This is something of an experiment.
Can I write something "real world". Ok, so Crimson Skies isn't exactly "real world", but it's something different from anime.
Anyway, you only really need to know the basics for the Crimson Skies setting to enjoy this one. Well that and a masochistic tendency.
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The Wages of Sin are Surprisingly Good
By Lord Raa
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Disclaim-me-do: Every days a good day for a car chase. Or a shootout. Or an explosion.
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Inside a reasonably respectable bar, Tony Jeffers sat at his usual table. He sipped at his beer, thankful that the Nation of Hollywood had the good sense to keep liquor legal.
Legal liquor meant that there was some quality control and while some of the smuggled alcohol was from the same factories, some of the rotgut hed tasted in the Republic of Texas had nearly made him swear off the booze.
Thankfully, it had been an aberration.
Excuse me, a female voice said, interrupting his introspection.
Tony looked up. Hello, there. What can I do for you?
Im looking for someone who can take me to New York City, the woman, a fashionably dressed blonde with collar-length hair replied. Im in something of a rush.
Im sure that Al at the bar there will call a taxi to the airport for you if you ask him nicely.
The blonde moved a chair from a neighbouring table and sat opposite Tony. Id rather not use public transport.
Youre rather forward, approaching a strange man in a bar, the beer drinking man smirked. Not only that, what makes your travel arrangements any business of mine?
Youre Anthony Jeffers, the blonde explained.
Thats whats on my ID. Whats yours say?
Jessica Stone, the woman answered, her pale blue eyes darting around the bar. Please Mr. Jeffers, I need your help.
Ms. Stone, I wasnt planning to go to Empire State any time soon. Jeffers killed his beer before leaning in for some privacy. But let us assume that even if I can take you there when you want to go, you do realise that an air ticket to New York City isnt cheap, dont you?
I can pay you $250, Mr. Jeffers, Stone replied. Thats what a first class ticket on a zeppelin costs.
I dont suppose that you have that in cash, do you?
I do. Please Mr. Jeffers, I am in a hurry.
People arent going to come bursting through the door to take you away, are they? Tony asked, shifting his posture so that he was resting his chin on his left hand.
Whats that got to do with anything? Stone asked, her own posture becoming defensive.
You want me to take you to New York City rather than take a zeppelin which you can easily afford; which tells me that you want to avoid certain questions. Personally, I dont care if your real name is Elizabeth Man-Killer and youre wanted by the cops for a dozen murders. What I care about is whether or not people are going to try to kill me for helping you.
Jessica Stone bristled for a moment. Look, do you want the job or not?
Fine, Ill do it. But itll cost you $450. $250 now, the rest when we get there, Jeffers said.
How do I know you wont just toss me out the plane when we get airborne?
Theres $200 in it for me to get you there safely, the man smirked.
Your manners leave a lot to be desired! the blonde declared with a disgusted expression marring her movie star looks.
You want manners, travel first class, darling. Your choice, make it quickly, Im in the mood for another drink.
Fine, lets get going, Mr. Jeffers.
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While Jeffers and his crew were often found near and around the city of Los Angeles, he didnt keep a car on the ground. When Jessica Stone asked about it, he replied, The last thing I need when I come to town is a massive parking fine.
That answer had been met with a dismissive shake of the head, but the blonde understood that the economics of running a car in a city where you only spent a fraction of the year didnt make sense.
After hailing a cab and directing it to the airfield, Jeffers turned to Jessica and offered her a cigarette.
I didnt know you smoked, the blonde said as she took one of the offered cigarettes.
Normally I dont, but I do under certain circumstances, Jeffers smirked.
Jessica shot him a look of disapproval. I think I can guess what they are, Mr. Jeffers.
Im just checking youre paying attention, Ms. Stone.
@@@@@
So now what do I do, Grace? a young man asked, his eyes wide with excitement.
Breathe, remain calm and think about where you want to strike, an English woman with long, black hair instructed. Close quarter fighting can get very dangerous very quickly.
Junior, where are you? an older male voice called out.
Dad? Oh crap! the young man panicked.
The older man, the senior George Jackson, walked around the corner of the hangar to see his son in a fighting pose with something in his right hand. Son, what are you doing?
Its my fault, Mr. Jackson, I had noticed that George here lacked a certain confidence, Grace explained.
What is that in your hand, Son?
Its a knife. Well, sort of, the young man answered as he held up the wooden replica Grace had fashioned for him.
Youre teaching my son how to knife-fight? the older man asked, a look of disbelief on his face.
No, of course not, Mr. Jackson, Grace insisted. But he wanted to know how to handle himself in the event of an emergency.
George Junior nodded when his father looked at him.
The older man had a feeling it wasnt just a desire to be useful in the event of violence breaking out, but also an excuse to spend time with the attractive British woman.
Grace was wearing a blue jumpsuit which she filled out impressively. The top few press-button fastenings were open, showing off the white t-shirt she wore underneath.
In his youth, George Senior wouldnt have objected to a little wrestling practice with Grace, though after hed seen her take care of a coyote pack with her bare hands, hed decided against trying to try anything with her.
For such a slender frame, she was surprisingly strong. And she did look good in that coat shed made from their pelts.
Never mind that, I just spoke with Tony and he wants us to get ready to take off.
We havent outstayed our welcome, have we? Grace asked.
Not that I know of, replied the older Jackson. Tony just asked us to get ready to leave. He didnt say and I didnt have time to ask before he hung up.
Ooh, intrigue! the ex-pat smiled. She rubbed her hands together before pulling out her .45 automatic pistol and checking it. The last time there was intrigue, violence wasnt far behind.
Definitely not the sort of girl I want Junior to marry.
@@@@@
Now, I know that there's not much there. Like I said, this is something of an experiment - I have to create pretty much all of the characters.
I can't rely on your knowledge of their interactions, because you don't know any of them!
Hell, you probably don't care if they all die in the next scene, which makes this in the same league as the average SI fic, only without the attempts to fix shit.
Short version: I know it's bad, but does it have enough potential to warrant putting in some more effort?
Can I write something "real world". Ok, so Crimson Skies isn't exactly "real world", but it's something different from anime.
Anyway, you only really need to know the basics for the Crimson Skies setting to enjoy this one. Well that and a masochistic tendency.
@@@@@
The Wages of Sin are Surprisingly Good
By Lord Raa
@@@@@
Disclaim-me-do: Every days a good day for a car chase. Or a shootout. Or an explosion.
@@@@@
Inside a reasonably respectable bar, Tony Jeffers sat at his usual table. He sipped at his beer, thankful that the Nation of Hollywood had the good sense to keep liquor legal.
Legal liquor meant that there was some quality control and while some of the smuggled alcohol was from the same factories, some of the rotgut hed tasted in the Republic of Texas had nearly made him swear off the booze.
Thankfully, it had been an aberration.
Excuse me, a female voice said, interrupting his introspection.
Tony looked up. Hello, there. What can I do for you?
Im looking for someone who can take me to New York City, the woman, a fashionably dressed blonde with collar-length hair replied. Im in something of a rush.
Im sure that Al at the bar there will call a taxi to the airport for you if you ask him nicely.
The blonde moved a chair from a neighbouring table and sat opposite Tony. Id rather not use public transport.
Youre rather forward, approaching a strange man in a bar, the beer drinking man smirked. Not only that, what makes your travel arrangements any business of mine?
Youre Anthony Jeffers, the blonde explained.
Thats whats on my ID. Whats yours say?
Jessica Stone, the woman answered, her pale blue eyes darting around the bar. Please Mr. Jeffers, I need your help.
Ms. Stone, I wasnt planning to go to Empire State any time soon. Jeffers killed his beer before leaning in for some privacy. But let us assume that even if I can take you there when you want to go, you do realise that an air ticket to New York City isnt cheap, dont you?
I can pay you $250, Mr. Jeffers, Stone replied. Thats what a first class ticket on a zeppelin costs.
I dont suppose that you have that in cash, do you?
I do. Please Mr. Jeffers, I am in a hurry.
People arent going to come bursting through the door to take you away, are they? Tony asked, shifting his posture so that he was resting his chin on his left hand.
Whats that got to do with anything? Stone asked, her own posture becoming defensive.
You want me to take you to New York City rather than take a zeppelin which you can easily afford; which tells me that you want to avoid certain questions. Personally, I dont care if your real name is Elizabeth Man-Killer and youre wanted by the cops for a dozen murders. What I care about is whether or not people are going to try to kill me for helping you.
Jessica Stone bristled for a moment. Look, do you want the job or not?
Fine, Ill do it. But itll cost you $450. $250 now, the rest when we get there, Jeffers said.
How do I know you wont just toss me out the plane when we get airborne?
Theres $200 in it for me to get you there safely, the man smirked.
Your manners leave a lot to be desired! the blonde declared with a disgusted expression marring her movie star looks.
You want manners, travel first class, darling. Your choice, make it quickly, Im in the mood for another drink.
Fine, lets get going, Mr. Jeffers.
@@@@@
While Jeffers and his crew were often found near and around the city of Los Angeles, he didnt keep a car on the ground. When Jessica Stone asked about it, he replied, The last thing I need when I come to town is a massive parking fine.
That answer had been met with a dismissive shake of the head, but the blonde understood that the economics of running a car in a city where you only spent a fraction of the year didnt make sense.
After hailing a cab and directing it to the airfield, Jeffers turned to Jessica and offered her a cigarette.
I didnt know you smoked, the blonde said as she took one of the offered cigarettes.
Normally I dont, but I do under certain circumstances, Jeffers smirked.
Jessica shot him a look of disapproval. I think I can guess what they are, Mr. Jeffers.
Im just checking youre paying attention, Ms. Stone.
@@@@@
So now what do I do, Grace? a young man asked, his eyes wide with excitement.
Breathe, remain calm and think about where you want to strike, an English woman with long, black hair instructed. Close quarter fighting can get very dangerous very quickly.
Junior, where are you? an older male voice called out.
Dad? Oh crap! the young man panicked.
The older man, the senior George Jackson, walked around the corner of the hangar to see his son in a fighting pose with something in his right hand. Son, what are you doing?
Its my fault, Mr. Jackson, I had noticed that George here lacked a certain confidence, Grace explained.
What is that in your hand, Son?
Its a knife. Well, sort of, the young man answered as he held up the wooden replica Grace had fashioned for him.
Youre teaching my son how to knife-fight? the older man asked, a look of disbelief on his face.
No, of course not, Mr. Jackson, Grace insisted. But he wanted to know how to handle himself in the event of an emergency.
George Junior nodded when his father looked at him.
The older man had a feeling it wasnt just a desire to be useful in the event of violence breaking out, but also an excuse to spend time with the attractive British woman.
Grace was wearing a blue jumpsuit which she filled out impressively. The top few press-button fastenings were open, showing off the white t-shirt she wore underneath.
In his youth, George Senior wouldnt have objected to a little wrestling practice with Grace, though after hed seen her take care of a coyote pack with her bare hands, hed decided against trying to try anything with her.
For such a slender frame, she was surprisingly strong. And she did look good in that coat shed made from their pelts.
Never mind that, I just spoke with Tony and he wants us to get ready to take off.
We havent outstayed our welcome, have we? Grace asked.
Not that I know of, replied the older Jackson. Tony just asked us to get ready to leave. He didnt say and I didnt have time to ask before he hung up.
Ooh, intrigue! the ex-pat smiled. She rubbed her hands together before pulling out her .45 automatic pistol and checking it. The last time there was intrigue, violence wasnt far behind.
Definitely not the sort of girl I want Junior to marry.
@@@@@
Now, I know that there's not much there. Like I said, this is something of an experiment - I have to create pretty much all of the characters.
I can't rely on your knowledge of their interactions, because you don't know any of them!
Hell, you probably don't care if they all die in the next scene, which makes this in the same league as the average SI fic, only without the attempts to fix shit.
Short version: I know it's bad, but does it have enough potential to warrant putting in some more effort?