"Aye, ransom is a dangerous busniess. But the pay is good... You wanna ram them? You do relize that their boat is a good bit bigger, as well as then needing to pay for the repairs to both once we take theirs. I say we just drive up and board the pidgen with all the fear we can instill. Also has the side effect of keeping any gung ho nuts from trying to be heros. I hate heros."

"Yes, the proliferation of action sims is to blame for your everyday hero. I hate sims. Its so unnatural and unnecessary.", Johnny says, looking over his ship and theirs.

"I guess you're right about that. We'll go with your idea."

"Are we gonna join the party, or just stand here looking at the expensive boat?"
Slowly and overstating each syllable: "Expensive boat."
"It also probably has better food and drink than we have."

"Lets go at it then, unless you have a better plan Johnny, Zip and I go over the port side and you all go over the starbord? Meet in the middle?"

Meanwhile, with all this chitter-chatter coming to an end, you look out towards where the boat was and see nothing but the faintest bit of wake headed directly away from land.

"Dammit! Leo! Give chase! Come up hard on their six! Aye! Avast!"

Ziptide turns to Iron in the other boat. "Um, yeah... all that nautical shit Johnny just said. Let's go get 'em!" He peers intently over the railing, ready to start chucking some stunballs at these rich bastiches.

You burst ahead at full speed and make excellent time on the wake. It's getting larger and larger, so you know that you're making progress, but the chase is dragging on. 10 minutes, 20 minutes. A half hour. You see their running lights out in the distance.

Finally, they stop. They are dead in the water, and they've turned out all their lights, except for an almost inperciptible light in the cabin...

"This has either gotten really easy or somewhat more difficult, I'll try to find out which."
Horatio finds a seat, steps out of his solid self, and seeks a better view of the yacht.

"oh... someones gonna get hurt for that...lets take it before they start running again"

The night air, very warm up till this point, is even worse on your astral self. It makes no sense. Being that it is night, it should have cooled off. Not only that, but the weather doesn't seem to be able to make up its' mind, lately. But that's not your concern at the moment. Your concern is the only feature on this plain of mana called the ocean. A small bit of processed material.

Taking a fly-by, and circling a few times, you notice that not everything is as it seemed before. There is strong astral residue on the engine, probably a spell recently cast, and there seems to be only two people on the deck, neither of which register as magically active. They are both leaning on the railings, pointing fairly high-powered weapons to the port and starboard sides, respectivly.

Just then, someone walks out onto the deck from the cabin, and he registers as definatly magically active. You recognize him starting to look out into the sea with his astral eyes open, and you quickly jet back into your body for fear of being seen.

"This looks much more painful than we first suspected. Two guards with big guns are waiting on deck. My seach was interrupted when a mage stated looking too close. I think that boat has a few more secrets."

"Hey Cap, we got anyone else who can dive? I have gear, we could get a drop on them from the water if Horatio can keep that spell slinger slowed down."

"Yeah, I can drive diesel boats. Hey, what if we sank it with some of the C-4 in my cabin, and then I could dive and recover whatevers on it. Hmmm, but then re couldn't get stuff off the passengers, and some things could be ruined. Although its a method with its merits.", Johnny says, buckling his armor vest, tightening the two top straps on his boots, and pulling his gyrojet pistol out of it's holster.

"Hmm, if Roger could aim that rifle of his, and take out the gunners, we'd be in business. But maybe he's too drunk for that."

(OOC: Can Johnny see anything special with low-light vision?)

Ziptide looks thoughtful. "I have diving gear, and I could take out the boat's propulsion by freezing the water if they try to run. And if someone can do something about the two mundanes, I could probably levitate onto the deck and fight this mage of theirs. Maybe Horatio could tag along astrally, and be ready to hit him the second he perceives."

"Hmmm, the Facepuncher has got gun mounts dosent it? With a sensor package like that Id be able to pick fleas off dogs I can even see. Anyone got a rifle over there they can mount up in one of those turrents while Im getting back over there?" Iron drops the big speedboat to a low idle and putts the Wild Turkey back towards the cruiser.
"Or I can just take the shot with the big gun I got on here, but its gonna be a good bit harder to take one of them out."

"I suppose you and I could dive after it, Zip. I'd rather try to take the boat while its afloat. Hey, I'm a damn poet.", Johnny says. He pulls out his pack of Nail cigarettes, and finds that he's out.

"Shit, we're gonna have to land soon. I'm out of smokes. Hey, Roger, you think you can take either of those two gunners out with your boat?"

Ziptide looks out intently with his astral vision, trying to see the two gunmen. If he can make them out, he's taking them out.

In keeping with the closest thing to a plan that has been brought up, Horatio waits in the astral for bullets or magic to drift past.

While Zip is carefully trying to pick the two life forms out from the general aura of life of the rest of the boat, something *large* comes out of the water. It is at least 10 times the length of the boat. Water pours off of the metal that rises out of the ocean like a bouy released from the bottom of a pool. It just sits there for a second, and then a small bit of light shines from it, just beside the Dolphin. The Dolphin guns engines to pull up to the open door, and, judging by the changing light, several people exit or enter. Then, after a few minutes, the hatch closes and (see OOC) sinks back into the water and out of view.

"Oh thats it, enough dreck" Rodger mentally slams the throttle levers flat and the big boat jumps out of the water and onto its hydrofoils. This isnt gonna be enough he thinks, now searching for any possible way to get the lead out. Iron feels the warm water screaming along his body, and that small nagging pinch in his lower back reminding him that the Turkey really dosent like all this sudden work. He pushes again, hoping there might be just a little more life left in this nag.

Ziptide grins as the boat speeds up, but as they near the sub, his expression becomes more serious. He gazes at the sub with a curious intensity, and as he does, his sea-green hair starts waving erratically, and strange, murky shadows play across his face. The very air around him seems to shimmer and grow faintly colder, as he bends his will towards casting his spell.

[edited because of OOC comment]
Horatio manifests on deck.
"Who's up for trying to steal a submarine?"

The radio crackles to life again "hey you guys comming or not? Cause I cant storm a ship on my own." Iron cuts the engines and coasts to a stop next to the Yacht. Absently he pulls the plugs from the jack in the back of his skull, his body shivering partly from the act of jacking out, but partially from the adrenlin rushing in his veins. He keys the radio again, sounding much like his old self. "Well, hurry shup, I aint gotsh all day." Iron studys the now stranded submarine, "Hey Zsip, how long can you keep it shtuch like shat? If we are gonna do what I shink wes are gonna do, I hope for a while." Iron shoulders his FN-HAR, and checks the load in his pistol before replacing it at his hip. Finally he grabs the ArmTech (loaded with stun gernades) before looking back to where he had left the FacePuncher. Now we wait. thinks Rodger.

Johnny tightens his grip on his gyrojet and says

"I'll help you, Roger." When the FacePuncher comes alongside the Wild Turkey. He jumps down and lands next to Roger.

"Let's go. They can mess with the submarine. I don't think any of us could even drive it, though."

The sub makes several desperate, whining attempts to get its prop going. It crushes a bit of the ice, but not enough to get going again. It seems helpless, like a beached whale, and seems to be rather pissed off (if a submarine can seem pissed off) about not being able to go anywhere. Finally, it empties it's ballast tanks, and sinks like a stone, pulling the cigarette into it's little suction pool, but doesn't pull the Turkey under. The water is fairly calm, leaving the Turkey there with the (apparently abandoned) Dolphin, wondering what the hell is going on.

Rather confused "Arr?" With that Iron prepairs to board the yacht.

"Bastards!", Johnny shouts, firing his gyrojet into the water at the submarine as it descends.

"Damn, lets just get on with this. Jackasses probably took everything of value."

With a shiteating grin "Dey couldent take evershing" Iron jumps the railing and starts checking out the yacht, pistol drawn just incase.

"I gotta check something on that boat."
Horatio joins the boarding party, and seeks a good close look at the engine area, watching astrally all the way.

The rational thought of "Hey, someone should stay on our boats, just in case" is shouted down by the thought of "Hey, there could be loot on that boat! And I'm not getting any if I stay here!" Ziptide joins the boarding party, muttering to himself about "losing" the submarine, but still perked up a bit at the possibility of some yacht-style rich-twit amenities to be had.

Johnny follows Roger over the railing, and looks about when he lands on the deck. Then, keeping his pistol pointed slightly down, he begins exploring the yacht.

The yacht is dark, and very, very still. There are no lights on. When you finally do find a light switch and hit it, it doesn't work. The deck has scattered bits of rope whatnot. Do find a mast and sails, not set up. But there's obviously the gear to make this baby a windjammer. The... livingroom, I guess it would be, has some signs of a struggle. There's a bit of blood on the white leather couch, and a complete, yet torn evening gown on the floor. There's a large TV, and a nice stereo system. There's also some random trinkets that look like they *might* have value. Little statues and whatnot. You start to open the cupboards and whatnot, find a full wine-rack, and... what, the, hell, is, THIS!?! There's a timer counting down from a little under twenty minutes.

"Holy shit!", Johnny yells

He pulls his wirecutters out of his vest pocket, and quickly tries to identify the bomb and disarm it.

(ooc: 1 success on the will test, demo roll is 3, 4, 4, 3, 9, 8, quickness test to pull out wirecutters is 3, 5, 1, 1, 11, 4, 1)

Johnny is lighting fast on the draw, and quickly identifies and disconnects the wire between the timer and the explosive. He then slows down just a bit, with the threat gone, to shut down the timer completely.

Everyone present lets out a sigh of relief.

Johnny wipes his forehead and says "Man I'm awesome. Hurry, lets get this crap into our hold. We just got a TV and a stereo. And uh... I wonder what happened? Who's dress and blood is that?"

Ziptide raises his eyebrow sardonically at Johnny. "I imagine the chaps in the sub took a 'guest' with them. Nasty little buggers, they are, no professionalism at all."

Johnny looks at Ziptide, while reaching over and pulling a bottle off the winerack.

"Huh. Some Sperethial name I have no fucking idea how to pronounce. Cheers!", he says, ripping out the cork. He takes a long pull from it.

"Hmm. Those Tir faggots make a pretty good wine. Want some? Eh. As for this blood, maybe we could a DNA sample, or Ritual Magic, or something like that off it."

Rodger stumbels in just after the bomb is disarmed. "Whash everyone looking like they shaw a ghost fer? And what happend to der rug?" (beat for silence) "Im gonna look fer der helm, shee what dis tub can do."

Johnny takes a swig from the bottle and turns to Rodger.

"There was a bomb, Rodger. It's cool. I disarmed it. Wait...what rug are you talking about?", he says.

Johnny sets the bottle down, and searches around the timer, looking for the explosives. Once he finds them, he puts them in one of the pockets on his vest. (Assuming its safe to do so.)

"Can never have too many kilos of this stuff.", he says, drinking the wine again.

"A bomb? Well Im glad your good wish dat shtuff." Rodger kicks at the gown on the floor. "Dish one, loosh like pershin, very nishe." He looks at the wine rack. "Noshing exshiting, if ya find shome booshe let me know, Im gonna see about getting this shing underway. Did you shee what that Shub shaid on it? Deash Head, Deash Hand... something like shat. We should get outta here, shome where dat shub ishent.."
Rodger meanders to the bridge, checking out anything on the way that might contain money, bombs, or booze.

Ziptide looks at the wine bottles with disinterest, before picking up a French vintage. "Well, this one should be tolerable. And no offense, Johnny, but you'd never catch me drinking that Tir stuff - I mean, look at it, it's green." He pockets a few valuables, but doesn't seem pleased. "Damn bastards, hitting our target. And all we got is what they left behind - and look at that, they ruined that couch. Real leather, too. Could have been worth something. Well, maybe we can sell this wretched play boat for some halfway-decent money."

After failing to learn anything new (based on the complete lack of any followup to my attempts to analyze whatever magical happened here), Horatio notices the scene.
"Ew, looks like we got here a bit late. If we move quickly, I may be able to find that sub," looking at the blood, "or I might be able to find their captive directly."

"I'll need to get something in town to trace the blood. Don't mess up that stain on the couch until we decide we don't nee it any more."

Rodger eventually reaches the bridge, with a new bottle of over priced imitation soy syntha-wiskey. He mutters at the expance of passable radio equipment, and the bank of stock displays and readouts, all for the moment reading 0 as the engines sit turned off. "Whersh da good shtuff?" he questions hims self, scanning for the tell-tail box that would contain the VCR uplink. In a brief moment of relization, he leans out of the door leading down to the berths where the rest of the crew is and hollers "Can shomeone get ma tool kit outta my boat?"

"Offend me? However would you do that, Zip?", Johnny says, draining the bottle. He pulls another off the rack.

"I plan on getting happily drunk, but I'm probably going to need something stronger."

When he hears Rodger's request, he shouts an affirmative and goes to retrieve it.

Apon the reception of his tool kit, he starts about cracking open the nav consloe. "Johnny, ya want dish crap?" Rodger gestures with his foot to the nearly full bottle of wiskey. "Itsh awful, but great fer getting shlobbered."
Within an hour Iron has pulled the transponder chip and disabled the remote lock down recever. "Ok, ish good ta go. Whos gonna drive? Ishnt rigged, sho wer gonna need to be carefull. And where we going anyhow?" Iron punches the starter on the yacht.

Crooked Island is about two hours away, after everyone has figured out who will be driving what. It's fairly well the dead of night by the time you get there, about 4:30 AM. Anyone not piloting has grabbed a catnap on the way, making them semi-rested, but still bleary-eyed. What was a small out of the way community 20 years ago is now a mess of a town. Buildings barely stand and need several new coats of paint, docks have been rotted through in places, and there are some derelict boats sitting up in drydock. They look like they've been there longer than you've been alive.

You grab what appears to be a public dock, and don't seem to find any kind of dockmaster asking you for payment. Upon closer inspection, the town is pleasant, just on hard times. Snug Corner is, indeed, still snug. It seems as though everything in the town, barring a few houses, is on the main street. Nothing's open yet, but time is elapsing quickly... it's almost 5:30 by the time you get settled in and squared away. There's a corner store/grocery that seems to be open 24 hours, a small bar with a covered patio that doesn't seem to be open, a couple of warehouses, and a church. Actually, it is Sunday right now, so you could probably go to services in a couple hours if you really wanted.

Johnny jumps off the boat and stretches a bit.

"Good to be off that goddamned pleasure boat. I didn't really like driving it, but hey, no problems with it. I'm gonna check out that store. Anyone want smokes, or Novacoke, or something? Wait...how much money do we have?"

Rodger checks his pockets, having started to sober up again. " I got about 6 thousand in certified, that might be a start. itll at least get us some fuel and grub."