Anisa screwed the cigarette between her lips and gave a curt single shake of her head.
"No, a message won't do. I need to call. This is personal and I will be damned if I give the Brunhilde Bitch even more reason to be pissed," she said as she walked over and took a seat. Pulling the smoke from her lips she held it between two fingers as she hit the message record.
"Vinters, it's Crowe. It's about Thumper," she said into the monitor before sending out the wave. She said no more but she knew it would be forwarded to the woman. Now she just needed to wait. Hopefully it wouldn't take long.
Bridgette was awake now. Oh yes, she was awake.
"What in Odin's Cornrowed Nutsack is it, Cyril?" The exasperation in her face was as evident as her confusion. Cyril didn't usually pull this kind of a stunt first thing in the morning. Not unless he was hungry. Or he saw a squirrel. Or he forgot the code to the Cortex Terminal.
~beep beep~Okay, this was
exactly the kind of thing he might do. Bridgette fought hard to swallow her rising anger back down. Her little brother was a good guy, just a little damaged. But damn, she wanted to sleep more. It wasn't until she took a breath and blew the hair out of her eyes that she noticed a quiet beeping noise emanating from her pack nearby.
~beep beep~ Stopping, Cyril looked over to Bridgette and grinned brightly as his lips rolled in.
"Jericho wanted a thong," he said innocently, his lisp heavy as he spoke in the voice of a child. Raising his hand, there was a gray sock on it, buttons sewn in as eyes.
~beep beep~It was
Jericho. Moving his hand, the puppet spoke.
"That's right bitch, I wanted a song, gotta problem with it?" The voice that came out of Cyrils lips for Jericho as the puppet open and closed its mouth on Cyrils hand was deep, baritone, and nearly evil sounding.
~beep beep~ The deeper voice from Cyril was met with the extension of Bridgette's middle finger. She hated speaking to and/or with that fucking puppet, especially first thing in the morning. With a voice that begged for coffee, the surly blonde addressed Cyril,
"Yeah. Thanks for that." No problem. She had something pressing to deal with at the moment anyway.
~beep beep~ "Answer the phone cunt." Bridgette sleepily recovered her device from her pink, neko kitty travel pack. She tapped in the unlock code and checked her alerts. Someone had left her a message. It wasn't but a few seconds of video, but she knew the lady who sent it. It had been a while.
"Thumper? Oh..." It had been a while.
"Clam up, Cyril. I have to open a channel." Cyril got up off the flood and clamored over to Bridgette, leaning over her and sticking his face near the screen.
"Oooo, pretty lady." "Yeah, pretty lady." agreed Bridgette, an understanding tone to her voice that was developed fairly recently.
"I did some business with her people a while back. You know how this works: I talk shop, you stay quiet, and I introduce you to them later." She nodded knowingly, adding,
"Hey, how about you get your stuff together while I answer this, huh? Then we can go get some breakfast." "Can I have a fluffernutter thandwich?" Cyril asked as he turned his head to look at his sister, his eyes growing wide with excited anticipation.
"Sure, Cyril." she answered, slipping on an agreeable smile.
"Just be quiet while I do this. Okay?" Cyril was giddy, giving his sister a big hug over the shoulder and kiss on the cheek before darting off. Rushing over to his trunk and getting all the fixings he needed to make the most awesome sandwich in the 'Verse - The Fluffernutter!
Bridgette sighed and shook her head. He was a handful, no doubt about it. But most of the time he meant well. Cyril was just a kid in many ways, and he came with his own unique set of challenges. Fortunately, with baby brother busy, she could answer the wave. She knew Anisa well enough to know that she didn't have to get all dolled up to receive a transmission from her, even if it was business. She did take the time to brush her hair fully out of her face before tapping "Accept", and opening conversation.
"Dear and shiny fuck, Anisa. It's been a while." She noticed that the video quality was unusually clear for a wave, but decided to bring that up after she found out the nature of the discussion.
"How's biz?" Cyril crossed his legs and sat down indianstyle, a spoonful of marshmallow fluff in his mouth as he unscrewed the lid to the peanut butter. Jericho was still on his hand, the one holding the spoon, so at least the foulmouthed little bastard was quiet right then and not causing a ruckus.
"Alive and not arrested, so as well as can be expected but that's not why I am contacting you. Thumper has you down as his emergency contact," Anisa said not wanting to beat around the bush. She had dealt with Bridgette before and the woman wasn't for shallow flattery and small talk from what she had seen.
"Preachers dead." Bridgette was with Anisa for the first sentence. She did appreciate the fact that Anisa got down to business on the quick; it saved everybody time and effort. The nature of the conversation threw her no short amount of confusion, however.
"Shame about Preacher. Really. Good man. No one can throw a bible or pound shitty booze like him, but um... if you can give me a sec to process? Why in the imprecise and unruly fuck am I his emergency contact? He doesn't have a family someplace? A fucking church? Anisa simply nodded and leaned back in her seat. Her eyes cast sideways towards Harper for a moment as she waited for Bridgette to
process the situation. Cyril in the meantime still had the spoon in his mouth, but his hands this time were smushing the sandwich together before he spit the spoon out on the plate.
"Bridgette you want one?" he asked, completely unaware of what was going on.
As professionally as she could, Bridgette bid Anisa a quick,
"Excuse me." and looked to Cyril.
No thank you, Cyril. Remember, I'm on a wave right now? We'll talk after." It was day and night compared to how she was with almost everyone else.
"Mmmkaymmm," Cyril said with a mouthful as he nodded his head in understanding. That changed when she returned to the conversation at hand.
"Alright, alright... What the ass do you need from me? Secure his body? Sell off his shit? Do gorram uncomfortable things to the suicidal fuckwit that killed him? Something involving the words 'hydrogen torch' and 'rectum' maybe? Huh?" Meanwhile, Harper returned Anisa's sideways look, now amazingly curious about the people who regularly did business with his new Captain.
Anisa smirked a bit as she took a pull from her half burned away cigarette before looking back at Bridgette.
"I'll take options A and B. Don't know about C yet. Autopsy is pending on cause of death." Tapping the cigarette on the ashtray she locked eyes with Bridgette.
"And to hire your ass." The vulgar lady took a mental step back. Securing a body, that was easy. Dealing with his effects, same. But now the question of hiring her on? She reviewed her finances, what little she had on standby. She and Cyril were running low on funds, and they had finished their last gig doing some simple, short-term farrier duties. They needed to find work anyway, and with someone who would understand her situation with Cyril. She couldn't effect a big change without him now. Not for a while yet.
"If you're hiring me, you might be expecting shit from some very bad people. I fucking adore you for being straight with me like this, so I'll return the favor." She looked up to make sure that Cyril was doing okay, which he was as he was sitting there with a mouth full of Flutternutter while watching Miss Sally, then settled back into the conversation,
"First, Shepherd's been a part of your crew for a long time. I'm taking his spot, so I want his share. That work?" Anisa let out a breath of smoke and leaned forward some in her seat. First meant there was a second.
"Depends. Drop the other shoe woman." She had to hear the other half before she gave an answer.
"Yeah. Here's that other shoe... I have a brother, okay? Big guy, sweetheart, fucking powerful. Champion level boxer - our dad trained him right." Bridgette sighed. She lowered her voice,
"Got some head trauma, like, bad. 'Should have died' kind of bad, okay? Fucking docs just weren't good enough to put him back..." She paused to clear her throat,
"He's slow. When the fighting starts, he's a gorram juggernaut, but mostly he's like a kid. He listens to me. He's my family. And we're a package deal. Half share for him?" "Thith ith the betht Mith Thally epithode ever." The puppet looked at Bridgette and then back at Cyril.
"Its always the best Miss Sally ever." Bridgette arched an eyebrow in his direction, then quickly fixed her attention back to Anisa on her terminal.
Leaning back in her seat Anisa flicked the cigarette, knocking some of the ashes off in the small bowl by the screen. That was an interesting turn of events. Two for the price of 1 and a half. She doubted Bridgette was pulling her leg, but still thinking of Bridgette as the loving motherly type to her kid brother was a bit of an out of left field thing. Taking another drag from the cigarette before snuffing it out she sat up straight.
"Preachers share for you, six months test for the brother. He works out then he gets half share. Until then, consider his food and bunk his pay." "His own bunk?" Bridgette asked cautiously.
Blowing the smoke out she nodded as she dropped the cigarette into the tray.
"Yeah. His own bunk." A smile played across Bridgette's face, widening into a grin that was, in a word, unsettling. Quiet, bubbling laughter began, which she tried to stifle with marginal success. The fact that Anisa wanted her on board and was willing to give someone she hadn't met a
six month trial, meant that this wasn't just for a job or two, but as a permanent member of her crew. Even if it didn't work out, six months in the Black with Anisa's people was hardly a waste of time. She had a reputation of getting the job done, whatever it was.
"Oh, you've got yourself a deal, lady." Indeed she did.
"Now, I cant help but notice that your signal is clear as hell, so you must be in the Georgia system somewhere. We need to meet up a-fucking-sap." "Newhope. So, do I funeral Thumper or pick you up so you can to do it?" in the background Cyril had finished his show and was rummaging through his trunk, one hand out as Jericho kept looking around. Thankfully this was out of sight of the camera so Anisa had no idea what she was getting herself into.
"Look, um... full disclosure here? I don't have a fucking clue why I'm his emergency contact. Not a fucking clue. You guys know him better than I ever did. I'll try to get to you as soon as I can for the funeral - good news is that I'm on Newhope, too. Found lodging near some seedy tourist stop called "Lady Luck", might as well advertise the watered-down booze and two-for-one backalley abortions. You know, the kind of spot that should give away STD meds just for walking in the door?" Anisa snorted slightly as a grin came to her lips.
"Yeah, I know the place," she said without going into detail about Atticus getting kicked out of a prostitutes bed the day before or her pointing a gun at her former pilot.
Harper remained silent for the whole of the talk so far, trying hard not to let his face show much while listening to the most intensely nonstandard business negotiation he had ever been party to, ever. The occasional glance to Anisa led him to believe that the woman was legitimate, but he still felt it best to keep quiet.
"Thith ith the thong that doethn't end, it jutht goeth on and on my friend, thome people tharted thining it not knowing what ith wath and they'll continue thinging it forever jutht becauthe thith ith the thong..." Cyril began in again, this time spinning around on his rearend on the floor.
Bridgette picked up a paper wrapper from off her nightstand, wadded it, and tossed it at Cyril. Jericho turned quickly and eyed Bridgette as Cyril kept singing. She pointed at her terminal, indicating that she was still talking to someone. But it was time to call it quits until they got to their new job anyway, so she attempted to wrap it up right then.
"Hey! We have terms! Message over your ship and docking info, we'll be along in an hour or so. Okay, fucking brilliant. One more thing - that quiet piece of twatcandy you got sitting with you? He part of the contract?" She was giggling in a way that seemed half predatory and half joking.
Anisa nodded and stood up, leaning over slightly as she looked into the console.
"Yeah, he's part of a contract. Mine," she said with a smirk.
"See you in an hour." With that she cut connection and finally let out a bit of a laugh. Looking over at Harper the smirk remained.
"Be glad we don't have communal showers for upper deck bunks, otherwise you might end up being Berthas bitch."
Jahosafat Moreau
Location: Prometheus:
Lower Deck: Medical (6)Skills: Medical, Social Sciences(Psych), Life Sciences (Bio), Investigate
Jahosafat stood there and looked over to Dorothy, giving her a nod.
"It would be an honor Doctor," he said in a kind voice. He could understand not wanting to perform an autopsy on someone one knew. If it had been his ivory brother from another mother he knew he would be on the other side of the operating table taking notes instead of making incisions. It was just how things were. It wasn't always this good. Death was never good but much of the time in situations like this, there was only one doctor on hand to be able to perform such things. This was a rare opportunity there where two doctors on hand.
Picking up the scalpel, Dr. Moreau made the first cut. Stating what he was doing as he went, he cracked open the chest and used the rib spreaders to give himself room to move. He started with the lungs and then moved on to the heart. The minutes ticked by and the lungs showed no sign of issue yet when he got to the heart it was obviously enlarged, even to the naked eye. Removing it, he weighed it and rattled off the weight in grams before placing it down and starting to cut into it. It didn't take long to find the cause of death.
It wasn't anything nefarious. There was no foul play. The man had had a heart attack. A widow maker. It was as simple as that. Life style and perhaps some genetics has factored together to drop the Preacher and make him meet his maker. It was both a relief and saddening. A relief simply because they didn't have to be afraid that someone had killed him but sad because he did it to himself. the way he ate, drank, it aged him far faster than if he had lived differently. Yet there were worse ways to go. This was quick, clean.
"Please inform the Captain of our results. Do you know if the man had a will?" he asked simply. He didn't want to prepare the body if it was against the Preachers final wishes. Hopefully a will would answer some questions. Dorothy would know he had one. Anisa had all the crew of long term standing do one so she knew what to do in times like these.
