Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Kieran laughed as Colin suggested Sam would kick his ass up and down Trafalgar Square before nudging the military man with his hip to make him scoot over in bed so he could get comfortable. "Nah she wouldn't, mate," he insisted, stretching and resting his arm only just above Colin's head on a ledge of the headboard. The pirate felt detached from himself as the part of his brain he kept squashed and hidden away from himself watched the way his fingers easily curled and gripped parts of the headboard. He could imagine curling his fingers around the scrollwork and using it as leverage as he--

"...Don't try to claim she wouldn't," Colin continued, pointing at Kieran, "I've seen her in a fight."

"She wouldn't," the 'dark Adonis' explained calmly, "because that would require me to be in England voluntarily, something I'd never do. Honestly mate I'm hurt, I thought we knew each other better." He pouted playfully at him.

"So, not Sam?"

Kieran's heart pounded so heart he thought it was a wonder Colin couldn't see it move his skin. "No, my tastes are a bit more...Rare." He tilted his head to look over his shoulder at Captain Drake.

He wanted to die. If the Fenian could have just died right then and there that would have been fine by him. This was awful. He had opened Pandora's box, at least within his own mind, and all the woes of the world had turned out to be social awkwardness and enough anxiety to make his heart explode. The stupid Englishman pursued his line of questioning and Kieran was forced to shrug coolly, outwardly nothing but calm and casual as he always was.

"Wasn't really talkin' 'bout skin," he answered casually, his fingers gripping the scrollwork of the headboard so hard his knuckles hurt and he feared he might accidentally break it. "Seems a bit shallow to me, really. I mean Yasmine was definitely pretty, an' so's Madame and she's got sommat in her that ain't exactly lily white...but white's nice too."

Dear God! one part of Kieran's brain shrieked. Pull up! Pull up! I know some pulling I could-- No, shut up! Go away! You're not real! The pirate felt as though he was losing his mind.
 
There was something very pleasant about having Kieran stretch out in the bed next to him. Something about the gentle way his weight made the mattress shift, perhaps. "Skin is nice," he agreed absently, watching the shadows play on the pirate's chest. "Much better than no skin..."

But Kieran was still talking about "rare" tastes, and how the color of the skin didn't matter, and Colin just let it wash over him. Would the pirate never shut up? Not that his voice wasn't pleasant to listen to, but if he hadever had a point then he'd lost track of it.

Not bothering to think hard about it, Colin did something he hadn't done since he'd been a young man at Eaton. Reaching out, he stroked a gentle hand over the other man's abdomen and up his chest. "Are you going to explain 'rare', or not?"
 
Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Colin's calloused fingers on his abdomen. He watched the aeronaval officer's hand as it crept up his abdomen to his chest. He took a slow, deep breath to force himself to calm down before everything was ruined. Despite his efforts it was still heading that way albeit somewhat slower. He chewed lightly on the inside of his lip as Captain Drake asked whether he was going to explain 'rare.'

"Well..." Kieran said slowly, trying to formulate how he would get around this. "What do you think 'rare' means?"

The pirate put his hand over Colin's. Slowly he curled his fingers around the edge of the other man's hand. It was a little calloused, but still it was softer than his own. His nails were manicured and soft. Kieran liked the way he touched his chest.

"After all, 'rare' can me a lot of things," he added softly, watching the firelight move over his face in the dark.
 
"Well..." Kieran said slowly, trying to formulate how he would get around this. "What do you think 'rare' means?"

Colin watched with just a touch of amusement as Kieran rested a hand on his own. It was a gentle contact, far lighter than he would have expected from the pirate, and... hesitant. Tentative. As if he were uncertain of what he was doing. And, to be honest, Colin wasn't completely sure himself. It didn't seem likely at this point, but he could still be misreading the man's intentions.

"After all," Kieran added, "'rare' can me a lot of things."

Giving the pirate a soft, lopsided grin, Colin combed his fingers through the hair on the man's chest. "Ah... but we weren't talking about what I think 'rare' means, were we?" He allowed his nails to scrape skin gently. "We were talking about your own definition. After all..." He leaned forward, whispering his next sentence. "What one man considers 'rare', another might see as perfectly ordinary."
 
Goosebumps raised on Kieran's arms and legs as Colin's fingers combed through his chest hair and his nails gently dragged over his skin. That grin, especially with a mostly-melted ice pack balancing on his head and dressed up in his pajamas like some kid...it was all far too goddamn adorable not to do something about it. When Colin leaned forward and whispered to him, that was it.

"Fuck it."

Kieran closed the gap between them in one fell swoop, crushing his lips hard against Colin's. Sliding both arms around the other Captain's waist, he pushed the kiss deeper before nipping gently at his bottom lip. This. This simple kiss felt more right than any night with Anne Marie had ever been. The pirate made a slight noise against his lips, then suddenly the alarms started going off. Still, Kieran wanted to save face so he gently pulled away before looking Colin in the eye.

"That," he said quietly, watching the firelight reflect in the other man's eyes, "is what rare means."
 
A mixture of amusement and stunned shock were visible in Colin's expression. Shock, because good god that pirate could kiss. Amusement from the way Kieran pulled away, trying to play it cool. "I rather suspected that," he said, meeting Kieran's dark-eyed gaze. The urge to respond in kind was strong - Colin hadn't lied when he stated he liked women, but he hadn't expanded on the fact that he liked men as well. Perhaps a little more than women, to tell the truth. He was rather sure his family knew as well, but his few liaisons had been discrete.

So, the urge to respond was strong. But... He drew a breath, deep and slightly ragged, and sat up a little. "While I decide exactly how I should respond," he said, adjusting the ice pack a little, "what brings this on? I'm flattered, really. And you kiss magnificently. But... well, you've always struck me as being more of a..." He considered his words. "A ladies man. And, if we pursue these rarer tastes, I don't want you to come away feeling like I talked you into something you don't want."

Then, suddenly, he laughed. "Good god, I sound like my father. All stuffy and tedious." The grin turned a little serious. "But... I do mean it. What... I mean... well..." He waved his hands in the air. "I struggled for years, trying to come to terms with this side of myself. And don't get me wrong - you are sexy as hell, after all. But... why now? And why me?" Another laugh, uncomfortable. "Hell, I didn't particularly think you liked me."
 
Kieran shifted uncomfortably when asked what brought this on. If he was honest he didn't rightfully know; why him? Why now? Colin at least hadn't called him disgusting, pushed him away the way Kieran had to himself. He chewed on his tongue as he considered the question, then Colin declared he'd always thought the pirate more a ladies' man.

He barked a sharp laugh. "So did I," Kieran confessed. "And I tried to. Goddamn I tried. For years. Even shagged a few, before...y'know...I started to realize..." He shook his head, not wanting to say it aloud still. "But when not even a woman like Anne Marie can, you know..." He cleared his throat and cast his eyes downward for a few brief moments. His throat tightened when Colin said if. He had never considered that perhaps even after all this agonizing there would still be an if involved.

Colin laughed and Kieran shifted in the bed, clenching his hands into fists. Was he laughing at him?! No...no, the captain was laughing at himself. The Fenian couldn't help but smirk in a self-satisfied way when he called him sexy as hell. He'd always known that, but it was even more reaffirming coming from a man than from a woman.

"I didn't think so, either," Kieran confessed with a shrug, genuinely having mistaken a crush for pure dislike. "But...I dunno. Yer cute, mate. And ah...if you've, y'know...known...fer a while, maybe you could um...I dunno..." He sighed as he struggled with what he was about to say. "Look, I hate askin' fer help but...it ain't exactly easy fer me ta accept this. Maybe you could ah...help? Me?" He shifted uncomfortably, possibly less okay with asking for help coming to terms with himself than with actually coming to terms with himself. Very suddenly he pointed at Colin, his finger less than an inch from his nose.

"Not a word to Anne Marie, not a bloody word," he growled. "She'd never let me live it down. She's been sayin' it fer years, and she'll never let me live it down."
 
Colin smiled, placing a friendly hand on Kieran's hand as the man struggled to speak. Then he laughed at the warning to say nothing to Anne Marie. "Not a word, I promise you," he agreed. "But, bear in mind that she is remarkably perceptive. She may work it out anyway."

Leaving his hand in place, he regarded the Irishman for a while. Finally, he sighed wistfully. "Look, Kieran... don't take anything I'm about to say the wrong way. Because, to be blunt, I'd love to drag you over here and fuck you until we both pass out. But..." He shrugged. "There's a whole lot of things that seem like good ideas at midnight, that don't still seem like good ideas at dawn."

He squeezed the other man's hand. "So... I'd be honored to help you. It took me years to come to terms with... with this part of me. So, give yourself time to accept yourself. There's no need to rush into anything." He glanced over at the fireplace, then back at the pirate. "And now that I know you might be... ah... on the market? I'm willing to hang around a while, and see where things go."

Adjusting his ice pack, he snuggled down a little into the covers. "Get some sleep. And in the morning?" He smirked, just a little. "We can talk a little more about my past, and your realizations. And about just how good a kisser you really are."
 
"You? Fuck me?" Kieran laughed. "That's cute, mate. I'm the one who'll be doin' the fuckin', thanks very much." It was a cover for any sore spot Colin might have hit by starting off with don't take this the wrong way. Those words never led to anything good. He hid the disappointment in his eyes when Colin told him that it might not be a good idea.

"Yeah uh...we'll see where things go...I guess." Kieran hadn't thought he might be turned down. He'd never been turned down, by anyone, and hadn't thought it might start now. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, I'll get some sleep," he confirmed before leaning in to Colin. His lips brushed lightly against his before Kieran planted a slow, warm kiss on the aeronavel captain's lips. His lips were surprisingly soft.

"Goodnight, Colin," the pirate said quietly, his lips brushing against the other man's. "See you bright and early." He smirked and winked before sliding off the bed. "You'll regret this in the morning, you know."
 
"Good night, Kieran," Colin answered. "I won't promise bright or early, but I'll see you in the morning." He found himself grinning at the other man's smirk and saucy wink, and at his parting words. "I probably will, you know," he agreed. "But, well..."

The door closed, and Colin settled himself down in the large bed. All of a sudden it seemed far too large. For one man, at least. Closing his eyes, he pulled the comforter up around his shoulders and tried to go to sleep. But all he could think about was the taste of the pirate's kiss, and the feel of his hand, and the way he'd responded. "In the morning?" he grumbled into the darkness. "I'll regret this all night."


Morning came, catching Colin slightly off guard. He'd tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, and had actually resigned himself to a sleepless night. Kieran kept intruding on his thoughts, making it hard to want to do anything but follow the other man out into his room. But now, the morning was here.

Grunting a little with the effort of getting out of the soft bed, he was gratified to discover that the headache from his pistol-whipping had died down to the sort of dull ache that accompanies most bad bruises. He wobbled into the bathroom, and attended to the morning necessities. Then, lathering up his face, he began to shave. By the time that particular morning ritual had been completed, the gentle feeling of razor steel against slick skin had soothed his nerves and made him feel human.

He chose a navy blue suit this time, slacks supported by braces, with a lighter blue shirt and a navy blue bow tie. HIs cufflinks were simple in design, silver and aquamarine, and had been gifts from his father last Christmas. He made an effort at combing his thick, curly hair, and then proceeded down to breakfast.
 
Kieran rubbed his lips together several times, still tasting Collin on them and trying not to keep from grinning too wildly in case he came upon some sleepless servant. Once he got to his room he closed the door quietly before breaking into a silent little celebratory dance. Colin hadn't outright said he wanted a relationship, but there was a definite chance which was more than what had been that morning. Furthermore, Kieran had finally admitted to himself the truth that he'd been burying deep down for all these years. It was both terrifying and exhilarating and he didn't know what to do with this new-found emotion or truth. The pirate fell into the large, soft bed and tossed and turned for an hour or two, unable to believe his luck.

The morning found him dressed in his third and final outfit. He'd need to have his clothes washed finally, he supposed. Despite a relatively uneasy night, the pirate found himself practically bouncing out of bed. He felt incredible. It was nearly eight when he finally left his room, face washed and hair combed, and ran into Colin in the hall. He paused for a few moments, looking the other captain up and down, before nodding once.

"Dapper," was Kieran's verdict before giving him a charming, boyish smile. "Shall we?"
 
"Dapper, hm?" Colin echoed, humor in his eyes. He took a moment to look the pirate over, appreciating what he saw. "Well. You certainly clean up well yourself. One would hardly know you were a black-hearted rogue at all."

Gesturing, he turned and started down the hall. "You were right, by the way. I hope you'll understand, however, that I prefer to look at that disappointmment as a deferred pleasure rather than a missed opportunity?" He considered his words. "Or should we wait until we have some measure of privacy to discuss this? You did, after all, say you didn't want to hear an 'I told you so' from Madame LaMonte..."
 
Kieran shrugged. "She'll figure it out anyway. Pretty sure she's got spies in her own house." He walked down the steps side-by-side with Colin. "Of course it's not a missed opportunity! But I think we ought to wait until we're somewhere private to discuss things further." His smile said that they wouldn't be 'discussing' much. He nudged him gently with a suggestive wink.

"Good morning, captains," Madame LaMonte greeted them as they stepped into the same parlor they had taken tea in the day before. "How did you two sleep?" Already Kieran thought he could see a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Captain Drake, how are you feeling? No more headache I hope?"

"I slept very well, thank you Madame," Kieran said with a tight smile, sitting down at the table and working very hard not to look over at Colin. "What's for breakfast?"
 
"Spys? Oh, heavens no," Colin laughed. "A lady does not have spies in her home." He paused, just for a beat. "She merely has servants with keen observational skills."

Kieran seemed to agree with his assessment, though. "Of course it's not a missed opportunity! But I think we ought to wait until we're somewhere private to discuss things further." The words were simple enough, but the tone of voice and the suggestive smile brought a similar smile to Colin's lips.

"We probably should, yes. After all, we may need to speak at some length. Robust discourse, after all, requires that all participants be allowed their say. And that all positions be examined at some length, before a consensus is reached."

Rather than elbow the pirate back, though, Colin simply opened the door into the parlor. Madame LaMonte was already there, attending to a light breakfast. "Good morning, captains."

"And good morning to you as well, Madame LaMonte," Colin said, bowing slightly before taking a seat across from Kieran.

"How did you two sleep?" Anne Marie asked, eying them both speculatively. "Captain Drake, how are you feeling? No more headache I hope?"

"I slept very well, thank you Madame," Kieran said with a tight smile, sitting down at the table and working very hard not to look over at Colin. "What's for breakfast?"

"For my part, I slept like a baby," Colin answered. "I woke every few hours, cranky and fussing. The headache is much improved, however. Still present, sadly, but much more like a tender bruise than a skull-shattering hangover."
 
"My discourse is always robust," Kieran declared with a smirk. "And of course I'm always willing to explore all positions from every possible angle." He nudged Colin just before he opened the door. Colin sat across from him as he answered Madame LaMonte and the pirate engaged in stealing furtive glances throughout breakfast. "I slept very well, thank you Madame," he said with a tight smile, disliking her tone. "What's for breakfast?"

"Crepes," Anne Marie informed him, nodding to the buffet by the wall. "Please, gentlemen, help yourselves. Captain Drake, how are you feeling? No more headache I hope?"

"For my part, I slept like a baby," Colin answered. "I woke every few hours, cranky and fussing. The headache is much improved, however. Still present, sadly, but much more like a tender bruise than a skull-shattering hangover."

"Bon!" Anne Marie answered with a smile. "That it isn't as bad as before, not that it's still there, I mean. I had expected you to have a fitful night's sleep--" her eyes slid briefly over to Kieran before flitting back to Colin "--but at least you were able to get a few hours, no? Now please, help yourself to breakfast."

Once the men had gotten what they wanted from the table for at least their first crepe, Anne Marie sat back in her chair. "Unfortunately because of last night's little mishap with the Bolshevik, I was unable to obtain any information. What about you two?"

Kieran shook his head. "My first partner didn't even speak English," he said, as though he had expected English to be the dominant language in Paris. He waited for Colin to answer before looking between the two of them. "So...trip to the catacombs today, is it?"

"It appears that way," Anne Marie said with a sigh, sipping her coffee and crinkling her nose in distaste.
 
Colin rose, helping himself to a crepe stuffed with fruit and whipped cream, smirking a little at Anne-Marie's observations. "Oh, yes. A few hours of sleep, at least. Perhaps not all I would have hoped for but, with my headache, it was all I really expected."

Reclaiming his seat, he cut into his breakfast. There was silence for a moment as he ate and Kieran fetched his own breakfast, and then Anne Marie settled back in her chair. "Unfortunately because of last night's little mishap with the Bolshevik, I was unable to obtain any information. What about you two?"

Kieran shook his head. "My first partner didn't even speak English."

"What a shock," Colin observed, dryly. He wiped a trace of whipped cream from his lips with a napkin. "I met one Mademoiselle Yasmine Ameriane, the sister of a gentleman named Sail Mohammad. Sail Mohammad Ameriane I presume, although I don't know if Algerian naming customs follow the French pattern. He's a socialist, who apparently had a falling out with the Russians in... 1915, perhaps? Before their bloody, abortive coup in Moscow, anyway."

He sipped some water. "I don't know if Yasmine, or Sail," he glanced at Anne Marie, "or your Russian dance partner are involved in the Wings of Silence. But socialists do have a rather bloody-handed history, and the Machine-Men do seem like the sort of clockwork conformity they espouse..." A humorless chuckle. "As opposed to the entirely free clockwork conformity demanded by the owners of the new factories."

He settled back in his seat. "Still, it is an uncomfortable coincidence that two different socialist leaders would arrive in Paris just as we come hunting the Wings of Silence..."

"So..." Kieran finally asked, "trip to the catacombs today, is it?"

"It appears that way," Anne Marie said with a sigh, sipping her coffee and crinkling her nose in distaste.

"Oh, may we?" Colin asked in sarcastic tones of enthusiasm. "I've always wanted to crawl through tunnels paked with the dead. That doesn't at all sound like something that will end poorly, given our line of work." Then he laughed. "But, seriously.... when do we depart?"
 
Anne Marie smiled a little at Colin's dry, English humor. Her eyebrows rose a little at his assertion that this must be a socialist conspiracy. It was an interesting theory, and not without merit, to be sure. She didn't think, however, that two socialist leaders being in Paris at the same time was irrefutable proof.

"After breakfast," she answered, setting her coffee down, "unless either of you have pressing business that cannot wait until this evening?" Madame LaMonte gave them time to answer and felt like she could almost hear Kieran's heart pounding against his chest. He said nothing, but glanced over to Colin to follow his lead. It was very difficult for the lady of the house not to smile at the way a grown man was behaving like a schoolgirl with a poorly-concealed crush.

"Bon," she said after receiving Colin's answer. "Oh, but Captain Drake I do think we should keep an open mind about these things. About it being Socialists, I mean. I think you have a very good point, but Sail Mohammed is not on very good terms with Monsieur Stalin, who was my dance partner last night. It would be extraordinary indeed if they were working together. Although, that does not mean it is impossible."
 
"Oh, but I pride myself on keeping an open mind, Madame La Monte," Colin assured her, studiously not looking at Kieran as he said it. "I've been about Society business long enough to know that assumptions are not guaranteed to be truths."

"About it being Socialists, I mean," she added. "I think you have a very good point, but Sail Mohammed is not on very good terms with Monsieur Stalin, who was my dance partner last night. It would be extraordinary indeed if they were working together. Although, that does not mean it is impossible."

"No, of course not. And I suppose that, had we gone to a different club, we might have encountered a different coincidence. Two Indian lawyers, for instance. Or a British officer, a French aristocrat, and an Irish pirate playing at spies." He smiled at that. "Still, it is something to be aware of." He drew a deep breath. "But, I promise you I'll not go a-hunting socialists unless we uncover evidence that links the Wings to them."

He ate another bite of crepe, and washed it down with coffee. "As to the catacombs... I'm not familiar with them, except by reputation. Will we need any specialized equipment? Electric torches, perhaps?"
 
Kieran stabbed at an errant strawberry as Colin boasted about how open a mind he had. They would test that out later on, he supposed. He smirked to himself at the thought, but otherwise stayed quiet. After last night, he didn't quite trust himself to speak around Colin yet.

Anne Marie smiled at the captain's assertion that they would have encountered a different coincidence. "I never play at spies, Monsieur," she said quietly with a wry smirk. "I just wish we knew more about the Wings of Silence apart from the fact that they're bent on taking over the world. I just don't know that it would be a political thing, with as violent as such a revolution would be." She opened her mouth to answer Colin's question about the catacombs, but Kieran beat her to it.

"Wellies," he answered, still staring intently at his plate. "Sewage'n'storms 're bound to've overflowed."

"Indeed," Anne Marie agreed. "Some parts of the catacombs, I hear, can get quite...soggy. And yes, electric torches would be quite useful, and I would not suggest going in unarmed. Even if the Wings of Silence are not down there building an army of machine men, there are homeless people who take shelter there and not all of them are mentally stable."
 
"Wellington boots, electric torches, and weapons," Colin mused aloud. "Just the sort of thing for a daylight promenade through fair Paris." He sipped his tea. "Still, I don't recall ever being told that service in the Meridian Society would be all fine dining and jazz clubs."

He finished his tea. "Maps would be useful, assuming that such a thing as a reliable map of the catacombs exist. Also, compases and paper and pens. And chalk."

Briefly, he considered another cup. Recognizing it as little more than a delaying gesture, he dismissed the idea. "Well then, it seems we have a plan. Shall we retire and dress and equip ourselves for the day?"
 
"Mais oui," Anne Marie agreed with a nod. "We can change and I'll have Bernard bring the car around."

Twenty minutes later Anne Marie was waiting downstairs, dressed more practically in a pantsuit with a sunhat, though galoshes tended to look a little silly with it. She carried herself in such a way, however, that one might have thought it was all the rage and the latest fashion in... Well, in Paris. She touched up her makeup in a small mirror while she waited for the men.

Kieran, for his part, took the opportunity to bathe briefly and shave before putting on the same clothes. He didn't particularly care about the clothes he wore; he knew he was attractive enough regardless of what he wore. He raised his eyebrows as he came down the stairs.

"Radiant as always, Madame, even when you're about to go into the sewage drenched mass grave." It was a strange compliment, but a compliment nonetheless.

Madame LaMonte smiled. "Radiance seems to be the word of the day, Captain. You've been practically glowing." Her lips had curled into a knowing, somewhat smug smile. "I take it you're no longer in need of my help?"

"Not a single word, you." Kieran worked hard not to flush.

"Not a single word about what, dear? I've no idea what you're talking about."
 
"Neither do I," Colin agreed, entering the room. He was dressed in a suit of grey khakis, bloused into functional black boots, and carried a satchel slung over one shoulder. He gave Kieran an appraising look. "But then, do I ever? He seems to spend too much time talking, and not enough time doing. Me, I prefer action."

He bowed a little to Anne Marie, and then made a point of adjusting his shoulder strap. "For instance: I have a reasonable selection of useful gear for our expedition. We'll need to get the wellingtons on the way, of course. But I've three electric torches, and a heat gun with a belt generator that can be used to recharge the torches if need arises. And a small selection of pistols and knives." A grin. "Not to mention several books of waterproof matches, and a carbide miner's lamp. We'll just need to visit a chemist on the way as well."

He waited a moment. "Shall we depart? Or shall we remain and... not utter a single word some more?"
 
Anne Marie inclined her head toward the door. "Well then, Captain, let us go," she said with a small smile, leading the way out to the car. "A chemist? Why would we need to go there?" She slid into the back seat of the car and instructed the driver to bring them to a chemist and somewhere they could get their rubber waders. She sat on the bench seat facing the back of the car, ensuring that the captains had to sit next to each other facing the other way.

Kieran walked by Colin's side as they followed Madame LaMonte, leaning his head in to mutter, "I talk to much and do not enough, hmm? You'll eat those words soon enough, my dear." He smirked and waited for Colin to climb into the limousine before following.

Idle chatter seemed to be the order of the day as they drove between shops. With the chemist and the boots out of the way, Anne Marie directed the driver to one of the entrances to the catacombs. With instructions to return in five hours and to call Professor Swift if they weren't back within six, the driver left them standing at the gaping maw that was the entrance to the catacombs. Taking a deep, slow breath she stepped forward and led the way into the well-lit section of the catacombs where the skeletons were neatly arranged on the walls and the path was clear.

"This is where they take the tourists in," Madame LaMonte informed the other two over her shoulder. "The path will be clear, but only for a few kilometers at most. It's only a section of the catacombs and I'm sure whatever the Wings of Silence are up to if they're down here, they won't have their operation where they could so easily be found. We'll have to jump some barriers when we come to the end of the tour."
 
Colin inspected the walls, eying them with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. "You know," he said, finally, "you hear about these catacombs, but..." He gestured down the corridor. "The stories just don't do them justice." He fell in with the tour group, many of whom had given the trio and their bags of equipment curious looks. "I can't begin to imagine how many bodies would be required to provide so many bones."

The tour group wound on its way, sticking to the larger and more open regions of the catacombs. From time to time, they found themselves in open areas with other exits cordoned off with rope and brass posts. Many of those exits didn't need anything else - they were narrow, claustrophobic affairs, requiring one to walk sideways or to crouch down and crawl. A few, though, seemed as broad and wide open as the others. All of them received Colin's inspection, and in one chamber he made an excuse to lag behind as the tour moved on.

"Look at this," he said, pointing at the floor as he abandoned his pretenses of tying a bootlace. "Tracks. Tracks, and this..." He reached down and picked up fragment of metal. A broken brass gear. A shard of brass, clotted with dried blood. And a cartridge from a pistol.

He held up the shard with its dried blood. "I think," he said, "we have a lead."
 
"Centuries worth," Anne Marie informed Captain Drake as he speculated on how many bodies it would take to line the catacombs in such a way. "It was the only solution we could see for the pesky problem people tend to have with leaving their bodies behind when they die. After all, France has always been a Catholic nation."

As they followed the group, Anne Marie whispered to the captains facts that the tour guide left out which were often macabre in nature. She was grateful that Colin hadn't found anything near the narrower crevices; she could crouch through them but she wouldn't like it one bit. Finally he found what seemed to be a clue as to where the Wings of Silence would be keeping their Machine Men hidden. Kieran arched his eyebrows when the other captain showed them a fragment of brass, as well as one with dried blood.

"Well then what are we waiting for?" he said with a shrug, starting forward deeper into the catacombs away from the group. "Let's go."

"Bon," Anne Marie agreed before putting a hand on the pirate's shoulder. "But remember that we hare here for reconnaissance only. Professor Swift and Herr Schmidt are working on how to disable these. We get in, see what we can see, and get out with as little engagement as possible." Kieran replied only with a mocking salute before following Colin into the depths of the massive grave, Anne Marie taking up the rear.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom