Canary's Love Letter - Special Cargo

Waking up at the crack of sunset, Canary rolls out of bed and gets himself ready for hearing the daily report from Finch. He grabs a jug of water and a piece of hard bread before heading down to the hangar. On the way there he passes other Blood-Sparrows getting off shift, grabbing weapons from the armory, or just fighting over loot. Just as he swallows the last piece of bread, he spots Finch waiting with a clipboard in hand. Although there is no direct chain of command, Finch's power and influence is second only to Canary.

"Morning Finch, what do you got for me?"

"It's afternoon, and nothing too terrible. First, there's a storm coming in, so I had Dodo ground and cover our birds. Second, remember that firefight that happened a few clicks south? Plover's scouting party uncovered an iron-clad chest and a whole lot of dead bodies. They attempted to recover the chest, but something called an..."

Finch pauses in order to flip through a few scraps of notes.

"Albatross? An albatross attacked, and Plover was forced to retreat. He called it a "big fukken bird with big fukken teeth", but if you ask me, he tends to exaggerate the size of certain things. Third is H-Bird, he's still obsessed with going to the surface ever since he fell into the mist. He shut up after Gull pumped with a few narcostabs, but I'm told he's still murmuring things about underground music."

"Damn, any good news? Any chance we found another crate full of twinkies like we did last month?"

"No twinkies, but we did find someone... interesting. We intercepted a bunch of scavs who had hijacked one of Dremmer's personal shipments. It was something he wanted hidden, judging by how thick the plating was. Turns out it's just a kid, maybe some lovechild he wanted to raise?"

Finch flips the clipboard over to Canary after finishing her report. He grabs the notes, takes a big swig of water, and scratches his chin while pondering his next move.

"Alright lets handle this shit one piece at a time..."

Canary's penthouse has a large meeting room at the bottom that he uses to negotiate deals, plan attacks, or to conduct any other business that a large gang with airships might get involved with. Canary has several notes laid out on a table made from iron bars and wood. Finch stands next to him with a radio, ready to bark out orders.

"For the iron chest we'll need a group with more firepower. We'll have to wait until morning to head back out as well... Tell Plover to head back out there with two sky-jeeps tomorrow morning. Also, get a message to Killer, Lattice, and Twilight. Offer them the standard payment, or a favor if they need some help from good ole Canary. Drop some jingle on runners if they aren't in our tower."

Looking at the notes on H-Bird, Canary grimaces and look around the room suspiciously.

"We'll need Eddie to talk to H-Bird...And we should also talk to Goldaline, if she's not already in this room listening to us. Those two know a lot of weird shit, and H-Bird might be possessed by something supernatural."

Finally, he looks at the notes involving the child recovered from the Dremmer shipment, and runs a hand through his hair.

"I'll go talk to this kid, but we need to do it somewhere that's not... here. Too much violence and sex in this place, this kid might be sheltered or scared out of his wits. Call up Lark and see if she can convince Armstrong to let us use his studio to talk to the kid."

Finch nods, and relay's Canary's orders into her radio.

"Dodo? This is Finch, we gotta send out some runners..."

A few moments later, Dodo's voice can be hear over Finch's radio.

"Alrighty, runners are on their way. I sent Pecker to Killer's house, Crow to Pop's place to see who's there, and Egg is looking for Eddie and Goldaline. I'm not getting anything but static from Armstrong, maybe they shut off their power or something."

Still rubbing some of the sleepiness from his eye, Canary leans towards Finch's shoulder to give a response.

"Fuck it, I'll just take Dremmer's kid to Armstrong's place myself. Send whoever takes iron-chest the job to Plover, first come first serve. And tell Gull to let Eddie speak with H-Bird if he shows up, otherwise wait for me to get back."

"Sure thing, boss."

Afterwards, Canary straightens his attire and gets ready to get to work.

"So where's this kid, Finch? Not still locked in crate, I hope."

"Well, after we brought him in he wouldn't calm down unless he was near the armory. So we just left him in there with some guards for protection. Last I checked, he was in there cleaning weapons and giving out pointers."

"...Not the strangest kid I've heard of, but it comes close. Leave it to Dremmer to have a kid that's a gun-nut."

'Killer' is closing up for the night when an older, thinner man arrives (probably 20:00 or so, having had dinner at Pops' after my story), clad in a long Sou'wester and a knit cap. The storm's raging outside, rain pelting down, and 'Killer' recognizes Pecker's worn face outside as he pounds the doorframe. The door is pulled aside, and he checks the surrounds quickly, and motions Pecker inside.
In there, it's warm, and a single electric bulb sheds warm light on the dingy apartment.
'Killer' tucks away the brutal shotgun he'd brought to hand quickly, and casts a knowing eye at Pecker.

"What does he want? I just back from picking up a delivery for Pops, I got Toni to think about."
"Yeah, the boss knows, man," says Pecker, clearly sympathetic. He rubs his grey, stubbly head, and wrings his knot cap in his hands.
"I know you just got back, 'Killer', but the boss says he needs a hand, he's willing to throw in a few extra cards for the trouble."
'Killer' casts a glance towards the eight-year old playing idly with a pair of old Before dolls, humming to herself, and grimaces.

"Hey Toni, you gonna be okay if daddy has to go out to work?"
The little girl just nods and keeps humming, casting a glance towards a window propped open with a stick.
'Killer' nods at Pecker sadly, all too aware of the cost of living.
"Sure, tell him I'll be there soon, I just have to get the little one bedded down. How rough is it going to be?"
Pecker gives a shrug, and turns, placing his ridiculous knit hat back on his head.
"Thanks, 'Killer', I'll let him know you're comin'."
He flaps up his collar again, and heads into into the night, his oversized boots splashing on the bare metal floor.

'Killer' sighs, gathering his big duffle bag and checking the contents quickly before closing it up, and kissing Toni goodnight. He leaves the remains of dinner out on the little coffee table, in case Toni's "imaginary friend" comes to visit again, and triple-checks all the other locks. He settles Toni to bed before changing into another short, layering his heavy jacket over it, and shouldering his big duffle bag and heading out into the night.

Canary's eyes widen at bit in surprise at seeing Twilight and so many others taking refuge at Armstrong's studio, especially since Armstrong wasn't there.

"Glad to see you're still kicking, Twilight. Is Lark in the main studio? I need to talk to her..."

He tried to read Twilight in order to get a better idea on how to answer his question about the kid.Pecker leads Killer to Plover's bunk in the Blood-Sparrow's penthouse. It's not all that far from Killer's floor, but it's better lit and a lot less leaky.

You always hear Plover laughing before you see him, and Killer finally spots him on bunk surrounded by other gang members telling a story. Plover's dark red hair is slicked back, he's wearing loosing fitting clothing, and he looks happily tipsy. Doesn't look like he's about to go out on a job, since he doesn't have that bloodthirsty look in his eye.

"There we were, about 50 feet off the ground. Mist was thin, so we'd have no trouble taking the chest. However, as soon as we set down we hear this clicking...wavering whistling noise. I thought it was one of the damn groundings sputtering out his last breath, but out of mist this...thing comes charging at us! It's the largest bird I've ever seen! It's got a beak as long as my arm, and talons the size of goddamn knives!"

As Pecker and Killer approach, Plover quickly spins the story.

"I tell ya lads, it was one big bird. Canary told me he was gonna hire Killer to help us out, seeing as the big man loves eatin' chicken so much."

A few waves of chuckles go though the crowd, but the whole room erupts in laughter when Killer stands menacing figure stops right behind Plover. Plover smiles, glad to get a laugh from the crowd.

"Oooh, hey there Killer! Do you fancy a drink?"

"Yeah, you don't want to mess with a bird that big." The big man pulls up a sleeve on his t-shirt, revealing still- puffy scars, only a few months old. They intersect his spiral tattoos in odd ways, light lines crossing the dark.
"Something like that'll tear your goddamn face off, you let it. You run into one o' these, you bring backup, 's what saved me."

He takes a long pull from the water bottle that's handed to him, and passes it back.
"So, we go hunting one of these, best come with a few gun hands."

Canary pauses for a moment in the lobby in order to figure out his options. He stares at punks waiting out the storm, security door leading to the interior of the studio, and then back at the kid. He calls out to Twilight before he ventures too far away.

"Hold up Twilight, don't talk to Lark yet. It's lucky we ran into each other because I could use your help. What do you say?"Plover nods and leans in to talk 'privately' with Killer. You can smells the booze on his breath.

"Yep, you hit the nail on the head. At 0600 tomorrow morning we're headed back out with about 12 guys and some airships. Canary said he was gonna come as well, since there's some cargo we need to recover. You in?"

'Killer' sighs, and nods.
"Yeah, count me in. I'll bring the heavy gear. 'M I good to head back home for tonight?"

"This is Dremmer's kid, but he has no idea that his ship was shot down. Lots of scavs tried to put a bullet in his head already, so I've gotta get him back home ASAP. I get a feeling that Dremmer will give us both a handsome reward once we return him... but I don't want to risk Armstrong broadcasting this mess all over the radio."

"OK Then, lets hope the forecast is good, wouldn't want the kid getting soaked."