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<blockquote data-quote="iwatt" data-source="post: 3025763" data-attributes="member: 11085">Hey I'm cool with Mac saving Colin's bacon.If Trilobite is cool with this, feel free to finish up the following scene.__________________________________________&quot;Fitzpatrick, you didn't really believe I'd forget about you.&quot;The tall and athletic man stopped in his tracks. He'd just gotten of the Red Dawn, a tramp freighter on the Calcutta-Shangai run. Ah, the wages of sin. Turning around, the goodlooking man answers in the accents of the english upper-class. &quot;Dear me! Coronel Mcpherson, you scared me half to death. Imagine running into you here in Shangai.&quot;&quot;Cut the small-talk Fitzpatrick, you know why I'm here&quot;. A man steps into the lights provided by one of the nearby docking cranes. Middle-aged, he's wearing the uniform of one of the indian cavalry regiments. He's accompanied by four rather large individuals. &quot;You men, do what I hired you to do! I want that smile smashed off his face.&quot;Looking around, Colin realizes he's in for a beating. The four men quickly surround him, the prospect of delivering pain bringing smiles to their faces.&quot;I dare say Mcpherson, this isn't the polite way to go about this.&quot; At this point, the largest of the four dockworkers rushes in with a haymaker. With a quick sidestep, Colin avoids the lumbering giant and swiftly deals a lightning punch of his own, stunning his assailant. &quot;Did I forget to mention I was the welter-weight title holder for the lower Traansval boxing Association. Eighteen and under of course.&quot; The other three ruffians all charge the young englishman together. What follows is a rough and tumble scuffle in which the quick jabs and feints allow Colin to hold his own. After dropping a second attacker, Coronel Mcpherson shouts in anger. &quot;Enough! I want this miserable bastard to pay. Fifty pounds to whoever takes him down.&quot;Upon hearing this, both dockworkers pull out nasty looking knives. The nastier of the two adds, &quot;Sorry mister. For fifty quid I'll carve up me own father.&quot;______________________________________________________________________________</blockquote>

[QUOTE="iwatt, post: 3025763, member: 11085"] Hey I'm cool with Mac saving Colin's bacon. If Trilobite is cool with this, feel free to finish up the following scene. __________________________________________ "Fitzpatrick, you didn't really believe I'd forget about you." The tall and athletic man stopped in his tracks. He'd just gotten of the [I]Red Dawn[/I], a tramp freighter on the Calcutta-Shangai run. [I]Ah, the wages of sin.[/I] Turning around, the goodlooking man answers in the accents of the english upper-class. "Dear me! Coronel Mcpherson, you scared me half to death. Imagine running into you here in Shangai." "Cut the small-talk Fitzpatrick, you know why I'm here". A man steps into the lights provided by one of the nearby docking cranes. Middle-aged, he's wearing the uniform of one of the indian cavalry regiments. He's accompanied by four rather large individuals. "You men, do what I hired you to do! I want that smile smashed off his face." Looking around, Colin realizes he's in for a beating. The four men quickly surround him, the prospect of delivering pain bringing smiles to their faces. "I dare say Mcpherson, this isn't the polite way to go about this." At this point, the largest of the four dockworkers rushes in with a haymaker. With a quick sidestep, Colin avoids the lumbering giant and swiftly deals a lightning punch of his own, stunning his assailant. "Did I forget to mention I was the welter-weight title holder for the lower Traansval boxing Association. Eighteen and under of course." The other three ruffians all charge the young englishman together. What follows is a rough and tumble scuffle in which the quick jabs and feints allow Colin to hold his own. After dropping a second attacker, Coronel Mcpherson shouts in anger. "Enough! I want this miserable bastard to pay. Fifty pounds to whoever takes him down." Upon hearing this, both dockworkers pull out nasty looking knives. The nastier of the two adds, "Sorry mister. For fifty quid I'll carve up me own father." ______________________________________________________________________________ [/QUOTE]

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