☆ ⁺ « 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄
★˚⋆ [ PLEASE PROVIDE YOUR FIRST AND LAST NAME. ]
"Jerick Glass."
[ APOLOGIES, BUT THAT NAME IS NOT INCLUDED IN BANQUET INVITES. PLEASE REPEAT CLEARLY. ]
"Jerick. Glass."
[ APOLOGIES, BUT THAT NAME IS NOT INCLUDED IN BANQUET INVITES. PLEASE REPEAT CLEARLY. ]
Mista huffed in annoyance. "Did Coco do us dirty or something? What's going on? Jerick. Glass."
The little bot blinked regretfully and repeated its message. Mista blinked at it, looking ready to punt its squat body like a football.
"It might have something to do with the fact that you're saying the damn name wrong," Fugo grumbled. He elbowed Mista out of the way and spoke crisply to the bot. "Jerick Cage. Philip Glass. Ahren Irani."
[ NAMES CONFIRMED. PLEASE PRESENT INVITE CODES. ]
You, Mista, and Fugo presented the false invites Coco had whipped up on your holopads. The bot nodded at each one, its display turning green.
[ WELCOME TO THE PARTY. PLEASE HAVE A GOOD TIME. ]
You stepped onto the gangway of the ship with no small amount of relief. The stares the rest of the line had been giving you had made your neck prickle. Hopefully people would assume Mista had gotten a little too drunk to say his name properly. Half the people here were already slightly buzzed.
Trish had told you this ship was practically an exact replica of the age-old Titanic. A part of you thought that had to tempting fate somehow, no matter how cocky Zero was. The gorgeous, old-timey ship was juxtaposed against the wacky and bizarre outfits everyone had decided to pull out for the occasion. Trish hadn't been kidding when she'd said you all fit in. You looked downright plain compared to the rest of the crowd. One guy was wearing an honest-to-Stars model Eva on his head, which said everything you needed to know about the kind of people here tonight.
It wasn't hard to follow the stream of people into the ship and then across polished wooden floors, immaculate upholstery and wallpaper and tasteful accent pieces to get to the main banquet hall. It was like stepping into a photograph from two centuries ago. Rather than the gaudy electronic music you'd expected, a live band played slow swing and jazz. It was brandy and jazz and flappers and cigars muddled into one room, the farthest away you could get from the shitstorm of the present. Disregarding the clothing and holopads and service bots, of course.
Zero had outdone himself, you would give him that.
"So where would Zero be in all of this?" Mista asked beside you. He caught a flute of champagne from a passing bot and took a swig.
"We can't approach him right away," Fugo said. "Trish and Narancia need time to get the phone. And he'll be onto us if we seem too desperate."
Mista groaned. "We have to mingle?"
"It is a party."
[ THERE ARE SOME INTERESTING PEOPLE AT THIS PARTY, IF YOU CARE TO LOOK. ] Coco piped up suddenly through your earpieces.
"Thought you died on us. How are things looking on your end?" Mista asked.
[ I'LL LET YOU KNOW IF THERE'S ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. ]
YOU ARE READING
KISMET ─ vento aureo.
Fanfiction☆ . kismet ─ with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and a pretty-faced crew...
