Base Deck : Docks

The Crucible

Shad sat silently at the desk chair in Annaliese and Wynn’s room, staring at the couple as they slept.

Annaliese and Wynn’s room.

Less than two hours ago, it had simply been the room where they kept the candles…the candles they used to smuggle the drops they produced. Now however, the candle room had become Annaliese and Wynn’s Room…at least in his mind. Abby would still call it the candle room, along with calling him a ‘fool’ for bringing two greensticks onboard, but it was a chastisement that Shad could handle. The promise of Annaliese and Wynn was too great a treasure.

For years, he had been The Crucible's resident killer, the bringing of hurt…a gorram monster, but here were two people that knew him simply as ‘Shad’, a kindly stranger that happened upon them in their hour of need.

The thought comforted him greatly.

All the evil he had wrought cast a great weight and darkness on his soul, but the simple act of Samaritan-ism seemed to offer him a faint guiding light…a light he meant to follow.

With several of Mother’s finest baked goods and a pitcher of iced tea topping a tray on the desk, Shad, the ‘good-guy’, waited for his friends to awake.

He had to know what to do next; how to be good…before the Dark came calling.

The Crucible - Annaliese and Wynn's Room

Annaliese’s eyes fluttered open, seeing only ghostly shadows. She slowly blinked as she looked around until her vision cleared enough to just cast a hazy glow around the objects she saw. Her body felt funny. It was numb all over. She knew this feeling well. Neurodroxalate. Wynn had needed to use Neurodroxalate on her. The numbness she felt made it difficult for her to move, so with considerable effort, she turned her head just enough to see Wynn sleeping next to her. Even asleep he looked tired. She obviously put him through the wringer.

She slowly looked around the room. It didn’t look like any hotel room she could have imagined, but then again, who was she to know the difference. She’d never been to one. She was pretty sure that storage containers weren’t normally staples in hotel décor. It did smell good though. She recognized the scent of vanilla. It reminded her of the kitchen at home when there were cookies baking.

She turned her head a little further to see more of the room. It was then she caught sight of a young man. He was sitting at a desk. A tray of food and drinks sat next to him. She didn’t know who he was, but she didn’t feel afraid. He looked so kind and the halo effect of the drugs made him literally look like an angel.

He must have noticed that she was awake. When she looked into his eyes, she smiled warmly at him.

“Hi,” she managed to verbalize, not much above a hoarse whisper.

It was at that time that some of the numbness slipped away from her body, letting in dull throbs of pain. She grimaced a little. She managed another weak smile before all the energy remaining in her body faded from her and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

The Crucible - Annaliese and Wynn's room


As soon as Annaliese began to stir, Shad’s considerable attention fell on her and her alone. He watched silently as she took in her surroundings; her eyes moving slowly around the cabin. An anxiety like he had never known gripped the pit of his stomach in anticipation of her gaze. Being a silent creature, he had come to rely on his other senses to help him both communicate and measure all those with which he came in contact. Shad's terror stemmed from Annaliese’s forthcoming look because he knew that if she harbored any trepidation or rejection toward him, he would recognize it.

Finally when she noticed him, Shad felt all his fears wash away. Her eyes, though clouded with meds, spoke of a kindness he hadn’t seen since the passing of his brother, and when she smiled, it told him all he needed to know of Annaliese.

“Hi,” her hoarse voice greeted him warmly.

When her face flooded with pain, Shad found himself at her side before he could even comprehend his movement, and his rough killer’s hand covered hers just before she slipped back into unconsciousness.

And for the first time in an age, Shadrach Levy found his smile…and his voice,
”Hi.”

The Crucible – Annaliese and Wynn’s Room

Wynn was brought out of his slumber when he thought he heard voices. He stirred and stretched. The sound of someone sitting down quickly in the desk chair made him open his eyes. Shad sat there with just a hint of a smile on his face.

“Hi, Shad,” Wynn said groggily to him. He looked down at his watch. A couple of hours had passed since he had fallen asleep. Carefully he got up, intentionally trying not to jostle Annaliese. He went over to the desk and picked up the stethoscope. It was then that he saw the tray of baked goods and tea. He smiled at Shad. “You’re so thoughtful. I’m famished and those look absolutely delicious, but Annaliese comes first.”

He went over and listened to her heart. It was beating strongly. Wynn was relieved; he always worried about that. As he turned around, Shad was already holding out a glass of tea to him. Wynn gladly took it and quickly drank the entire glass. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until that point, but he knew that if he was that thirsty, then she would be as well.

“Thank you,” he told Shad as he turned back to Annaliese. Wynn looked down at her face and noticed that her lips were dry, a telltale sign that she was starting to dehydrate. He frowned a bit as he stroked her cheek.

“We need to get some fluids in her as soon as she wakes up,” he told Shad as he grabbed the jet injector and administered her metabolics. “These metabolics should give her some strength and help her wake up. She is also bound to start feeling some pain soon and I want to spare her from as much as I can. Have you been here long?”

Shad nodded.

“Did she wake up?”

Shad nodded again as he grabbed his Corepad. He typed out a message.

“I was hoping to lessen the extent of that,” Wynn said sadly. “I don’t like it when she’s in a lot of pain.”

Shad paused a minute and typed out another message.

“She’s in constant pain. It’s severity changes, but it never goes away. I don’t know how she does it,” he said as he picked up the vial of Hydroxen and administered a fraction of the full dose. “That should help make her more comfortable. Now we just need to wait.”

Shad handed him one of Mother’s baked goods. Wynn gladly took it, quickly taking a bite as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I want to thank you again for your hospitality, Shad,” Wynn said, genuinely gracious. “Annaliese and I don’t have any friends besides each other. You’ve been a good one to us.”

*Shad GM'd with permission from GrimJack.

The Crucible – Annaliese and Wynn’s Room

Before Shad had a chance to respond, heavy footfalls could be heard from the hallway beyond…footfalls that stopped outside Annaliese and Wynn’s door. A moment before the door opened, he had time to wonder once again just how a woman as small as Abby could sound like a two ton ogre, when the mood struck her.

The door swung inward with as much force as could be mustered, revealing the beautiful yet irate form of Abednego Mayweather. Still wearing her black leather pants and jacket, Shad could tell that she had only recently returned…just long enough to talk to Mother.

Turning to face her, the young killer met her gaze and awaited the strike that would come from her tongue.

“What the rutt, Shad!?! I swear to God you should’ve been a gorram shepherd…at least then this moonbrained behavior would have a semi-legitimate excuse!”, Abby’s voice was raised but she didn’t allow herself to devolve into shouting. It was a seldom occurrence that prompted her to leave behind the extreme neutrality in which she existed.

Shad’s hands swam in a complex series of gestures and signs, but Abby cut him off long before he could complete his thought.

“No, no, no! Think, Shad…have you stopped to even do that yet!?!”

Stepping forward, Shad’s hands flew again, and when Abby started to interrupt, he froze her voice with an icy look. Raising her hands in surrender, the dark haired woman allowed him to finish.

“They don’t need us, Shad,” her frosty voice replied, “…you do realize that by bringing them onboard, you could have condemned them.”

Shad responded with a few gestures…signed with less enthusiasm than the last.

“I know you think you could protect them, Shad, but you’re not invincible.”

Again Shad responded silently.

Sighing, Abby’s voice turned less harsh,
“Sometimes nowhere to go is better than coming to a place like this, Shad.”

The young man’s hands remained frozen, as he tried to think of something to say. Abby’s gaze finally fell on Wynn. After a moment of measuring the boy, she stated as matter-of-factly as she could,
“Did Shadrach tell you what we do?”

Shad’s shock was so great that a slight moan escaped his lips.

The Crucible - Annaliese and Wynn's Room

Wynn stiffened at the scene that played out between Shad and Abby. He became a bit alarmed by the talk of “being condemned” and “protecting them” and “no where to go is better.”

“Did Shadrach tell you what we do?”

“No, he didn’t. We really didn’t have a lot of time to talk,” Wynn offered. He wanted to placate Abby though, to tell her that he was immensely grateful and that she should be proud of having him for family. “But your brother here has been extremely generous in letting us stay here. Both you and your mother should be very proud of him. Annaliese and I haven’t had anyone to ever call a friend before. It’s been just us.

“I don’t know if you have ever felt isolated like that before, but right now, each other are all that we have. That is, until we met Shad. He’s been nothing but a good friend–”

Wynn’s speech was cut off by a sound behind him. A small, weak voice. It changed his attention from the conversation at hand, sending him into a whole other focus.

“That’s enough,” Annaliese spoke, not much over a hoarse whisper, but strong enough to be heard.

“Annaliese? How do you feel?” Wynn asked her.

She held up her hand to tell her to let him finish.

“I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m thinking that something has gone wrong?”

“Yes, our ident cards were stolen,” Wynn said. His voice got quieter. “I failed you.”

“Nonsense,” she told him. She looked up at Shad. She smiled sincerely and kindly at him again. She drew in a tired breath. “Thank you, for taking us in, but I don’t want to be trouble. Wynn and I will think of something and if not…”

She grimaced in pain and took in another ragged breath.

“If not, I might just have to give up this pipe dream of mine and go home,” she admitted sadly.

She turned towards Abby.

“I don’t know much about you all, but I do know a bit about being condemned,” Annaliese said with a small tear running down her face. “It can’t be anything but obvious that I am about as condemned as a person can be.”

The Crucible - Annaliese and Wynn's room


Abby allowed the pair to finish before she offered her first response,
”I want you both to listen to me…don’t hear me, but instead listen with the smarts that got you both this far. You’re right on one account, as far as Shad goes, Mother and I couldn’t be more proud, but sometimes loving someone and agreeing with their decisions doesn’t go hand-in-hand.”

The young drug dealer ran a hand through her jet black hair, shaking the length when her fingers drug toward her shoulders,
”The Crucible deals…with the dark element of humanity,” convinced Abby was going to actually tell them about the Drops, Shad nearly giggled in relief, ”We’ve made enemies for a number of stupid reasons, and we never know when they might come to collect on some imagined wrong….that’s why it’s not safe for you here.”

Shad started to sign, but she waved him off,
”But you two are here already, so you might as well bed down for a day or three,” interrupting any response from Wynn and Annaliese and stopping Shad from hugging her, Abby drew close to the two friends, ”If you hear trouble, lock the door and hide…when the coast is clear, run for the exit.”

Her haunted eyes turned to Annaliese,
”In the province of condemnation, there are worse things than sickness.”

The Crucible - Annaliese and Wynn's Room

“In the province of condemnation, there are worse things than sickness.”

“I’m sure there is. I am not so naïve to think that the ‘verse is perfect. I am sure that bad, horrible things happen,” Annaliese agreed with her. “But I can only deal with what is in front of me now. I don’t have time to ponder on the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘something coulds.’ If I did that, I would have never left my father’s house and stayed there to die in obscurity, with only Wynn, my father and the staff at my side.”

Annaliese’s eyes pooled with unshed tears.

“I have only been on this adventure for a day and things have not quite gone the way I envisioned it, but I still wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because we have made friends. Kind souls that have helped us when we had no one else. People who have allowed me to continue my last wish, just by providing a place to rest. People like Shad… and like you.”

Annaliese sucked in a labored breath and started to close her eyes. Wynn had begun mixing the hydration cocktail she drank to keep her fluid levels balanced, but he stopped what he was doing and went to her side.

“Stay awake Annaliese,” he said as he tapped her cheek. “I need you to drink these hydration beverages.”

“I’m still here, but you better hurry up,” she said softly as she forced her eyes open. “I’m really tired.”

Wynn looked at Shad.

“I need to finish mixing these. Could you help me?” Wynn asked. “She needs to be propped up so she can get these down as easily as possible.”

“I need to finish mixing these. Could you help me? She needs to be propped up so she can get these down as easily as possible.”

Abby very nearly sneered, “He doesn’t take orders from you, boy!?!”

However the words were never voiced, as Shad snapped to attention and after a quick nod went to Annalieses’s side.

As he moved, his eyes seemed warmer in the artificial light of the small room, and for the first time, she saw her partner in a different way…she saw a human being, where only Shad had been before. Finally Abby understood what was going on…it was Annaliese…

…but what surprised her more was the jealousy that flooded her being.

Taken with the rare barrage of emotion, the young drug dealer could only manage an inarticulate,
”Huh.”

Shad knelt on one knee beside the bed and carefully moved the pillows under the young woman he hardly knew.

State of Love and Trust as I busted down the pretext
Sin still plays and preaches, but to have an empty court, uh-huh

A hint of lavender met him as he worked, and without needing to ask, Shad knew it came from Annaliese’s skin; floating on the wind…like a promise from God.

And the signs are passin’, grip the wheel, can’t read it
Sacrifice the receiving the smell that’s on my hands, hands, yeah

He tried not to think about her skin…her body, but in his refusal to confront his feelings, an embarrassed flush crept up the back of his neck. If only his brother hadn’t died, he could turn to someone for advice.

And I listen for the voice inside my head
Nothin’, I’ll do this one myself

His hands moved independently of his thoughts, stacking the pillows, readying them for Annaliese, but they moved too fast…all that remained was to prop the young woman up. Offering her an anxiety ridden smile, Shad moved to lift her into position…which would mean touching her.

Lay her down as a priest does, should the Lord be accountin’
Will be in my honor, make it pain, painfully quick, uh-huh

He had carried her all the way from the club, but then she had been unconscious. Now she was awake and talking…and smelling like lavender.

Promises are whispered in the age of darkness
Want to be enlightened like I want to be told the end, end, yeah

Trying to deny Fate, Shad placed his hands under her arms, meaning to lift her quickly into position, but sometimes, no matter how much one railed, destiny had Her way. From his angle, he had to lean into her and for a moment, the killer and the dying embraced.

And the barrel shakes aimed directly at my head
Oh, help me, help me from myself

A beat passed, and he held her a second longer than he needed, taking the moment to repeat a plea in his mind, “Please, please let her never learn what I am.”

And I listen from both sides of a friend
Nothin’ I’ll do this one myself
Myself, myself

Propping Annaliese up, Shad reluctantly pulled back from her, mourning the retreating aroma of lavender, but before he pulled away his eyes met hers. At that moment if he had had the words for ‘protection, safety, and love’, he would have used them.


<<The smell of Lavender OK’d by abbey. If the ‘hug’ was too much, please let me know.>>
<<State of Love and Trust - Pearl Jam>>

If these Docks could talk...

A plethora of strange and unusual characters have passed through the station's ports. They come for the entertainment, for the glamour, and most of all they come to escape.

As two runaways find an unusual friendship in the belly of a drug-running freighter, and as Larry Twig ditches the night shift two hours too soon, what Route 66 had dubbed "night" by their clocks has finally come. The station floats by the scarcely populated regions of Bernadette and a formidably sized ocean that provide the lull in business their weary heads desired.

The night is when the Dockmaster imposes his will...and cues the beginning of Route 66's first adventure...

Welcome, players, to the first story of Route 66.

Route 66: The Man of War

The Teaser Trailer

The Docks have formed their own little sub-society within Route 66. Abby and the crew of the Crucible will have quickly learned their product is in high demand in the tightly packed community that is ruled by the Dockmaster.

(Posted Image)

It is this man, known only as "Doc", that controls a surprisingly large amount of the trafficking that is done at the station. While the arriving guests see only the razzle dazzle of the port terminals and an even smaller portion of the Central Docks, there is a seedy underbelly of corruption.

There is, in fact, an entire community living here, due to circumstances you will learn about soon enough. Shipping containers have been converted into housing units, and there is literally deck after deck of these slum-like homes that the general public never sees. This anomaly is home to what is essentially the lower class denizens of Route 66.

Drugs and prostitution are rampant, as well as a variety of other unsavory business deals...

The new day dawns on the Docks. The Crucible and it's inhabitants have had all of the morning to go about their business, and it is now officially the afternoon.

The steady waters of the Docks are being disturbed; ripples threatening to become waves as the first stones land in defying fashion...


<< Crucible folk, feel free to figure out what went down overnight amongst yourselves and this morning and post freely for now. >>

We are now synchronized with the Offices here
and Residential: here
and the Originale: here

(( approved by the 66 narration team ))


The night before... Karzelli Moto's Night Out.

Karzelli headed to the docks after leaving the Ante-Up. It looked like the only place that he had seen on Route 66 that offered a culture with which he was actually familiar. Atarah was of more interest and attraction, but it was a different environment, one he certainly wanted to know more about, her and the environment; but he needed a place to be grounded. The Titans were on his mind as well, but he had very little to offer them; what need of a mechanic did they have while they occupied an office? And his other talents, he wanted them to, to think other things of him, he didn't know why. They were both places he wanted to belong, but cocky as he was, he knew he didn’t; which had nothing to do his intention to maintain the associations.

He found a place to watch, waited. The ebb and flow seemed more orderly, even though not organized. The possibilities of direction more limited than the open air wider spaces of the Sihnon ports. The cargo lined up, the passengers queued, the workers and others. It was the others that held his interest, the poorer ones, and the ones that drifted to and from the large warehouse doors.

Karzelli followed along, blending in well in his current state of shagginess. The vast storage areas seemed to have been added on, additional areas connected to the station, environmental control maintained. He’d never imagined something so like the back ghettos of the big Sihnon cities could exist in a space station. This was something he knew, something aside from the slick false cleanliness of the rest of the Sixty Six. The upper class with pressed clothes, shined boots and all their flash; it was hard for him to see through, but here, he could see it spread out. He could understand it.

He talked with a few folks, asked the usual questions a new bum in street would ask, bought a skewer of some small animal; chopped, seasoned and roasted in a tiny micro oven; then returned to the large doors of between the ghetto and the docks. Karz chatted a few folks, about opportunities, and then followed along with one group, then another. He picked up some interesting theory about how the Slumdragon had come to be.

The station bought and sold on the big and small, the containers though started stacking up. Housing got crowded, so two birds with one stone. The station expanded, threw down some plumbing, power lines and environmental units and the Pin-min-Qu Long was hatched. The Slumdragon they called it. Those that lived there anyway, or at least the small part he’d discovered.

He’d learned a little about the hierarchy too. The people were used to the down on their luck coming and going. Ready to help, or take advantage of; but he picked up a good bit; mostly of the lower rungs, but more importantly, the very top. The top was Doc. Doc was both straight up top dog and the back alley top dog.

Karz couldn’t help but admire that.

Finally he struck a lucky match and witnessed a couple of young teen hoods running a scheme on a departing tourist. They’d helped with some luggage, begged for a hand out; acted very humble and for their efforts they’d got a gold half credit; and the wife’s wallet from her poorly guarded purse. It had been a bit sloppy, they might have been spotted from the cams in the dock areas, but the people were departing and the woman might not notice the missing wallet for some time. ‘Still’ Karz considered, ‘poorly concealed from the ever watchful eyes in the skies’

Karzelli followed them back into the slums; they quickly slipped into narrow passages between crates and cargo containers. He followed and took the wallet. At attempt to resist wasn’t made, apparently they were quite used to getting the shake down. He got a few names of those that usually did the shaking and let them have a little cash from their haul.

It seemed to have some promise, the lowest echelon was always the worse organized,
‘It is the cockroach that can make you king of the underworld’ Shan Yu had said. ‘whatever, the king here was no cockroach.’

Karzelli Moto turned his cash profit into a shower and a nice set of clothes, then while dressed a little to the upper scale, went and got himself a nice tux. He then took a little nap leaning up against a CORTEX cabinet.

Then it was time to go see Atarah, and then the Titans.


Mod Note: What else has Karz been up to? Find out in the Offices

Sal had kept her hair short and black today, too hungover to bother with dye and weaving in extensions, but she'd styled it to lie in a smooth helmet around her skull with a few wisps curving along her temples and down her forehead. She'd slipped on a pair of deep blue lenses to match the shirt she wore, a uniform-style number with Lieutenant's bars on the shoulders and a nametag on the left breast identifying her as 'Simmons'. She wore a pair of black trousers in jeans cut with a broad black gunbelt around her waist, although there was no weapon in the holster. Her black combat boots looked like they'd actually been used and had a dogtag stuffed into the space between laces and leather. Anyone looking closely enough would notice that the tag in the boot didn't match the name on the shirt.

She'd been prowling. Walking the highways and byways of Route 66, trying to get a sense of the place while shaking off the hangover. She'd ended up at the docks and saw how people live down here, seen the way they'd been stuffed in boxes in the most literal sense of the word and had been violently reminded of times past. When she'd first arrived at Persephone, she'd been mugged almost right off the shuttle, had her money stolen and most of her luggage as well. After that, she'd sheltered in cargo containers just like those at the Sixty-Six docks, only they'd been at Eavesdown.

She woke up to a loud banging on the container wall, sat up straight and scrabbled for the rock she'd kept with her to use as a last ditch weapon. The banging continued, moving from one wall to another and then to the third. She stared at the open doors, trying to curl up to hide in the shadows in the corner of the container, shaking as a leaf, waiting for certain death to appear in the dawn-lighted opening. It never came. Dawn turned to sunrise and to daylight before she dared to exit the shelter, rock still held in her cramped hand, blinking in the bright sunlight before she stumbled into the crowds rushing past.

It had only been a few hours after she'd left that container that she'd become a member of the Blue Dragons and over the next few years, she'd gotten to know Eavesdown like the back of her hand. The Sixty-Six docks weren't that much different. Only the location surprised her somewhat, which is shouldn't have. Any place that offered the least bit of hope for the future attracted people in search of something better and Sixty-Six was such a place. Just like Persephone and Eavesdown with it. Still, she couldn't help wonder how a enclosed and controlled space like a spacestation could shelter a community like this unless someone allowed it. Unless someone allowed it, she thought to herself as she sat on a crate in the outskirts of the shadow-side of Sixty-Six, watching the denizens preparing for lunch. She wasn't prepared to guess at who was allowing this shadow place to exist, but she was willing to bet on the reason for its continued existence. Basic economy. Money and trade going through this place would eventually trickle upward, leaving whoever left it intact a very rich man or woman. For now, she just watched, attempting to get a sense of the place and its people.

Disclaimer: Contains 'R' rated material. Skip down to the fourth paragraph if you are offended by such


Docks: Sereto District

Her one request had been simple. Don't get it in the hair.

But no. When the time came (or rather, when he did) stray semenary soldiers assaulted her meticulously crafted locks. After said soldiers had covertly landed, they camped out for the remainder of the night; dying a painful, dry, and crusty death.

The ceremonious removal of the remains took an hour and a half in the shower and a day's ration of water. Not her own water, mind you. His tab. This, along with the cash and drugs he'd left on the coffee table, were the reparations she'd liberated at her own discretion. The price he'd pay for having the aim equivalent to a six year old with a fire hose.

She was in one of the lower end apartments, low even by the Dock's standards. A rusted shipping container with a bedroom barely big enough for a single bed, a multi-purpose common room, and the bathroom she currently occupied.

"Flatter than hammered shit," Seraphim, slumdragon's very own angel, muttered to herself in front of a mirror that was almost as putrid as the man who owned it. Sera, as she was more commonly known as, raked her fingers through her damp hair; a drab and flat shadow of its former look. What were once bouncy, curvacious locks had been mercilessly pummeled into blandness by the morning's cleaning session. Of course it had to happen the night before her big interview.

She vented her feelings into a deep sigh, but the silence offered no sympathy, and her own reflection stared back through a thin layer of grime with no answer.

She adjusted her black strapless dress, starting at the top and smoothing it out down to just below her hips and letting semi-transparent wisps of fabric fall on their own accord down her legs.

Her heeled boots clicked audibly as she traversed the common room, where she deftly flipped her black leather spitfire hat from the stained coffee table to the top of her head. With her makeup redone, dress adjusted, purse reimbursed, and hair salvaged to the best of her ability; she exited the apartment of her most recent client.

She spent all of two seconds trying to think of the guy's name before it disappeared into the afternoon traffic of Sereto District's Quadrant Four. Sereto had the luxury of being a double deck; the ceiling rose the height of two decks to alleviate that caged animal feeling. Housing units similar to the one Sera had exited were organized in a not so neat and orderly manner, some stacked five high like some kind of aborted apartment complex.

Her destination, the Spot. At the center of the Sereto District was a market square where various locals had decided was prime real estate for their businesses. Certainly a strange sight to an outsider, but this was a culture that had developed well before the station had been called Route 66.

Sera stopped outside a shop with a sign claiming to be "Miss Fit's". Bigger than most of the households, but average compared to the rest of the shops.

Inside was a medley of goods too diverse for Sera's eyes to take in. Instead, she strolled over to a corner of the store dedicated to drawings. It was to the artist her greeting was directed.

"How's the canvas today?"