Miami is a fairly busy town. Gateway from one world to the next, some say. It's the difference between city and sea, the urban life and the wild water. And there's no better place for a pirate to spend some time off and ride out some heat. Especially when you are one of the dispariate remains of a small armada that used to run under the flag of Padre Chicolo. He was neither a priest, nor Azlaner. As a matter of fact, any time anyone who spoke spanish heard the name, they laughed. Or, at least the did until they were set on an unihabited island with little food and no boat.

But then, when he last gathered the armada for a large run (up the coast to Newfoundland for something that no one ever knew anything about except if would net everyone involved the equivilent of a year's pay) everything went wrong. As soon as they rounded into the Gulf of Mexico, headed for Rio de Jenerio in Amazonia, a fleet of Aztech ships ambushed them.

You only narrowly escaped with your lives. As a matter of fact, most of you were picked up from your various ships by one minor component of the fleet. Many ships were destroyed, but several survived. Everyone scattered to the winds, and those of you lucky enough to get pulled from the water have been spending the past two weeks outrunning Aztech forces, and have just spent the past two days in Miami, restocking. About half the crew is onboard, docked at the harbor.

Now we're only waiting on a few remaining key people.

Johnny rubs a shiny bruise on his upper arm. A result of the Azzie ambush. He runs his hand through his short and spiky white hair, then flicks some ashes off the end of his cigarette.

"Fuckin' Azzies. Fuckin' Miami weather. It's like the heat and humidity gangrape you."

He looks back at the ship

"I can't believe that that floating brick was all we could salvage..."

Iron sits carfully proped up aginst the engine housing. The steady drone of the engine giving him something to humm drunkenly with.
"Aye, Miami. The only thing hotter then the weather ish the wenches"

He follows Johnnys gaze.

"Its cramped, Ill give it that. 'S got a shweet senschor package though."

In a moment of ineberated inspiration, Iron relizes that he left his privite launch ported here before signing on with Padre Chicolo. He clambers unstedly to his feet, stumbles, and flops into a deck chair.
"I think I left the "Wild Turkey" here somewhere... " He shouts "Someone remind me later t' find me ship"

Horatio finishes looking over a datasheet about the ship.

"It's got pretty good speed, typical armor, slightly better than average autonav, and can carry half a ton safely. That sensor system is better than most military craft. It's not built for long trips, so we'll either have to keep to one day trips or get imaginative about where we sleep."

He looks across the rest of those gathered here, who have little to do except watch their livelihood get welded back together. On the painful realization that he too has nothing to do but wait, Horatio gets a chair, sets it up to look out toward the sea, and watches the soul of the churning water.

"Fuck you, Horatio. I still say it sucks. I haven't been on a lot of ships, and I've been First Mate on even less, but this one, I don't like.", Johnny says, tossing his cigarette into the water.

He stands up and brushes off his jeans, being careful not to jab himself on his studded wristband.

"You're damn right its cramped, Roger. I need room to stretch. I'm too damn tall, being an elf sucks."

"Then we need to get a bigger ship. I'll let you know if I hear of any for sale or claim."

Johnny sneers and mutters something to himself about everyone being a bastard.

"Wheres our captain, anyway?"

"Shale? We dont need to wait fer that. Lesh go take one. Wish a wet bar" Iron rasese a grimy finger to accentuate this point.
He drains the last of the gin from his bottle. "Sho kay, Im outta booshe, we need shome ting to do"
Iron climbs out of the sagging chair and stumbols to the rail. After stedying him self he throws the bottle up in the air and trys to shoot it, but misses badly with both shots.

Johnny watches lazily as the bottle goes up, but when the pistols come out, he dives under something metal.

"Jesus! Put those away!"

Turning in place, still holding the now smoking pistol. "Wahh? Ya schekrred of a little gun fire? I ment ta missch dat"

Iron goes about snapping open the breech of his pistol and burns him self on an ejecting brass before reloading it. "We gosh to get shom tin ta do"

Johnny uncovers his face and says "Look, I don't mind a little gunfire now and then, but goddamn, you're drunk off your ass. Go take a nap, or something."

"Well shats not gonna lest fer long, wer outta booze"
With that being said Iron goes to find a shady place to sit and sweat.

Ziptide, watching the sea and trying to ignore the others, smirks slightly, and idly wishes that he had something sarcastic to say - he can't muster up the mental energy at the moment. The loss of the fleet hasn't affected his equilibrium that much - he's sure that more opportunities will present themselves and their luck will turn around. But when they got in that fight with those Azzies, then had to struggle to port battling all the way - now that was a rush. But this is Miami. If something doesn't turn up soon, maybe he'll hit the bars and clubs, get some action.

Leonard caressed the console console. Everyone else was moaning and groaning over the vessel, but Leonard saw it for it's real beauty. It would be magnificent to see through its eyes for the first time. The craft did have better sensors than your average aircraft carrier after all. A lot of his aquaintances in his field would kill to get a shot at using a beauty like this. Of course, they'd kill for a lot less, too, but that was beside the point. Leonard was just going to have to make sure no one dared muck up her gorgeous hull, crew included.

"Leonard, jurr droolin. Shtop"
Iron wipes his brow with his sleeve. "Shoo what are we gonna do? Anyone? Buuuller? I shink da five o' usch ish ah shtart. Shoo whos in command?"

"The captain's biggest job is impressing the other ship so much that they don't even bother shooting. Few captains ever get that good, so whichever of you most likes to hear himself talk is as good a choice as any right now."

Horatio looks around before continuing, noting the total crew.

"We're too few to be specialized as much as we used to. We may need someone to be tactical advice in combat, but most of the time we'll have the luxury to argue about any decision we need to make."

"Just because I appreciate her more than I do you is no reason to get jealous. As far as I know, we're headed to the Carribean. I think it best we hurry along, lest our pursuers sink us at port. The position of Captain is up for debate, I do believe. I'd throw my hat in the ring, but there is surely someone more qualified." Leonard thinks to himself, That and I'd have to go outside even more.

A cool breeze stops everyone talking for a second, as they stop to enjoy the tiny reprieve from the heat. The silence reveals something no one had quite heard yet. Several feet, by the sounds of them, booted, running on the docks, where you can't quite see them. Everything else sounds deadly still.

"Do you recall what I said about those pursuers? They just made their presence known. This calls for leaving, now, does it not?" Not waiting for a response, Leonard jacks in to the vehicle and sends it off in the boat version of flooring it, just hoping he gets out of range in time.

"Awww, dammit, Leonard, I wanted to kill some people!" Ziptide pouts sulkily, looking astern to see if there are any hapless enemies that he can manabolt as their vessel roars to life and speeds away from the docks. "I hope they got the holes in the hull plugged up, at least," he mutters as he intently scans the docks for foes.

"Crap!", Johnny exclaims, drawing his gyrojet pistol. Then he reaches into his vest and pulls out an HE grenade, holding it near his mouth for easy pin removal.

He widens his feet to brace himself against the lurching ship.

"Maybe some Azzies want their azzes kicked...", Johnny remarks, quite pleased with his pun.

Sudden acceleration and folding chairs don't mix well. This is proven in the short sequence of events that was heard as "Drek!" ... *THUD* ... "drek"

Making the best of the situation, Horatio rolls over, braces himself, and watches for the source of the footsteps.

While Iron wasent aware of the boot steps, the sudden actions of the rest of the crew prompt the same reaction. However the sudden acceleration of the boat puts him in much the same position as Horatio, sprawled on his back in amongst the debris on the deck.
Drawing his pistol and diving for the cabin "When I said we needed shomthing to do, thish wasent what I had in mind. But it'll do" He crawls into the cuddy to retrive a more suitable wepon.

Once the ship starts speeding up, Johnny crouches down, using the wall at the edge of the deck as cover.

"What we need is one of those jungle boats, with the dual .50 cal MGs.", Johnny says to Horatio. "Oh, get up."

Relaying his thoughts through whatever system he could find to the rest of the crew so he could remain jacked in, Leonard came on in a heavily distorted synthvoice. "Anyone have a recommendation for a port to head out to? Preferably one friendly to the less-than-legal?"

As you pull ahead, several men in dark sweaters and black boots appear on the docks. Most of them take aim, but realize you're fairly well out of range at that point. One of them flips you the bird as you leave, out into the cooling night air.

At that point, you realize that you didn't have much of a chance to reprovision.

"Hey, FUCK YOU, BUDDY!!", Johnny shouts at the top of his lungs.

Bastard...flip us off.., he fumes.

"Hey, uh, we didn't get much stuff packed. How much food and stuff do we have? Oh yeah. We should utilize this time to vote on captain. It should be established that you can't vote for yourself. I'll vote for Horatio."

"If none of you have any brights ideas, I'd like to put forth Snug Corner in the Crooked Islands. Quaint little town where we can lay low for a little while and do some leg work on the side."

"Did shomeone call fer a little man wish a big gun?" Iron steadys himself with the barrel of the FN HAR aginst the crashing of the boat though the surf.
After getting out into the harbor. "Hey, I gosh a boat dat will run circles around dih thin, its docked down the other end of the harbor. Cept I tink Im behind on the porting payments. Care to make a grab fer it? I got some 'extra shtuff' in der Shimple grab, and gosh der keys jet" Iron holds up a set of keys with a floter on them. "Wash yer stink"

"I have no idea what the hell you're saying, but I assume you want your boat back? Ask Leonard. And also, where the hell would we keep it?"

Hotario stands and gathers the chair.
"Voting on our captain..."
Horatio then searches his pockets for a coin. Finding only a poker chip, he flips it, looks at the side that came up, checks that the sides are different and pockets the chip.
"I vote Johnny."

"If we go back and get it, it's your responsibility. I refuse to have two boats put under my charge. Are we still turning around to pick it up?"

"Well shoes da captin? I shtay its Johnny. Shany one wanna say *burps loudly* otherwishe?" Iron looks back and forth between Jonnny and Leonard. "Id jush would like to have more shan a deck shair to shleep on. And sheeing assh we are low on provish... profih... shtuff ta eat, raiding a friendly ship shounds good."

Ziptide looks around at the others. "I don't really know any of you well enough to pick a captain, but anyone is fine by me, as long as they don't throw their weight around too much. Although it sounds like Leonard has put himself out of the running. And hey, Iron, I'll help you get your boat back. Let's start rebuilding our mighty pirate fleet..." Ziptide smirks sarcastically as he says it, but his eyes are still alight with the possibility of some more action. Getting Iron's boat back could be exciting. And if they won't pick up one of their own boats, just sitting by the docks, they might as well not bother being pirates, as far as he's concerned.

Iron flashes a toothy grin. "Any one elsh? Or will Zip and I have to do dish our shelshes?" He fishes a slip of paper from his pocket, it looks like it used to be attatched to the keys. "Dock 6, peir 2, shlip 14. Its a shpeedboat wish the name "Wild Turkey" on it." He hefts his rifle, then notices that he forgot to load it. Abashedly, he turns to sit on a scattered chair.

"Well, seeing as how some of you abstained, I guess I'm the new captain. I say we do go get Roger's boat. Here, I'll help you go get it.", Johnny says, drawing his pistol.

You follow the shoreline quietly for about a half hour before you get to where you're going. Wild Turky is parked in a slightly worse part of town. The paint was once red and yellow, but it's since been sunbleached and covered in all manner of dirt, grease and algae. The docks are deadly quiet, and there's very little ambiant light.

Pulling up to the dock, Zip and Iron quickly jump over the buwark and onto the dock, and, with haste and stealth (despite being there legitimatly) hop onto the Wild Turky. It doesn't take long to get it all going, and then there's the Facepuncher and the Wild Turkey, working in tandem. It's not seconds after you establish radio contact when it happens.

Just about a mile off, a rich person's pleasure yacht comes into view. There appears to be a small personal party of (pulling out the binoculars) people mostly in suits and evening gowns. They're on a Marine Technologies Dolphin II.

[edit]This post seemed really out of place since it registered 7 seconds after Mike's[/edit]

Looking at the pleasure yacht, Ziptide grins. "Anyone feel like desert?"

"Well, we are Pirates...", Johnny says, lighting another cigarette.

"Let's get 'em. Ensign Leonard, engage.", he adds, snapping his silver ronson shut, and placing it back in his pocket.

Leonard lets out a sarcastic, "Dut-de-da-la-da," and heads in the appropriate direction.

"Yo Ho! Dems BOOSHE in dem dar boatsh" Setting the autonav on a follow with the FacePuncher, he gets about mounting a rather nasty looking machinegun on the fwd facing gun mount.
"Oih, tish like der good old daysh, looting and piliging. Makes me feel young again." Iron pulls a birght yellow cable from the dashboard and plugs it into his head. That old familier feeling washes over him, stiff legs, but a full belly, and surging with endorphins. His mind adjusts to the controls, and he starts to run a full check up, finding everything in good order, if a bit stiff from sitting too long.
A voice comes over the radios, much cleaner, and defintly more understandable "So whats the plan, they cant run, and odds are they cant fight, much. What is our goal? What is the modus operandai *standerd ops*. Let loose hell and high water, or take then for ransom? I'm all for storming it by force, taking all the goods, and setting them out on rafts and taking the boat as a prize."

"If we take the boat, someone should probably check to see if it can be tracked, and disabel any such annoyance."

Johnny takes a drag on his cigarette.

"Not me. I wouldn't know where in the hell to look. But I say we take the ship. I'm with Roger. Storm the ship, take it, and leave."

From over the radio "No worries, I can pull the transponder chip, or chips as the case may be. So we are collecting valueables from the passangers and then splitting with the boat? We have anyone else who can drive?"

"I'm pretty good at piloting diesel ships. I guess I'll do it."

With that, Iron mentally shoves the thottle levers full down, and the speed boat lurches ahead and peels off to the side, the rumble of the twin inboards spiraling up to a hurricain roar.
The radio crackles to life "So what are we gonna do about the passengers? Free game or leave them in one peice?"

"I imagine they'll fold like good little sheep as soon as we brandish our weapons," replies Ziptide. "If not, I can straffe the deck with a few stunballs. We can take their valuables and then trundle them off to the lifeboats, unless we find a pidgeon or two who are worth a nice, fat ransom."

"I think we should let 'em all go, because if we take some of 'em ransom, we might end up with Shadowrunners out our asses, tryin' to kill us and save those worthless rich fucks.", Johnny says, taking a last hit from his smoke, and then flicks it into the water.

"Maybe as an opening shot, we should ram them in mid hull, then fire some rounds into the air. Let 'em know we are definately in charge."

"Anyone else find it odd that there is no sign of those guys who shocked us into leaving early? I doubt they would give up just because we started out to sea."