of the dresses. She would wear some of them if the situation called for it. She had to wonder why this woman had no business despite the expert craftsmanship.

"I was in the Docks when someone shot me. It caused a commotion, I'm surprised you didn't hear anything. I only just managed to get away from them chasing me." It wasn't exactly a lie, except for omitting, but she was shot at the docks and did escape. She watched the woman and figured she had more questions. "I am sure they won't find me here if I stay low and I won't overstay my welcome. I would just like this fixed and then I'll be on my way."

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Docks (Underground)

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The outburst once again got Dorothy to raise her eyebrow at the man. She wasn't sure what she had expected from him, but it wasn't the usual chain of Chinese curses that were typically uttered among the crew. In fact, Dorothy couldn't recall ever hearing someone use that sort of expression. It reeked of Alliance elitism to her, but Foy was the only man around who could get this job done. Dorothy didn't want to think about what would happen if they failed to catch the spy. She didn't want to experience Anisa's wrath again that day.

"...Right," Dorothy said, not sure what she was exactly supposed to say to Foy in that situation. "Any telling how close we are? Be best if we aren't much longer, or Anisa will have both of our heads--whether you're a crew member or not."

She waited as patiently as she could for Foy to give her more information regarding which direction to go, though in the back of her head, a nagging sensation told her they were wasting time. Each second the went by was just another second for their quarry to get farther and farther ahead. If they didn't find the woman soon, Dorothy feared, they never would. She grimaced slightly, doubting for a moment whether or not she was really cut out to be Anisa's second.

But those thoughts weren't going to get them anywhere. She didn't have time to ponder what Jackson would have done or to feel guilty for not noticing the hidden woman in the first place. She stood just a pace behind Foy, ready to keep on following him through the storm drain for as long as it took--but hopefully, not too much longer...

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Fitz Townsley

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Location: Town (Toy Store)

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Fitz found the use of a gun holster for a feather duster a bit alarming at first, but then he supposed that could just be the way things are out here. He had spent pretty much his entire life in the Core, with this being his first trip to the Border Planets. He hadn't even began to dream of what things might be like out in the Rim. Of course, it crossed his mind briefly that perhaps the old man could've been a criminal back in the day, but he doubted it. He seemed so frail and kind, almost like Father Christmas.

"T-Traveling," Fitz replied, biting his lip as he surveyed the chess board. He moved the pawn blocking his bishop forward, his hands entirely steady. Some might have thought the lack of tremors in his hand uncharacteristic, but Fitz used his hands for his work. His social anxiety manifested itself almost entirely in his speech. "I-I've spent my entire life on Osiris...And I'm t-twenty nine years old. I want to see the 'Verse," Fitz finished, fiddling with the little friendship bracelet of wires a bit.

He then paused for a moment, realizing with embarrassment that he hadn't introduced himself to the old man or asked for his name in exchange. "M-my name's Fitz Townsley...Technically Dr. Townsley but you can just call me Fitz. A-And what's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope Docks (Underground)

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Foy was quite the vision in splendid bowler cap and charcoal suit as his pace increased. His scrutiny was clearly fixed upon he trail before him; the droplets of blood and pieces of footprint that indicated the passage of their slow-moving quarry. The farther they got, down in the irregular gloom of the storm drain, the more Foy took on the mannerisms of a lanky yet aristocratic hunting dog, becoming more alert and low to the ground quite like a long legged Picardy Shepherd. He would advance into the dark, the only evidence of his passing being the quiet tap-squish, tap-squish, tap-squish of his remaining Madison shoe and soaked double sock upon his noble and immaculately pedicured feet.

"Humidity, madame." he whispered to Dorothy, refusing to break stride. "Reduces the rate of sanguinous coagulation and evaporation; makes a discernible estimate tenuous. Likewise, oils dew to the surface and tracks become muddled. In short, I possess the necessary skills to follow our evasive stowaway, I however have not gleaned enough raw information to discern much more at this stage in our endeavors. He stopped, raising a hand to indicate something that had caught his attention. A finger point later, and Foy had taken off, down the right passage.

Ah yes, the Great Farradayan Stachehound had caught the scent of something slender and wounded, and in his excitement to pursue said prey, damn near ran headlong into a opening chamber that branched off into three separate paths. As fate would have it, his be-sock-ed foot slipped dangerously forward, drawing him into an unintentional fencer's lunge. His arms flailed, hips wobbled this way and that, as he attempted (for the sake of vanity as much as professionalism) to avoid falling headlong into the potentially gooey and occupied liquid below. The next few seconds found the thoroughly spastic looking Mr. Coiffeur whipping his limbs about him in a barely dignified fashion.

This time, he succeeded.

Gathering what remained of his dignity, Foy straightened his tie, checked his revolvers, and cleared his throat. He looked around at his surroundings, trying to get a handle on where to head off to next. Three options... Were he wounded, he would not want to risk further infection or simple nastiness by slogging through the muck and wet, sticking to the path he was on. But such intentions were not his to guess; they were for him to confirm. "Hmm, yes, well... I do not know about your proclivities, Doctor, but I must confess this is the first three-way into which I've found myself ensconced since leaving Farraday last. Ho hooooo..." He laughed, but did immediately get back to the task at hand: Selecting a path.

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William Harper

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Location: Cargo (and just beyond)

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Well, a good pilot follows orders, and Anisa was his new Captain. So it made perfect sense that, as soon as she beckoned, Harper's sense of military protocol kicked in. He set down what he was holding inside of the hold, brought his feet together and spun to face her. She seemed a touch unstable, this Captain Crowe, although the observation seemed a touch hypocritical coming from him. Nonetheless, this was his journey, she hers was the train to which Harper had hitched his wagon. Time to see where it all led.

"Aye, Captain." he reaponded, following in step behind her and to her right. "Ah, ma'am? Status of the Retribution's system - we're clean. Wiped multiple times and reformatted. Anything that might be of use is in a throwaway device, available for your perusal at leisure." He cleared his throat, still keeping step behind Anisa. "Dr. Moreau is handling the physical sanitation of the rooms to the best of my knowledge."

He wasn't going to say anything about it, but he was really looking forward to being present for selecting their new vessel. He had a few good ones in mind, with a ratio of upkeep cost vs. performance. If the proper models were available for purchase, anyway. All he could do now was follow, act as his Captain's consultant when asked (or if something obvious came up), and see what was available from the seller. Though a good, refitted Medical ship, Corsair, or a smaller version of their recently vacated Patrol vessel was ideal, in his mind.