"Don't sell them short." Wolfwood positions himself at the side of the door, Punisher in hand. "The best bandits are multitaskers. It all depends on if they know she's here."
Dammit, he'd known it was a bad idea to travel along with an upperclass escort, but they'd had no choice.
As if in answer to Michael's question, there's a crackling from above as the PA system kicks in, and a man's smug voice comes over the speakers, echoing into the stricken steamer. He sounds giggly, at the edge of self-satisfied hilarity, like taking out a sand steamer is just the absolute highlight of his day -- which, to be honest, it probably is.
"Greetings, citizens!" he says. "You are being addressed by the melodious voice of none other than Pierre Patricks. It's such an absolute pleasure."
Low moans echo through the corridors, and Wolfwood grimaces.
The man continues. "We apologize for the delay in your journey. Rest assured you will be allowed to continue on -- just as soon as we've relieved you of any valuables you might be carrying. Don't try to hide them. This is your only warning -- you won't get another. Don't try to hide yourselves, either. Everyone will come to the cafeteria, with everything they've brought. You have ten minutes. For every minute you make us wait after that, I, personally, will kill a hostage."
There's a pause, and then a laugh. "Oh! I forgot to mention the hostages. Say hello, kids."
The silence between that comment and the next sounds from the speaker settle heavy in his chest, but his suspicions are confirmed when the PA fills with the panicked shouts of the same children he'd played with earlier.
"They must have been playing in the corridors," Wolfwood says, low, but rage is beginning to build.
"Pleasure doing business with you all," says the first voice. "See you in ten minutes!"
The PA clicks off, leaving a sinking silence before scrambling and shouting begin in the rooms around them.
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Dammit, he'd known it was a bad idea to travel along with an upperclass escort, but they'd had no choice.
As if in answer to Michael's question, there's a crackling from above as the PA system kicks in, and a man's smug voice comes over the speakers, echoing into the stricken steamer. He sounds giggly, at the edge of self-satisfied hilarity, like taking out a sand steamer is just the absolute highlight of his day -- which, to be honest, it probably is.
"Greetings, citizens!" he says. "You are being addressed by the melodious voice of none other than Pierre Patricks. It's such an absolute pleasure."
Low moans echo through the corridors, and Wolfwood grimaces.
The man continues. "We apologize for the delay in your journey. Rest assured you will be allowed to continue on -- just as soon as we've relieved you of any valuables you might be carrying. Don't try to hide them. This is your only warning -- you won't get another. Don't try to hide yourselves, either. Everyone will come to the cafeteria, with everything they've brought. You have ten minutes. For every minute you make us wait after that, I, personally, will kill a hostage."
There's a pause, and then a laugh. "Oh! I forgot to mention the hostages. Say hello, kids."
The silence between that comment and the next sounds from the speaker settle heavy in his chest, but his suspicions are confirmed when the PA fills with the panicked shouts of the same children he'd played with earlier.
"They must have been playing in the corridors," Wolfwood says, low, but rage is beginning to build.
"Pleasure doing business with you all," says the first voice. "See you in ten minutes!"
The PA clicks off, leaving a sinking silence before scrambling and shouting begin in the rooms around them.