Science Fiction Multi-Feature Picture Show

Gangs of Verona (Part 1)

The runners were late once again. She prayed it wasn't those bloody pirates. The House took some heavy losses through the last few months. There was a strong likelihood they were revenge hits, payback for the violence among their children nearly a year ago now. As if in reminder the scar between her breasts gave a painful twinge, still healing from her temporary lapse in sanity.

Sighing, she paced the dock, her thoughts turning to the very subject she tried to avoid thinking of every hour of the day. She'd been so very stupid to think it real. Well, they were all back in their own corners now weren't they? A delicate hand swat the back of her head, breaking through her funk.

"Ow," she whined, turning to face her abuser. "Oh." Her cheeks flamed, unable to meet her cousin's worried expression.

"Honestly, Jules, you need to get your act together. If your mum catches you moping over that sophead anymore she'll make you into a fine pair of boots." The speaker folded her arms over her small bosom, pursing her lips at her cousin's attire. Jules was suddenly very self conscious of the three day stains on her vest.

"I'm trying Rose, really," she subconsciously rubbed between her breasts, drawing Rose's dark eyes to the action. Her cousin reached out, stilling Jules's hand.

"I know you are, but even the favored daughter of House Capulet only gets so many passes. You blew through most of them with your dalliance. If both of you hadn't survived that little stunt, we would be in the middle of a full out war."

Jules winced at the reminder. War would have destroyed both Houses and she already had enough blood staining her soul. Though if the rumors heard of his state were true, she wouldn't exactly call it surviving. Rose nudged her, nodding to the rig pulling into the dock. Evidence of a fire fight scored the hull. Her shoulders dropped as Sampson stumbled from the cabin, his left arm in a sling and an angry wound on his forehead. Despite his wounds, Sam still cut an intimidating figure in studded leather and chains. It was the reason he lead the salvage and trade missions. She squared her shoulders, attempting to adopt the Capulet authority as she approach the wounded man, nevermind that he used to bring her sweets as a child.

"What happened?" She snapped. Her mother spoke with a booming voice that could be heard across the whole dock when she merely whispered. Her daughter couldn't keep the slight tremor out of her voice. Rose brushed against her side, lending her strength.

Sampson rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm. "Another damn raid, lass. Those tossers are determined to provoke your mum, no matter how many offerings were made to compensate them for their sniveling brat."

Rose noticed the look on her face and took over the conversation. "And the cargo?"

Sampson looked away. "Gone, all of it gone."

Jules paled. Rose caught her when her legs gave out. Her mother wouldn't let this go. Everything she had been through, everything they'd sacrificed was for not because of one mistake, one careless act in the heat of infatuation. The Houses had been at each others' throats for years in acts of escalating violence, but after the incident, House Capulet backed off in an attempt to forge peace. The gesture, it seemed, was for naught.

There had to be something she could do, something to derail them from war. "I have to talk to mother."

"Then you can give her this," said Sampson. He reached into his jacket, retrieving a crumpled, blood spotted note. The wax seal was cracked but recognizable. She took it from him, her stomach knotting with dread, surprised it didn't burn her fingers. The note would make reasoning with her mother impossible. She should shred it and toss the bits to the wind but Jules knew better.

Lord Montague only sent a note when he expected an answer.