23: [Action/Video] Pirates

[dashboardlite]

Who'll make his mark
The captain cried
To the devil drink a toast
We'll glut the hold
With cups of gold
And we'll feed the sea with ghosts
I see your hunger for a fortune
Could be better
Served beneath my flag
If you've the stomach
For a broadside
Come aboard my pretty boys
I will take you and make you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

Obscenely loud music is blaring from one of the first floor parlors, and it possesses a remarkable nautical quality that borders on the fucking epic.  You might be wondering the reason for these festive tunes, curious resident.  If you happen to be peering through your communicator or walking down the hall, venturing into the nearest open door, your vision is assaulted by a swath of colorful fabrics draped over the furniture, from the ceilings, along the walls.  The alluring glitter of gold winks up at you from piles on the floor, and a bust of someone who looks suspiciously like Edward Teach is bedecked in jewelry and scarves.

The captain rose from a silk divan
With a pistol in his fist
And shot the lock from an iron box
And a blood red ruby kissed
I give you jewelry of turquoise
A crucifix of solid gold
One hundred thousand silver pieces
It is just as I foretold
You, you see there before you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

You might even see Dean Winchester, sporting an eyepatch and a large, plumed hat, lounging on a silk divan.  His jeans are tucked into heavy leather boots and he's wielding a flintlock pistol, cleaning the barrel with a chamois rag.  Pausing for one moment, he sets the gun aside and reaches over to pick up one of the gold doubloons scattered across the floor.  He then peels away the leafing and pops the chocolate money into his mouth, enjoying it with obvious relish.  Turning the music down as soon as it breaks to an instrumental interlude, Dean crosses his legs on the divan, getting comfortable.

He pulls out a hip flask, taking a swig and saluting the camera with his left hand - observant residents might notice that he appears to have only four fingers now.  Then he spreads his arms to welcome the adoring audience.

"All aboard, bitches."

Comments

[blimeyjamwalls.livejournal.com]

An ordinary Victorian might remember the announcement of the daguerreotype. A Victorian with self-inflicted amnesia would gape, and make a connection to pinhole cameras, and gape some more.

"Itself-- it makes the image?"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," Dean replies, a little exasperated, because the point of this discussion was not about cameras, it was about cars, and Dean actually knows about cars. He couldn't tell you what the fuck an f-stop was if his life depended upon it.

"The camera - the box-thing - makes the image."

Clearly Dean does not find Daniel's derp nearly as endearing as Philip does.

[blimeyjamwalls.livejournal.com]

"But that's-- incredible!"

He examines the photograph with new fascination, turning it this way and that. But Dean's impatience is pretty evident.

"And... this is the car? The rail-less car?" So... more like a carriage, really, but without anywhere to attach the horse. So where does the combustion engine go? It doesn't have a tell-tale chimney that he can see.

"And it's faster than a train? How on Earth does one steer it?"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Ah, back on familiar terrain. This, Dean can handle.

"Think of it this way, dude: at fastest, a train could get to maybe eighty-eight miles-per-hour." So what if he learned that from Back to the Future: Part III? It still applies. "A lot of cars now - including my baby - can get up to a hundred, one hundred and twenty, or one hundred and forty."

Dean points to the front of the automobile. "The engine's in there, under the hood. If you're sitting in the car, facing forward, you steer it from the left side at the front. See, the wheel's right...right there."

[blimeyjamwalls.livejournal.com]

The gaping comes back for an encore. But that's so fast. And the engine is so small.

Wait, wait, he thinks he knows the answer here. And won't Dean be impressed by his guess!

"Does it work by electric..." shit what's the suffix suffix suffix "...ity?"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Electricity? Hell no. Nah, this is an internal combustion engine, baby," Dean's grin widens. "Electricity wouldn't give it enough juice to run. She moves on gasoli- Uh. I think you guys call it petroleum, or somethin' like that. S'like a kind of oil."

[blimeyjamwalls.livejournal.com]

"Oil?"

But as surprised as he sounds, Daniel realises that that actually makes a lot of sense. If one can burn oil for light, why not for other things? No, what's still awing him is:

"But - the speed! Men of your era must have the reflexes of cats if they are to steer a carriage which moves at twice almost the speed of a train."

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

A carriage. Oh, that's funny. He's remembering that one for later.

"You can't drive that fast all the time. We got speed limits so people don't get hurt. But yeah, I guess...guess our reflexes are pretty good."

Most people, anyway. Dean knows some pretty horrible drivers. He rolls his shoulders in another shrug, and offers, "Whenever we get ours built, I could teach you how to drive it."

Like he's got anything better to do.

[blimeyjamwalls.livejournal.com]

"You could?"

The prospect is a little unnerving - the thing sounds dangerous, after all - but he smiles, because more than that it's exciting. This is a legit combustion-engine-powered horseless carriage from the future; of course it's exciting. And as well, he doesn't want Dean to think he's a fraidy-cat.

"Oh - that would be fascinating!"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

This is hilarious. It's like talking to a little kid. Daniel is just so excited about everything.

"Yeah, it ain't a problem," Dean returns the grin. "I had to teach my brother how to drive when he was a kid, and the manual transmission's probably better to learn, anyway. S'not like we got anything better to do around here, right?"