Sunset
 

Louis Rhodes stood at the side of the pilothouse as the Horizon puttered away from the line of ships moored just beyond the 12-mile limit of U.S waters. He tucked a cigarette behind his ear and ran a hand through his black hair, letting out a tired sigh. "Christ this was easier before the Feds moved the line to twelve miles out" he mused as he tapped on the roof of the pilothouse. "Once we're a half-mile from Rum Row, open 'er up" he said to his pilot. "Gershwin needs a new shipment or all those little flapper girls of his are going to pitch a fit".

Louis Rhodes was a Rumrunner, and he was very good at it. He had come from a long line of fishermen before Prohibition had hit and he decided to drop out of the trade and grab a piece of the Gin-soaked pie. His new business had been more than profitable, he made more in his first month than he made in a year. It wasn't without it's dangers, running at night without lights wasn't the wisest of ideas and other runners were keen to increase their profits my decreasing the competition. Then there was the whole 'illegality' thing. Rhodes glanced as he steadied himself in the small chop, the lights of the anchored Canadian ships were getting farther and farther away.

There was a small clomping of booted feet to his left. He turned to reagrd a sandy-haired, grease stained boy dressed in a mechanic jumpsuit. "Engines are purring like kittens" he said with a smile as he wiped his hands on the railing.

"Good, but they better be roaring like tigers if we need them too, things have been getting hot since Solonik started moving in on Kerrigan" Rhodes was rewarded for his caution with a rag to the face.

"Ey, I know those engines inside and out and they'll be roaring like lions when you open up that throttle" he grumbled as he stalked off back into the bowels of the ship. Rhodes only sighed and looked up at the brilliant stars, they'd be racing the dawn into Portland again.

Adam Benet steps out onto the deck with an aura of coldness about him. His shaggy, unkempt brown hair hangs down, covering his equally cold, eyes. The clothes on him aren't as simple as they usually are. He has on brown pants with with white, brown, and black short tassels hanging down off the sides of the trousers. He has on a brown cowboy hat. A white shirt and a brown vest is coverign his torso. His heavy, brown boots thump with each step as he heads up towards Louis Rhodes. His build is best described as sturdy.

Oh, by the way, did I mention all the guns? I probably didn't, so I'll mention them now. He has two pistol holsters at the sides of his worn out belt. He has another pistol holster on the right side of his vest and he has a Springfield M1903 slung around a shoulder. Yeah, he looks somewhat like a cowboy, but he doesn't care! Other guns that Adam happens to own are the Browning Automatic Rifle and the Thompson. Both of which are in his bunk.

Adam approaches Rhodes and says, "G'mornin'. Anythin' excitin' happen yet?"

"Only Archer throwing his hookers at me trying to make the sale" he said, not looking at Adam as he kept his eyes on the horizon as Rum Row shrunk in the distance. "Since he watered down that last batch he's had trouble getting buyers. I got it from Buble as usual, dependable if nothing else" he sighed, brushing a bit of imaginary dust off his coat. He let his his glance turn momentarily to his companion, looking him up and down. "I said we may have trouble...not that they'd be sending a battleship after us".

"You look like you're ready to take on the Kaisers armies yourself" the mechanic piped up, face now grease free. "Or rob Fort Knox or somethin'.