A Moment of Weakness for Vaughn

[Ciaran O'Malley]

"A Moment of Weakness"

Tagging: James Vaughn

[James Vaughn]

TAG: Ciaran O'Malley

i have sworn

TO DO VERY FOOLISH THINGS

random number generator selected
16. My muse is kidnapped and yours
has just rescued them.

Considering the illegal activities Vaughn tended to engage in -- practically his entire existence -- it was no surprise that it would indeed catch up to him. If not at sea where he enjoyed his life of piracy, then most certainly on land where he enjoyed . . . less, but drink and women. The two main perks of being on the ground. That, and he of course had business to conduct with the supplies he brought in, and crewmen he need recruit. This time however, he had been apprehended by one that was, perhaps not so impressed with his unwillingness to cooperate. It did not take long to discover Vaughn's dislike -- to say the least -- for authority to being told what to do, when to do it, how to do it, only set the man off.

Currently, he was tied up, staring at the men who seemed to be mulling over what to do with him. From what he could gather, they were a rival gang of Slade's and wanted details and ownership of what Vaughn brought in, the value of it all or information about the crime lord. It was not loyalty that dissuaded Vaughn from giving anything away, it was the fact that he did not want to share his profit. Even if it may very well cost him his life. They seemed as if they were deciding what to do with him; use him as bait, kill him, turn him in to the Bow Street Runners. Vaughn had even offered his own suggestions, but his incessant talking was met with being struck. When they realized that would not shut him up . . . they tied a cloth around his mouth. His words now incoherent for the most part, but the man at least tried to enunciate words to indicate his displeasure and of course, any insults he could offer.

Blazing guns caught the interest as the men rushed upstairs. Vaughn watched his surroundings, trying to wriggle free from his hands being tied up. He was in the lower level of some fucking place, and he could only look up at the boards on the upper floor, the thuds of what he presumed to be bodies falling to the ground, residue from the material that held the level up falling onto Vaughn's face. His blinked it away, shaking his head a little as he could hear heavy footsteps and muffled noises. His eyes followed the shadow of the feet, as it was heading towards the stairwell that would descend to where he was. And when he saw the source of them, the Captain smiled, regardless of the cloth that hindered him. For it was none other, than Slade's right hand dog. This, was fucking perfect.