LR/TBH Trading Summit

[Guest]

Sylpheeds office was as dark as usual, only what seemed a very old blood stain which soaked the man's desk lightened up the mood, back when the Phantom had visited Mort, asking for a ship, offering human organs in return.


Mort never had bothered o clean up the mess it seemed. As they had walked to the chambers, the two Corsairs were exposed to some particulary interesting sights, like a room which held over half a hundred people behind rusted bars, probably slaves, which waited their next ship for a deluxe trip to Malta.


Another room had two young boys in seperate sides of the room, holding switchblades at eachother, Mort had mentioned something about them being best friends, now needing to choose who will live to be a Rogue and who will die.


The surroundings were harsh indeed, even the room they were now in reeked of death and one could feel it wasn't like that, before Sylpheed had departed.


The man didn't bother to sit down on a chair, instead he slumped against the wall and shook his head at the mention of he clothing. "Pop's always said clothes are needed only to be taken off...with one's teeth, slowly, that is..." He sneered again and shook his head.


"Formalities aside, I think this is going to be an odd meeting, considering we do not usually get your people here...the Outcasts down in the bar might not like what they see either, so we had your ships hidden. As much as Hidden can be." he then looked up at Juan, this time his face completely serious "You do realize I cannot gurantee your safety here, you know...not from the Outcasts or the Junkers who do not like you. My Rogues don't really care, 40$ says one is trying to nick something golden off your ship by now, but that won't be a problem, I know almost everything that goes around." He added after a moment, before looking at the woman who had brought them some water.


Soon after she left, another one came in with a smile on her face, her clothes shredded and stained with oil as well, a mechanic, her both legs seemed to be metallic by nature, in her hand was a sidearm, pure black, yet it did not shine. "Oi...Mortimer...I got yer gun fixed up, it should work perfectly now." She said and threw him the object which he swiftly caught and before the corsairs could blink, a shot was fired straight into the woman's chest, ripping away some of the rags, unraveling the armored vest beneath. Soon after she got up from the floor, looking shocked, Mort handed the gun back, grinning.


"Still alive eh...well then it means you did a lousy job, increase the energy output."

He shook his head as she left, it was hard to find a good mechanic and weaponmaster these days.


"The place is not usually this busy, my guests. Must be patrolling time in New York, so most of the forces are recalled back to base and badlands."