Setting aside petty differences in the name of ... Treasure!

[Element]

When was the last time I was here? It had to have been when ma was still around - back when we were something more of a family. It's had to have been almost eleven years.

The small skiff putzed across the waters from one of the outlying islands with a few souls to occupy it's weathered casing. An elderly man, ancient of days, sat at the rear of the boat, tilting the rudder into the cascading waves to keep them bubbling along. At the spooned bow, a rather thick man stood, knee bent and looming over the waters as though he'd lived on boats his entire life. Dark green eyes, the hue of forest sage examined the coast and docks of Scara Brae with a faint nostalgia and admiration. It has been so long and so much had changed.

As the small boat neared the docks, Temple leaned over and grabbed the dock boards with a strong arm and pulled them inward, while keeping the vessel from a damaging impact and then acted as any person in his situation would do, and acted as a human railing for the few aboard. They thanked him politely, pressing hands into his muscled shoulders before hoisting themselves to the dock and scattering into the busy world of fishing import and export. With a friendly nod to their captain, Temple stepped up onto the dock himself and gave the elder a signal for a moment. His wrinkled, parchment-like face matched the sun-bleached ship he was nestled into. Temple stood tall and turned.

The beach-side was as all were on these coastal cities, bustling. Thousands of people yelling and waving their goods: fish, rods, pearls, and other simple materials. The pace was fast. Heavy. Quick. Not paying attention could mean losing valuables, buying into something you never wanted, or being hustled out of everything you owned or worse -- getting caught doing one of these same acts.

I wonder where that little bastard is ...

It had been eight years since Temple had seen the fellow that mugged him, but the two recently had contact. Never having caught his name, this felon had the section of the map that gave explicit directions on where to go and how to get into this old heroes ruin - however, Temple had the actual map coordinates piece, which left them in need of one another or at least both portions of the map.

Shifting through the crowd, waving food out of his face and skimming through people, the hunter moved to the eastern side of the dock where they'd said to meet - in the cargo section. Boxes upon boxes, large spindles of rope, trimmed sails and so much more lay over here while men worked around it all, Temple waited.

[Surgeon]

How the skiff had managed to stay afloat for the duration of the voyage was beyond Surgeon’s understanding. Enough tar and patchwork had been applied to the hull to insure it’s placement as a laughable choice of conveyance, but at the time it’s captain’s price had been too good to pass up.

You get what you pay for, I guess. Surgeon lamented, rolling a coin across the tips of his knuckles. He’d settled up with the Captain prior to setting sail, a foolish gesture, but one he’d been forced into once the man had seen the scars upon his wrists. In the old days he might have slit the toothless fuck’s throat and set sail himself, but now it just seemed more trouble than it was worth.

Keeping his eyes fixated upon the shimmering piece of currency, Surgeon fought the bile trying to rise in his throat. He’d never been partial to boats and that hadn’t changed after nearly a decade under the earth. Puffing his cheeks up, the crimson haired man let out a long sigh as he fought to settle rolling in his gut. The city was in sight and while it was hardly grandiose, it was a great deal more to look at than an iron cage. The city’s wall, while no doubt intimidating to an invading force, seemed a set of arms, wide open and ready to envelope Surgeon into their protective embrace. One might think that after having put a set of bars behind him, a wall was not necessarily an ideal selling point and, in truth, it was not the wall that appealed to him quite so much as being able to enter or leave the wall’s perimeter when he so chose.

Surgeon watched the people flutter about on the docks, intermingling, running about and simply moving along with their pleasant little lives. It was a luxury very few took time to notice. Emerald eyes, perused the docks and the buildings, off in the distance. A mere glance made it known that the structures were designed for use rather than aesthetics. No doubt, Scara Brae was not the most beautiful city he’d ever seen, but it wouldn’t get swept away by a passing storm and that was enough, for now.

Catching the lump in his throat, Surgeon offered the captain a strangled ‘Thanks,” as the skiff sidled up to a small dock. Pocketing his coin, Surgeon stepped upon the dock, turned to wave farewell to the grizzled old captain, and doubled over as the content of his stomach were jettisoned into the frothy blue water below. It took Surgeon a few moments to settle the convulsions and regain control. Wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand, the thief cleared his throat and offered the captain a sheepish grin. “Ah…don’t remember eating that.”

Pulling a pair of spectacles from his coat pocket, Surgeon slipped them on and waded into the crowd.


~*~

At Temple’s arrival a figure moved out from behind a large crate. His clothing was well worn, but hardly tattered and a long knife was holstered at his belt. A cloud passed over head, causing a ray of sun to catch the silver spectacles balanced upon the bridge of his nose. They were, arguably the most expensive thing on his person, despite the spider-web crack running across the left lens. Strolling towards the large figure, Surgeon hailed him with a half-hearted wave and tugged the tips of his gloves down over his bandaged wrists.

Lips parted and curled into an amiable grin, offering Temple a glance of pearl-white teeth.

“Temple, I assume?” Surgeon said, with a raised brow. Stepping clear of a large rope coiled in his path, Surgeon closed some of the distance between himself and the man. “Whew,” he whistled, eye lids widening “you got big…s’been what? Nine years?”

Surgeon’s hand never strayed too far away from his knife, in the event that Temple decided to seek retribution. He had no idea how good the youth’s recollection was, but Surgeon had no intention of taking a beating for a crime he didn’t commit.

“Pretty sure, it’s nine, at least.” Surgeon continued with a nod of his head. “Time ‘s a funny thing in a dungeon, might have been twelve for all I remember. Good news is, the fella who roughed you up is still in there…”

[Element]

The warmth of the sun overhead beat down on the man as he leaned against a box, wondering when exactly this fool was going to show. It wasn't even a moment passed in thought when a figure emerged from Temple's peripheral and the man turned a slow head, though not to seem surprised. Like all of the other dock workers though, this man didn't ring a bell and Temple caught the gleam of specs as he looked away.

A few seconds passed and the enigma spoke his known name and hunter green eyes turned back to the man with the silver lining. His brows pinned together out of curiosity for this individual, knowing exactly who he was. Temple looked around momentarily, ensuring that he wasn't to be attacked from any direction and pivoted to square up on Surgeon. Broad shouldered and meaty, Samuel was build like a brick shit-house, to say the least.

Before any questions could be asked, Surgeon explained that Temple's assailant was still in prison. Putting the pieces slowly together, the man nodded slowly. "So you have what I'm after then ... what was taken from me?"

The question was asked out of genuine seriousness, but the man's attitude and mental was lethal. He was examining Surgeon with fine tuned eyes -- eyes that had seen men like this one before. He noticed the bandages curiously, the knife on his belt, and the shape of his clothing -- or lack there of. Yet instead of moving for intimidation, Temple moved over to a hip-high box and took a half-seat, crossing his arms slowly and looking out across the southeastern seas.

"Do you know what it is that you're actually carrying? What it goes to?" Examining the man before him once again, the sable dreads swung freely about his shoulders. Keeping quiet as dock workers passed, Temple's brows raised with interest to the man's coming response.

[Surgeon]

Despite Temple's decision to square off with him, Surgeon opted to lean against a large crate and peruse the occasional passerby as any man having a casual conversation might. It required very little effort on Surgeon’s part to keep a lackadaisical air about his person, something he doubted the broad shouldered bruiser had even considered. A gloved hand rose and pantomimed a gentle patting gesture, beckoning Temple to relax.

Surgeon let out a soft sigh of relief at Temple’s choice to take a seat. To any of the citizens passing through, they’d appear as nothing more than two men seeking some small manner of shade whilst they conversed. "Not carrying!" Surgeon replied, his tone emphatic. "Not carrying," he reiterated, lowering his voice. "I had it, but I fell into a bit of bad luck and stashed it."

The thief flashed Temple a smile.

“Nothing to worry about though, I managed to hide it someplace safe. So all we have to do is go out and grab it.” Wrapping his knuckles against the crate, Surgeon gave a shrug of his shoulders as though the plan was the simplest ever conceived. “I’m well aware of its value,” Surgeon replied, softly. “I wasn’t, at first.” He admitted, chuckling. “And by the time I did figure out exactly what it leads to I was on the run. “

Removing the spectacles, Surgeon gently polished the lenses with the tail of his shirt turning his head to peer out at the sea. “So, here’s my proposal…” he said, donning the spectacles. Surgeon folded his hands in his lap and pushed off the crate in order to face Temple. “Even split, fifty-fifty. You get half, I get half and the world is all bright and shiny again."

[Element]

The flicker in the man's eyes sought to punish this fool by beating his skull into a hollowed out bowl, but the there inlay the issue of pounding this thief into the ground and still being without the know-how. Without that piece, Temple wouldn't ever find the ruins of lost and his treasures. A sigh escaped his lips, one of checkmate. A large hand arose to his face, rubbing at his bristly maw with the cogs spinning at voracious speeds to come up with some reason to cut the man out of the deal, but nothing he came up with allowed for such an ending...

"Dammit ..." Temple hissed under his breath, nestled within a sigh as the lanky figure before him seemed to enjoy the torture. How many years have I been waiting for this? It's so close in my grasp, I could just strangle this little bastard. Little was a bit understated as the men were nearly identical in size; Surgeon being a shade shorter. Pound for pound, Temple's stocky build only made him look larger and more intimidating.

"I have rules." Temple said at last. "I agree to the fifty split, but you keep your mitts of anything that's mine and I will do the same. I don't care how you ... acquire things ... just as long as they're not mine. I'll break your damn fingers if you pilfer from me, got it?" A stern finger rose toward Surgeon, but quickly spun into a handshake, bringing a handsome smile to his lips. It was show, as a faint suspicion had grown to their conversation and a few eyes and ears were on them. Temple looked cleanly into Surgeon's eyes, olive to emerald, and then a quick-shot, side-glance made to the boxes off toward the end of the docks. They were being watched.

Without another word and after the firm handshake, Temple arose slowly from his seat and nodded a head, as though they needed to get a move on and only the redhead knew where exactly they were going.