Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150531022109/@comment-26130256-20150531044946

(For cases of imagination/voice acting, Ochre and Trigo are played by Ricardo Montalban and Cary Elwes )

A few dozen meters away, two men purposefully strolled through the exhibits, slowing their pace every once in a while to examine some new marvel of engineering. They didn't intentionally avoid the crowds of people, but the crowds seemed to part instinctively, as if by some sort of personal reverse gravity. The fastest ones to move were the handful of visitors from Vacuo, who seemed shocked at the pair they saw walking the aisles of the convention in distant Sahale.

The first man, clearly the dominant one of the pair, was an old man of medium build, with a vigor in his step that defied any attempt to guess his age. Gray hairs framed his wrinkled face, which paired a kindly, beneficient grin with searching, piercing, chocolate brown eyes. He was dressed in an orange-brown suit that had remained spotless and unwrinkled despite hours in the hot, cramped expo. In his hands, he held a gunmetal walking cane with red accents, even though anyone looking closely could see the cane was as necessary to the old man's walk as the gold cardamom-seed pin on his lapel. No, the cane surely had some other purpose, if the segmentation on the shaft was any indication.

His associate, dutifully following a few steps behind, was like a mirror, identical in some aspects, but completely opposite in others. He was tall and gaunt, and his attention seemed to rapidly shift in and out of focus like a camera. His golden-yellow suit, complete with an identical lapel pin, was impressively clean, but not quite to the degree of his boss. Even though the tall man had to surrender his hip flask at the door, his very essence seemed to smell of various fine liquors, soaked into him over years of consumption. Despite smelling like a classy drunkard, the loose stance he walked in showed he knew his way around a fight, and the twin eskrima-shotguns at his hips had enough scratches and battle scars for at least two wars.

As they passed a stand where a young Faunus was showing off his idea of a man-portable railgun for defense against large Grimm, he jumped back a little, almost losing his grip on his pride and joy. If it didn't seem so impossible, the Vacuan native would have sworn he had seen Ochre and Trigo Cardamom pass his booth. But that was impossible, he told himself. Ochre was the Don of the Cardamom crime family, and easily one of the most powerful men in Vacuo, even if the family had been moving from "illegal" to "shady" over the past couple of years. And Trigo "The Tornado" was his top enforcer/dispenser of violence, as well as the Vacuan underworld's equivalent of the bogeyman. What would they'' be doing at a technology expo so far from home? I must just be stressed from this presentation'', he told himself as he fielded more questions from interested guests.

"Perhaps you were correct, son.  I did need a vacation,” Ochre admitted, stretching his back as he talked to his son.

"Thank you, Ochre," Trigo replied, keeping his head on a swivel. "I may not be an idea man most of the time, but when I have them, I have them."

“True, but for every idea you have like this vacation, you have at least two ideas like that flying distillery.”  The elder laughed as he remembered Trigo’s proposal in the boardroom.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">“I’m telling you, boss,” the enforcer protested. “I checked the laws. Any airship capable of staying aloft for more than 6 months can be considered to function with extraterritorial status. It’s like international waters, but in the air.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">“And how much did you say a Masada-class airship would cost us?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Knowing when he was beaten, Trigo wisely let the matter drop. Stopping near the food court, his ears picked up on a familiar voice. It was Mr. Zephrion Flagg, the ringleader of this electric circus, and he was talking on his scroll about some kind of construction project going amiss. The location they were describing sounded very familiar…

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">“Say, boss,” Trigo wondered out loud, shining his pin as he spoke. “You don’t suppose he’s talking about that new factory outside of the capital in Vacuo, do you?”