The capture of BPA finest, Superintendant Hone. Now in Chains! Again...

[Exterminator]

The badly damaged Barghest bomber flew through the hanger doors of Coin
and landed on the landing pad.

Jumping down from his almost wrecked ship,
Jim Carter walked around to the cargo section and slapped the control panel.
The cargo door sprang up and a escape pod dropped out, landing on the hanger floor.

Carter gave the pod a kick, hearing a satisfifying 'Uff!" from inside.
Looking up and spotting movement he waited by the pad as a figure approached from one of the other berths,
behind the man a dented and wreck hull of a cruiser was being patched up by a repair team.

"Mor'n" said Carter,
"Nice te see ye Charles, as ye can see I picked up a bobby from te defence of Coin. Ye can take care of him.'
Giving the pod another kicked he jumped back as the hatch popped open and a coughing officer
grabbed the edge of the pod and heaved himself over, falling to the floor.
"There ye go Charles, he's all yours. If 'es worth anything I'll be want'n a reward!"

---

Join the Corsair Brotherhood / [TBH]

[Hone]

The light was a fickle thing, coming and going without consideration. As was sound, which wooshed as though he were lying by the seaside of his youth, rather than facedown on a cold, hard, merciless deck. Dimly, down the tunnel to consciousness he made out faces and voices, moving above him, before both light and sound, departed for a final time.

---

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[Marcus]

Charles dismissed Carter and walked over to the prone officer. Bending down he pushed the man over onto his back, looking for any identifying marks. Searching he pulled out the mans badge, brushing off the marks on it to make out the name.

"Superintendent Hone are ye...? So it was ye that were commanding the Overwatch. Which means that..."

He slammed a fist in.

"...you wrecked my ship."

He stood up and motioned the two guards next to him to pick up Hone and began to walk back in the direction he came. He sighed and looked up at the wrecked hull of the Revolution, Charles' flagship cruiser, noting several jagged scars alongside the dorsal plates spanning a few decks each. He's barely been able to avoid complete destruction as his ship had lost power, drifting, as the Bretonian destroyer Overwatch had mercilessly tore into the hull while he desperately attempted to avoid fire. I was sheer fortune that the rest of the Molly task force had managed to draw fire away from him and win the battle.
He trudged up the gangway into the ship, the guards dragging Hone between them, and walked towards the brig dodging repair crews. The forward section containing most of the facilities had remained fairly intact where the engine section had shielded it more the worst of the fire.

---

[Hone]

"Uuuuggghhhh..."

Hone awoke to a splitting headache, and a just split lip, in a spartan grey room. A room that looked somehow - despite the fact that he was sure he'd never seen it before in his life - familiar, eerily familiar...

"Oh god no..." He groaned, dropping his head into his hands, "NOT AGAIN!" Hurling himself at the door, he yelled at top of his lungs, before slumping back down on to the bed in defeat. As the unmoved door demonstrated; he was back in a cell.

"Goddammit not again..."

---

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[Marcus]

Charles lounged back in his office, eyes closed, attempting to make as past few days hadn't happened. Issuing repair orders, paperwork and answering messages, there was always someone wanting something from him. He sighed and reached out for the next piece of paper. Prisoner report, damn, he'd managed to forget about his ship for a few precious moments there, and the man responsible is probably just sitting back with room service without a piece of paper in sight. Charles drummed his fingers on the desk. Well, if he was miserable then he might as well make sure that bastard shares in it. He tapped at the comms to the Revolution's brig

"Warden, make sure our captive tis properly shackled. And...tis not right te 'ave him pacing te floor with noth'n te do, hang 'im up by his feet te the ceilling aye? But we ain't barbarians 'ere te leave him with no idea of whether tis night or day so put a clock in 'is room, one with a tick, a loud tick.....but 'ave te timer facing te wall, can't give a prisoner ever'hing."

He flicked the comms off and leaned back again, it wasn't much, but it was a start.

---

[Hone]

As the Molly Gaoler stepped into the room, Hone looked up from the Bed dejectedly;
"Oh Hello," he muttered, "What is it you want then?"

Expecting to be questioned or to be dragged before their boss, he was surprised when two more Mollys burst through the door equipped with an assortment of hooks, chains, ropes, - and what bizarrely seemed to be a large egg timer - and started trying to wrestle him to the ground.
The pool of Rage, Humiliation and Resentment inside him, that had been building at the prospect of a SECOND capture, broke upon the Indignity of being treated in such a way! With a sudden roar, he kicked out against the Man behind him, then headbutted the one in front, bursting his nose in a crimson flash! Flailing his shoulders as though rugby scrumming, in attempt to keep his enraged pursuer off his back, he grabbed the bloody-faced, reeling man in front of him by the ears, and bore him to the ground, sinking his teeth into his jugular and trying to tear the life right out of him!

As the screaming terrorist's friends descended on the Blood Maddened police officer, in a grotesque reversal of a Leeds friday night street fight, and a steel toe-capped boot obliterated a third of his universe; Hone didn't expect to win, but he determined to fight to the end, damage them as much as he could, and at the very least, ensure they wouldn't take him conscious.

---

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[Marcus]

The Gaoler stood stunned as the demonic madmen rolled around the floor with one of the guards. Pulling himself together he grabbed at his jerry rigged taser, effectively a short stick wrapped in wires connected to batteries, swearing as it got caught in the lining of his pocket. Running forwards he wrench it free, flipping on the taser causing, sparks to zap between the wires, and in a single two handed movement brought it down on the struggling pair. There was a brief flash as electricity caged the pair before the taser shorted with a puff of smoke. Panting the Gaoler motioned to the first guard, who was pulling himself up and wheezing heavily;

"Are ye daft letting 'im get ye like that? Pull yeself te'gether man and grab'm! String 'im up quick before 'e comes to. And....not a word te the boss 'bout this, we'll never 'ear the end of it if 'his gets out."

As the first guard finished chaining up Hone, the Gaoler walked to the comm panel, taking a moment to compose himself, and pressed the button.

"All done boss, no trouble at all, 'e went up like a lamb."

---

[Hone]

Drip




Drip




Drip




Blood.

It was the first thing Hone was aware of as he groggily stumbled back to consciousness. Blood running down his face, blood pooling in his eyes, and nose and mouth. Blood dripping from his caked and spiked hair. Dripping, pooling, on the floor.



Drip




Drip




Drip





He had no idea how long he hung there, drifting in the waking dream of half-consciousness, but eventually, the blood rushing to his head, and out of his body, overwhelmed him, and he lost himself again in the darkness.

---

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[Marcus]

The Gaoler walked into the cell, three guards flanking him, tapping his repaired taser absentmindedly and looked up at the hanging officer and chuckled.

"I hope ye sleeped peacefully laddie, since ye gonna need it. Grab'm him lads"

The other guards surged forwards and pulled him down, tieing his hands behind his back and pulling a hood over his head. Then pushing Hone along in front of them they march him out of the cells and along a set of corridors. Walking down the gangway from the Revolution, still under repairs in the hanger. They exited the hanger, navigating a maze of corridors until they approach one of the many large rooms that made up the stretching megalith station of Gravagh. As they neared cheering and banging could be heard from the other side of a pair of double doors.

"Here we are lad, lets see 'ow ye tricks work in 'ere"

Opening the doors the sound roared over them, ripping off the hood he pushed Hone out into the blinding light and, laughing, he slammed the door closed behind him.

---

[Hone]

Hone stumbled into the blinding light, losing his footing,
and receiving;
A fist to the face.
The blow rocked him by surprise, and snapped his head back and up, directly into the glare of the 3 powerful shiplights, trained onto whatever hell hole he had been thrown into. Screaming, he staggered back, clutching a hand over his burning eyes, as he heard his mysterious assailant give a great heave, and felt two feet firmly embed themselves in his chest, propelling him flying backwards through the air, to slam into the wall behind him.

Dazed and slumped down against the wall and floor, Superintendent Nathan squinted through his fingers, to see a burly bearded man with swarthy skin, approaching him, presumably his erstwhile attacker. Belatedly, he tried to scramble to his feet, but before either of them could achieve their goals, a great deluge of stinking water dropped from above, choking everyone in the pit, and knocking them to the ground.

"ALRIGHT DOGS" an amplified voice blasted from above, "NOW THAT YE ALL ERE, STOP YE FIGHTIN SO AS WE CAN MAKE T INTRODUCTIONS!"

Looking around now as he climbed to his feet again, Hone could see that he and the madman were not the only residents of this foul pit, which seemed to consist of a circular hole about 50 meters in diameter and 10 meters deep. Around the top, there seemed to be a crude attempt at a thigh high Electric Fence, so crude that he could see blue sparks and flashes shorting between the wires. Somehow, he doubted it's lack of finesse would matter much when it was turning his bones to charcoal.

"WELCOME, TO THE SHAFT!" The voice screamed out again, "YEV ALL BEEN BROUGHT ERE COS YE ENEMIES O T MOLLYS AS AV SHOWN A BIT O FIGHT"

Hone glanced around the "Shaft" at his fellow residents, while some, such as the man who had ambushed him earlier, - and who was now roaring and beating the wall below where he seemed to think the voice was coming from - certainly seemed to be up for a fight, others of the scrawny beggers looked like pathetic specimens who wouldn't know a punch if it hit them in the face, and it probably had, from the looks of them. One man with bushy blond hair tangled into several dirty mats was rocking himself in the fetal position, moaning softly in the corner. Another two who looked barely older than boys, each wearing stained white overalls, were cowering in another corner, clutching each other, and visibly trembling.

"WELL YE LIKE TE FIGH SO MUCH, NOW YE GON GE ALL T FIGHTIN YE WAN, YE LUCKY LIL LADDIES!" The voice continued, "LAS MAN STANDIN WINS, PUT ON A GOO SHOW, OR WE'LL REKON YE GETTIN TIRED, AN THROW A FEW MOLOTOV COCKTAILS IN THERE TE REFRESH YE!"

The huge roar from the crowd surrounding the Shaft, that accompanied the Voice's declaration, evidently signaled the beginning of the fight, as Hone shook his head clear of it's fog, and snapped round to check on Madman.

---

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