"Alright, I think we've waited long enough. I'll begin." Lark stated with a smile making his way to the center of the group. At first he wore a pensive expression as if trying to solve a problem, but only for a moment until it dissolved into a more satisfied look.
"Well I want you all to know I’m not a dupe and I won't lead you astray. I'm gonna give it to you straight because that's the kind of Captain I am. You've all shown you'll volunteer to be a crew member of the Gale but that comes with some obligations. You see in acting in accordance with the wishes of the State we may have to step outside the law to act for the greater good of all." Lark wasn’t sure if he was mumbling and getting his point across, or if the group was even following him at all.
"Again, I'll bring it back to saying that I’m honest and let you know that before we can proceed on this mission we have a hurdle we must overcome. In doing so, it will require some creativity and a little foray outside of the realm of legality. If you catch my drift?" Lark started to pace around the straw laden shed keeping eye contact in order to show his sincerity and to catch how all reacted to his words.
"The Gale, is missing some key components in order to maintain its defenses to complete the mission we have placed before us. We are missing cylinder gun rounds of a particular make that are extremely rare. Well to be honest they originate from only one location; the privateer vessel the HS Indomitable to be exact." To this Lark scanned the crowd to catch the reactions for surely a heavily armed ship of war would stir deep emotions of which fear would be the most common.
"We need both shot and shell from the Indomitable and you see if we don't get it we'll be flying to our destination without any firepower. A great beacon for blood thirsty sky pirates or any other scourge along the way."
"Alas, I want to put you all at ease." Lark said as he adjusted his jacket trying to close the double breasted front flap only to have another worn button pop off. "I know a way for us to acquire the shot with out any fisticuffs or shots fired. "
"Get your equipment ready, we'll be moving out to the docks at midnight. Grumbald will stay here with the boy and the contraption and we'll collect the ammunition. Oh, and by the way try not to wear anything too colorful, preferably black." Lark said as he clapped his hands together greedily. "Make haste."
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Lark's former wrencher McCree stopped on the dark street corner to adjust his belongings. He was on his way to the west dregs carrying his belongs. There he hoped to pawn them all off and possibly get a job as a bosin's mate on a privateer sea faring ship. He didn't want to mingle anymore in these parts for the dregs at night were exceptionally dangerous. After a couple of minutes and some hasty adjustments to his cart and sacks he began to push off again down the deserted cobblestone streets. The street torches had all burn out as no night watch ever patrolled these parts and McCree wasn't accustomed to the dark. He rounded a street corner and ran smack dab into a body of men.
At first McCree recognized them as aeros by their woolen and leather jackets. Perhaps he'd stumbled into a group of friends. McCree noticed something vaguely familiar about one of the figures in the dark. Then one of the members brought forth a torch and McCree was forced to lift his arm to block the incandescence burning into his eyes. Although for a brief instance McCree could not see the strangers something made his cackles raise and his knees buckle. It was a evil sound that permeated the air which trigger a feeling in McCree of hopeless recognition. Although, no words were carried with this sound for it was laughter. The sinister laughter of a sadist who has cornered his prey. This laughter was from none other than Parth Sinder the malevolent aero captain.
"What have we here boys?" Parth's words slithered through his teeth. "Appears to be Lark's little knuckle dragger. "
A smile from ear to ear like the smile of hyena who had found a wounded gazelle crossed the face of Parth. "So, skipping town? Figured a loyal servant like you'd want to keep flying with that fool Ornnen. See, I had you pegged as one of those honorable and faithful types. Perhaps I was wrong." Parth said as he began to circle McCree. The assembly of crewmen began to do likewise.
"Please, don't hurt me. I've got kids and a family. I'm done with Lark. He's led all of us in his last fool's errand. We've all deserted. To hell with him." McCree pleaded craning his neck to follow Parth as he now approached him from the rear.
"Aww, gentlemen do you hear that. To hell with Lark Ornnen. That's the spirit. We'll if only that's how you felt right before he did this." Parth thrust his heinous scarred and pitted face into the light which happened to be a mere inch from McCree's face.
"I didn't have anything to do with that. I'm just a wrencher not an officer. It's Lark's doing; him and that little half man. They're the ones you want. " McCree pleaded the urge to vacate his bowels growing every second the pitted face of the mirthful man lingered.
"Well, perhaps we can make a deal then, WRENCHER." Parth stated as he pulled a large monkey wrench from the McCree's cart. He began to rhythmically slap it into his opposing open palm as he starred McCree down. "Tell me where Lark is now and perhaps you'll still be able to turn one of these."
"Fine... Fine... Fine alright. Lark's at the Aerodrome. Last I saw he was making preparations to leave. Said he had a new mission. Something big. He begged me to stay. I knew better. I knew he had too many types like you after 'em." McCree told him everything he knew. A small light of hope burned in him that perhaps telling Parth as much as he could would save him any ill will. "They're at the drome and it's only Lark and that fool Grumbald. The rest of the boys left like me. "
"Oh, alone?" Parth said as he lifted McCree's chin with the cold iron wrench. Parth thought about what McCree said about a new mission. The Legislator, but why had he chose Lark. Parth thought quickly for he knew that any attempt to kill Lark would surely bring retribution toward him as the most likely culprit. Parth realized that only an accident would clear his slate. He smiled. Perhaps an exploded boiler as Lark and Grumbald prepare their ship to leave on this mission. Although, there would be one loose end. He turned with a smile toward McCree.
"Your free to go. Surely, you're no longer a member of the crew and no longer a target of my wrath. Go as you please." Parth waved his hand sardonically in the opposite direction.
McCree was elated, he quickly gathered his sacks and turned to go, but as he lifted his cart to proceed Parth nodded to several of his crewmen. McCree didn't see the blow that knocked him unconscious or the coup de grace blow of an iron wrench to his frontal lobe. McCree's body lay motionless as it hemorrhaged blood into the dirty street. Parth's crewmen finally loaded the body into McCree's cart and carted it off to be disposed in one of the nearby pig stalls were no one would be able to identify the eviscerated and masticated remains.
Parth stroked his scarred and calloused chin as he became giddy with the joy of vengeance. The time was nearing midnight. If his crew left now they'd be at the aerodrome with the short arm of the clock just barely passed one. Parth would have his revenge and oh how sweet it would be. He'd make sure to flay Lark and Grumbald alive and then set a charge on the boiler as it sat it hanger at full steam.
Yes, Parth thought as he looked at the rising red moon, a blood moon, a moon which shown with a foreboding light across Mistvald and the dregs. Far off in the night a scream of woman could be heard, and even farther the report of a pistol as a mugger killed his prey. A blood red tint blanketed the bleak dregs and further made the blood rise in Parth's heart. He licked his lips with an air of joy aware that tonight he would satiate his need for vengeance once and for all.
