!Wish This Never Happened!, Tag: Genie and Cassim

[Cutler Beckett]

Cutler Beckett loved ancient artifacts.

His first priority was gaining power in the hierarchy of the East India Trading Company, and for the most part, he had accomplished that. His next goal was maintaining it and continuing to impress whoever would watch and listen to his massive contributions to the Company. It was no easy task, but Beckett always liked a challenge. After all, who didn't? It was refreshing to have something different every once in a while, especially with the monotony of the life he had chosen to live.

For this reason, Beckett had developed a few hobbies to focus his mind elsewhere when he was having a particularly stressing time. One of these "hobbies" in particular was collecting ancient artifacts of any kind, especially treasures. Those he valued and sought for most were connected to ancient legends from their respective cultures - relics of power and wisdom. Of course, Beckett himself hardly believed any of these legends (for if he did, he would have thought twice about pursuing the relics in the first place), but an ancient relic rumored in legend to have brought forth power, wisdom and wealth... made an excellent conversation piece, and all in all earned him more respect.

Therefore, Beckett had found himself in the deserts of Agrabah (he was more used to the climate than he should have been; he had endured as hellish temperatures as these in Africa), where there were artifacts and treasures galore. He only had to know where to look, whom to know, and how exactly to get his hands on his prize. Beckett had insisted on wearing his coat, because it was only right to be fully clothed in public, even in the least... English-influenced of civilizations. Agrabah was not the jungles of Africa, this much was true. However, as there were no signs of any sort of Company influence (when Beckett was used to seeing otherwise from any other country to which he'd traveled), it was only by instinct that he looked down on this particular location. Nonetheless, Beckett had been given reasonable shelter (with as reasonable of a temperature as this area would get) and was given a few days to adjust to the new environment. The only thing Agrabah had that was different from Beckett's past experiences in Africa would have been the sheer amount of sand. Having a temporary station in the middle of a desert had its prices, and Beckett - if stationed in this area or one similar - would have politely declined an offer to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary.

However, the visit would be entirely worth it. He had received several letters about a particular artifact that was especially interesting in this area. An ancient lamp, it was rumored to have a genie trapped inside, as similar legends always say. Until that very moment, those legends had been simply legends, and never would Beckett have dreamed that those legends would suddenly become real. He instantly became fascinated by the possibility of owning this item, and wondered why on earth anyone would want to be rid of it.

Of course, Beckett himself wasn't complaining.

It should be noted that, as with everything else, Beckett never truly did anything himself. He simply bought artifacts from people who had taken the hard work to dig the treasures themselves, offering a fair share of money for the item. This was exactly what Beckett intended to do today, as he sat in his makeshift office, waiting for the man - more specifically, the former owner of the lamp - who was supposed to meet him at the shack where he was staying. Beckett waited patiently, gradually becoming used to the empty table in front of him that did not have anything that would occupy his mind until his guest came.

His patience couldn't last forever.

[Cassim]

(sorry it's so late D'8 let me know if you need anything changed!)

"Genie, I can't say I know if you can hear me - I don't even know if you're in there; with any luck you're out with Aladdin - but for goodness' sake if you're listening, hear this: whatever you do, just stay *in* the lamp unless I say otherwise, you understand? trust me this once, alright?"

It was about all the thief could manage to say before the gang of red-coated men arrived to batter in the flimsy door to the dingy little building he'd chosen to sleep in with several solid kicks, the splintering racket a clear signal for the older man to get a move on as he scrambled for an escape route.

Ever since waking in a daze to find the worryingly familiar, battered old lamp in his possession almost a week ago, Cassim had noticed with increasing concern the attention he had begun to draw: using the underground contacts he had once garnered as King of Thieves, it became increasingly apparent that the unusual band of well-dressed men were after something of great importance, asking careful questions and patrolling the streets with as much pomp as the royal guard. Despite how careful he had been to keep the lamp out of attention (and as a man who prided himself on being one of the best thieves, that was incredibly secretive), these men had somehow still managed to narrow down their search and knew exactly what they were looking for and had begun closing in. This was a dangerous situation to be sure.

More unnerving than all of this fuss however, was that the source of trouble - the lamp (or furthermore it's occupant) had remained entirely silent this whole time. Now, if that wasn't cause for concern, he didn't know what was...

They struck during the heat of the day - a time he belatedly realised made perfect sense as a time when locals felt at their laziest - and so the ex-king had little to no time to make good his escape, just managing to snatch up the lamp from where it rest nearby on a cushion and hiss his warning as he moved through the cramped building. Obscuring the artefact of bronze by sliding it as far back around his sash as he dared, letting the heavy material of his cloak obscure the object's dull shine, he leaped to a window with all the intent of making his trademark grand escape. Really, exiting a building by unconventional means was a breeze.

Or at least it used to be. Not being familiar with advanced tactical manoeuvres due to the lax nature of the palace guards, nor the invention of the rife, it took him by surprise when everything exploded around the window in a shower of mud and plaster as the men outside opened fire on the dishevelled building, forcing the stunned occupant back inside with a yelp. By this time the initial redcoats had already made it through the building and were waiting: a solid smack to the back of the head with the stock of a rifle and he'd all but collapsed unconscious; easily enough time to apply shackles and have the bemused, dimly cursing thief dragged into custody.

His head was still pounding by the time they arrived in the more monied district of Agrabah, and although his ties to the royal family had given him a better sense of what to expect, the thief was still used to whatever shelter he could find these days. As he was walked through the sturdier buildings, he couldn't admit to feeling altogether comfortable in these surroundings of makeshift opulence. Flanked by guards, he entered the office with hardly a sound, dark eyes quickly taking stock of the room's interior before settling on the lone stranger waiting inside. Interesting.

It was about now that the would usually consider uttering a snippy remark or other kind of biting comment in regards to his captor (and by the looks of the diminutive, oddly dressed younger man who had been waiting, there was certainly plenty to go on), but mistrust and suspicion made him far warier this time. More interested in getting the full measure of these foreign men and what their intentions were before deciding to cause trouble, he instead remained in silence as he stood before the desk, expression fixed into a vague countenance of distaste as he affected innocence.