#hobbs karaboudjan

[shads-shipposts]

This chapter is perhaps the oldest, or was one of the first I ever drafted. It may have even been a chapter that was initially drafting back in late 2019/early 2020, although it didn't flow exactly like this. But the "flee the scene and fight your way out" essence of it has been around for a hot minute lol. Banter and fight scenes are my absolute favorites to write, and this definitely has lots of both. This is actually a shortened chapter, with part of it shifted to Ch 5 because it was pushing 5000 words. 

I loved writing all the sailors in this, but Tom is probably a fav. I love the guy, but initially I found myself making him a bit too harmless/passive so I've gone back through my drafts and tried to give him a bit of an edge. Mackenzie Crook's voice and the general way he portrayed Tom in the movie made him seem like a puppy quite often, but Tom still is a very skilled and very dangerous criminal (and grown adult with stubble for days) who can kill/has killed if the situation called for it. He's Allan's right hand man after all, so he's seen and done some shady stuff. He's still gonna be a close friend of Shadow, but there will be times when Shadow gets the reality check of exactly the sort of men she's running with. 

Enjoy this monster of a chapter! As always, make sure to reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed! 

Beginning: Here Previous: Here Next: Here Ao3 Version: Here Masterlist: Here

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“Catch that kid! Alive!”

Well ain’t this dandy? All I wanted to do was sketch the ship, now I’m in a run and gun chase scene! This is what I get for being curious!

At least this was just a dream, so I couldn’t really get hurt.

Though now was as good a time as any for my subconscious to shift scenes, placing me far from here.

Any minute now.

Any minute the docks would warp and shift and I would be elsewhere. Maybe pursued, maybe not.

Perhaps it’d be a forest, or a beach, or outer space, or some liminal hellscape found only in the most remote of fever dreams.

And yet the tall warehouses and clusters of crates remained.

And yet the distant yells of foremen and longshoremen remained.

And yet the salty musk of the sea remained.

And yet the cobblestone streets and their many puddles remained.

Any minute, subconscious! Now would be a great time to go fuzzy!

And yet…

I remained.

Footsteps came quick behind me, and close.

If my dream didn’t shift me soon, I’d be in trouble.

Blackbelt or not, running was not my forte. My fighting style was quick and brutal, so I never had to worry about stamina. Fights were only supposed to last a few seconds, otherwise they were brawls.

I was not trained for that. Not extensively, at least.

Already I could feel the acid in my muscles, the strain in my throat, and the throbbing of my teeth.

Hellfire and damnnation, please let it not be Allan closing in behind me!

He had questions, and to be fair I had a hell of a lot of my own, but I didn’t think he’d be keen on sitting down and having a calm chat about them.

I risked a glance behind me.

Not Allan, or any other sailor I recognized from canon material, but the young Boston guy. No older than me, or taller, but probably faster.

“No hard feelin’, doll!” he called. “Boss wants you back, so I’m takin’ ya back!”

Anger lent me a second wind, and I pushed ahead with renewed determination.

“Call me that again and I’ll drop your ass!” I retorted

“That fire won’t do you any favors with the boss!”

“And your smooth talk won’t do you any favors with me!”

Spotting a brick wall maybe eight feet high, I changed course and headed straight for it. Hopefully this young fella couldn’t vault walls like I could.

Let’s see if all that self taught parkour pays off!

Jumping at the wall, right foot first, the treads of my boot caught the rough brick and I propelled myself over the obstacle. I landed in a puddle, sending oily water everywhere, but at least I was gone from the bad side of the wall.

“Oh what the hell?!”

Ha! Lost him!

“Nick! Where’d she go?”

“She vaulted the wall!”

Well, that was no good. That sounded like Neil, and he could probably toss Nick over to my side.

Time to make like my name and vanish!

Spying an open door, I darted inside a warehouse and scrambled up behind some crates. I was careful to not put myself into a corner, however, because I knew my harsh breathing would give myself away. I could control it decently well, but even still.

Subconscious! Where’s that shift!?

My reprieve was horrifically short lived.

Voices, inside the warehouse.

Subconscious!

“Those footprints led in here.”

Damn puddle.

“Be careful, fellas. She’s feisty!” came Nick’s laugh.

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

“Anyone would be annoyed to deal with you,” another sailor snorted, voice far softer than any of the other men and carrying a hint of a French accent. “Remember, boss wants her alive. Preferably unharmed, but use whatever force needed to get her down.”

Oh, better bring the heat cause I ain’t going down easy.

Noise came from my right, and I turned in anticipation as I waited for the sailor to show himself. He sure was making a lot of noise, and I thought I even heard a crate tumble down to the floor.

The reason for all the excess noise soon revealed itself.

“Gotcha!” Nick laughed from behind, arms wrapping around my middle. He hauled me up and towards himself, but that gave me an idea.

Throwing all my weight back into him, he yelped and we both tumbled backwards, heels over head, down the tall stack of crates. Something that should have hurt like the dickens, but didn’t.

All hail dream immunity!

At least I knew for sure this was a dream, even if things were incredibly vivid.

Fine! If my dream won’t let me leave, then I won’t be stuck here with these guys.

They’ll be stuck here with me.

Down we went, Nick having a much worse time than me judging by the yelps. It was a long way to the cobblestone floor, the sailor who made all the noise rushing to beat us to the bottom where another sailor waited.

From what little glimpses I got, I thought the man at the bottom was the sailor I’d locked eyes with while talking to Neil.

Big guy, burly with broad features, and wearing a signature black scarf covered in red floral designs.

But I couldn’t really be sure, tumbling backwards Loony-Tunes style as I was.

What was sure, though, was I didn’t plan to fight three guys.

Take out as many as you can as fast as you can.

As we neared the bottom, I kicked off the pile of crates and launched us both into the legs into crate-climber-sailor as he darted below us to grab me.

He went down, him and Nick ending up tangled in a pile of sore limbs, leaving me free to spring free and get ready to square up with the remaining sailor.

Though I honestly wished he would have been the one Nick currently struggled to detangle himself from. I’d faced off some big guys in karate, but this fella was on another level.

Leverage. I’d have to use leverage.

In a way that did not anger this big guy for further down the road.

Or just duck and dodge. He’s big, but big guys are often slow.

“Little girl has skill,” he remarked in a thick Russian accent, giving me a smile that was surprisingly more good-natured than sinister. “But sadly will not make safe.”

“Get ‘er, Ollie!”

Ollie, huh? Show me what you got.

Diving into a shoulder roll, I sprang up and immediately changed direction and dove into another one just as his arms closed over the spot I just was. I darted out the door, immediately slamming into another sailor and taking us into the street.

I could not catch a break!

A car horn sounded, but before I could react, the sailor I ran into snatched the back of my waistband and rolled us out of the way to the other side of the street. I kicked off with my legs, aiding him the best I could.

Neither of us were gonna be able to fight if we both got flattened by multiple tons of steel.

A truce between enemies born from survival. Top tier trope.

Angry yelling followed from the driver as we tumbled to a stop, the sailor on his back and me sprawled across his stomach. We watched him drive off before finally looking at each other.

I found myself locking eyes with none other than Neil, and we stared at each other silently for a few moments before I tried bolting away. A strong arm locked around my midsection and hauled me back into an alley, but Neil tripped over his own feet when I threw my weight back and we fell again. He wasn’t about to give up, though, and I found myself locked in a grappling match that was not going my way.

Why couldn’t the other black belts have just ignored the awkwardness and taught me grappling?! I don’t know dick about this!

But I did know one thing. A move that, while not orthodox, was extremely successful due to the sheer audacity and insanity one had to possess to attempt it.

As an arm came down and tried to loop around my neck, I bared my teeth and sank them into his bare arm.

It tasted like sweat, dirt, sea-water, and engine grease.

Not that I knew what the last tasted like.

“Youch!” Neil yelped, quickly releasing his hold on me.

Diving away, I sprang up but stopped in horror as I stared down a dead-end alley. Spinning around into a right fighting-stance, guard up and front leg ready to strike, I cursed myself for not checking the direction before I jumped.

Look before you leap.

Neil knelt on the ground, blocking my way out as he nursed his wounded arm. I hadn’t bitten too hard, more concerned with just getting free via surprise, so all he had to worry about was spit and a minor bruise.

Aren’t dreams supposed to grant immunity for all parties? And that’s the second time my attacks actually had weight to them. Then again, since I’m aware I’m dreaming, I’ve probably shifted to lucid dreaming.

Inspecting the bite mark, Neil then looked up at me with an expression halfway between amusement and shock. “You just bite me, Shortie?”

“Well pardon me for wantin’ to escape!”

He snorted in amusement, a partial smile on his face. “Apology accepted, but ‘fraid that’s all the mercy I can offer.”

As if on cue, more sailors joined him at the entrance to the alley. A guy I was pretty sure was Hobbs from the movie, Tom, Ollie, Nick, the unnamed sailor Nick fell on that I swear I’d seen in one of the games, and…

“Shit,” I hissed, locking eyes with Allan.

Did no one go after Trevor? Or did that jackass peace out like an Enderman again?

“What’s the rush?” Allan asked. “It’s rude to not say goodbye, kid.”

That easy-going and nonthreatening smile don’t fool me, Al. Tom’s the Golden Retriever, not you. You’re a German Shepherd with anger management issues or some shit.

“Oh, ya know.” I shrugged, trying to get some wind back in my lungs. “Places to go and people to not see.”

“You’ll be free to go to those places as soon as you answer some questions from the people you don’t want to see.” Allan turned to his men, jerking a thumb towards the street. “Keep watch, this won’t take long.”

Nick and the unnamed sailor stood on either side of the entrance, looking the opposite directions as they presumably kept a look out for any passersby. The others moved into the alley, pushing me further back.

“You goin’ to play nice or not, kid?” Tom asked. “It don’t have to turn ugly for ya.”

I scoffed. “I ain’t never played nice a day in my life and I sure as shit ain’t gonna start now.”

“Even trapped as you are, you still want to put up a fight?” Allan’s eyes scanned me from head to toe, an amused yet somewhat irritated smile on his face. Like he wanted to be mad but also found my theatrics amusing. “Commendable.”

Well at least he ain’t ordered me skinned alive yet.

“Nah, mate. I ain’t trapped with you, you’re trapped with me.”

Hobbs snorted, looking me up and down. “What’re we all standin’ around for? Let’s just shake the truth out of ‘er.”

“Not sure you want to do that,” Allan said to Hobbs, eyes lingering on my stance where I stood on the balls of my feet before traveling to my hands which were loose and ready near my waist.

Oh he knows.

Hobbs laughed. “Why not?”

Allan didn’t take his eyes off me. “What do you think, kid?”

I shrugged. “He’s welcome to try.”

Realization and caution flooded the faces of Neil and Tom, while Ollie stayed pretty straight faced aside from a subtle, knowing smile.

Hobbs had no such discernment. “She’s not so tough, watch!”

He came forward, reaching for my arm. I waited until he got just close enough, subtly shifting my weight to my left leg, before letting my right leg fly.

It caught him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and back towards the group.

“Nice strike,” Ollie said, arms crossed and stance relaxed as Neil erupted into laughter.

“Don’t encourage her!” Hobbs spat, slowly staggering to his feet.

“When someone says you’re welcome to try,” Neil wheezed. “That isn’t a bloody invitation, it’s a warnin’!”

“Shut up!”

“Looks like we got a martial artist on our hands, boys,” Allan remarked, looking me up and down. “No wonder she felt so safe takin’ a stroll down the docks.”

Not my brightest idea, but even in a dream I can gather Worldbuilding inspiration.

“Sad to say, kid, all that fancy dojo-learnin’ won’t do you much good here on the street,” Tom said.

“It’s served me well so far.”

“Look,” Allan chuckled, spreading his hands in a nonthreatening manner as he offered me a disarming and charismatic smile. “Maybe we all got off on the wrong foot.”

Of course he’d switch to charming and agreeable now, he had me cornered. Ol’ good cop bad cop, except Allan Thompson played both roles. Good trick, scare someone out of their wits then act all friendly so they would be more likely to cooperate and “make it easier for everyone”.

“Uh huh.”

“All we need from you is some answers,” Allan continued, stance relaxing and arms now hanging loose by his sides. “And we can all be on our merry way.”

The way you shift from threatening to trustworthy is amazing, sir. Were you not out for blood, I’d study you like a prison psychologist.

“Mmmm, not buyin’ it,” I said.

Allan shrugged, but he almost looked… pleased that I didn’t fall for it. “Can’t fault a man for tryin’, can you?”

“Oh not at all. Good performance, convincin’ tone, award-winnin’ smile. Had it all. Only a few problems.”

His small, sly smile grew.“Enlighten me.”

“You encircled me at the docks, ordered your men to chase me and bring me back, are currently cornerin’ me in an alley, and!” I gestured up and down at him with both hands. “You’re built like a fuckin’ industrial refrigerator.”

That caught him offguard, his smile fading and replaced by a frown of confusion. “A… refrigerator.”

I motioned with my hands. “Rectangular and solid.”

Neither he nor his men looked entirely sure how to react to such a statement, though I hardly blamed them for that. Neil seemed to find it amusing though, choking back some laughter.

“Aside from… that,” Allan said slowly after a long pause. “What’s stoppin’ you from just answerin’ a few harmless questions?”

Are you challenging me, subconscious? Since when are introspective moments part of my dreams? We do chaos and non-stop action, none of this chatty stuff.

Call me colorblind because the amount of red flags I wasn't seeing about the reality of the situation was honestly laughable.

“Drop the act,” I said. “You and I both know that sweet talkin’ is empty and I ain’t so stupid as to be charmed by honeyed words. This information isn’t somethin’ I walk away after givin’.”

“And what information is that?”

Information I am not willing to revisit unless forced.

I may be the queen of cringe, but never ask a ruler what atrocities they committed to secure their throne.

I said nothing, readying myself for a fight.

His expression changed, the easy-going smile shifting to something not quite sinister but definitely not friendly. “We’re gettin’ those answers, kid. One way or another.” His tone darkened. “You want to play rough, we can play rough.”

He snapped his fingers.

Hobbs flanked his right with a blade, Neil his left with nothing but his bare hands. Tom stood back, waiting and watching the scene unfold with sharp eyes and a hand on his hip close to what I knew to be a firearm.

“Four corners, huh?” I asked, shifting into a ready stance with my weight on my toes. “A gun, a knife, and fists. All I need is a kicker.” My eyes shifted back to Allan. “You good at round-house kicks, mate?”

He didn’t say anything, still bearing that dangerous smile that sent shivers down my spine yet also brought a similar smile to my own face.

“Think this is a game?” Hobbs demanded.

I flashed a toothy grin his way. “Play ball, bitch.”

Allan sighed in mock remorse. “If you insist.”

Hobbs came first, blade aimed for my leg. A simple horse stance to horse stance paired with a wrist throw took care of him.

Neil was next, swinging wide with a sloppy haymaker that didn’t make much sense given he had to know that was one of the easiest things to block, but he’d already proved enigmatic in his methods so I didn’t spend time questioning him. I just stepped in, blocked the punch on the inside of his arm, and wrapped my hand around the back of his neck. By a stroke of luck, I threw him into Hobbs and they both went down.

But now I found myself facing Tom, or rather, not facing him.

He locked me in a strong bear hug from behind, but unlucky for him this was also one of the easiest attacks to break.

Drive my heel onto the top of his foot but pull it enough to not hurt too bad, punch out and step into a horse stance to break the hold, elbow to the gut to wind him, grab the arm.

Kneel.

Bend.

Flip.

Tom fell hard onto the cobblestones in front of me, arm trapped in an armbar, but as I drew back a fist to strike his ribs, I found myself unable to commit.

Blue eyes staring up at me in alarm did not help matters.

Instead, I threw his arm away and dove into a shoulder roll to escape before he could spring up and grab me.

But what was waiting for me was worse, and I sprang to my feet to find Allan’s pistol pointed straight at my chest. I knew how to disarm him, but I risked the trigger getting pulled and the bullet hitting one of the others. If I could just get him to shift slightly, then I only risked the wall getting hit.

Unless it ricocheted…

“Hey, what gives?” Hobbs groaned, cradling his wrist. “Why does Tom get let off easy?”

“Maybe because he didn’t try stabbin’ the kid!” Neil smacked him over the head. “What were you thinkin’, dickhead?!”

“I was just aimin’ for ‘er leg! I wouldn’t hit anythin’ vital!”

“You cut ‘er bloody arm!”

He did? I didn’t… feel anything?

“She doesn’t seem any worse for wear!”

I glanced down at my arm.

Shoot, sure enough there was a leaking gash about two inches long on the underside of my forearm.

Well, they did say getting cut was unavoidable even if you had plenty of skill and speed-

“Tom, get ‘er!”

Act!

I stepped in, both hands grabbing the top of Allan’s and forcing the gun down away from the rest of the men. For some reason, it didn’t go off. Snatching it from his grasp, I slammed my foot into his gut and drove him back. The force sent him off his feet, just like Hobbs, but before he recovered I had the gun ready and aimed at him as I put my back to one of the walls.

I’d never be able to pull the trigger, even with it just aimed at his foot, but I just hoped they wouldn’t know that.

Allan did notice, however, where I was aiming and where my finger was; resting along the barrel, far from the trigger. Still kneeling, his eyes traveled from the gun to me, slightly narrowed. Tom came up from the side, cautiously, but Allan stopped him with a hand.

“Why would you risk gettin’ shot to get the gun?” he asked, one hand over his stomach where I nailed him as his words came out somewhat breathlessly.

Guess even when pulling it, the kick winded him.

Yay for four years of equestrian prior to five years of karate.

He slowly stood, eyes trained on mine as he leaned against the wall opposite to me and took a breath. “Only to aim it somewhere that wouldn’t even stop your attacker?”

“Mind your business.”

He raised an eyebrow, carefully pushing himself off the wall. “Considerin’ I have my gun aimed at my foot, think it is my business.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for a murder charge.”

Dream or no dream.

Not that that is the whole reason.

“Did not stop you from trying to break neck in warehouse,” Ollie commented, still standing calm as could be near the front of the alley with Nick who watched me with wide eyes.

A shove from Ollie sent him back to his watchdog post.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that,” I mumbled.

Ollie tilted his head. “You are not desperate. Dedicated to escape, but not desperately seeking.”

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ chased by a buncha shrinks.”

“He’s right, though,” Allan said. “You’ve not once been lethal. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Sure was painful,” Hobbs grumbled, shaking his wrist.

Allan stepped closer, and I raised my gun to his arm.

He shook his head. “Again, not lethal.”

“Good trigger discipline,” Ollie commented.

Allan stepped closer again, hands still at his sides.

I still couldn’t bring myself to aim at his face. You never aimed a gun at something you didn’t intend to shoot. Aiming it anywhere near him was already breaking that rule.

Instead, I warned, “Back! Don’t test me, mate, I’ll pull this trigger.”

Lies. All of it lies.

I knew that… and so did Allan.

We were in the 2011 movie, but I was not dealing with movie!Allan. I was dealing with some variant of the one I originally wrote all those years ago; smarter, more cunning, and a lot sharper than anything the movie even hinted at. The charismatic side was new for me, but very unwelcome. I didn’t know how to even begin thwarting it, and he fucking knew that.

“Come on, then.” He opened his arms. “Pull the trigger, kid. Shoot me down.”

I looked into his eyes, reading the challenge there clear as day. The moment I pulled the trigger and hit any part of him, the others would pounce. They’d already tried attacking separately once before; they would not make the same mistake twice.

We were both within striking range, both able to absolutely ruin the other’s day. But still we stood unmoving, staring the other down. Locked in a battle of wits, a battle which neither party was going to give up easily. There was too much at stake to walk away.

Tom stepped into my field of view, slowly. “Hey, kid. Just drop the gun, yeah?” he tried, a hand reaching out. “Ya can’t hurt us. Not wit’ that.”

“Don’t mistake my inaction for inability,” I growled, not taking my eyes off Allan. “I know my way around a gun.”

“Ain’t that. Ya don’t wanna pull that trigger, trust me.”

Neil and Hobbs were cautiously approaching now too, staying back at a gesture from Allan. The first mate didn’t take his eyes from me, however.

They were way too calm considering I had a loaded gun. Or…

My eyes widened.

Did I?

Grabbing the slide, I aimed away from Allan, who just watched calmly, and I looked inside to find an empty chamber. Ejecting the clip, I found it to also be empty.

They weren’t scared of the gun because there was no reason to be scared of it. It was useless, unless I threw it at one of them. That wouldn’t do any good.

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” I whined, dropping the gun after reinserting the clip.

Allan reached out with his foot and slid the gun behind him, where Ollie picked it up. “Tough luck, kid.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

“Be best if ya just came with us,” Tom said, stepping forward only to stop when I shifted into a fighting stance and brought my guard up.

“Er, ain’t a good idea,” Neil said, shaking his head. “Can’t win a boxin’ match wit’ Tom, Shortie. He’s the second best on the ship, and he fights dirty.”

I caught that from the attack from behind earlier.

“A, I’m taller than him,” I grumbled, gesturing at Hobbs and earning a venomous glare. “So I don’t know what this whole Shortie deal is about. B, I know I can’t beat him.” I looked between the men, heart pounding against my ribs. “But I sure as hell can make you wish you left me alone.”

Dismay crossed Tom’s face, but there was an element of challenge there too. And element of warning. “It don’t ‘ave to be like this. Won’t hurt ya if ya just cooperate.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I prepared to go down fighting. “We both know it does have to be like this. Unless you let me walk outta here.” I smiled humorlessly. “And that clearly ain’t happenin’.”

Something told me he would take it relatively easy on me, but even a light yet solid hit to the diaphragm from Tom would take me down. If I was bad at grappling, boxing was even worse.

And we already established I wouldn’t be able to hurt him.

“Seriously, kid,” Tom said again, his tone growing dark. “Don’t wanna do this.”

“Got that right, but I gotta, Tom.”

He sighed, bringing his own fists up. “Sorry ‘bout this,” he muttered, taking a step forward. “But ya asked for it. I’ll make it quick.”

I readied myself. “Right back at ya, mate.”

His eyes narrowed, but I did catch a hint of a smile.

At least I have his respect before he punches my lights out.

“We won’t ask again, kid,” Allan warned as the men all took a step toward me. “This has gone on long enough.” There was no smile on his face and no amused tolerance in his voice with his next command as the other sailors stepped into the alleyway with us. “Stand down.”

I shook my head. “No. Y’all square up.”

“Yoooo, Shadow!”

We all looked up, fight briefly paused, and rage filled me as I saw Trevor looking down at us from the roof.

“You miserable and worthless list of terms and conditions!” I hissed, drawing an amused snort from Neil. “Get your ass down here so I can at least fuck up your face ‘fore I’m torn to bits!”

He laughed. “What, after I was gonna offer you an escape?”

“Oh yeah?” I gestured angrily at the sailors. “Little late!”

“Not really! Got a little magic trick!”

“Now ain’t the time for games!”

“Not a game! Watch!” He threw a small sphere into the alley. “Abracadabra!”

It bounced off the opposite wall and landed at my feet, making the men jump back.

“Grenade!”

Shit!

[acestintinsideblog]

I’ve been trying to draw the Karaboudjan crew for memes but I SUCK

😭😭😭😭

HERGES STYLE SEEMS SO SIMPLE BUT MY DUMBASS CANT HANDLE IT

[shads-shipposts]

Will add links later, but can find a masterlist on my pinned post <3

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We all turned to stare at Allan, who leaned on a tree in a deep shadow with his arms crossed near the top of the gully. Had he not spoken, none of us would have noticed him.

What is with my lack of usual situational awareness and coordination? Ain't self inserts supposed to get those stats boosted, not suppressed?

Allan raised his hands with a shrug. "I mean, don't stop on my account. Want to see where this goes."

"Er, how long you been there, boss?" Neil asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Long enough to listen in on your chit chat, startin' around the time Tom pointed out Shadow there should've stayed away." He glanced at the boulder. "Though I am curious how the hell that happened."

"I slipped and fell, and may or may not have smacked my head into it," I replied.

For a moment, genuine surprise crossed Allan's face. His eyes shifted between us and the boulder multiple times before he shook his head in disbelief. "Your head did that?" he exclaimed, pointing at the boulder.

"Aye."

His brow furrowed. "Tom, did you check 'er for a concussion?" he demanded.

Is that genuine concern for my wellbeing, or are you just worried about losing your meal-ticket?

It's Allan Thompson, what do you think?

"Tried, boss!" Tom protested. "She wouldn't let me."

"You don't feel funny, kid?" Allan asked, carefully sliding down the bank to join us. "At all? No blurry vision or headaches?"

"No?" I shrugged. "You don't take fall damage in dreams anyway."

He glanced between me and the rock. "Uh huh. Ya know kid, I'm starting to believe your nonsense."

"Thank you?"

Allan grunted in response, then walked over and crouched in front of me about two feet away. Holding a finger up, he moved it back and forth. "Follow it."

"Would a 'please' kill ya?" I muttered, but tracked his finger without moving my head.

Back and forth.

Side to side.

Up and down.

Around in a circle.

Away from me.

Closer to me.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer...

I halfheartedly snapped my teeth at it, expecting him to move.

He didn't.

I stared at the finger halfway between my teeth, a bit perplexed, before looking up at him.

Allan held my gaze, glancing from his finger to me. His brows raised questioningly. "Well? Now what, kid?"

I started to quote Plankton's "I don't know, I didn't think I'd get this far", but the moment my tongue accidentally brushed his finger I spat it out.

"Bleh! You taste like gun oil and sweaty saddle leather."

"You know what that tastes like?" Allan asked, wiping his hand on his jeans. "What the hell, kid?"

"You taste like it smells."

"You know what sweaty leather smells like?"

"I was on my school equestrian team for four years in South Carolina. I rode in hundred degree heat during summer camp." I rolled my eyes. "Yes I know what it smells like."

"As for gun oil?"

I gave him a mildly exasperated look. "My parents are both from ye yonder backwoods of Eastern Kentucky. I got rednecks on both sides of my family. My dad was also prior military with a strong stance on the Second Amendment. So, yes, I know what gun oil smells like."

"Al, make sure she doesn't have a concussion!" Tom interrupted.

"What do you think I'm doin'?" Allan asked, shooting the man an annoyed look.

"How does this help?"

"I can hear if she's slurrin' 'er words."

"Oh." Tom hesitated. "Is she?"

Allan shook his head. "She's coherent, if not a little chaotic." He looked back at me. "Where are you?"

I frowned. "Marlinspike?"

"How'd you get 'ere?"

"Sat through a car ride that was more painful than the aftermath of my wisdom teeth removal thanks to that self-important fuckwit whose window I just broke."

"He's a very powerful man, kid," Allan reminded me. "Most men would be beside themselves if they were the target of his anger."

"Big whoop," I retorted, drawing a circle in the air with my finger. "First off, I ain't a man. Second, he's annoyin' and thinks the sun comes up just to 'ear 'im crow. I can forgive and tolerate a lot of shitty behavior, or even crimes, but bein' an arrogant prick is goin' too far."

Allan looked somewhat amused. "You'll excuse crimes but not being annoyin'?"

"If it's of the arrogance variety, aye. Can't stand people who think they're hot shit, but are lukewarm at best."

Neil snorted with laughter. "Got one hell of a mouth on ya."

"No kiddin'," Tom remarked.

"Certainly have a rather... odd set of morals," Allan commented. "Crimes get a pass, but annoyance is condemned to hell and back?"

"Surely you of all people ain't about to lecture me on morality," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

Allan nodded thoughtfully, before his hand shot towards my ear. I blocked it quickly, giving him a "wtf" look.

A sly grin appeared. "Just checkin' your reflexes and coordination."

I narrowed my eyes and slowly reached forward, palm down, before flipping it around and striking the underside of his hat brim. I caught it quickly, not moving my eyes from his as I shoved it to his chest.

"That help?"

He took it from me and settled it back on his head. "Very much so."

Leaves and sticks crunching under boots caught our attention, and we looked up near the top of the gulley to see Hobbs appear over the ridge.

"There you assholes are!" he panted. "Didn't you 'ear me yellin' for you?"

"Heard ya," Neil laughed. "Didn't respond."

"Fuck off, Neil." Hobbs slid down to join us. His eyes then went to the large boulder, where they immediately flew wide. "The hell happened!?" he exclaimed, gesturing at the rock.

"Shortie hit her head."

Hobbs looked between me and the rock multiple times, jaw dropped and eyes terrified. "And she came out on top?" he squeaked.

"It's a dream man. Physical damage is turned off! But mental is still available if that tickles your fancy."

"Speakin' of... dreams. Keep sayin' that," Tom said. "What'd'ya mean?"

"I mean what I said. I'm dreamin'."

"Why'd'ya think that?"

Alright, subconscious. Enough.

I laughed nervously, wagging my finger at Tom. "You're startin' to freak me out, man."

"You're freaked out?" Neil exclaimed. "How do you think we feel?"

"You're figments of my imagination. Don't really think there's anything under..." I gestured up and down at him. "That."

"Ouch."

I raised my hands. "I'm just bein' honest! I'm not possessed, so there ain't multiple entities in my head. Unless you count my characters."

"Did you by chance hit your head when you fell outta bed this mornin'?" Hobbs asked.

"I mean, maybe. Trevor did startle me and I flew backward off the bed." I shook my head. "But that wouldn't matter, that happened in the dream!"

"How about," Allan began, voice authoritarian before Hobbs could offer a rebuttal. "We tackle this later? Boss is goin' to come out 'ere himself if we stall much longer." He turned to me. "Let's go, kid."

I groaned loudly. "Do we have to go back to that knockoff Rasputin?" I whined. "I've had less creepy encounters with seaweed caressing my leg in the ocean."

"What did you call 'im?" Neil asked.

"Knockoff Rasputin."

Neil snorted with laughter. "Bloody hell, that's the perfect insult."

"Why thank you."

"Enough, the pair of you," Allan said, climbing back up the steep slope. "We need to get her back to the boss, he's livid. You two can bond more over your hatred on the way back to the ship."

"Hold your horses, Allan," I protested, scrambling to catch up. Easily making the climb in two leaps, dirt catching beneath my nails as I dug them into the bank for traction, I followed close behind him. "I said nothin' about joinin'."

He didn't stop, but did glance down at me with a faint smirk. "And yet here you are, comin' along without even bein' dragged. And besides, you told the others you were stickin' around."

I opened my mouth to argue, only to close it without a sound as I didn't really have a solid counterpoint.

Well you got me there.

"Be that as it may," I said, speaking fast enough the words almost ran together. "Your assumptions ain't welcome."

He laughed, reminding me very much of the 90's cartoon. "Assumptions? It's fact, kid. Why, you brought yourself to this place just to meet little ol' us again."

"It's folly to assume anythin' about me. I'll do a 180 on your ass just to mess with your attempts to get a handle on me."

"Sounds like a challenge." He shrugged. "Been a while since someone gave me a good one of those."

I side-eyed him. "You're a weird man."

"Says the one who's played chase with us not once, but twice."

"And yet you haven't lectured me once on all that. No threats of how I better not do it again or shit. Ain't that your job as the gruff First Mate?"

"I'm more forgivin' than the man whose window you just broke. And I know better than to alienate someone who may prove useful later." He stepped in front of me, forcing me to stop. "But if you want to do things the difficult way for some asinine reason, I'd be happy to accommodate that. Unless of course you'd rather speed this up so you get more information for this ship of yours. The... Caroline?"

Damn, did this man know how to get under someone's skin and strike right at the heart of what they wanted.

Then again, I pretty much admitted to that earlier this morning.

"While causin' petty problems on purpose is a favorite past time of mine in low stakes situations," I began. "I am admittedly kinda eager to get on that ship. That is the only reason I ain't boltin' right now."

"Uh huh." Allan crossed his arms. "And Scarlett's got nothin' to do with it."

Well golly gee, thanks for the blindside.

I grimaced. "Ah, still on that then, are we?"

Allan tapped his foot. "Well?"

I shook my head, raising my hands. "Look, whatever connection you think I have with her, it's... not that."

"But you do have a connection."

"I mean. Yeah." Can't very well lie about that. "But it ain't a believable one."

"But this is a dream, is it not?" Allan asked innocently, resuming his walk to Marlinspike Hall. He turned and faced me, waking backward now. "What's the harm in tellin' someone who's just a figment of your subconscious?"

I scoffed. "Who are you, Freud? If so, put your paws up because I got words for you!"

"How do you know about Freud?" Allan asked.

"I took some psychology classes for my core college credits. Also, tree behind you."

Allan swerved around it, dropping back to walk alongside me. "You're in college?"

I sighed in annoyance. "How old d'ya think I am?"

"Twelve."

I stopped and slowly turned to glare at a smug Hobbs as the man stood to my right. Eyes narrowed, I stayed glaring at him for many moments before finally knocking his hat off with one fluid motion.

Hobbs twisted and caught it before heading for me again. "You little-"

Neil caught him around the middle, dirt coating his forearms from where he climbed up the bank. "You started it, mate," he chuckled, hauling him off his feet and dropping him on the other side

"How would we know?" Tom asked. "If this really was a dream? Could we all be dreamin'?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Wouldn't be the first time I dreamed of findin' Scarlett again, or even just a lead."

"Can we not talk about it?" I asked. "The dream thing. Because I have this thing where I can jolt myself awake when I realize I'm dreamin'."

"And you haven't tried that?" Allan asked, leading us back towards the motorpool.

"No."

"Then you do want to be here. You do want to get tangled up in this mess."

"I ain't ran screamin' yet, have I?"

"Did this mornin'."

"In my defense, both times were due to Trevor. And hey! I wasn't screamin'!"

"What about a few minutes ago?"

"Purely to piss off Sakharine, admittedly. I wasn't screamin' then either."

"While I can get behind that," Allan said, stopping just outside the bushes in view of the manor. "It's highly dangerous. What if we were the sort of men with no boundaries?"

"Soon as you mentioned Scarlett at the docks, I knew you weren't."

Now why'd you have to go and bring that infectious, rotting carcass of a topic up again?

"And how's that?"

"How about we get through with Sakharine first and get to a place where you can sit down? The reality of how I know of Scarlett is... not somethin' easy to stomach. Because if... this ain't a dream..." I paused, a deep frown digging into the corners of my mouth as I stared at the ground and shook my head slowly. "Everyone here is gonna be dealin' with a major existential crisis."

"But you will tell us?" Tom asked, hope spreading across his face. "You'll tell us what you know about Scarlett?"

I do want to stay in this dream, but hopefully I'm booted out before I have to open that can'o'worms.

"Hold on a minute 'ere," Hobbs said.

Allan looked over at him. "What, Harry?" he grumbled.

Wait, Harry Hobbs? That's his name? What a nerd.

"All that run around, both this mornin' and just now, and she was just goin' to join us the whole time? What was the whole point of all that fightin'?"

"Mutual asskickin' is how she shows affection."

I glanced at Allan, not exactly surprised he knew that particular wording. "Now where'd you hear that?"

Allan shrugged, though he looked to be fighting down a smug smile. "I have my ways."

"Cops on your payroll, huh?" I asked, although it was really more of a statement. "There to sweep anything unflatterin' under the rug?"

"I'm not the one who tried to 'sweep this under the rug' first," he shot back, using air quotes.

I tried to find a rebuttal, but couldn't. Instead I just crossed my arms slowly and looked him up and down. "Touché."

Seemingly pleased at winning the argument, if it could even be called that, Allan turned to Tom. "Shelve Scarlett for now, Tom. We need to get this talk with the boss over and done with so we can get back to the ship."

That kicked puppy look returned to Tom's face. "But Al..."

My heart twisted. Dream!Tom or not, Figment-of-My-Imagination!Tom or not... I couldn't bear to see him so sad.

"Tom, hey," I said softly, nudging his arm.

He looked down at me.

"I'll... fill ya in back on the ship, ok?" I offered. "It's... it's the least I can do."

"What'd'ya mean by that?"

"You'll... understand when I tell ya."

"Promise you'll tell me?"

I smiled softly, holding up a pinkie. "Pinkie promise."

His eyes lit up and he hooked his pinkie around mine. "Deal!"

"I told you lot she's soft on 'im!" Hobbs, or Harry, exclaimed.

"Way I see it," Neil snickered. "She's soft on 'im 'cause he's soft on 'er."

"Allan!"

We all turned at the furious screech to see Sakharine on the steps of Marlinspike.

"Get that bitch in here, now!"

He disappeared back inside.

"Really?" I muttered. "Bitch is the best he's got? At least be creative."

Tom rested a hand on my shoulder. "Don't let 'im get ya down," he urged. "You're not a bitch."

"Thanks, Tom. But I'm not offended. Just disappointed, bitch is such a basic insult. I've had worse from better."

Allan didn't find it amusing in the slightest, however, gaze hard as his eyes narrowed in silent anger. "Harry, Neil," he said, voice deadly calm as he kept his gaze on the manor. "Wait at the car. We'll go deal with the boss."

Yikes, Quiet!Angry Allan is far scarier than Explosive!Angry Allan.

Good thing this was a dream, otherwise I would have to hide behind Tom because I'd be terrified of that side of Allan. If this was real, I wouldn't be dealing with simple figments of my imagination that posed no threat.

I'd be dealing with an actual hardened criminal who had committed crimes so atrocious I'd have nightmares if I knew them all.

Because despite my love of the character, Allan Thompson from the comics and cartoon was a bad, bad man.

A punch in the jaw from mouthing off would be the least of my worries.

Allan caught me staring, and some of my misgivings must have shown on my face for his own face softened and he playfully ruffled my hair.

I hissed in exasperation, batting his hands away before I tried to smooth my hair back into place.

At least this Allan is more content to be a general menace than an asshole.

Hobbs, or Harry, nodded after a snort at my misery and headed for the vehicle, but Neil hung back.

"Not gonna let 'im do anythin' to 'er, right, boss?" he asked, glancing back at the old manor as it loomed above us in the dying light of the sunset as the clouds above were lit up gold and purple.

"Think the kid 'ere can handle 'erself," Allan remarked. He turned to me, giving me a scheming smile. "Won't you?"

I nodded, chest out and chin high. "If he lays a hand on me, I'll just handle it like a feral cat."

"You'll bite 'im?" Neil asked with a laugh.

I nodded affirmatively, baring my teeth. "I'll bite 'im."

"Good on ya, mate," Neil chuckled, punching my arm before he turned to head for the back of the manor.

As he left, I faced Allan. "Alrighty, boss man." I bowed playfully, sweeping my arm to indicate the manor. "Lead the way."

"Right this way," Allan said, draping an arm over my shoulders and steering me towards the front.

I wasn't thrilled with the contact, but I let it slide. In the comics at least, Allan was a touchy bastard with friend and foe alike.

I still wished he'd stop getting in my personal space constantly.

"Oh, and kid."

I looked up as his voice lowered.

"You have my full permission to bite that snobby prick as hard as you want."

I matched his dark grin, though mine had more ferality to it as I bared my teeth. "Allan Thompson, you got yourself a deal." 

[shads-shipposts]

Well

What was 10 chapters for "act one" of Anachronism is now 20

Y'all getting FED next year for Karaboudjan content

Come hungry for banter and angst because boy howdy will there be a LOT

[shads-shipposts]

Oh Allan. Your headaches are just beginning. But hey! At least Shadow isn't out to throw your ass in jail. Then again, perhaps the slammer would be preferable to the storm heading your way. 

I really enjoyed writing the exchange between Allan and Steven, but then again I always love writing Allan as a clever bastard. Him and Sakharine butting heads was also fun, as even if Sakharine is technically in charge... Allan isn't exactly at his mercy. The movie watered Allan down and had him often act scared or nervous around Sakharine but I really do feel like Allan (given his background and skillset) would be a bit harder to scare. He's probably in his forties, and there is a saying about fearing older men in a profession where men die young. 40s ain't "old", but he's no spring chicken. You don't survive in the drug-running business by being easily shaken. But even Al has lines he won't cross.

As always, be sure to leave a comment/vote if you enjoyed! 

Content Warning: Mention of sexual assault (it is only named as a concept)

Beginning: Here Previous: Here Next: Here Ao3: Here Masterlist: Here

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~Earlier~

What…

The actual fuck was that?

Had he just stumbled across an Alphian?

Who the hell else could shoot lightning from their hands?

Allan groaned, a hand gingerly gripping his chest as he sat somewhat bewildered on the sidewalk.

Sure, he’d suffered confusion when the bolt struck the ship he sailed with his first time at sea, where he had the misfortune of working on the deck chipping paint under the captain’s cruel threats of retaliation if he didn’t comply. Getting zapped with that much electricity tended to rattle you a bit, and even now Allan’s hands sometimes shook when the chronic nerve issues flared up.

But that was just general confusion.

This was concentrated on one single question; was that man, Trevor, an Alphian?

He’d easily bulldozed his way out of the circle after throwing Shadow to safety, knocking both Jesse Hatfeild and Tim Jones over with rather unnerving strength.

Strike one; Alphians were stronger pound for pound than a human.

He’d jumped three stories onto concrete without injury to help Shadow, or Allan assumed he did to get to street level so quickly.

Strike Two; Alphians were far more durable than a human and could take a little more wear and tear on the body.

Perhaps the most damning evidence of course was the small ball of electricity he’d thrown at Allan.

Strike Three; Alphians could wield a certain range of elements.

Ice, like Scarlett.

Lightning, like Trevor.

There were others, too; fire, darkness, earth, air, water.

If Trevor was an Alphian… then Shadow had a high likelihood of being one too.

Alphians rarely traveled alone, with those that could be found alone not to be approached under any circumstance as their confidence warned of immense power. Power no human could really hope to counter on their own without some form of magical aid.

Either Allan had two Alphians on his hands, or a very powerful Alphian who held no qualms about nearly sending Allan into cardiac arrest.

“Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill him?!”

Why the hell would Shadow, who they were “supposedly” strangers to, be concerned about his wellbeing? Especially when Allan just wrestled her to the sidewalk after slamming her into a wall?

Sent by Scarlett.

That was the only logical explanation for Shadow coming around the Karaboudjan. Only reason for her to not run screaming the moment Neil got too close.

Allan had certainly been shocked to see Shadow smack the man in the face, even if she claimed it was reflex. At least one theory, that of her having martial arts training, had been put to rest after that incident and her self-defense from the alley.

But…

No, she couldn’t have been sent by Scarlett. Tom’s question of her name shocked her, while Allan’s question about Scarlett floored her.

She knew Scarlett, and somehow knew of the crew at least enough to not be totally scared out of her wits when cornered, but didn’t know Scarlett and the crew were acquainted.

Perhaps if Allan explained the crew’s history with Scarlett, Shadow would calm down and offer answers about the Alphian. Even a last known location would be something.

Anything would be something.

He’d be damned if he let this source of information slip through his fingers.

“Al!”

Tom, coughing and wiping his eyes, knelt beside Allan.

“What happened? Where’d Shadow go?”

Allan, not quite able to get his tongue to form words yet, pointed down the street in the direction Trevor carried Shadow.

“She got away?!”

Allan glared at him and motioned towards himself before taking his cap off and pointing at where some of his hair still stood on end.

Tom’s watery eyes traveled there then back to Allan.

“What?”

Idiot…

“Al… Phian,” Allan managed.

Tom gasped, only to break into a coughing fit again. “Shadow’s an Alphian?”

“Another!?” Harry Hobbs hacked, waving the evaporating smoke away as he and Neil stumbled out of the alley followed by Nick Sullivan, Ollie Kuznetsov, and Wilfried Allard.

“Another what?” Nick coughed.

“Alphian!”

“Voice… down!” Allan snapped. “Not… the kid. Kid’s mate.”

“One who threw Shadow?” Ollie asked, fairing somewhat better than the rest of them as he’d luckily been wearing part of his mother’s scarf and was able to block some of the smoke out.

“Aye.”

“Help… me up,” Allan grunted at Tom, and after getting to his feet he turned to the others. “Get back to… to the ship. I’ll handle the… brawl.”

Work, damn it, he angrily scolded his tongue.

He’d never be able to get this taken care of if he couldn’t even tell his inside man what he wanted done.

“What about Shadow?” Tom asked. “Al, we can’t lose ‘er! Not if she knows about Scarlett.”

“Who?” Nick asked.

“Not now,” Ollie scolded the newest crewmate before turning to Allan. “We will handle docks. Go handle mess with police.”

“But I want to-hey!” Nick yelped as Ollie grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him down the street.

Tom tugged Allan’s arm. “Al, you gotta go after-”

“I can’t do shit from prison,” Allan interrupted, finally able to speak somewhat steadily again. “Soon as I handle… this.” He cursed as he had to take a breath. “We’ll go find ‘er.”

“What if she yaps?” Harry demanded.

“She won’t.”

Allan looked at Neil. “What makes you so certain?” he asked, even though he oddly agreed with the Australian.

Neil shrugged, wiping his nose as he gestured at the alley. “She took it so bloody easy on us. Soft style.”

“Tell that to my wrist,” Harry mumbled, twisting it back and forth.

“She didn’t break it. Didn’t slam me into the cobblestone. Didn’t break Tom’s ribs. Didn’t shoot Allan.” Neil shook his head. “Not sure why she’s soft on us, but she is. She won’t yap.”

Allan found himself agreeing with Neil’s logic, but still knew they couldn’t risk it. He’d have to make sure any reports she made, or anyone else made for that matter, were tossed.

“Go back,” Allan ordered. “Soon as I get this done, we’ll track ‘er down. She couldn’t ‘ave gone far.”

“What about ‘er sketchbook bag?” Neil offered. “May have an address on it.”

Allan nodded. “Good thinkin’,” he said, then turned to Tom. “Tell the boys, those that remember at least, we have a lead. But make it clear if anyone encounters Shadow, do not harm ‘er. Seems she can take a little roughness, I don’t she’ll play fair if things get taken too far.”

“Really think she could do damage, boss?” Harry asked.

“I certainly don’t think any of us want to find out the hard way,” Allan scoffed. “Tom, handle the boys.”

“On it.”

Leaving the group, Allan headed down the street for the police station.

“Dreams?”

“Yeah, dreams. I’m in one now.”

“You think this is a dream?”

“I mean, yeah. How else can I be here?”

“And tell us. Where exactly is here?”

“The docks where my favorite ship is.”

“Your favorite ship?”

“Aye.”

“And what is this ship called?”

“The Caroline.”

“I thought you based the Caroline off the Karaboudjan?”

“Can you not?!”

Dreams, huh? Shadow really thought she was dreaming? Sure, lying was a possibility, but he’d seen her lie.

Zero eye contact.

A nervous smile that showed too many teeth.

Slight reddening of the cheeks.

A shift of the stance.

When she’d mentioned dreams, there’d been only nonchalance and assurance. Direct eye contact, no smile, no flush of color.

She… honestly believed it was a dream.

Could she be right?

Why would she think that?

What did that have to do with Scarlett?

Questions questions questions.

So many damn questions.

He’d wished for months for clarity on Scarlett, or at the very least a lead. Now that he had one, confusion rooted itself even deeper.

Focus. Shelve it, got a job to do.

Keeping the cops off their tails was more important right now, as much as he hated to admit it.

He wanted to hunt Shadow down himself and question them, but he couldn’t very well do that from prison.

To his relief, the cop he was looking for stood at the front desk; Steven, a crooked but reliable cop that was loyal to Allan.

He could make any… unflattering reports vanish into smoke. Highly valuable in Allan’s less than legal line of work. There were some things he wouldn’t stomach, but those things Allan didn’t deal in anyways.

Steven knew how to be discreet, subtle, and ask careful questions that wouldn’t raise the suspicions of his fellow officers. But Allan always was good at reading between the lines, and Steven’s somewhat cryptic language was never any issue for him.

“Mornin’, Allan,” he greeted, gesturing for Allan to follow him into his office. “What can I do ya for?”

“Is there something I should be ready to sweep under the rug?”

“Mornin’, Steven,” Allan said pleasantly. “Slow mornin’?”

“I don’t know, have you had any reports so far?”

“Mostly,” Steven said, leaning on his desk. “Did have a report of a scuffle at the docks.”

“There was a fight, and yes it’s been officially documented already.”

Shit, the kid had been here then.

“Who brought it in?” Allan asked, leaving the door open behind him to avoid suspicion.

“Describe them.”

“Guy dressed to the nines came in carryin’ on about damn dockworkers. Mid-seventies, rather short, brown hair that started a bit far back.”

“Fancy old guy filed the complaints.”

Wait, that didn’t sound like the kid at all.

“Typical suits,” Allan commented. “Always findin’ a reason to complain about men who actually know what hard work is. What’d he whine about?”

“I need more information.”

“Just the usual, gripin’ about dockworkers gettin’ into scraps and spillin’ out into the streets. Don’t think one o’ the brawlers was a man, though.” He shrugged. “Though it wasn’t easy to tell when she walked by.”

“There was a young woman involved, but she was dressed more masculine.”

“Oh?”

“More details.”

“Don’t think I’ll forget ‘er any time soon, though. Aside from the American accent, purple hair is a pretty unique thing.”

“Did you see anyone like that?”

“Don’t see that everyday,” Allan said slowly. “Very memorable.”

“I did in fact see that and she was in fact the person I’m here about.”

“No kidding. But whatever she got involved with, it wasn’t big enough of a deal to come to us. Left just now actually, heading for the market.”

“She seemed ready to keep it to herself as she headed for the marketplace. You just missed her.”

“She didn’t stop in?”

“Did she file a complaint at all?”

“I went out to talk to ‘er, but she said not to worry about it. Said she ran into old friends of hers and mutual asskickin’ is just, and I quote, how she shows affection.”

“No, and even downplayed what happened. She doesn’t have any plans to make a fuss.”

So not only had Shadow not gone to the police but she also brushed off the concerns and even called Allan and his men “old friends”. Not to mention she was unbothered enough to joke about the whole thing. Most people would have immediately run crying to the cops, especially when they had a clear look at faces and even knew the names.

Not Shadow.

Very peculiar.

What’s your game, Shadow? What are you up to?

“Did you see the… reunion?” Steven asked, the look on his face making it clear he didn’t quite know what to make of Shadow.

“Were you involved in the fight?”

“Think I was a part of it,” Allan muttered, glancing at the door.

“Yes, I fought her directly.”

Steven nodded. “The sailor the suit described with the purple haired kid sounded like Neil. Said he nearly wrecked his car to avoid ‘em when they rolled into the street.”

“I thought so.”

“Yeah, the kid tackled ‘im when playin’ ‘round with Ollie and Nick.”

“She was runnin’ from the pair and ran right into ‘im.”

“Well, happy you boys have a…friend.” Steven raised a brow as he said the last word.

“Is this something I need to watch for?”

“Me too. She’s a trouble maker, that one. Keep an eye out, if she gets into again let me know. I’ll straighten ‘er out.”

“She’s meddling, but no need to deal with her. I can handle it. Just keep it quiet.”

“Don’t be too hard on ‘er,” Steven said. “Seems like a good kid, be a shame to see that spirit crushed.”

“Don’t hurt her, she’s not a threat to your operations.”

“She’s tough, she’ll be fine.”

“I have no such plans. Think I like her spirit anyways.”

After bidding Steven farewell, Allan stopped just outside and leaned on the wall to gather his thoughts on the oddity that was this Shadow, and what the next course of action should be.

The kid certainly had his respect for being willing to fight even when outnumbered, and being able to banter even with odds stacked against her.

Self assurance, another tell for a more extensive background in martial arts.

But also wise enough to know that running from a fight was usually the best option. Only those who had never been in a fight actively sought one out. Allan only let the brawl happen because he could tell Shadow wasn’t acting like a desperate animal backed into a corner who would go scorched earth to escape.

She’d had at least a year or two of training, as the control she exhibited wasn’t something you found in newer trainees. As you advanced, you had a better grasp of how much power to use in different situations. Shadow had mostly parried and redirected their attacks, only striking when forced. Even then, while her kick had certainly hurt and knocked both Harry and Allan himself off their feet, Allan knew she’d pulled it. Not to mention the location of the strike was in the more yielding part of the body rather than the less malleable knee or manhood.

As Ollie had said, dedicated enough to fight but not desperate enough to maim.

For one reason or another, Shadow knew enough about them to trust they wouldn’t truly harm her or take advantage of her. Not enough to simply roll over and show her belly, but enough that she’d allow for roughhousing and sparring without going full bore

Let’s see how far that trust goes.

It was one thing in public. But if they showed up near where she lived, that would be another thing.

Unless he could catch her in the marketplace.

A joke could put her more at ease, letting her know that he harbored no ill will. Unlike many occasions, where he used such a tactic to bring people’s guards down so he could get close enough to take them out, it would be a genuine assurance.

The kid had guts, and even if they were to be complete adversaries Allan could still appreciate a fighting spirit and a sharp wit.

It took all the fun out of things if his opponent couldn’t spar with words as well as fists.

But his possible reunion with Shadow was ruined when he recognized a familiar car, the tires a bit too shiny and paint a bit too crisp, pull up beside him.

Not now!

Predictably, the back door opened and a familiar head poked out. “Get in.”

“Yes, boss?” Allan asked through gritted teeth, unable to fully hide his anger as he ducked inside and Nestor drove them back towards the docks.

At least the car had forward and backwards facing seats so he didn’t have to sit next to Sakharine.

Blue eyes the color of ice narrowed, and a cane prodded his leg. “Mind your tongue.”

I’d like very much to cut yours out and force feed it to you, but we don’t always get what we want.

While Allan had a sneaking suspicion Nestor would just mind his business and look the other way, as he never seemed overly pleased with Sakharine’s melodramatic ramblings, killing the aristocrat would just leave Allan back at square one with his other boss.

The moment I no longer need you for money, you’re fishfood.

“I need you to bring some of your men to Marlinspike by three pm today. There is another player in this game who knows about our search, and will possibly need to be dealt with before she makes herself too much of a nuisance.”

Great. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Now he’d be derailed from the search for Shadow even more-

“Did you say she?” Allan exclaimed.

Sakharine scoffed. “Do not flatter yourself. She is not for your crew.”

Anger sparked in Allan’s chest and he leaned forward. “With all due respect, boss,” he warned, voice low. “I have made it known I will not tolerate any rape of any kind. I don’t care what schemes you have, that is out of the question. Am I clear?”

“You are in no position to make demands or set the rules.”

Allan didn’t flinch, glare sharpening. “Am. I. Clear?”

Sakharine held his gaze, but eventually he awkwardly cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “She does not know what she meddles in. She can simply be held on the ship, unharmed, should she not prove useful.”

Allan leaned back in the seat, arms draped over the back of the cushion. A deep thrill of satisfaction ran through him at Sakharine’s caged and shifty body language, the man fiddling with the head of his cane.

All talk, no bite.

“This woman,” Allan drawled, his control of the situation helping calm his anger and clear his head. “Describe her.”

If it is who I think it is…

“Young, American, and absolutely filthy. Covered in mud and dirt, masquerading in men’s clothes, with the most atrocious hair.”

“Purple?”

Sakharine looked at him sharply. “You know this woman?”

Not sure.

“I do. Name’s Shadow, she was at the docks.”

“Doing what?” Sakharine demanded.

Giving me a migraine.

“Lookin’ at the ship. Even made some sketches in her notebook of it, but not of us. She’s harmless.”

At least as far as our operations go. She can pack a punch, though.

“And you believe her lies?”

“Tom looked through it and showed me, it’s just ship sketches.”

“You put your faith in him?”

Allan said nothing, eyes narrowed in warning.

Sakharine cleared his throat and scoffed again, waving his hand dismissively. “This woman clearly thinks she’s smarter than me. Thinks I wouldn’t find out about her escapades? Thinks she can outwit me?”

She probably could. You wouldn’t last two seconds against her, because when she insults she goes for the throat. They’re creative, too, so good luck beating her.

“Well, she will learn to keep her nose out of affairs that do not concern her,” Sakharine continued. “One way or another, she will learn.”

Problem was, even if the larger hunt for the treasure didn’t concern Shadow, the crew did. Allan didn’t know how the hell she knew about them, or how she knew about Scarlett, but even if she was surprised by Allan knowing Scarlett’s name…

The way she knew the crew and knew Scarlett were connected.

Allan just had to figure out how.

Could… she be Scarlett?

Some… reincarnation?

Spotty memory loss would explain how she knew of the crew and of Scarlett, but didn’t know how the crew knew Scarlett.

Or maybe Scarlett had just mentioned them?

No, then Shadow wouldn’t have been shocked Allan knew Scarlett’s name.

Reincarnation was looking likely, outlandish as it was.

Would also explain why both this new American and Scarlett both used the name “Shadow”.

“Three pm, then?” Allan said as they arrived at the docks.

Sakharine nodded. “Do not be late,” he ordered as Allan exited the car. “I will not tolerate failure.”

“Yeah yeah,” Allan mumbled under his breath after closing the door.

Tom immediately joined him. “Found Shadow’s bag, full of pencils and another sketchbook of ship details, but there’s no address,” he reported, crestfallen. “Any luck?”

“Guess who I just missed at the station?”

Tom paled. “Shadow?”

Allan nodded. “Get this, she would have walked right by if Steven hadn’t stopped her.”

Tom’s expression shifted from worry to confusion. “She… wasn’t goin’ to report the fight?”

“No, the kid even said we were old friends. Also joked that ‘mutual asskickin’’ is how she shows affection.”

“Did you find ‘er afterwards?”

“No, boss stopped me.”

“Damn!” Tom spat, kicking a nearby crate.

Allan rested a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back before he could punch another crate. “To tell us to meet at Marlinspike. Because there’s apparently someone who knows about the end of the rainbow.”

Tom turned to him, puzzled. “Who?”

“An American. With purple hair.”

Tom gasped. “You’re shittin’ me.”

Allan shook his head. “Boss thinks he’s got ‘er tricked, but I think she’s playin’ him.”

“Don’t think she knows he’s with us, do ya?”

“She willingly agreed to go to Marlinspike without any sort of fight, as far as I know. So I’d bet on ‘er knowin’ we’ll be there.”

“Why the fuck would she come then?” Tom asked. “Said it ‘erself, goin’ alone with strangers is how she ends up missin’.”

“Guess she’s as curious about us as we are about her.”

“Al, she’s gotta know somethin’ ‘bout Scarlett. She has to!” Tom stressed. “We can’t let the boss hurt ‘er or drive ‘er off.”

“That’s the last thing on my mind. Shadow wants to get involved?” Allan looked towards town. “Wants to learn about us? About ships? Let’s get ‘er aboard. Grab Neil, and Harry. Shadow’s fought ‘em before and played nice, so odds are she’ll play nice again.”

Tom nodded eagerly and raced off to grab the pair, leaving Allan to stare towards town again.

“Think this is a game?”

“Play ball, bitch.”

At the moment, a sort of unspoken agreement existed between them and Shadow. It didn’t matter if things got rough, true animosity was kept at bay so long as neither side went too far. For Allan and his men, they would pull their punches and focus on subduing Shadow rather than outright breaking something. In return, Shadow didn’t use the staples of self-defense; strikes to the knees, nose, or manhood.

The moment either party crossed the line, all bets were off and things would turn very nasty very quick.

Allan didn’t want it to come to that.

If this kid had a connection to Scarlett, and knew what happened to her and maybe even why the crew’s memory was damaged regarding Scarlett, he couldn’t risk permanently alienating her.

Shadow knew something, and something was better than nothing. There were just too many things linking up for it to be mere coincidence. Too many odd circumstances for this to be ignored.

This was one hell of a mystery, and Allan was determined to get to the bottom of it.

No matter what. 

[shads-shipposts]

Hello again, tis that time of the week! Chapter day!  Our heroes (?) are slowly finding their footing with each other but not to worry. Things are far from smooth from here on out :D 

Once again we get an appearance of  Soft!Tom as well as Dark!Tom which is oh so fun to write. We stan a complex character. Even if he is being a stubborn jackass in future chapters and the reason I've been stuck on ch 16 for a month. Anyway. 

Enjoy! All comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated!

CW: Mention of possible grooming (don't date a 16m as a 13f, dear readers). 

Masterlist

Ao3 Version

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Slowly, carefully, I released my grip on Tom. I refused to take my eyes off Allan, however, as he moved past us into the bathroom. Tom also seemed less than keen on letting Allan too close, stepping around to keep himself between me and the first mate.

Allan sent him a mild warning glance, but didn’t comment. Instead, he stopped by the toilet and peered inside. “You puke, kid?”

“Nothin’ came up,” I replied miserably as Tom guided me back to the couch and helped me sit again.

I wonder if you’d be so kind if you knew the truth about Scarlett and my involvement with her.

“Hmm.” Allan came back into the bedroom with us and pulled a chair over from a nearby desk. Sitting backwards, his eyes drifted to my arm. “You never got that looked at?” he asked, gesturing to it.

“What about it?” I peered at the limb only to discover the gash from Harry’s knife remained. Covered in dirt and stained red around the edges, I stared at it in mild disbelief. “I… forgot about that,” I muttered.

It should be gone.

Why is it still here?

Why am I still here?

“Need to get it cleaned,” Allan said. “You’re lucky it isn’t infected yet. Last thing you need is your skin rottin’ off.”

Do you really care? Or is this just some ploy to get under my skin?

I hated how much I wished it was the former.

“I’ll get it,” Tom offered, heading into the bathroom.

I warily watched Allan, ready to square up if he made even the slightest move.

Watch for those long arms. Don’t worry about a gun or knife. Keep him out of range. Your legs are longer than his arms. Quick kicks, parries, blocks.

Do not let him get a hold of you.

You can’t floor fight, he can.

Stay standing.

Stay light.

Stay ready.

Do not let him get a grip on you.

And if he does, make him regret ever crossing your path.

Allan raised a brow at my expression. “You just bit a man’s thumb off, kid,” he said. “I am not touchin’ you unless I get permission.”

That… made me feel at least a little better. Even if the mere thought of that damn finger being so real threatened to throw me into an existential spiral again.

Just… just don’t think about it. Focus on… numbers. Count something. How many colors are in here? How many lightbulbs? What patterns?

Anything but… the reality of the situation.

My heart jumped when Allan reached into the pocket of his dirt-streaked jeans, but he didn’t pull out a knife.

Instead, he offered me a small flask. “Want some?”

A thump sounded from the bathroom, and we turned to see Tom kneeling by the sink rubbing his head. When he saw the flask in Allan’s hand, he abandoned his search for a rag and stormed back in. “Allan! What the bloody hell are you doin’?”

“Offerin’ the kid a drink,” Allan replied, mildly offended, pulling the flask out of his reach as Tom grabbed for it. “It’s not poison.”

“Yes that shit is!”

Wonder what the story is there.

Probably nothing fun if a rough and tough sailor of Tom’s caliber doesn’t drink.

Allan rolled his eyes, holding Tom at bay with a hand on his chest as the other kept the flask out of reach. “Not all of us are as virtuous as you.”

“Speak for yourself,” I muttered. “I don’t fuck with that shit.”

Both men looked at me. “You don’t?” Allan asked, pushing Tom away.

I shook my head. “Never touched the stuff.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Suit yourself. See, Tom?” He waved the flask in my direction. “Kid’s got a spine, she can take care of ‘erself.”

And that’s why we’re in this emotional shithole.

Tom huffed and returned to his search for a clean rag, giving me an encouraging glance as he did so.

Shaking his head at Tom’s back, Allan unscrewed the lid and took a drink himself before screwing the lid back on. “It’s a bad habit anyway,” he told me, slipping it back into his pocket. “Don’t start it.”

“You scream at me then you offer life advice?” I scoffed tiredly.

He shrugged, resting his chin on his arms after folding his arms on the back of the chair. “Olive branch.”

“It’s a withered branch rotted from the inside out.”

“Thought that counts?”

“Hardly,” I growled.

Silence stretched between us, broken only by Tom’s muttering and the clatter of cleaning products.

“Have you ever been a team captain in sports, kid?” Allan asked finally.

What in correlation?

“The last team sport I did was soccer in fourth grade. Since then it’s been swimming, equestrian, and karate.” I shook my head, side-eyeing the bathroom as more bottles rattled. “Those ain’t exactly team sports unless with equestrian you count the horse.”

“What about PE?” Allan asked, waving a hand in my line of sight to bring my attention back to him. “America has that in the future, right?”

I snorted dismissively. “You’re lookin’ at a gal who got picked last for every damn game from elementary to middle school. I wasn’t even on the radar for the fuckin’ team, let alone the captain of it.”

“An outcast, huh?”

“Why do you think I latched on to the background cast of societal misfits?” I mumbled, watching Tom again.

Mumbling a curse, the man abandoned the sink and headed between us for the closet with a switchblade in hand.

Where the hell did he have that?

Allan watched him with me. “The crew certainly can understand bein’ left out, or bein’ seen as not worth havin’ around.”

I glared at the first mate. “What are you gettin’ at, Thompson?”

He held my gaze. “What I’m getting at,” he said, a slight edge to his tone. “Is I’m not yellin’ at you for fun. You have no idea what it’s like to have the expectation of so many riding on you. My men? If I fail, they all fail. Sakharine is evil, sure, but at the moment I’m out of options to keep my crew afloat.”

“What about the…” I made an injection motion towards my arm.

He squinted, most likely trying to decide if it was worth it to be angry, but seemed to think it wasn’t and shook his head. “Tryin’ to leave it behind, payout isn’t worth the risk anymore. I can’t do that without that treasure, kid. I unfortunately need that rich jackass right now.” He tilted his head, voice filled with reasoning and tinged with a hint of desperation. “You can understand that, right?”

“I’m not a total idiot.” A small shout of triumph pulled my attention back to Tom in time to see him cut some old garment from the closet. “I get it.”

“Then you understand why I’m not thrilled you took his thumb off.” He followed Tom with his head as the man slipped between us, headed for the bathroom with a cut piece of cloth. “Though…”

I looked at him. “Though what?”

Dark eyes returned to mine. “Between you and me? I’d have done the same if I could get away with it.” His voice lowered. “Woulda have tied him down and bitten ‘em off slowly, too. One by one.”

That should have been really unnerving. Scary. Frightening.

Not… soothing.

But it was what it was, and as Tom sat beside me with the damp scrap of cloth I let some tension bleed from my shoulders. “I don’t feel any pain, Tom,” I said, but made no effort to move away. “You really don’t need to fret over me.”

Tom chuckled. “Sound like the boys.”

He held a hand out for my arm and I gave it to him. The gentleness in his rough hands amazed me, so out of character for someone of his occupation. Scruffy, scarred, and strong as an ox, but yet so sweet and thoughtful.

At least with me.

“Are you always a mother hen?” I asked, watching curiously as he turned my arm over.

He dabbed the cool rag along the cut. “Someone’s gotta be, poor sods got the survival skills of a seahorse.”

“That’s… oddly specific.”

He shrugged, squinting as he leaned over to better inspect the underside of my arm. “Always loved the sea, ya know?” he said. “Can easily kill ya without tryin’, but it’s so full of beauty too.”

“Ever been snorkelin’?”

Tom shook his head. “Always wanted to. Never got a chance,” he sighed, getting up to rinse the rag before resuming his position next to me. “You?”

“Aye.”

Tom nudged me. “What’s it like?” he asked with all the eagerness of a young boy. “Bein’ in the water around all those fishes. Are the corals cool? Did’ja see an eel?”

The influx of questions put me more at ease, and the childlike curiosity warmed my heart.

“Colors sorta fade once you’re under, and only saw an eel from afar. I don’t vibe with ‘em, slimy bastards,” I said as he leaned over to dab at the cut more. “As for fish, some followed me for my colorful shorts, and the others just thought I had food. I did get up close with a barracuda once, though I didn’t know what it was at the time.”

Tom looked up from the cut in surprise. “You swam with barracudas?”

“And sharks, but just little ones.”

“Were you scared?” Tom asked. “With the sharks?”

I shook my head. “No. Triggerfish are far worse.”

Tom gave me a perplexed look. “Triggerfish?”

“Territorial bastards who will chase and bite you if you get too close to their nest. Or on general principle. Like an underwater yellowjacket.”

“Oh.”

“Sharks only attack if they’re desperate or angry.”

I glanced at Allan as he spoke up.

He held my gaze. “They don’t go after prey if they don’t have to. Why waste energy or risk getting injured when the prey fights back?”

Scan him.

Leaning forward, chin resting on his arms.

Hands open and still, not forming fists or reaching for weapons.

Face relaxed, though his gaze is still pretty focused in.

Back and shoulders loose.

Conversational, not confrontational.

He looks… honest.

Or about as honest as Allan Thompson gets.

My eyes narrowed slightly. “This about sharks? Or someone else?”

He gave me a faint smile. “You’re a clever kid. Sure you can figure it out.”

A weak smile ghosted my lips, which caused Allan’s to grow.

“There’s that grin of yours,” he teased.

I glanced away, hiding my face as my smile widened more.

Why must we be so weak to compliments and praise? To words of affirmation? We know he’s not being honest.

He chuckled, the sound forcing the rest of the tension from my body.

But what if he is honest? What if he means it?

Allan Thompson doesn’t mean anything he says. Not if he were real.

That settles it, then. We must still be dreaming.

Yeah, had to be. A… realistic one, but still a dream. That’s the only way Allan would have let my finger removal stunt slide. The only way he’d be genuine in any sense of the word. Only way he’d truly care about me on a personal level that didn’t resemble the care a tradesman had for his tools.

A dream meant no perma-death or perma-damage, which meant I was safe. I could still push these men a little, still let the leash out a bit without worrying about committing some sort of social or authority figure no-no.

I could still… be myself.

Warm relief washed over me, though not without a little bit of sadness.

Good thing about dreams; you eventually woke up.

Bad thing about dreams…

You eventually woke up.

Better make the most of it while you’re here.

I looked at Tom. “How’s it lookin’, Tom?”

“Good,” he said, eyes still on my arm. “May need a few stitches-”

I snatched my arm away, eyes wide as I tucked it against my chest.

Tom reacted quickly, blocking his ribs with an arm and shielding his face with an open hand. When I didn’t strike, he cautiously lowered his hand. “Or not?”

“I don’t like needles.” I shot a glare at Allan. “Use that against me and I will castrate you.”

He stiffened, a hand shifting to cover his groin as he leaned back. “Noted.”

Satisfied with my threat, I looked between him and Tom. “Ya know… kinda surprised you ain’t askin’ every question in the book given what I just dropped on you.”

“I’m… tryin’ not to think too hard on it,” Tom admitted.

I nodded. “Mood.”

“I have questions,” Allan said, standing up. “But I’ll ask ‘em once we’re outside.” When I grimaced, he raised his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

Not sure how much I believe that. Not sure how much choice I have in the matter either.

“May want to make it a short interrogation,” I muttered, carefully standing incase my legs failed. “Fella named Tintin is comin’ ‘ere tonight in search of his model ship that got stolen, so we need to get the fuck outta dodge ASAP.”

Allan stiffened. “The journalist?”

“You know ‘im?” I asked, somewhat surprised as the movie gave no hints of recognition between the pair on the doorstep.

Allan didn’t even know his name!

We’re not really in the movie, remember. Just a dream variant of your old fanfic.

“Ran into the pipsqueak in Egypt,” Tom grumbled. “Him on the case is bad news.”

Ok, that means they’re smuggling drugs for Ratsty or however you spell it. Or… maybe they were?

Weird.

I didn’t have them working for Rasty in any of my fic universes.

Of course it doesn’t perfectly match. It’s just a dream.

But… is it?

“Not that you’re a pipsqueak,” Tom said hurriedly, thankfully saving me from the riptide of anxiety before it could drag me out. “I think he’s smaller than you are.”

“We’re the same height.”

“How do you know ‘im?” Allan exclaimed.

“The universe jump spawned me in as his next-door neighbor,” I said. “He currently has the second scroll.”

Tom groaned. “Great.”

You ain’t gonna question the term “spawn”?

It’s a self-explanatory term, to be honest.

Fair.

“All the more reason to get Scarlett back,” Allan said, looking at me. “With her powers, we’ll have no trouble comin’ out on top even with him and his dog nippin’ at our heels.”

Ugh… back to the Scarlett thing. Oh well, fuck it. May as well figure out which fanfiction timeline I’m stuck in.

On the… very unlikely off chance this somehow isn’t a dream.

“How… do y’all know Scarlett?” I asked finally as we headed out of the bathroom led by Allan.

“She helped us out with some slavers that hijacked our ship a while ago,” Allan replied.

Not helpful, that’s in both timelines.

“How long did you know her?” I ventured, swatting some dust motes from my path as we walked down a long hall back towards the door.

The sun breached the treetops by now, leaving a precious few rays to stream through the slats in the boarded up windows. The manor dimmed quickly as the sun sank, long grey shadows creeping from the cobwebbed corners in anticipation to reclaim the haunted halls for themselves. The smell of mildew and must stalked alongside them like faithful hounds, ready and waiting for the command to strike.

Creepy. Wonder if there’s a Coraline door in this hovel.

“Not long,” Tom replied, pulling me from my musings. “Few days.”

“Days?” I asked, my feet snagging the floor in shock. “So… she didn’t help get rid of the slavers and Piccas and then lead you through the center of the earth after which she was stuck with the Karaboudjan for two years?”

Surely I wasn’t tossed into an unfinished version of my stories!

Both Tom and Allan stared at me as if I’d grown a second head.

“Uh… no? She was only ‘ere a few days, then vanished,” Tom said with a slow shake of his head.

“And who’s Piccas?”Allan asked.

I blinked. “Yer kiddin’.”

Tom shook his head earnestly. “No, we’re not.”

“You don’t know how we met Scarlett?” Allan asked. “Thought you knew everythin’ about our lives.”

“Hell no, y’all are background characters,” I corrected. “Bad guys. Tintin and Haddock are the stars of the movie, but I fell in love with the oddball lot that is the Karaboudjan because I’m drawn to the outcasts. And cargo ships, apparently. The movie only starts with the marketplace this mornin’.”

“What about knowing the details about Sakharine’s ancestor?” Allan pressed.

“That’s plot relevant. We know literally nothing about your past in the movie.”

“But.. if you don’t know our past, how do you know about Scarlett?” Tom asked.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out,” I retorted a bit too sharply, and I winced when a look of hurt entered Tom’s eyes.

Think I’d almost rather kick a puppy.

“Sorry, man,” I apologized. “Didn’t mean to be short with ya. I’m just… confused.”

Sympathy replaced the hurt. “Ah, I understand. No hard feelin’s.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, man.”

“Who is this Piccas?” Allan asked.

The insert of my drunkard ex who was three years my senior and most likely groomed me even if unintentionally.

“An ally of Scarlett before she joined y’all.”

“She did have someone she was allied with before us,” Allan added. “A real asshole, but his name was Claudius.”

“Claudius?” I exclaimed. “But… that… that means…” My brows furrowed in thought, only to rise as my eyes flew wide. “Oh fuck me in ass!”

“Pardon me?” Allan sputtered as Tom made a rather odd choking sound, a hand half covering his face as he turned away with his shoulders shaking.

I shook too, but mine was a nervous laugh that bubbled up my throat as I struggled to maintain my sanity.

Oh, this was just… delightful.

Unsatisfied with a roleplay fic from early 2014 between me and my then partner and a former friend, in 2015 I attempted to rewrite it with my improved skills, weak as they were. I only got halfway through before taking the story in a new direction. But the transition was jarring, quick, and left the version with the Karaboudjan half-finished.

And at this point in time… probably left a majority of the men with what seemed like major memory loss.

Of all the versions, of course I ended up in the unfinished one.

Wasn’t this just dandy?

“Do you… need to sit back down?” Tom ventured, a hand partially extended to catch me.

“No no, I…” Laughter spilled out, increasing the concern on the men’s faces. “I’m wonderful! Just peachy!”

They exchanged a doubtful glance.

“Are you… goin’ to explain that psycho smile?” Allan asked.

“Well, ya see… it’s a funny story, really,” I cackled, clapping my hands together. “Main thing is I can still get us through the movie events peachy keen.”

“But…?”

“But, er.” I rested my chin on my fingertips, trying to come up with a coherent explanation. “We may… or may not,” I added quickly. “Be in a… different timeline than what I originally thought.”

“The fuck do you mean a different timeline?” Allan demanded.

Tom gasped. “Al!”

Allan looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“Language!”

“You’re yellin’ at me?” Allan exclaimed, both hands on his chest. “Have you heard the shit comin’ out of Shadow’s mouth for the past hour? She’s as bad as the boys!”

“Don’t make it worse!”

“I’m not makin’ it worse!”

“Yeah you are!”

“How so?”

“You’re bein’ a bad influence!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yeah you are!”

“Now is not the time!” Allan snapped. He turned to me. “Kid, what do you mean different timeline?”

Think! What can you say that won’t reveal yourself as the creator of Scarlett and grand architect of the hijacking hell they went through?

“A big thing right now durin’ my time is alternate timelines and alternate universes. Piccas is from another timeline, not the one we’re in right now.”

“So we aren’t in the movie timeline?”

“We’re in a movie…” I searched for the right word. “Adjacent timeline. The events in the movie itself shouldn’t be changed, but the backstory of the characters involved is different from the main timeline.”

Allan blinked, then groaned loudly and dragged his hand down his face. “Oh, of course this is a different timeline.”

Sand rats and night bats, I can hear his blood pressure rising by the second.

Mood, Allan.

Mood.

Tom looked between Allan and me. Doubt flickered across his face; evidently he didn’t fully believe what I said, and I couldn’t really blame him for holding onto some shred of sanity.

“Can you… still help us?” he asked.

I nodded firmly, as the urge to stick by these men remained possibly the only certainty in this shitshow.. “I’ll damn well try to best of my ability.”

“We’ll take that.” He nudged Allan. “Won’t we, Al?”

“Don’t much see how we have any other choice,” Allan muttered.

“Then can we finally head back to the ship?” Tom asked, a whine entering his tone. “This place is creepy after dark, and I’m gettin’ hungry.”

As if on cue, his stomach growled.

Allan sighed, but his voice held a note of fondness as he replied, “You’re always bloody hungry.” He turned to me. “You know the movie?”

“Aye, as I have mentioned before.”

“Then what’s next?”

I thought for a moment, running through the movie. “Mmm, murder and kidnappin’.”

“You say that so causally,” Tom remarked with a note of worry, somewhat side-eyeing me.

“Oh, trust me,” I said with a small laugh, raising my hands. “When the movie first came out and I watched it, my eleven year old ass was not ready to see someone get turned into a skettie strainer via machine gun.”

Horror flooded Tom’s face. “You were eleven!?” he screamed.

I thought for a moment. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t really become hooked on the movie until I was thirteen.”

“It don’t!”

I shrugged. “Well, them’s the breaks.”

Allan shook his head tiredly, cursing in a language I was pretty sure was German. “Kid, explain what you meant by murder and kidnapping.”

“Right. So, murder is that American FBI agent.”

“And you’re okay with offin’ your fellow American?” Allan asked, although the slight smile suggested he was rather happy about that.

Easier for you to corrupt, huh?

“A, I ain’t a fan of the feds. Libertarianism and all that. B, apparently he survives dependin’ on what source you ask. Though I can’t say for certain. Either way, he gets offed after Tintin comes back and finds his apartment ransacked. Presumably by you lot.”

“We need to go make a mess?”

“Probably not. See, ordinarily I’d say yes because you need reason to kidnap him in the mornin’. Tintin I mean. Without the scrolls, you’d need to go back to nab him. We can bypass all that because I can just tell you that kidnappin’ him is needed.”

“Why does that need to happen?”

“His wallet gets stolen which will then be returned once you guys all make it to Bhaggar. So you’ll have his scroll, Sakharine’s scroll, and the scroll of the…” I snapped my fingers, trying to conjure the title. “Hellfire, it begins with an S.”

“Sheikh?” Tom offered.

“Aye, that! Funnily enough, in the comics he was actually your main boss in the comic you were introduced in.”

Unless we count the revised Cigars of the Pharaoh which would put Rasty as your main boss. Until he went full lemming.

“Right,” Allan muttered, then shook his head as if he could Etch-E-Sketch the existential crisis away. “Our next move from right now is?”

“Head back to town before Tintin shows up here.”

Allan shrugged. “Alright, Tom. You heard the kid. Let’s head back.”

With that we left the darkening building, finding Neil and Harry waiting at the bottom of the front steps along with the rottweiler guard dog. Harry leaned on the banister whittling away at a stick, while Neil sat on the last of the cracked steps rubbing the dog’s belly.

However, when Neil caught sight of me, he left the dog and eagerly met me at the top of the steps. Encasing me in a firm hug, he laughed and lifted me off the ground. “Happy to see ya still in one piece, Shortie!” he said, his voice shaking my chest. “Almost thought ya weren’t makin’ it outta there!”

I grunted as his grip squeezed some of the air from my lungs. “And you were just gonna let me be murdered?” I coughed. “Feelin’ the love ‘ere, Blonie!”

“Neil, don’t break ‘er,” Allan scolded. “That’s kid’s worth too much.”

“The hell you mean?” Harry said from the bottom of the steps as Neil set me down. His eyes widened. “Also, what the hell is with her shirt?”

Neil turned me to fully face him, peering at the stain in shock. “Is this blood?”

I looked at it. “Ah. It ain’t mine,” I said with a shrug, waving him off as I headed down the steps for the guard dog.

I’d only been able to briefly pet Snowy today, but I was not passing up the chance to pet a big pupper. Big dogs were my favorite, especially rotties, and I was thrilled when the guard dog’s stubby tail started wagging like crazy.

“Hi baby!” I greeted, voice high-pitched as the rottweiler started licking my hands. “You’re a big fella, aren’t ya? Aw, who’s a good boy?” I scratched along his side as his entire backside wiggled with his tail. “You are, yes you are!”

“Don’t think I’ve seen ‘er that bubbly,” Harry muttered. “Don’t think I like it, either.”

“Think it’s kinda adorable,” Tom said.

“That’s because you’re also a sap for mutts,” Allan muttered.

“Shortie, if it ain’t your blood… whose is it?” Neil called from the top.

I didn’t look up from the rottweilers belly as he rolled over and flopped his paws. “I may or may not have relieved Sakharine of his left thumb.”

Neil and Harry both took a step back.

“You bit his thumb off?!” Harry yelped.

“Got all touchy with my face talkin’ bout ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll see the error of your ways’,” I explained, lifting my chin with a hand and faking a posh accent. I returned to the rottweiler when he whined at me. “Bastard treated me like a dog so I bit ‘im like one.”

Still kinda worried about the concrete feeling of his thumb when I bit it off…

Stay strong. They've done far worse to people, don’t let them think you’re weak.

Neil blinked, then roared with laughter. “Oh, that’s bloody brilliant, mate!” he wheezed, doubled over.

See, Neil finds you amusing. You’re fine. Focus on the puppy.

The rottie certainly liked that plan, head back and tongue hanging out.

Hector, was his name?

“Hector?” I tried.

The dog lifted his head, ears pricked.

Success!

“Ah! Hey, Hector. You’re a good boy, ain’t ya?”

Hector laid his head back down, tongue out again as his leg kicked in unison with my hands as I used both to rub his belly.

“You know the name of that mutt?” Allan asked.

“It’s not a mutt!” I defended, shooting him an angry glare that seemed to take him and the rest of the men by surprise. “It’s a rottweiler, and his name is Hector.”

“How do you know his name?”

I focused on Hector again. “I think Nestor mentioned it once at the end of the film.”

Harry and Neil exchanged a glance.

“Er, film?” Harry asked. “What film?”

I dragged my gaze from Hector. “Want me to give the spiel again?”

Allan stared at me for a moment, then his eyes lifted to the woods. “No. Tom can do that.” He looked back down at me. “I want to have a chat with you. Alone.”

My hands fell still. “Alone?”

Sensing something off, Hector rolled to his side and looked up at me with his head tilted. I rubbed his ears, which he gratefully leaned into.

“Can bring the mutt if you want,” Allan said, coming down the steps and heading for a path on the far side of the motorcourt.

I stood, Hector standing alongside me. “His name isn’t Mutt,” I reminded him somewhat angrily. “His name is Hector!”

Allan rolled his eyes, earning himself a smack on the arm from Tom. “Whatever.”

“Woah woah woah,” Neil said, stepping in between me and Allan. “Why’s she goin’ with you alone?”

“I have questions I need to ask ‘er.”

“Why can’t you do that with us?”

Allan’s gaze sharpened. “This doesn’t concern you, Neil.”

Tension crackled through the air as Neil stood his ground, meeting the first mate’s gaze without flinching.

“Neil,” Harry hissed through clenched teeth, and for the first time I saw worry on his face.

Meanwhile, Tom glared at Neil with a dangerous look in his eyes. Not enough to cause fear for Neil’s life, but definitely his safety.

I didn’t like it…

Tom’s nice to us, but he’s not a nice man. Don’t forget what he does for a living.

I stepped out from behind Neil. “I’ll be alright.”

I knew exactly what Allan wanted to know; exactly the thing I didn’t want to talk about. But I couldn’t dodge it forever, and the sooner I got it out of the way the sooner I could quit fighting off this damn anxiety attack that threatened to overtake me any minute.

The sooner I got this over with, the sooner we could get back to the ship and the sooner I could lock myself in the bathroom somewhere to deal with everything.

Neil broke off his staring contest with Allan and focused on me. “You sure? I don’t like you goin’ alone with ‘im anywhere.”

“I won’t lay hands on ‘er after what she did to Sakharine,” Allan retorted.

Neil glared at him again. “Not all abuse is physical.”

Neil has a good point. Allan do be a manipulative bastard.

It’d suck to live through this segment of what had to be some lucid dream, but I could always use it for story inspiration.

“Neil!” Harry barked, far louder this time. “The fuck are you doin’? Knock it off ‘fore you really step in it.”

Tom didn’t speak, but that cold, almost murderous glint in his eyes said everything.

If I didn’t get Neil to stand down, we were gonna find ourselves in hell.

“Neil, it’s ok,” I stressed. “I’m not alone.” I gestured to Hector by my side, staring up at me with a confused look. “I got Hector to watch my back.”

Neil looked between me and Allan. “You sure, Shortie?”

I gave him a double thumbs up. “Positive as a proton.”

He raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless backed down from Allan.

“C’mon, kid,” Allan said, waving me after him. “Bring the mutt.”

“Hector!”

“Hector.”

At his name, Hector’s ears perked up and he trotted over to Allan with his tail wagging.

Allan glared down at him, stepping away. “Not me, Shadow’s the one who wants you,” he complained, pointing at me. “Get!”

Hector, bless him, didn’t understand and just stared up at him innocently.

I patted my leg. “C’mere, boy.”

Hector returned to my side, tail wagging harder when I rubbed his ears.

Tom came over to us, but not without purposely knocking his shoulder into Neil’s with a warning look. His face relaxed as he knelt down by me. “Cute dog,” he remarked, letting Hector sniff his hand before patting his head.

I glanced at Neil, shaking my head at him when he clenched his fists and took a step towards Tom’s back.

Do not start swinging while I’m this close to Tom. I don’t care if y’all need to duke it out, but let me get clear first.

Neil stopped, but still looked pissed.

Tom continued to rub Hector’s ears, head slightly turned as his gaze strayed behind him. However, when Neil halted, Tom looked up at me and stood. “You’ll be ok.”

A comment, not a question.

I nodded.

“If he gets too handsy,” Tom said. “Poke ‘im in the ribs.”

“Old injury?”

Tom shook his head. “Ticklish.”

I glanced at Allan, only to find the man rolling his eyes as he walked off.

Well, it’s an odd tactic but if it’s effective then why not.

Tom gave my shoulder a light push. “Go on. Best get it over with.”

“You just want to get back for food,” I retorted over my shoulder.

He chuckled. “Guilty.”

Feeling braver, I squared my shoulders and set off after Allan, Hector trotting alongside. 

[shads-shipposts]

The chaos continues, and everyone has mad questions. 

Also, sorry for this Debbie downer of an update, but I want to let y'all know. This (ch 8&9) will be the last upload until March, I need a bit of time to process some grief. Today, we had to put my cat to sleep after the cancer just became too much for him. He was our neighbor's cat, but started hanging around us more so we just adopted him in 2010. He was at least 17, maybe 18, so he lived a good, long life. I'm heartbroken, I've had him since 2008, but also relieved because he's not hurting anymore.

Anyway, sorry for the downer of an author's note. I'll see yall in March ❤️

I'll add the links later, I don't have it in me rn but you can find the masterlist pinned on my profile <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Allan expected a bit of resistance, but breaking a window with a chair and jumping out it was not on his mind.

Smart, though, as she targeted the one window that didn't have any boards on the exterior. She also set it up so subtly, even Allan didn't notice her plan until it was too late.

Clever. Very clever.

He couldn't wipe the smirk from his face as he watched Shadow dart off into the woods, having full confidence now that she would not try to actually run away.

Full confidence that he needn't worry about losing the lead to Scarlett, because even if he lost sight of her she'd turn up again.

The kid was drawn to Allan and his men like a moth the flame, he realized now, and already Allan found himself thinking about how he could use her to further his own goals. Her fighting spirit, physical prowess, sharp mind, potential loyalty, and of course, the secrets she knew about not only the Unicorn but also Scarlett.

Her lack of self-preservation could be cause for concern, admittedly, but he'd iron that out later.

An inkling of guilt nagged at him for dragging Shadow into the life of crime, but he pushed it away.

It wasn't like he forced Shadow to come to the docks, to come here. Besides, once she spilled what she knew of the Unicorn and Scarlett, Allan could send her on her way. He already had proof she'd keep quiet and wouldn't squeal to the police, so he could convince Sakharine to let her go.

This was not forever.

It wasn't too late for her.

She could still escape the tar Allan struggled so hard to free himself from.

"That foolish, obstinate, deceitful woman!" Sakharine hissed at Allan's side.

Possibly.

Aw, is someone cranky he's finally met his match? You better be lucky this isn't Scarlett.

Though, Allan supposed Shadow's methods of escape did not differ too much from Scarlett's. He still recalled the stinging in his eyes after her "pocket sand" stunt, and still recalled the burning anger that flooded his body.

If he knew then what he knew now, knew the power just beneath the surface, that rage would have been relief she hadn't done far worse to escape.

"You!" Sakharine whirled to face him. "Bring her back to me. Use whatever force you deem fit, but that wench is not to leave the property."

Wench? This is the 20th Century, old man.

"What was that earlier?" Allan couldn't help but ask. "Something about her not knowin' what she was gettin' into?"

"Do not patronize me, Thompson."

Wouldn't dream of it.

"All I'm sayin', boss, is careful makin' 'er an enemy. We have no idea what kind of dirt she has on us-"

Sakharine scoffed, cutting him off with a raised hand. "She made an enemy of me. She wants to be difficult? Wants to masquerade as a boy? Let her face the consequences." He turned back to the window, glaring into the woods and missing the look of disgust Harry threw at his back.

Allan subtly shook his head when Harry's eyes came to him, warning him not to let his temper get the best of him here.

Shadow had the luck of being important to Sakharine, even if it was brief. She had information he wanted, and thus wouldn't be killed yet. Harry had no such protection, and while Allan would side with his crew over this new boss he still had no desire to find himself in that situation.

"Treat her as you would a common street thug who decided to meddle," Sakharine continued, his back still to Allan and Harry. "I don't care if you have to break her legs and drag her back kicking and screaming. Bring. Her. Back."

I'll bring her back, sure, but breaking her legs? No dice. Hiding some minor emotional trauma from the cops is one thing. You can recover from a little scare in a few hours, days at the most. But legs? I highly doubt she'd let that slide.

Allan was no fool. Any understanding and mutual respect between him and Shadow would crumble instantly if he injured her that badly. Bad for business, making enemies when you didn't need to.

And Allan had no desire to lose a verbal sparring partner.

Her stubbornness and inability to take anything seriously annoyed him at times, sure. But when was the last time someone dared to insult him to his face? By calling him an industrial refrigerator no less.

Being surrounded by yes men too afraid to stand up to you got boring; he enjoyed finally having someone who could match his sarcasm and wit.

My skills were getting rusty.

Not to mention he had to always wonder if his men were telling him the truth, or just telling him what he wanted to hear. Some he knew he could trust, those in his inner circle.

Tom. Pedro. Harry. Ollie. Vinny.

They didn't fear him, nor did he fear them, and thus an element of deep trust ran between them like lifeblood.

But the rest of the crew he always viewed with a degree of suspicion. He scared men, he knew.

For whatever reason... he didn't scare Shadow.

Allan just nodded in partial agreement to another series of threats from Sakharine, grabbing Harry and pulling him out with him.

"That kid is psycho!" Harry exclaimed in the hall. "Does she have any idea what sort of man she's pokin' with a stick? We're one thing, he's another."

I knew you were all bark with the kid.

Harry acted all mean and tough, but Allan knew he held a soft spot for kids and teens. Allan didn't know Shadow's exact age, but it couldn't have been much older than Nick.

"You need to tell 'er to stop antagonizin' the boss," Harry continued. "Before she gets herself hurt or worse."

"Don't tell me you're gettin' soft, Harry," Allan said, but slipped a chuckle in to let the man know he was teasing.

Harry stiffened, looking more offended than worried. "Fuck no. Just..." He shook his head, brows furrowed. "Don't want 'er to find out the hard way what violent fantasies that sick bastard has."

"I think the kid can handle herself just fine around him. He's underestimated her before, and that was just her wits," Allan assured him. "Underestimating her before a physical attack could prove fatal."

"Think she's got the stomach for it?"

Depends on how desperate she gets.

"Everyone's a killer if you push 'em far enough," Allan replied honestly. "Everyone has something to flip that switch. Shadow's bound to have something as well."

I want to find out, but not the hard way.

He made that mistake with Scarlett.

Harry remained silent until they reached the bottom of the main steps. "The name. Shadow. It's... really similar to Scarlett's alias."

Guess I'm not the only one rememberin' her lately.

"It was Scarlett's alias."

Harry looked at him. "Think the kid has a connection?"

"I'll eat my hat if she doesn't."

A sudden yelp from the other side of the manor caught both of their attention.

"What in the big brother?!"

Harry sent a dumbfounded look Allan's way, the first mate just shaking his head in amusement.

At least having her around won't be a bore like Sakharine.

"That kid is somethin' else," he muttered. "Go help Neil and Tom. And keep that knife away will ya? Don't need 'er turnin' on us."

"Copy that, boss."

As Harry ran the direction of the shout, Allan turned and headed the opposite way.

Want a chase, kid? Want to play cat and mouse?

Let's see if you have what it takes.

Why are you running!? Why are you running!?

I couldn't help but play that vine over and over in my head as I raced around the manor grounds with Neil and Tom in hot pursuit.

Had to hand it to the pair, they were a lot faster than my initial assessment of them predicted. I expected to be faster, as while Tom had longer legs than me he still had quite a few pounds on me.Stockier men usually didn't have the same speed as leaner men. Neil's torso looked longer than his legs, but he didn't trail too far behind Tom.

I still remained ahead, however.

But, even though I was faster, they showed no signs of getting tired. I should have known they would have better stamina than me, what with working day in and day out on a cargo ship in the 1940s.

Back before a lot of stuff became automated.

Hell, I didn't even think computers were a thing during Tintin's time.

How the hell am I gonna explain my phone?

Like Trevor, it was phasing in and out of existence. Sometimes I could feel it in my pocket, sometimes I couldn't.

That was just proof this was all a crazy dream, right?

Objects in reality didn't just phase in and out. That was some Skyrim glitch material, not Tintin movie material. The movie, fantastical as it was, still had basis in solid reality.

If I was really trapped in the movie, which I definitely wasn't, then all this slap-stick survival and all these glitchy happenings wouldn't be a thing.

We got bigger fish to fry than justifying dream nonsense.

Such as the lack of a long term plan for the outcome of this chase.

They were following me, great, but now what? Unless I had infinite sprint, which was ruled out thanks to the ache in my teeth and the acidic sting in my muscles, I couldn't keep this up forever.

But honestly, I couldn't help being a little shit and causing problems on purpose.

I was like Courage, but instead of the things I did for love it was the things I did for boredom.

Apparently, breaking a rich guy's window and leading his hired guns on a chase was one of those things.

I just hoped the fellas behind me weren't too pissed about it all.

Allan didn't seem overly upset, more amused than anything. Tom had shown an almost protective side by standing in between Sakharine and me. Hobbs looked irritated at Sakharine's threats, suggesting he wouldn't really hurt me if given the chance.

As for Neil, given his helpful advice and lenience when smacked or thrown I'd be very surprised if he turned and got nasty.

Spying a pile of stones half-covered by old scrappy tarp as we ran through some wide-spaced trees near the edge of the thicker grove, I darted around it and put it between me and the sailors as I turned to face them.

Both men were alarmingly close, but the smile on Neil's face eased any worries of anger. Tom didn't look any angrier, just determined and a bit confused. Both men stopped on the opposite of the pile, Tom immediately leaning over with his hands on his knees.

Guess his stamina isn't as endless as I thought, poor guy.

I didn't know his age, but he probably had at least fifteen years on me so him being a little more out of shape was reasonable. He also looked more like a tank, used to taking people down without much of a chase.

"Fast little ferret, ain't ya?" Neil teased, breathing heavy but not as heavy as Tom.

"Ferret?"

"You're 'bout as bitey as one."

I straightened, hands on my hips. "I'll take that as a compliment!" I declared, giving him a toothy grin.

He laughed.

Yeah, Neil's safe.

You mean our brain's concoction of Neil.

Yes, that.

Tom, still leaning over, took a gulp of air and gestured weakly. "Ya can't... can't mean to..." He sucked wind some more. "Can't mean to run all the way back to town!"

Neil chuckled. "Naw, look at that smile, mate. She's enjoyin' this."

I shrugged. "Guilty."

Tom straightened, hands on his head. "Why the hell are ya enjoyin' bein' chased?" he demanded. "Are ya bloody barmy?"

It was my turn to be confused.

"Am... Am I what?"

"Crazy!"

"Oh... maybe."

"Maybe?" Tom exclaimed. "You're actin' like this is fun for ya!"

"Not the runnin', but the chase is fun. Lets me push myself to the limit in a non-threatenin' situation."

"How do you know it's non-threatenin'?" Tom asked. "We could be out to kill ya!"

I raised my brows and pointed at the gun still holstered on his hip. "You ain't gone for that once. If you wanted me dead, you'd have shot me already."

Tom frowned. "And you trust us that much already?"

I shrugged. "You look more confused than aggro, and Neil's laughin' his ass off."

"That's 'cause I am confused!" Tom dropped his hands, shaking his head. "Ya avoid the cops, come 'ere knowin' it's a trap, and ya pissed off the boss despite knowin' he's got us all under his lead."

"That sounds about right."

"And you're not at all worried?"

"I mean I can keep runnin' if you think it'd be better for my health. Not that I'm really enjoyin' this cardio."

"Aw, don't like cardio, huh?" Neil teased, heading around the right side of the pile.

I shifted my own right. "Nope."

He moved left, mirroring me as Tom watched us both. "Really?"

I moved to my left. "Really really."

Neil headed to the middle. "Pity."

I copied him. "Pity indeed."

Oh, I do not care for that smile at all. Think I've seen less concernin' grins on Trevor.

Then, to my utter shock, Neil launched himself over the middle of the stone pile.

"What in the big brother?!" I yelped, darting away.

Tackling my legs, Neil took us to the ground where he rolled himself onto my waist. He swatted my own hands down, lightly smacking the top of my head. "C'mon, martial artist," he teased, weaving out of the way of another strike. "Show me what you got!"

Think!

Planting my foot on his hip, I wrenched his shoulders to the side as I pushed his hip. I had a feeling he let me move him, but a win was a win and as he rolled off I sprang away and darted deeper into the woods.

Climb?

No, trapped above ground.

Over rocks?

No, Neil was more nimble than anticipated.

Through shrubs?

No, if I could charge through them so could the boys.

Underground?

No, no access points.

Only option was to run.

Over a log, around a boulder, under a shrub, across a stream.

Look above the shoulder to make sure they weren't gaining-

The ground vanished beneath my feet and I plunged headfirst down a small gully. I wasn't able to catch myself before I rolled head over heels twice, but I did stop rather suddenly.

Or, rather, my forehead stopped me rather suddenly.

I wasn't sure what exactly I hit, but I did hear a rather loud crack like a firework as the force of me bouncing off the obstacle sent me onto my back.

"Shit!"

Not sure if it was Neil, or Tom, but someone quickly materialized at my side and slowly helped me sit up.

As I did, my hand went gingerly to my forehead.

What kinda Mary Sue bullshit is this? I'm not clumsy! I'm a blackbelt for crying out loud, this is embarrassing!

But at least I had further confirmation this was a dream. Because while I could tell I hit something, I felt zero pain and didn't feel any blood either. Nor did I feel fluid or worse coming out of my ears. I felt soreness, sure, but no pain.

"Holy shit, are you alright?"

Slowly lowering my hand and turning my head to the side, I found Tom staring at me with a worried expression and a hand supporting my back.

I blinked slowly, face deadpan. "Peachy."

"Woah..." Neil breathed, causing Tom and I both to look his way. The brawny sailor crouched by the rock I'd apparently slammed my forehead into, running his hand down it slowly.

"There a reason you're carressin' the boulder, Blondie?" I grunted, my accent coming through strongly.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes wide. "Shortie... how thick is that skull of yours?"

"Very, I'm a redneck with Scotch-Irish roots. Why?"

Neil moved to the side, revealing a massive impact spot akin to a meteor crater with massive fissures snaking out across the rock's surface. His eyes looked about ready to leap from his head as he lifted a shaky hand and gestured at the impact spot with his thumb. "Because you just cracked this boulder into fours."

"Well. That's interest-"

"Are ya sure you're not hurt?" Tom exclaimed, turning my face back to him with both hands as he peered worriedly at my forehead. "Sure somethin's not broke?"

"-Ing."

You are touching my face.

Guess my theories on your hands being rough were right though.

It was interesting, admittedly, how gentle his grip was despite his strength.

Quit blue screening and do something.

I grabbed his wrists and pulled them away. "Quit bein' a mama hen, Tom. Ain't you supposed to be catchin' me?"

Neil stiffened, eyes flashing up to the top of the gully. "Speakin' of that, get down!" he hissed, borderline tackling us both under the small overhang formed by some boulders and shrubs.

I found myself half suffocated under not only Tom, but Neil as well as we all pressed ourselves out of sight from whoever Neil spotted.

I know these guys are both muscle bound sailors and full grown men but damn what are y'all eatin' on the ship?!

Also, which of these two hardened, drug smugglin' gunslingers are out here smelling like nutmeg?

Thankfully, Tom pulled me out from under them and maneuvered me between him and Neil, an arm braced across my front as we sat with our backs pressed against the bank.

Great, now I'm even shorter than them, I thought angrily, gripping Tom's arm and pulling it down from my throat. Damn this short torso.

Ragged breathing reached my ears, and a few moments later I heard Hobbs yell, "Oi! Where'd you lot get off to!?"

Neil elbowed me before holding a finger to his lips. I glanced at Tom, who nodded before giving me a look that strongly suggested I agree as well. Withholding a sigh for now, I turned back to Neil and nodded.

We all waited silently until Hobbs cursed loudly and headed back the way he came.

Neil breathed a sigh of relief. "That was a close one."

I lightly elbowed him as I pushed Tom's armbar away. "Again, ain't yall supposed to be catchin' me?"

"Ain't you supposed to be fightin' tooth and nail to escape?" Neil shot back.

"Touché."

Tom pulled at my shoulder. "D'ya 'ave any idea how dangerous this is, kid?" he demanded, a sharp note in his voice as he shook me. "Do you 'ave any idea what you're gettin' yourself into?"

I grabbed his arm to stop him. "Treasure hunt with an aristocratic asshat who thinks too highly of himself and wants revenge on Haddock for something that happened between the ancestors back in the 1600s that he won't fully cough up, so he bought off his crew to stage a mutiny and more or less keep Haddock a prisoner on his own ship until the time comes to slaughter him?"

He blinked. "Er, maybe you do know," he mumbled, looking away for a moment.

"Hell, think she knows more than us," Neil muttered, crawling out from under the overhang.

"Yeah..." Tom agreed, looking me up and down uncertainly. "How did you know that about the, er, situation with Sakharine?"

Dream!Tom or not, you're never gonna believe me. Not that I really care to delve into lore. I am here for chaos, not substance. Lore can piss off, I want shenanigans.

"Could we... take a raincheck on that explanation?" I asked, crawling out beside Neil and shaking myself off like a wet dog. "Just for a few minutes. I'm up for tellin' y'all, don't worry, but I just gotta, er..." I watched as a cricket scampered off, most likely having fallen from my shoulder. "Figure out how to tell y'all."

Aka, I don't wanna unless I gotta.

"Wait, that means you're stickin' around?" Neil asked.

"I'll unofficially agree with that." I halfheartedly threw my hands up. "Clearly I'm more drawn to y'all than a moth to flame." I frowned. "Though in this case it may be a bug zapper."

"So you surrender? The chase is over, just like that?"

I thought for a moment. "Mmm, nah. Still feelin' a little froggy." I couldn't help but give a short laugh. "Where's the fun in just givin' in without a fight?"

"Certainly ain't done that," Tom muttered, rolling his eyes.

"If you want to feel like you earned your pressgang, we can make that happen," Neil said. "How well can you grapple? Can fight it out and draw the others over with noise."

I grimaced. "Er... not well."

Tom blinked. "All that fancy stuff and you can't grapple?"

"I took karate not jujitsu!" I protested. "I wanted 'em to teach us floorfightin' but they never would due to 'awkwardness'."

Curse what's not in my pants.

"You can't grapple at all?" Tom repeated, a note of exasperation in his voice. He scowled. "Can't box either, can ya?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Er..."

Tom groaned. "I don't believe this! You challenged me this morning knowin' you'd get your ass kicked?"

"Admittedly, I was kinda bankin' on you takin' it easy on me."

"He would," Neil spoke up.

Tom glared at him. "She couldn't have been certain about that."

"So... was I supposed to just give in or not? Because if I didn't know you wouldn't hurt me, then why would I just surrender and trust I wouldn't be gutted and worse."

Tom opened his mouth to argue, only for a new person to enter our conversation.

"Am I interrupting something?" 

[shads-shipposts]

As yes, the biggest nightmare of all. Small talk. At least we get some fun banter again! Shadow and Allan really play well off each other for a snark-off, and of all interactions in this book so far, theirs is the easiest to write. Neil and Shadow will come back into play next chapter, as well as Shadow and Tom. Neil and Shadow is hella fun, they fall into a brother-sister category while Shadow and Tom are more uncle-niece with occasional sibling energy. 

Enjoy the lighthearted fun while it lasts  I say for no reason in particular :)

Beginning: Here Next: Here Previous: Saturday Ao3 Version: Here Masterlist: Here

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Well, now I knew for certain this was a dream.

It'd taken a ridiculously long time, but the scenes had finally gone fuzzy and shifted.

How'd that Spongebob meme go? He went home and did nothing of particular interest until the plot needed him?

Because the last thing in my memory was leaving Sakharine at the marketplace where my watch read 11 something am, but I'd looked at my watch again after walking a few steps and now it was close to 3 pm. My stomach was also full now, and had stopped growling at me, so I had even more confirmation I was dreaming.

Of course, recognizing it as a dream was a double edged sword because now I ran the risk of accidentally waking myself up. That wouldn't do, I needed to get myself on that ship and annoy Sakharine more before I woke back up.

The plans were already getting closer to completion, with me meeting up with Sakharine and getting in the car with him and Nestor to go to Marlinspike. Aside from surviving the prideful rambling, all I had to do now was just try not to think about it being a dream so I didn't wake up without seeing the boys again.

It's still too linear, a voice hissed in the back of my mind. Too coherent. Are we really sure we're dreaming?

We feel no pain, are indestructible to blunt force such as falling down two stories of crates, and now we've time traveled. There's no other possibility.

What if we're in one of those self-inserts, where the protagonist gets special powers?

Fat chance of that. Universe hopping doesn't exist.

I shoved the doubts to the back of my mind, even as a seed of concern began to corrupt my confidence and twist my stomach.

Universe hopping wasn't real.

Right?

Right.

I watched the trees speed past, blurring together as we snaked deeper into the countryside. Sakharine was talking, saying something about something, but in all honesty his voice had kinda faded to white noise several minutes prior.

It was kinda funny, though.

Here I was, worrying about Allan and his bunch causing this dream to sour into a nightmare when I should have been fretting about the worst nightmare of all...

Small talk with a man who clearly thought himself the greatest thing since sliced bread.

How he didn't notice my eyes glaze over and my responses become less substantial, I had no idea.

Or maybe he did notice, but didn't care.

Does this man have any social awareness of how insufferable he comes across?

I was really beginning to regret not just letting Allan and co drag me onto the ship in the back alley. Because now I had to sit through what felt like the longest car ride I'd ever had listening to this red-coated Ruskie ramble on about how wealthy and grand his estate would be once he got it working. Listening to how superior Rackham's bloodline was to the Haddocks, which I did not ask about nor did I care for.

Take me back to the mobsters! Allan, I'll let you fuckin' shoot me if it means I don't have to deal with this prick.

"And yourself?"

I jumped, whipping my head to stare at him. "Huh?"

His eye twitched, but he bit back any condemnation and just asked again, "How did you come to know about the story of the Unicorn?"

"Oh. I like piratey stuff, and came across tales of it while researchin' Calico Jack in the West Indies."

Not entirely a lie, as some of my searches on Calico Jack Rackham did lead me back to Tintin's Unicorn arc.

"And how did you find your way here from the states?"

"College studies."

Not a lie either, as that Fall 2019 semester of sophomore year stressed me out so much I'd been rewatching the Tintin movie to distract myself. Which no doubt wormed its way into my subconscious and gave birth to this still oddly linear dream.

"College? What do you study?"

"Environmental studies."

"And how does that lead to you being in Belgium?"

I thought Allan asked a lot of questions.

Though I'd be infinitely more happy to ramble on to Allan, because even if he used the information to determine my use at least the question would have some sort of point. This man is just feigning small talk. No matter the method, Allan would at least care about the information even if it was for selfish reasons.

I can't stand pointless conversations.

"Thought I could get some research done here."

"You should see the grounds around Marlinspike Hall," Sakharine said. "It is a work in progress, of course, and there is much work to be done. But I am in the process of restoring it to its rightful glory."

Like I wanna stroll through gardens with your crusty ass.

Though... If I know the lay of the land then I can better play run-around with the sailors because I know damn well they'll be there.

The voice in the back of my head spoke up again.

Why would you care about that? You know that if this was a dream the landscape would be very likely to change.

Go. Away.

I had criminals to annoy.

I couldn't be thinking about logic.

"I'd be up for that," I said carefully. "I'm not much of a botanist, more on the zoologist side. But I can appreciate quality landscapin'."

Sakharine puffed out his chest, basking in the praise like a fat lizard on a rock as he launched into more about his plans for the estate and how it was in much better hands now that he was in control of it.

The relief I felt when we finally pulled up to the crumbling gates and drove through was indescribable, and I couldn't wait to fling myself out of the car. If Nestor, bless him, didn't hurry the hell up I was gonna yeet myself headfirst through the window of this old wagon.

Speaking of cars, I thought, recognizing the small blue Ford parked near the back. Looks like I was right. Home boy really did sic his henchmen on me.

Well, that was fine.

Gave me an excuse to be a menace and pay him back for being so damn draining.

Why would you need to pay your subconscious back for being irritable? This is a dream, right?

Not now. I got enough of a headache.

"Havin' visitors?" I asked, dipping my head towards the blue car.

"It is merely some workers doing renovations, my dear."

Hellfire I wish I was a deer so some hunter would shoot me dead. At least most hunters are quick.

"Ah. I ain't intrudin' on anything, am I?"

"Not at all."

You sound very convincing.

Slipping out of the car, I tilted my head back and took in the once grand visage of the old manor.

Time had not been kind to the place, the old stonework fighting a losing war with ivy that seemed deadset on swallowing the place whole. Couldn't have been kudzu, or this place would have been lost to nature years ago. Rotted, sun-bleached old boards barricaded half-broken windows on the first floor, many hanging haphazardly by just a few nails. A row of fresh windows with neither boards nor ivy near the western end on the second floor immediately told me where Sakharine slept, and I stifled a laugh.

The man may as well have put a giant flashing neon arrow to any burglar that if they wanted to get the good shit, they should target that room.

The driveway was mostly cleared of ivy and weeds, but the steadfast plants crouched at the edges of the cobblestone and gravel. Waiting their turn to join their brethren laying siege to the house itself.

I thought I caught movement, a flash of brown, along the boarded up windows on the eastern side of the top floor. I focused there for a moment, waiting to see if the mysterious figure showed themselves again, but nothing happened.

"Nestor," Sakharine said, drawing my attention to him. "Get the manor presentable."

"Yes, sir," came the mellow reply.

Sakharine turned to me. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, but when he turned away I stole another glance at the window.

Yeah.

Definitely someone there now.

Allan, maybe?

Offering a snarky grin and swift two-fingered salute, I hurried after Sakharine before he could turn back around and possibly see whoever it was in the window.

While I'd agreed to tour the grounds for recon purposes, I began to regret it as the minutes stretched onward.

I honestly felt like I'd been paired with a far less entertaining and endearing version of Tolkien as Sakharine wanted to point out nearly every damn flower and shrub as we strolled along.

At least he's got another hobby other than going after the Haddocks like a mad dog.

The grounds were still nice, I had to admit. Very expansive, nice biodiversity, and plenty of terrain variation.

I like that boulder, that is a nice boulder.

My fears from earlier, where I'd worried he would expect me to offer botany facts or feign interest in his prattling, proved themselves unfounded.

Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to get a word in edgewise. This man liked to talk, and yet none of it was substantial.

I've sat through statistics lectures more enlightening than this.

Something dawned on me, however, as we grew closer to dusk.

Perhaps Sakharine didn't really have any interest in talking to me either, but was instead stalling for time.

He did well, I had to admit.

The sun neared the treetops on the horizon, turning the world a brilliant orange and gold. Hints of lavender had started to grace the sky as stormclouds marched in, serving as a not-so-silent warning of the incoming storm.

A sudden, seemingly innocent chuckle from Sakharine made me stop and look at him.

"My, I did not realize how late it was getting. Forgive me."

No. And you knew damn well what you were doing.

Just take the bait. Keep up the charade for a little longer.

Do we have to? This masking is killing me, I can't feign interest and care for much longer.

"Oh, don't mention it!" I said with a smile, waving him off. "These grounds are truly impressive, and I can imagine they will be even grander once you are able to properly care for them."

Sakharine stood taller again, lifting his chin.

I'm laying it on thicker than cold syrup and you're still buying it? Damn, you got a praise kink for sure.

"You are most kind. But let me not keep you, as these roads can be terribly dangerous after dark."

There it is. Subtle but poisonous seeds planted under the guise of false care to make me more susceptible to roll over and show my belly.

Well guess what, bitch?

I'm not a dog.

I'm a motherfuckin' cat.

I followed behind him as he led us back to the manor and up the once beautiful steps.

I do appreciate the moss and ivy though. Very parkitecture of you.

The inside was just as dilapidated and decrepit as the exterior, though the warm glow of the dying sun hinted at its former glory. The dust motes floating through sunbeams brought a sense of peace to me and I paused to watch them as pleasant memories flickered through my mind.

Back when I was younger and stayed at my grandmother's house, I always loved smacking the bedcovers and watching the little dust flecks spiral up in the sunbeams. Then I'd try to catch as many as I could, playing the same pointless yet entertaining game over and over.

Back when we still played outside and the internet was still in its early days, and social media wasn't even a big thing shy of MySpace and Facebook.

Simpler times.

Better times.

Focus. Be nostalgic later.

Following Sakharine down the hall, memories of the early 2000s trickling through my head despite by half-hearted attempts to stop them, I found the old manor even smelled somewhat like an old grandma's house; mothballs, musty cushions, old wallpaper, burnt dust from radiators, faint hints of past meals, and the ghost of old perfume and cologne.

This rotting old skeleton held none of the nostalgic charm, however.

Just broken dreams and unsettled scores.

And probably mold.

Definitely mold.

This old dump would give a termite inspector a heart attack. Probably has asbestos too.

"It will be grand once I've finally restored it, of course," Sakharine said. "Of course, restoration would be easier if those Haddocks hadn't been so incompetent in the upkeep."

At least we agree on something.

While I liked Haddock overall as a character, the fact was the ship under Allan was far safer. At least as far as who commanded her. Haddock was a liability as a captain, his judgement far from trustworthy, and I couldn't imagine it took a lot for even non-criminal crewmen to pick up a grudge or two.

Hell, I was a petty bitch.

One bottle thrown at me in a drunken fit and I'd rethink my loyalty too. I was very loyal when a bond was formed, sure, but forming that bond wasn't an easy thing. I certainly wasn't loyal to anyone who emotionally, physically, or verbally abused me.

So Sakharine, you better watch yourself. Moment you start getting too condescending, your ass is done.

"It's still got good bones," I said as we finally entered the main room of the Unicorn.

Dustcovers draped over furniture and showcase alike, hiding most it it from sight. A tall lump here, wide one here, and I half wondered if one of the sailors would jumpscare me from beneath one like some horror game.

The only thing not covered was the Unicorn itself, of course, which sat pretty in a sunbeam in the only uncovered glass case.

"Thank you, my dear."

Call me dear one more time and I'll gore you like one.

I didn't reply, turning around and scanning the shadows of the room for any lingering shapes.

I know you're here, Allan.

And that you brought friends.

Which friends, I know not.

But I know they're here.

I turned to the model ship.

And I'm gonna draw you out.

Time to ham it up before I drop the bomb.

Because if I had to suffer Sakharine's antics, then he'd have to suffer mine.

"Woah!" I breathed, finally acknowledging the Unicorn. "An exact replica." I jogged over, deliberately ignoring the way Nestor moved to block the other door. "Guess that old myth about three sons and three Unicorns was right."

"You certainly know a lot about a supposedly buried myth known only to a select few."

I turned to face him. "Funny, ain't it?" I asked, dropping the innocent façade and shooting him a grin.

His eyes narrowed, the friendly if not uninterested look sharpening into suspicion and even slight anger. "What are you playing at?"

"Playin' at? I ain't the one who plotted a trap for someone random in the marketplace 'cause they said a few odd things." I looked around. "So, where are they?"

"Where are who?"

"The sailors. I know they're here."

Sakharine's eyes widened. "I took you for dense, but it seems I overestimated you," he scoffed, the previous friendly facade crumbling immediately. "You knew this was a trap, where hardened criminals would be waiting to ambush you, and yet you still came? What possessed you to make such a foolhardy move?"

"It's called curiosity."

"Some might call it stupidity," came a familiar voice from the door.

There's the bitch.

I immediately moved around to the back of a nearby chair, putting it between me and the four men that walked in; Neil, Tom, Hobbs, and of course... Allan.

"Heh, long time no see, fellas," I greeted, leaning on the back of the chair and giving them a lazy, two-fingered salute.

Neil jerked his chin up in greeting, waving at me with a grin. Tom sighed, shaking his head with a degree of disappointment, but still offered a small smile and lazy salute as well. Guess there were no hard feelings from the almost-boxing match. Hobbs looked less thrilled to see me, twisting his wrist back and forth as he glared daggers in my direction.

Allan looked me over, crossing his arms. "See that spirit is still intact."

"Takes more than a little scuffle to scare me, mate."

"Wouldn't talk so tough, girlie," Hobbs growled, hand inching towards his blade. "Your buddy isn't 'round to save you this time."

"Bit insulted you think I need savin'," I retorted. "Kicked your ass mighty well this mornin'. How's that wrist of yers doin', mate?"

"Don't make me cut that smug grin off your face."

"Fight me."

"Not shocked to see us at all?" Allan asked, grabbing the back of Hobbs' collar as the stabby man started for me.

"Don't reckon so. Also, sorry about Trevor zappin' you."

Allan yanked Hobbs behind him where Neil trapped him in a headlock. "Oh don't worry. You can make it up to me by explainin' how the hell he did that."

I held his gaze. "I think you and I both know how the hell he did that."

"Excuse me," Sakharine interrupted. "Am I hearing her correctly? You had a fight at the docks?"

Allan shrugged. "Didn't come up."

"You hotheaded, brainless fool," Sakharine seethed. "You jeopardized my whole plan because you couldn't control your men? Allan, you should know better than to test my patience-"

"Hey!" I barked. "Leave 'em alone. Besides, it was good practice."

The men gave me weird but curious looks at my outburst, but Allan seemed almost smug at my apparent loyalty.

I'll bet you are, ya self-servin' con artist.

"You do not get to make demands of me," Sakharine snapped, icy eyes returning to me.

"I'm not the one who wants something from you," I retorted, no playful humor in my tone now.

"I want nothing from you."

Liar.

"Not even answers?" I taunted. "About how I know of your precious ancestor and his feud with Haddock?"

Sakharine's eyes widened. "You know about that?"

You don't have to be Tintin to figure out it was somewhat personal based on how much you were rambling about it.

"Damn straight I do. Same way I knew about these jokers bein' 'ere."

"Why come 'ere, then?" Allan asked. "Like you said, curiosity killed the cat."

"Mhm. And, like you said, satisfaction brought her back."

He looked me up and down. "Indeed it did."

Sakharine threw him an annoyed look. "Are you two quite finished?" he snapped.

This motherfucker.

"Hey man, where's your sense of humor?" I asked, leaning on the back of the chair again. "A little banter makes a fight fun!"

"This is no fight, as you are far outnumbered." He pointed the cane at me. "If you were sensible you'd be begging for your life, you meddlesome insect."

I didn't miss Tom's look of anger as he took a step in my direction, nor did I miss the way his hateful gaze stayed trained on Sakharine. He shot me a questioning glance, then stepped closer again when I shrugged in acceptance. He put himself between Sakharine and me, albeit in an off-center manner, and turned his back to me.

He's willing to knock my lights out, but also is protective? Well, guess if I need anyone to take me down I can bet on Tom only using the minimum force necessary.

"This how you get people to your team? Venomous threats of bodily harm?" I asked Sakharine. I shook my head in disappointment, rolling my eyes. "What a way to run a railroad."

"Do not test me, woman," Sakharine warned, slamming the cane on the floor. The sharp sound echoed around the room. "One word from me and these men would tear you apart."

Neil and to my surprise Hobbs both gave each other disbelieving and irked looks.

Guess all these men would be "safe" to take me out.

"Oh I'm sure they could." I gave him a falsely sweet smile. "But not under your orders. You got the money, and the status, but Allan?" I gestured at him. "He's got the backin' of the men. They follow him, not you."

Allan raised a brow at me but otherwise didn't comment.

"You are playing a dangerous game, my dear," Sakharine threatened, giving me a condescending smile.

"Ain'tchyer 'dear'," I snapped as I straightened and gripped the back of the chair. "Like that has got to go. I like a little less arrogance and foppishness from my men."

"And I prefer my women with more refinement, grace, and femininity. Who do not run around masquerading as a boy getting into scraps."

I lifted my chin and beckoned him forward with a finger. "Come a little closer and I'll show you just how much refined grace I got when I expertly shove my boot so far up your ass you'll taste leather."

Neil and Hobbs both snickered, Neil giving me a nod of approval as Hobbs looked to be fighting down a smile. Tom looked at me with a mix of surprise and amusement, then glanced at Allan.

As for that man...

Well he looked more satisfied at Sakharine's discomfort than my comment itself.

Trouble in paradise, huh? Good, cause I don't think I could pretend to like this self-important twatwaffle to appease Allan.

"Enough," Sakharine snapped, eye starting to twitch.

"Sorry mate," I apologized, not meaning a word of it as I raised my hands. "You make it just so easy."

The lights flickered above us, startling everyone, before they went dark.

Trevor, no doubt.

At least he's good for something.

"All that money and you can't invest in proper wirin'?" I joked pointing up with one finger and drawing circles.

"The wiring is perfectly adequate."

"For a haunted mansion maybe. Or is lettin' this place fall into disrepair a part of your grand plan of revenge against the Haddock's? Stealin' his ship and buyin' off his crew ain't enough, you gotta come for the man's house too."

I had the full attention of all the men now, eyes wide and laser focused in.

Couldn't blame them, I was definitely not supposed to know any of that.

"Knowledge is a dangerous weapon," Sakharine said, voice like ice. "And you wield it with the same flippancy as a child with a toy sword. Take care not to land yourself in deeper trouble lest I mark you as a loose end."

"Ah!" I exclaimed, hands on my hips. "So that's the game, eh?" I shrugged. "Hope you got insurance."

"Why?"

"This."

Grabbing the chair in front of me, I threw it through the nearest window and launched myself after it.

"You common street rat!" Sakharine screeched as I jumped through.

Thanks for the soundtrack! I thought as One Jump Ahead from Aladdin started playing in my head.

At least I was on the first floor so it didn't hurt as much when I landed, but I still dove into a parachute roll to save my knees at least a little bit.

"Catch her!"

Standing, I turned and bowed at the men assembled by the window. Neil and Tom jumped through after me, forcing me to flee, but not before I caught Allan's half grin of amusement as he slowly clapped.

The urgency from earlier wasn't as strong, as we both knew now that even if I escaped I'd just come back.

But for now, the chase was on.

[shads-shipposts]

Pedal to the Medal snippet

I havent graced this page with some chaos for almost a month, so have a segment from the current Chapter 9 of Anachronism fic.

Enjoy some insanity from "Pedal to the Medal" in which Tom hits me with a car and fanfic physics cause me to fly into the side of a storeshed, which of course collapses on me

Ah, slapstick my beloved.

--------------------------------------

Flinging the door open, ignoring Tom’s scream, Allan raced over to the collapsed building. All he remembered was seeing the kid in the headlights before the truck suddenly lurched forward and sent the kid into the wall. Dust clouded the air, illuminated by the street lamps in the now eerily quiet night. 

They had to get the kid out of there! 

She was annoying, but Allan didn’t want her dead! 

“Shadow!” Tom yelled, coming to Allan’s side with pure panic written all over his face. 

Neil was soon by their side, pulling bricks out of the pile in a frantic attempt to reach Shadow. “Shortie? Shortie!” 

Allan nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand burst from the bottom of the pile near his foot. “Kid?!”

The hand waved up at him.

She was still alive under there?!

“Holy shit, are you ok?” Tom exclaimed, joining Allan’s side along with Neil and kneeling down by the bricks.

Miraculously, Shadow gave them a thumbs up.

“Quit standin’ there,” Allan snapped at him. “Get ‘er out!”

Allan meant for Tom to dig her out, not grab her hand and pull. Clawing the bricks off himself as Neil grabbed Shadow’s other hand, Allan then watched in a mix of shock and horror as Shadow flew out of the pile as if shot by a cannon.

Tom and Neil fell to the cobblestones, Shadow sailing over their heads and falling into a roll all the way to the next building. She slammed against the bricks, sending a small crack branching up towards the second floor window as she slumped upside down.

Allan reached Shadow first, heart hammering as he dropped to one knee and stared down at her. Rarely did he find himself unsure of what to do in a situation, but honestly how did you even prepare for a situation like this?!

Shadow blinked a few times then looked up at him. “Did everyone see that because I will not be doin’ it again.”

Ok, she was joking. Playing. Being funny. Deadpan funny, but still funny.

That was good, right? It meant she was, somehow, ok.

Right?!

Tom scrambled to her side, panic written all over his face. “Holy shit holy shit, are you ok? I’m so sorry!” he apologized, frantically trying to pull her into a sitting position.

Shadow, however, kept swatting his hands away. “Can we ask this later?” She carefully pushed him back with a foot against his shoulder. “That is gonna attract a lot more attention than a simple hit and yoink!”

Alright, she’s still thinking logically. Not delirious, not confused. Still sharp, still playful. I don’t know how the hell you are even breathing after that hit, but you’re clearly not human as we know it.

Alphian or not, this kid was tough.

“Kid’s right,” Allan barked, grabbing Shadow’s leg from where it still rested up against the brick wall and spinning her around into an upright position. “We need to get out of here and get out of here quickly!”

“To the Batmobile!” Shadow said as Allan wrapped an arm around her middle and hauled her to the car’s back door.

Still joking. Not slurring her words. I feel nothing wet so she’s not bleeding. She’s not yelping when I move her, so nothing’s broken. She’s not coughing up blood.

How are you still alive?

How are you still alive?

Neil and Harry jumped in quickly after her, Neil immediately trying to check her over as Tom dashed to the driver’s seat and sped off.

“She’s… fine? Not a scratch!” Neil sputtered. “The hell, Shortie, you had a building fall on you?!”

“I am well aware, what’s with all you?” Shadow exclaimed, trying to fend his worried hands off. “You’re supposed to be big badass drug smugglers, not momma hens!”

“Most people don’t survive a brick building cavin’ in on ‘em!” Harry yelled, eyeing Shadow with a mix of worry and terror.

“Well I’m just build different,” Shadow declared, smacking Neil’s hands down.

“I’m so sorry, Shadow!” Tom yelled.

“What the hell did you even do? I thought you were gonna brake before you actually hit her!” Neil yelled. 

“I was under a lot of pressure and got nervous!”

“So you pressed the gas instead?!”

“Hey! Don’t yell at Tom!” Shadow protested.

“He could have killed you!” Neil snapped, prompting another round of pained apologies from Tom.

“But he didn’t!”

“Yeah, how?” Harry interjected. “Whatever you are, you sure as fuck aren’t human!”

“I’m a Cancer.”

“A what?”

“It’s my zodiac sign, numbnuts.”

I really should have just pulled the covers over my head and just gone back to sleep. Corrupted memories of that last night with Scarlett are preferable to whatever hell I’ve landed myself in by picking up this kid.

Yes, a small voice in the back his mind whispered. But think about how valuable someone as indestructible as her will be. Against the law, against that reporter, against Sakharine.

Against Rastapopoulos.

The man couldn’t counter someone with advanced knowledge from another reality. No one could, really, and Allan knew he was extremely fortunate to have Shadow in his hands. If she wasn’t…

He couldn’t lose this kid. Not to Sakharine, not to the law, and not to internal bleeding from Tom’s lead foot.

Hopefully she’d be more tolerant of Allan or Omar checking her over, as Neil still wasn’t getting anywhere with the still combative Shadow.

First thing once you get her to the warehouse and into a crate, is go directly to Omar and get him to the hold so he can check her out first thing.

Screeching to a halt in the warehouse next to small crate they’d chosen for Shadow, Allan jumped out of the passenger side and flung open the door by Neil. “Get her out here.”

“I ain’t helpless!” Shadow protested as Neil carefully pulled her out. She wriggled in his grip again. “Paws off, fucks’ sake.”

“Kid, hold still for one second,” Allan ordered, trying to see if her pupils were still normal. When she wouldn’t hold still, too busy squabbling with Neil, Allan grabbed her face. “Hold still!”

Shadow froze, eyes wide, before they drafted down to his hand.

“Don’t even think about bitin’ me,” Allan warned as he felt her jaw move down and saw a hint of her teeth.

Shadow paused, eyes going back to him, before she scowled and hid her teeth away. “Kill joy,” she muttered.

“Yeah yeah,” Allan retorted, studying her pupils.

Still normal, and she’s not showing any signs of impairment. Still acting, moving, and talking the same as she was this morning.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe they all really were dreaming.

Some… mass dream state?

It wasn’t impossible.

Maybe it was a test? Test from Scarlett, who somehow hijacked their dreams?

How could they truly know?

Does it matter?

It very much did, as while Allan could handle aliens and other universes, other universes where he was fictional were a bit of a bigger hurdle.

Focus. Just bite the bullet and accept it. Losin’ your head won’t help anyone.

“Can you let go of my face?” Shadow mumbled, voice slightly distorted.

“Can I get a please?”

“You can get a warnin’ before I break your fuckin’ knees,” Shadow said happily.

Allan let go. “She’s still sane, not bleedin’ anywhere, and nothin’ seems to be broken,” he announced. “You boys get ‘er on the ship. Don’t use the crane, too obvious. Wheel her up in a stack of crates.”

“What if she passes out or worse when she’s in there and we don’t find out until it’s too late?” Tom fretted.

“Then you better get it done quick.”

“But-“

“Tom,” Shadow interrupted. “If I don’t find myself on that cargo ship in the next five minutes, I’m marching up the gangplank myself.”

“But-“

“Nah, listen to me.” Shadow pointed at herself with each emphasized word. “I. Want. To. Get. On. That. Ship." She pointed to the door. “Now.”

Tom still looked worried. “Are ya sure ya feel fine?”

“Positive as a proton, now let’s hop to it!”

[shads-shipposts]

Hobbs: You two timin’, back stabbin’, low lyin’, no good cheatin’ rat bastard!

Everyone else at the mini-golf course: 👁️👁️

[shads-shipposts]

Neil fears for Hobbs's safety

Hobbs has no idea the level of Cain Instinct in Shadow right now

Shadow just wanted to eat their damn food

Allan refuses to acknowledge the nonsense going on behind his back

[shads-shipposts]

Hobbs: You're 19? Absolutely not, you look like a middle schooler.

Shadow: That's because unlike some people, I don't moisturize with sand.

Hobbs: Are you calling me old??

Shadow, smiling in SouthernTM: Well if the boot fits

Hobbs, narrowing eyes and pulling out a blade: Say that again.

Shadow, poking his chest with a finger: If the booT fits

[shads-shipposts]

So, my sailor fic Anachronism won't be released in full until at least 2029 due to other projects in my neverending queue, but! There's a profound lack of Karaboudjan crew content on this site and I feel like rectifying that. Plus I haven't cursed this hellsite with my nonsense in ages, and that's gotta be fixed.

So, here's a touch-up/completion of something I'm fairly certain I posted a while back. Ch 2 of Anachronism, called Run and Gun! It takes place the morning of the Tintin movie's beginning, but don't worry about not having chapter 1 to read yet. Honestly, things will probably make less sense if you read chapter one. Plus I haven't written it yet.

All you need to know is Anachronism involves a literal self-insert (I get sucked into the movie) but with the twist of its actually the same universe as one of my old Tintin fanfics that was never finished. Hence why Allan is after me, he's got bits of memory missing and ain't happy about it. Also, being a black belt ain't made up. I trained for 4 1/2 years and got it in 2019. This story takes place in 2020, specifically Jan 1.

Enough ramble, on with the show! Depending on the reception, I may post more book snippets as I go along. So be sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed! Or if you have thoughts on characterization, it's been a while since I've written with these guys.

CW: Langauge, minor peril, utter chaos

Word Count: 3700

---------------------------

“Catch that kid! I want her alive!”

Well ain’t this dandy? All I wanted to do was sketch the ship, now I’m in a run and gun chase scene! This is what I get for being curious!

At least this was just a dream, so I couldn’t really get hurt.

Right?

Usually my dream would have shifted into something unhinged by now. Things were too stable, too realistic. Too… what was the word? Linear.

Footsteps came quick behind me, and close. Blackbelt or not, running was not my forte. My fighting style was quick and brutal, so I never had to worry about stamina. Fights were only supposed to last a few seconds, otherwise they were brawls.

I was not trained for that.

I just really hoped it wasn’t Allan right behind me. He had questions, and to be fair I had a hell of a lot of my own, but I didn’t think he’d be keen on sitting down and having a calm chat about them.

I risked a glance behind me.

Not Allan, or any other sailor I recognized, but a young guy. No older than me, or taller, but probably faster.

“No hard feelin’, doll!” he called. “Boss wants you back, so I’m takin’ ya back!”

“Ain’t you precious!” I retorted, anger sparking through me at the nickname. “Call me that again and I’ll drop your ass!”

“That fire won’t do you any favors with the boss!”

“And your smooth talk won’t do you any favors with me!”

I had to lose this guy, he was getting close.

Spotting a brick wall maybe eight feet high, I changed course and headed straight for it. Hopefully this young fella couldn’t vault walls like I could.

Let’s see if all that self taught parkour pays off!

Jumping at the wall, right foot first, the treads of my boot caught the rough brick and I propelled myself over the obstacle. I landed in a puddle, but at least I was gone from the bad side of the wall.

“Oh what the hell?!”

Ha! Lost him!

“Nick! Where’d she go?”

“She vaulted the wall!”

Well, that was no good. That sounded like Neil, and he could probably toss Nick over the wall.

Time to make like my name and vanish!

Spying an open door, I darted inside a warehouse and climbed up behind some crates. I was careful to not put myself into a corner, however, because I knew my harsh breathing would give myself away. I could control it decently well, but even still.

My reprieve was horrifically short lived.

Voices, inside the warehouse.

“Those footprints led in here.”

Damn puddle.

“Be careful, fellas. She’s feisty!” came Nick’s laugh.

“Anyone would be annoyed to deal with you,” another sailor snorted. “Remember, boss wants her alive. Preferably unharmed, but use force to get her down if needed.”

Oh, it’s gonna be needed.

Noise came from my right, and I turned in anticipation as I waited for the sailor to show himself. He sure was making a lot of noise, and I thought I even heard a crate tumble down to the floor.

The reason for all the excess noise soon revealed itself.

“Gotcha!” Nick laughed, arms wrapping around my middle. He hauled me up and towards himself, but that gave me an idea.

Throwing all my weight back into him, he yelped and we both tumbled backwards, heels over head, down the tall stack of crates. Something that should have hurt like the dickens, but didn’t.

This was a dream after all.

Down we went, Nick having a much worse time than me. It was a long way to the cobblestone floor, the sailor who made all the noise rushing to beat us to the bottom where another sailor waited. I didn’t recognize them, so I didn’t feel too bad when I kicked off the pile of crates and launched us both into the legs into one sailor as he darted below us to grab me.

He went down, he and Nick ending up in tangled a pile of sore limbs, leaving me free to spring free and ready myself to square up with the remaining sailor.

Though I honestly wished he would have been the one Nick currently struggled to detangle himself from. I’d faced off some big guys in karate, but this fella was on another level.

Leverage. I’d have to use leverage.

In a way that did not anger this big guy.

“Little girl has skill,” he remarked in a thick Russian accent, giving me a smile that was surprisingly more good-natured than sinister. “But sadly will not make safe.”

“Get ‘er, Ollie!”

Diving into a shoulder roll, I sprang up and immediately changed direction and dove into another one just as his arms closed over the spot I just was. I darted out the door, immediately slamming into another sailor and taking us into the street.

I could not catch a break!

A car horn sounded, but before I could react, the sailor I ran into snatched the back of my jeans’ waistband and rolled us out of the way to the other side of the street. I kicked off with my legs, aiding him the best I could.

Neither of us were gonna be able to fight if we both got flattened by multiple tons of steel.

Angry yelling followed from the driver, but I didn’t really have the time to say sorry as I found myself locked in a grappling match with the sailor who saved both our skins.

Why couldn’t the other black belts have just ignored the awkwardness and taught me grappling?! I didn’t know dick about this!

But I did know one thing.

As an arm came down and tried to loop around my neck, I bared my teeth and sank them into his bare arm.

It tasted like sweat, dirt, sea-water, and engine grease.

Not that I knew what the last tasted like.

“Youch!” a semi-familiar voice yelled, quickly releasing his hold on me.

Diving away, I sprang up but stopped in horror as I found myself staring down a dead-end alley. Spinning around into a right fighting-stance, guard up and front leg ready to strike, I finally saw the sailor I’d nearly gotten run over.

Neil knelt on the ground, blocking my way out as he nursed his wounded arm. I hadn’t bitten too hard, more concerned with just getting free via surprise, so all he had to worry about was spit and a bruise. Inspecting the bite mark, he then looked up at me with an expression halfway between amusement and shock.

“You just bite me, Shortie?”

“Well pardon me for wantin’ to escape!”

He snorted in amusement, a partial smile on his face. “Apology accepted, but afraid I can’t grant that escape.”

As if on cue, more sailors joined him at the entrance to the alley. Hobbs, Tom, Ollie, Nick, the unnamed sailor Nick fell on, and…

“Shit,” I hissed, locking eyes with Allan.

“What’s the rush?” he asked. “It’s rude to not say goodbye, kid.”

That easy-going and nonthreatening smile don’t fool me, Al.  Tom’s the Golden Retriever, not you. You’re a German Shepherd with anger management issues or some shit.

Nick and the unnamed sailor stood on either side of the entrance, looking the opposite directions as they presumably kept a look out for any passersby. The others moved into the alley, pushing me further back.

Hobbs laughed, looking me up and down. “What’re we all standin’ around for? She’s not so tough, watch!”

He came forward, reaching for my arm. I waited until he got just close enough, subtly shifting my weight to my left leg, before letting it fly.

It caught him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and back towards the group.

“Nice strike,” Ollie said, arms crossed and stance relaxed as Neil erupted into laughter.

“Don’t encourage her!” Hobbs spat, slowly staggering to his feet.

“Looks like we got a martial artist on our hands, boys,” Allan remarked, looking me up and down. “No wonder they felt so safe takin’ a stroll down the docks.”

Not my brightest idea, but even in a dream I can gather ideas.

“Now I get why you said it was reflex after you smacked me in the face,” Neil said, still laughing at a wounded Hobbs.  

“Sad to say, kid, all that fancy dojo-learnin’ won’t do you much good here on the street. But we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Allan said, tone now conversational and even charismatic in a way. “Up to you.”

Of course he’d switch to charming and agreeable now, he had me cornered. Ol’ good cop bad cop, except Allan Thompson played both roles. Good trick, scare someone out of their wits then act all friendly so they would be more likely to cooperate and “make it easier for everyone”.

Unfortunately, I never in my life “made it easy” for anyone and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna start now.  

“All we need from you is some answers,” Allan continued, stance relaxed and arms loose by his sides.

“You and me both,” I muttered.

The way you shift from threatening to trustworthy is amazing, sir. Were you not out for blood, I’d study you like a prison psychologist.

“Quit fightin’,” Hobbs growled, coming up on the right. “You’re just gonna get yourself hurt.” He emphasized his words by pulling a blade out.

I ain’t the one that got Sparta-kicked just a minute ago.

“No need for violence,” Allan called over to him, but he said nothing about sheathing the blade. He looked back over at me. “I’d suggest playin’ nice, kid. No more of that warehouse nonsense, these fellas won’t be as easy to deal with as the new guy.”

“Drop the act, Allan,” I growled. “You and I both know that sweet talkin’ is empty and I ain’t so stupid as to be charmed by honeyed words like that.”

His expression changed, the easy-going smile shifting to something not quite sinister but definitely not friendly. “We’re gettin’ those answers, kid. One way or another.” His tone darkened. “You want to play rough, we can play rough.”

Hobbs flanked his right with a blade, Neil his left with nothing but his bare hands. Tom stood back, waiting and watching the scene unfold with sharp eyes and a hand on his hip close to what I knew to be a firearm.

“Four corners, huh?” I asked, shifting into a ready stance with my weight on my toes. “A gun, a knife, and fists. All I need is a kicker. You good at round-house kicks, Allan?”

He didn’t say anything, still bearing that dangerous smile that sent shivers down my spine yet also brought a similar smile to my own face.

“Think this is a game?” Hobbs demanded.

I flashed a toothy grin his way. “Play ball, bitch.”

Allan shrugged. “If you insist.”

Hobbs came first, blade aimed for my leg. A simple horse stance to horse stance paired with a wrist throw took care of him.

Neil was next, swinging wide with a haymaker that didn’t make much sense but he’d already proved enigmatic in his methods so I didn’t spend time questioning him. I just stepped in, blocked the punch on the inside of his arm, and wrapped my hand around the back of his neck. By a stroke of luck, I threw him into Hobbs and they both went down.

But now I found myself facing Tom, or rather, not facing him.

He locked me in a bear hug from behind, but unlucky for him this was one of the easiest attacks to break.

Drive my heel onto the top of his foot, punch out and step into a horse stance to break the hold, elbow to the gut to wind him, grab the arm, kneel, bend, and flip.

Tom fell hard onto the cobblestones in front of me, arm trapped in an armbar, but as I drew back a fist to strike his ribs, I found myself unable to commit.

Instead, I threw his arm away and dove into a shoulder roll to escape before he could spring up and grab me.

But what was waiting for me was worse, and I sprang to my feet to find Allan’s pistol pointed straight at my chest.

He was in arms reach, and I knew how to disarm him, but I risked the trigger getting pulled and the bullet hitting one of the others. If I could just get him to shift slightly, then I only risked the wall getting hit.

Unless it ricocheted…

“Hey, what gives?” Hobbs groaned, cradling his wrist. “Why does Tom get let off easy?”

“Maybe because he didn’t try stabbin’ the kid!” Neil smacked him over the head. “What were you thinkin’, dickhead?!”

“I was just aimin’ for ‘er leg! I wouldn’t hit anythin’ vital!”

My attention slipped, focused on the bickering pair.

Allan immediately took advantage of the mistake.

“Tom.”

Act!

I stepped in, both hands grabbing the top of Allan’s and forcing the gun down. For some reason, it didn’t go off. Snatching it from his grasp, I slammed my foot into his gut and drove him back. The force sent him off his feet, just like Hobbs, but before he recovered I had the gun ready and aimed at him.

I’d never be able to pull the trigger, even with it just aimed at his foot, but I just hoped they wouldn’t know that.

Allan did notice, however, where I was aiming and where my finger was; resting along the barrel, far from the trigger. Still kneeling, his eyes traveled from the gun to me, slightly narrowed. Tom came up from the side, cautiously, but Allan stopped him with a hand.

“Why would you risk gettin’ shot to get the gun,” he asked, one hand over his stomach where I nailed him. He stood, eyes trained on mine. “Only to aim it somewhere that wouldn’t even stop your attacker?”

“Mind your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Considerin’ I have my gun aimed at my foot, think it is my business.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for a murder charge.”

Dream or no dream. Not that that is the whole reason.

“Did not stop you from trying to break neck in warehouse,” Ollie commented, still standing calm as could be near the front of the alley.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.”

He tilted his head. “You are not desperate. Dedicated to escape, but not desperately seeking.”

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ chased by a buncha shrinks.”

“He’s right, though,” Allan said. “You’ve not once been lethal. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Sure was painful,” Hobbs grumbled, shaking his wrist.

Allan stepped closer, and I raised my gun to his arm.

He shook his head. “Again, not lethal.”

“Good trigger discipline,” Ollie commented.

“Won’t help.” Allan stepped closer again, hands still at his sides.

I still couldn’t bring myself to aim at his face. You never aimed a gun at something you didn’t intend to shoot. Aiming it anywhere near him was already breaking that rule.

Instead, I warned, “Back! Don’t test me, mate, I’ll pull this trigger.”

Lies. All of it lies.

I knew that… and so did Allan. We were in the 2011 movie, but I was not dealing with movie!Allan. I was dealing with some variant of the one I originally wrote with all those years ago, which was closer to the comics; smarter, more cunning, and a lot sharper than anything the movie even hinted at. The charismatic side was new, but very unwelcome. I didn’t know how to even begin thwarting it, and he fucking knew that.

“Come on, then.” He opened his arms. “Pull the trigger, kid. Shoot me down.”

I looked into his eyes, reading the challenge there clear as day. The moment I pulled the trigger and hit any part of him, the others would pounce. They’d already tried attacking separately once before; they would not make the same mistake twice.

We were both within striking range, both able to absolutely ruin the other’s day. But still we remained, unmoving, staring the other down. Locked in a battle of wits, a battle which neither party was going to give up easily. There was too much at stake to walk away.

We both wanted answers. The only question was… who wanted them more?

Tom stepped into my field of view, slowly. “Shadow, just drop the gun, yeah?” he tried, a hand reaching out. “Ya can’t hurt us.”

“Don’t mistake my inaction for inability,” I growled, not taking my eyes off Allan. “I know my way around a gun.”

“It’s not that. You don’t want to pull that trigger, trust me.”

Neil and Hobbs were cautiously approaching now too, staying back at a gesture from Allan. The first mate didn’t take his eyes from me, however.

They were way too calm considering I had a loaded gun. Or…

My eyes widened.

Did I?

Grabbing the slide, I aimed away from Allan and looked inside to find an empty chamber. Ejecting the clip, I found it to also be empty.

They weren’t scared of the gun because there was no reason to be scared of it. It was useless, unless I threw it at one of them. That wouldn’t do any good.

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” I whined, dropping the gun.

Allan reached out with his foot and slid the gun behind him, where Ollie picked it up. “Tough luck, kid.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

“It’d be best if ya just came with us,” Tom said, stepping forward only to stop when I shifted into a fighting stance and brought my guard up.

“Er, not a good idea,” Neil said, shaking his head. “Can’t win a boxin’ match wit’ Tom, Shortie. You got lucky he grabbed you. He usually just punches.”

“A, I’m taller than him,” I grumbled, gesturing at Hobbs and earning a venomous glare. “B, I know I can’t beat him.” I looked between the men, heart pounding against my ribs. “But I sure as hell can make you wish you left me alone.”

Dismay crossed Tom’s face. “Doesn’t ‘ave to be like this.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I prepared to go down fighting. “We both know it does. Unless you let me walk outta here.” I smiled humorlessly. “And that clearly ain’t happenin’.”

Dream or not, this was gonna hurt. Emotionally, and physically. Getting beat up by Tom was not something I ever wanted to go through. Something told me he would take it relatively easy on me, but even a light yet solid hit to the diaphragm from him would take me down. If I was bad at grappling, boxing was even worse.

And we already established I wouldn’t be able to hurt him.

“We won’t ask again, kid,” Allan warned as the men all took a step toward me. “This has gone on long enough.” There was no smile on his face and no amused tolerance in his voice with his next command. “Stand down.”

I shook my head. “No. Y’all square up.”

“Yoooo, Shadow!”

We all looked up, fight briefly paused, and rage filled me as I saw Trevor looking down at us from the roof.

“You miserable and worthless list of terms and conditions!” I hissed. “Get your ass down here so I can at least fuck up your face ‘fore I’m torn to bits!”

He laughed. “What, after I was gonna offer you an escape?”

“Oh yeah?” I gestured angrily at the sailors. “Little late!”

“Not really! Got a little magic trick!”

“Now ain’t the time for games!”

“Not a game! Watch!” He threw a small sphere at us. “Abracadabra!”

It bounced off a crate and landed at my feet, making the men jump back.

“Grenade!”

A hiss and explosion of smoke later thankfully disproved Neil’s initial theory, but left us all with sore throats and watery eyes.

Not that it stopped one sailor.

A shoulder slammed into my stomach, driving me back into the wall. I brought my elbow down, hitting the tender spot between the shoulder blade and neck, but the man grabbed me as he fell and we both went down. Arms tightened around my middle, whoever it was trying to pin me to the ground.

Allan, judging by the feel of rolled up sleeves.

He brought his full weight down, nearly knocking the breath from me and almost causing my arms to buckle. The man was heavy! A hand grabbed one elbow, yanking it back, and down I went. I rolled as I fell, teeth aimed for his shoulder. I missed the bulk of it, but managed to at least catch the cloth.

Tasted and smelled heavily like tobacco and what I assumed was some time of smokey yet slightly sweet alcohol. Bourbon, maybe?

Writer brain off, Fighter brain on!

“Damn it all, kid, quit bitin’!” came the raspy yell, but I couldn’t tell if it was anger or smoke that caused his tone.

“Nien!” I growled through a mouthful of shirt.

He rolled us both out of the alley onto the sidewalk, out of the smoke. I ended up on top as we came to a stop right by the curb, but before I could strike, a hand snatched my arm and dragged me away from Allan.

“Time to go, Shadow!”

“Trevor?! Get off-!”

“Let’s go, let’s go, no time for slow!” Trevor sang, yanking me to my feet before turning to Allan. The hair all along my body stood on end before Trevor hit him smack in the chest with a small blast of lightning.

It sent Allan back to the sidewalk, and damn near sent me into shock.

“Trevor, are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill him?!” I screamed, frozen as Allan laid groaning on the ground.

“Relax, he’s fine!” Trevor yanked me down the road, away from the alley and the docks. “C’mon!”

Giving one last look at Allan, who was indeed slowly recovering and coming back up on one knee, I turned and followed Trevor away from the scene.

[shads-shipposts]

Well this is a monster of a chapter lol. Lots of info being shared/brought to light, with varied responses to it.

This'll be the last chapter before another break, not sure how long its gonna. The story is hitting snags and my tank is empty rn lol

Enjoy! Comments, votes, kudos, and saves are much appreciated! <3

Ao3 Version

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as Shadow disappeared into the woods with Allan, Tom turned to offer Neil a... little reminder about the chain of command. Tom understood the man's concern for Shadow, holding some of that same affection, but Neil needed to remember where he himself stood in things.

If anything, Shadow had more immunity from Allan's wrath than Neil did.

Fresh to the crew with a mere month under his belt, he didn't have the experience nor trust to be mouthing off. Allan would tolerate a lot from the fresh meat until they got a better grasp of how things worked, but disrespect didn't go unpunished forever. The hammer eventually fell, with Tom typically being the one wielding it.

He liked Neil, and deeply admired the man's conviction, but sometimes younger men needed a dose of reality. Unfortunately, they never took the medication without a fight.

Luckily for the Australian, Harry beat Tom to the punch.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'?" Harry snapped. He slammed Neil against the banister, a fist gripping the front of his shirt as he jabbed the other finger into the man's face. "I warned you before you signed on, Allan's word is law. Challenge him and I can't shield you from the consequences!"

Neil shoved him away. "I'm not just goin' to stand by as he threatens Shadow!"

"When Allan is workin'," Tom growled, crossing his arms. "You don't undermine him. You know that, Neil."

"I also know I got my own code, and it don't include collaterals."

"Then you're in the wrong profession, aren't ya?" Tom sneered. "The only morals that matter are Allan's. Don't like those terms? See yourself out before we have to do it for you."

Worry flickered across Harry's face again, and he stepped in between Tom and Neil. "He was just worried about Shadow," he said, tone unusually passive as he raised his hands. "Don't mean nothin' by it."

Tom shook his head. "I get that, but he needs to watch it before he learns the hard way how we deal with traitors."

Some of the color drained from Harry's face and he swallowed hard. "He gets it, boss. He does."

"Tch, I'm not afraid of you," Neil retorted, drawing himself up. "I've killed worse for less."

These young pups never know how to pick their fights.

"Careful," Tom warned, unfazed. "Shadow's taken a likin' to ya, and I don't think she'd like comin' back to find you in a pool of your own blood."

"Neil, for God's sake!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing his arm and yanking it hard. "Back off 'fore Tom beats you into a pulp."

Neil didn't flinch, narrowed eyes not moving from Tom's. "He can try."

Tom stared back, eyes darkening.

"He can, and will, kill you!" Harry snapped. "Don't let some jailbait be the reason your hitch is cut short."

Tom's anger shifted to Harry.

Is that what you see her as?

"Shadow isn't jailbait," he growled. "What's with you and throwin' that term around?"

"Why else would a young gal like 'er be hangin' 'round us so much?"

"Because she has an interest in our ship?" Tom retorted. "She's not been flirty once, and she came lookin' for the ship this mornin'. Not a fling."

Were she in her thirties Tom may have entertained the idea if she was there for a fun night, as he did find her more attractive than some women he'd come across, but she couldn't be more than twenty. Too young, too naive, too easily hurt. Not worth the risk in the slightest.

She already showed remarkable fondness for him, and he just prayed it didn't come from a childish crush. Last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but she had to know he would never reciprocate that sort of affection. If it was not romantic, then he had no issue. But if it was...

Absolutely not.

Harry shifted in place, looking guilty. "She's still not worth goin' to war over," he stressed.

Ah, but that wasn't quite right. Shadow was special, but because of the knowledge she possessed rather than the physical pleasure she could offer.

"She is, but it's not her body." Tom shook his head. "It's her brain. Rather, what's in it."

"Crazy?" Harry offered.

"No." A wave of confusion washed away some of Tom's anger, his mind struggling to process the information Shadow dropped on his head earlier. "She's... got it in 'er head that this whole thing is... just part of some film," he explained, gesturing vaguely.

Both Harry and Neil's jaws dropped.

"She thinks we're just actors?" Harry sputtered.

"No, she thinks we're real," Tom corrected. "We're just not real for her. She's from another universe."

Neil's eyes widened, his anger forgotten. "She thinks we are from another universe?"

Tom nodded.

Harry's jaw dropped. "And you believe her?"

Did he?

Not really.

He honestly thought she was a bit crazy, even if it was an endearing type of oddness.

But her information was just... so damn accurate.

"Either she's right," Tom said. "Or she has been spyin' on Sakharine for quite some time to know everything she did about his background."

"What kind of stuff she know?" Neil asked.

Tom looked up at the old manor, crouching in the dusk light like an ancient, looming beast. Full of secrets, but not interested in sharing them. Not without a fight at least, and it already waged many battles against Sakharine judging by the state of complete disarray in the cellar. The old man seemed to be winning, but not easily. Not without significant struggle.

Then along came Shadow, knowing exactly what Sakharine himself knew without any of the effort.

Perhaps knowing even more.

"She knows about the boss's ancestor. Knows about the treasure. And knows about us hoodwinkin' the old boozer on the ship," Tom muttered.

"She's in cahoots!" Harry gasped. "I knew it. She's a plant, just you wait." He pointed conspiratorially at Neil, who smacked his hand away with an annoyed look.

"Fuck off, mate. What are you, a bloody detective?" the man grumbled.

"Sure, laugh it up!" Harry huffed. "She's gatherin' dirt on us to get us locked up for good. You'll see."

"I doubt that," Tom grunted. "Accordin' to 'er, even though we're background villains, Shadow still prefers us. If she's gonna be in cahoots with anyone, it'd be us."

Good thing she chose them, too. She was so high spirited, and he'd hate having to silence her because she chose the right side.

Enough shit haunted him without that on his conscience as well.

"Why are you always so soft on her?" Harry asked. "Were she a man, you'd've already questioned him at knifepoint with at least two cuts for good measure if the poor lout was lucky."

Yes, but those men often spat degrading insults or cowered pitifully as they begged for mercy. Tom had little tolerance for either, and neither got sympathy from him. Shadow could insult without true injury, but also had enough courage to stand up and fight even when she knew she wouldn't win.

Tom respected that.

Too, any kindness he paid her would be returned earnestly without hesitation. Few people cared enough about him to be nice, and even fewer cared enough to stand up for him against authority that could easily cut their life short.

A simple trade; loyalty for loyalty.

So long as it wasn't driven by romantic feelings, because he had enough to worry about without catching a case.

"It's got nothin' to do with her sex. She's nice to me, so I'm nice to 'er. And I like seein' 'er torment the boss," he stated, then chuckled darkly as the memory of Sakharine bleeding and crying crossed his mind. "Thought he could control 'er, but Shadow isn't a meek little bunny. She bites back and bites back hard."

Serves him right, actin' all high and mighty.

He just wished Shadow wasn't so rattled.

It sucks the first few times, kid. But once you start to have a little fun with that darkness, you'll realize how good it feels making someone regret crossing you. To see the fear in their eyes as they realize the roles are reversed, and it's now them at your mercy.

Then again... Tom supposed it would be better if she didn't get a taste of that high.

It was one hell of an addiction to shake.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Does this have anythin' to do with Scarlett, Tom? You think that because she has these delusions about bein' from another universe, she knows Scarlett?"

Tom... supposed it could have something to do with that.

He wouldn't feign disinterest in learning the truth of the Alphian; he yearned to know, the strength of that desire stealing his breath sometimes. He never got to thank her, never knew if she survived the encounter...

Neil spoke up. "Her bein' from another universe where this universe is a fictional series that she likes... that would explain how she knows about Scarlett when no one else does."

"It don't," Tom sighed. "Shadow said the movie starts this mornin'. She only knows Sakharine's past because it's plot-relevant." He shook his head, a sense of helpless anger making his skin itch. "She can't know Scarlett through the movie."

"She did look confused when you asked about Scarlett this mornin'," Neil said after a moment, scratching his chin.

"But she mentioned there's also a comic series this was based on, so the movie isn't completely coherent to canon," Tom added. "She was shocked we knew that pipsqueak Tintin, so maybe Scarlett was just another character Shadow knew of from the comics."

Then why didn't anyone else know of her species? Why did everyone outside of the crew act like aliens were some grand conspiracy theory, and magic was just the sort of thing found in children's fairy tales?

Tom saw both. He knew they were real. Why didn't anyone else?

"If we're separate from the comics like she claims, and Scarlett's from them," Harry countered. "Then how the hell do we know 'er?" He spread his hands triumphantly. "See? Even I can find the holes in her argument."

Neil hummed thoughtfully. "No one knows who the hell Scarlett is, right?" he asked Tom. "No one you've asked. No one knows her species either." Neil gestured at the treeline. "Could Scarlett not even be from this universe at all, but instead be from Shadow's?"

Tom's eyes widened. "What?"

Scarlett and Shadow from the same universe? But... Shadow doesn't know how she ended up here, and Scarlett knew nothing about us when she first met us.

"Think about it," Neil urged. "Shadow already thinks she's from another universe. Say she's right. You mentioned Scarlett came through a portal. What if that portal leads to Shadow's reality, and that same magic is the reason Shadow's here now?"

It made sense. The horrible, sickening sort of sense that often could be found in life's greatest tragedies. No one else outside the crew knew of magic or aliens, at least those of Scarlett's world, because that magic and those aliens weren't from Tom's own world.

Did Scarlett go back to her reality, then?

Could Tom find her again, tell her all the things he never got to? Thank her for saving his life? Ask why she just left them without ever saying goodbye?

"You're bloody mad," Harry scoffed with a disbelieving laugh. "Scarlett wasn't half as insane as Shadow, and never once talked about different universes."

"There's another issue," Tom grumbled, reality souring his hope. "Even Shadow knows Scarlett, it may not be the Scarlett we met."

"What do you mean?"

"Accordin' to her, Scarlett should have been with us right now. She did drive the slavers off, including a man named Piccas, and ended up stickin' 'round for two years afterwards."

"Who the fuck is Piccas?" Harry scoffed.

Tom shrugged. "Near as I can think, it's a variant of Claudius."

That's as helpful as a hole in a boot during a flood in the trenches.

Utterly bloody useless.

"Wait," Neil said. "What did Scarlett look like? Did she even slightly resemble Shadow?"

Tom nodded. "She's very similar. Same face shape, though Scarlett was older. Why?"

Neil frowned, looking towards the woods. "Hmm."

Tom followed his gaze, eyeing the last of the sun's rays overshooting the canopy as the sun finally sank below topmost leaves before he looked inward at the dark, twisting wood. "What is it?"

"It's just... interestin'."

That was certainly a word for it.

"Tom, hey. I'll... fill ya in back on the ship, ok? It's... it's the least I can do."

"What'd'ya mean by that?"

"You'll... understand when I tell ya."

"Promise you'll tell me?"

"Pinkie promise."

She promised to tell him. She could be lying to get him off her back, but her words held a genuine sort of remorse. The kind found in people's voices when they had information they knew would hurt you.

Shadow knew the truth. Knew it would hurt him.

But she promised she'd tell him.

And Tom would hold her to it.

"I'm gonna ask 'er when we get back to the ship," he said.

"How do you know she won't pull some other delusion out of her ass?" Harry demanded. "She's probably just after the money, and is lyin' through her teeth to stay in our good graces."

"Mate, she bit the boss's bloody thumb off," Neil reminded him, wiggling his own. "You really think she'd do that if she wasn't tryin' to cozy up to that wanker?"

Harry scowled. "Well... I still think she's just playin' us all for fools," he mumbled, scooping another stick off the ground and running his blade along its length. "This other universe delusion of 'ers... it'll never hold up under real questioning."

Tom grunted, watching the thin shavings fall to the dirty gravel. "If there's any holes, Allan will find 'em." He glared at Neil. "He can do that without hurtin' her."

Neil didn't look convinced. "If he tries?"

Tom turned his attention back to the woods. "Then Shadow will give him one hell of a fight."

Have more faith in him, Neil. Besides, he's not an idiot. He knows we need Shadow's knowledge, assuming she's telling the truth. If she's not...

Tom really didn't want to think about what would happen to her if she proved herself a swindler.

I watched Hector trot to and fro through the lavender-tinted woods, occasionally bolting after a poor squirrel or rabbit. But while I smiled as he occasionally leaped across our path, Allan just scowled and stepped back to give him room.

Finally, I dared to nudge the first mate, Hector's presence making me bolder than I'd usually be. "Whatcha got against dogs, man?" I asked as he shot me a questioning look.

He shook his head. "I prefer cats. Wolves are fine, but I'll pass on domestics."

"Reckoned you'd love rotties since you keep one as a second in command."

Allan scoffed. "Tom's not a rottweiler."

"You sure?" I teased, skirting around a rock. "Strong, tough, can be scary as hell but is also a bit of a baby at times? Highly protective and sweet to those they consider family? Somewhat clueless in an endearing way?"

Allan looked Hector over as he came back alongside us and trotted a few paces ahead. "Maybe Tom is a bit like a rottweiler," he muttered, then turned to me. "You're a dog person?"

"Nope," I chirped. "Cats and horses are my thing. Cats are my favorite though."

I debated giving him a hint about me and Scarlett. I knew I had to get this over with, but I didn't really wanna explain it myself. Better for him to come to his own conclusion. Then he may be less likely to explode and incinerate everything around him if he was lost in the high of his own cleverness. But given the sheer insanity of the situation should it prove real, I'd have to make it obvious.

"I'm especially partial to tigers."

Allan narrowed his eyes. "Tigers."

"Mhm."

"We told you how we knew Scarlett," he said, stepping in front of me and forcing me to halt. "Your turn."

He caught on, then.

Perfect place to stop too, for we'd reached the edge of the manor grounds and stood by a crumbling corner section of the wall. Time won this front, the gaping hole on the fence coated in creeping brown vines as thick as my wrist and green moss with little spore-heads that shone in the last bits of sunlight as it drowned behind the distant rolling hills. Hector seemed to know this was the edge of his territory, regarding the hole with a dismissive snort and plunging back in the undergrowth around us.

I watched him go, wishing he'd stick around but I didn't call him back. Instead, I faced Allan and shook my head. "Pass."

Come to your own conclusion, Allan.

Last time I spilled the beans I got doubted left and right.

"No cigar, cough it up."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "The dad card? You're pullin' one of those?"

"I'm not really in the mood for games," he retorted. "I was lenient because you're in over your head, but we're not leavin' these woods until you tell me what you know about Scarlett."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"But the satisfaction of bringin' that cat back is worth the risk."

"That cat," I repeated, slowly. "You want 'er back to help with Sakharine, don't ya?"

"You don't know what I'd do to get free of that slimy peacock," Allan stressed. "And for your conscience, it's better if you don't find out. Scarlett... you know the power she held, right?"

Do not cite her deep magic to me, bitch. I was there when she was written.

All the way back in 2013.

"I am more aware than you could ever be of the true spectrum of Alphian powers," I said.

Come on, Allan.

Another clue.

You're clever.

You can figure this out.

Don't put this on me to reveal.

Allan took a step toward me. "Then you know no amount of money in the world can buy her powers. Only Alphians have it." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If I had her back, I wouldn't need him. You could do whatever you wanted to Sakharine."

"I know."

And you'd do whatever you wanted to me.

Another pause, the gears in Allan's head no doubt spinning to try and find a new route to get the information out of me.

At least he's not going straight to physical torture.

"You remind me of her, you know."

Great, we're doing the 'wear down my defenses so I slip up'.

"Imagine that."

"I mean, the resemblance is uncanny," he said with a chuckle that didn't fool me at all. "You look just like 'er, too. Aside from the tail and stripes of course."

"Mhm."

"Any chance you two are related, and you're an Alphian but aren't tellin' me?"

Someone is getting bold. Or low on patience.

I just held his gaze and blinked.

The sunlight struck his eyes, and interestingly I found they weren't exactly brown. Rather, a hazel color flecked with green around the outer edges.

Almost... like a wolf.

Are you a wolf, or are you a shark, Al? Make up your mind.

Frustrated, that's what he is.

I warily eyed the hard set of his jaw, shifting my weight to dart away if needed. Back to the undergrowth, where I could squeeze through shrubs and stones better than he could. From there it'd be a mad race back to the others.

Even if I couldn't square up to him, Tom could and Neil would certainly try.

Allan took a deep breath, and I braced for the eruption. Instead, to my surprise, he shook his head with an amused yet tired sigh. "Not gettin' it out of you that easily, am I?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I'm savin' both our sanities by avoidin' it, trust me," I replied with a small smile and a shrug. "Besides, you knew what you were signin' up for when you decided to pressgang me into this."

"Pressgang implies forceful service," he reminded me. "You're perfectly happy to be here."

"Guilty."

Allan went quiet for a moment, the only other sound the distant chirp of crickets and Hector frolicking through the undergrowth.

What's up your sleeve now, Allan? There's no way you're gonna give this up, I know you're more dedicated than that. The only question is what wildcard you'll pull next.

"Speakin' of sanity," he said eventually, the conversational tone putting me on edge. "Can Trevor possess people?"

Well that was unexpected.

I took a step back in shock, shaking my head as I raised my hands. "I beg your finest pardon, my good sir?"

Allan held my gaze, a note of triumph in his eyes. "Trevor. I know he's an Alphian, but I didn't know Alphians could possess people."

"They can't!" I said. "Alphians can shapeshift, wield elements, and talk to animals but possession? They're only supposed to be able to do that when they're asleep!"

"And how do you know so much about them?"

I tilted my head. "How do you think I know so much about 'em, Allan?"

Allan tipped his head back and groaned. "C'mon, kid. Help a man out here." He came closer again, but stopped when I took a step back. "You think I'll do away with you once I know the truth? Is that why you're bein' squirrely?" he asked, raising his hands. "You don't have to be afraid of me. You can trust me."

I side-eyed him. "I'm sheltered, not stupid. There ain't a single canon timeline in which you are more trustworthy than sushi at a Kentucky gas station."

"I don't know what these other versions of me are like, but I'm not them," Allan urged. "Said so yourself. Met too many backstabbers to push away those that are genuine."

Comics!Allan would laugh you off the very ship you both stole.

He risked a step closer. "You can trust me, kid. You know you can. You wouldn't even be here otherwise."

That... was true...

And yet the threat of a negative reaction hung above me like a demented wraith, ready to slice me in two.

We stared at each other silently, both waiting for the other to speak.

Then, there it was.

The tension went out of his shoulders, his face relaxed, and his eyes softened. A small crack, a risky show of weakness. Like a glimpse of sun between storm clouds, a reveal of another side of Allan.

A vulnerable side.

"Kid... the mystery of Scarlett has eaten me alive for months," Allan admitted. "My memories get foggier with each passing day, but no matter how hard I look or who I ask, no one knows anything. Not her name, her species, nothing. Again and again the last memory of her plays over and over in my nightmares, but no amount of searching turns up anything." He gestured at me. "Then you come along, and you know her name. Know her species. You're the first in months to offer even a crumb of a lead."

Shit... I think I prefer you yelling.

Manipulation.

It had to be... had to be manipulation...

He risked another step closer, his tone shifting from tired to almost...

Pleading?

"Even if you can't lead me to her... tell me what you know." He hesitated, then rested a light hand on my shoulder. "You are the only one who has any answers."

Fuck.

"Allan-"

"Please, Shadow." The hand on my shoulder tightened. "You're the only hope I have of ending these nightmares."

Tell him. You should tell him.

Of all people, he and Tom deserve to know the most.

Consequences be damned, at least give him some satisfaction.

Some closure.

You owe him that much.

And with that, all my mischief evaporated leaving only guilt in its wake.

"Damn you!" I shouted, tearing out of his grip. My heart twisted when he followed me like a puppy being abandoned.

This wasn't the angry Allan who screamed at me.

Wasn't the charismatic Allan who coaxed me to his side.

Wasn't the amused Allan that bantered with me as we stood at a stalemate in that alley.

This was a desperate Allan, one who just wanted some sort of closure after a traumatic ordeal.

And I alone could give him that.

No joy came in that revelation. No triumph. No pleasure.

Just sickening dread and remorse that the truth would only hurt him further.

But he needed to know.

I needed to tell him.

It's what I would want if I were on the other end.

"Allan, I can't lead you to Scarlett," I stressed, voice catching in my throat.

"Then why can't you tell me where she last went?"

I struggled to find the words. "She... there's a very good chance she doesn't exist anymore."

"Kid, don't play with me." No anger in that rough tone now, just desperation and underlying panic. "Don't toy with me like this."

"I wish I was, Allan." My voice cracked as regret seized my chest, stealing my breath. I sat down on the nearby rock, not trusting myself to stay standing. "Fuck, I wish I was." I slid my fingers through my hair, gripping it tightly as I tried to ground myself. "But I'm not. I'm not."

Hector appeared by my side, staring up at me with large brown eyes as he rested his head on my lap. He had a stick in his mouth, but seemed to understand now wasn't the best time for play. Grateful for the grounding pressure on my legs, I rubbed his ears.

The sun was gone now, the last glimpse disappearing beneath the indigo waves of grass. All that was left were the beams of light that grew fainter with each passing moment.

Soon only Hector would be able to see clearly.

How fitting for our clusterfuck of a situation.

Allan seemed to struggle for words, mouth opening and closing many times. "I don't get what you're sayin', kid," he said, sitting beside me, which I allowed.

I didn't really like him this close, but since he looked more confused than angry I didn't feel in danger.

Too much at least.

"You're smarter than this, Al," I said with a weary smile and weak voice. "You have everything you need. I know the movie. Got obsessed with y'all, with cargo ships. The moment you mentioned Scarlett, I knew y'all were mostly safe. My favorite animals are tigers. I greatly resemble Scarlett. I'm a writer. I know the powers of Alphians better than anyone you will ever meet. I know multiple timelines." I spread my arms halfheartedly. "Piece all that together, what do you get?"

His eyes shifted between mine, brows furrowed in concentration before his eyes flew wide. "Are... are you saying that the hijacking... that Scarlett... Alphians... was something you wrote?" he sputtered, leaning back.

I sighed, glaring at the last rays as they streaked toward the heavens. How dare it look so peaceful? "Scarlett, yes. She's fullblooded my doing. Alphians too, they're a species I created. The slavers not so much. That timeline with Piccas? It's the original one, and Piccas was my ex's character. He brought the slavers into things. I just wanted to vibe with y'all."

"Why the bloody hell would you want to do that?" he asked. "We're criminals, kid. You couldn't possibly know of our morals if we're background characters!"

"No, but... well I projected a bit. Since you were pretty much blank slates, it was easy. I'm an outcast. Friendly with most groups, but never belonging to one." I looked down at Hector again, grateful for his support even if he had zero idea what was going on. "Y'all were an escape. Friends I could retreat to when life kicked me down. Fictional or not, y'all would pick me back up again and help me cope."

"Why us? You had the good guys at the forefront of the movie. Why not choose them?"

Can probably thank puberty and Tom for that one.

"Aye, but I latched onto you. I don't question it when the dopamine gods send me a crumb, I just take that shit and milk it for everything it's got. I never claimed to have healthy copin' skills"

"So Scarlett was... what?" Allan said. "An insert of yourself into relationships you wanted?"

I shrugged. "Right on the money."

"So why the hell did she abandon us?"

I winced. "She didn't. We're... in a remake I attempted a year or so after the original timeline was written. But I... never finished it, and stopped halfway through."

"When did you stop?"

"Five years ago my time. As for when in the story, right around the time Scarlett knocked you out to go kill a slaver. I may have gotten halfway through 'er savin' Tom and tryin' to return to the ship, but I don't think I ever got back."

"That's... my last memory of 'er," Allan said slowly. "And matches what Tom told me about his last memory."

"I was worried about that." I weakly chuckled. "Your insistence at answers makes hella sense."

"Why did you stop writing it?" Allan pressed. "If we are as important to you as you say, why abandon a project with us?"

"I switched to original stories. The plot of the book, True Colors, was repurposed into an original story. The Caroline is the new ship." I shook my head. "I get you're mad, Allan. I really do. But I need you to understand I can't get you Scarlett back. All I can do is get you through the movie to the best of my ability."

Allan groaned, getting Hector's attention. "Just my luck. I'm stuck in the one universe where Scarlett vanished," he muttered dryly, then pushed Hector away with a hand as the rottie tried to lick his face. "Go slobber on Shadow."

I gathered Hector's head in my lap again. "Afraid so," I quipped. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, make it quick. Broken neck is preferred."

"Give a man a minute to process," he snorted. "Then I'll think about it."

Taking his hat off, he ran his hand through his hair before resting his face in his palm again.

I waited as the moments dragged by again, stroking Hector's head as the guard dog gradually dozed off.

What the hell did I do to earn this nightmare? What cosmic entity had I pissed off? Sure, there'd been moments of fun here and there, but ever since I made the mistake of letting Allan take me back to Sakharine it'd been nothing but nonstop dodgeballs to the face.

And Allan... poor man, he couldn't catch a damn break today for nothing.

I jumped when he groaned loudly, startling Hector. I apologized as I helped the pupper get resettled at my feet.

"Let me get this... straight," Allan muttered, not looking up. "You're from another reality where we are fictional. You like the film so much, you wrote a story where slavers took over our ship and your... character helped us through it. Then you tried to remaster it. But you never finished, and as a result the ship is left with patchy memories of a ship hijacking that was never truly resolved. Then, five years later, you yourself somehow end up in the timeline you created but the characters and everything connected to them was erased from this existence. Now any who interacted with elements from your story are left with hazy memories of people they will never see again."

I nodded slowly, even though he couldn't see me. "That about sums it up."

He dragged his hand down his face, inhaling deeply as he did so."That's it." He threw up his hands. "That's it!"

"Er, what is?"

"I never woke up this morning. This is just a continuation, no, mutation, of the dream with Scarlett." He gestured at me. "I'm so desperate to get her back I'm dreamin' that her creator jumped across realities to help me."

There go the marbles.

"Think you got issues?" I sighed, looking westward. The last of the rays had dimmed, allowing a greenish hue to flood the sky. "At least magic exists in your timeline. Try chokin' all this down when you got zero exposure to magic."

"Must have some magic if you're here."

"Still tryin' to wrap my head around that, thanks."

"If I have a migraine," he replied, voice dry. "You're gettin' one too."

My own tone turned dry as I grumbled, "You're too generous, Allan Thompson."

He grunted in acknowledgment, hesitated, then nudged me. "Say I believe you. Say you're right. You have that film script memorized?"

I sighed. "To an embarrassin' degree."

"That's very valuable information."

"No shit."

"So like I said. I have zero reason to kill or harm you." He tugged at my arm in an attempt to make me look at him. "I'd be a fool to do that, and you don't think me a fool, do you?"

"I don't know," I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the crumbled wall. "You're pretty dorky in the last comic you appeared in. Wearin' converse shoes and shit, like you were havin' some sort of midlife crisis before all your teeth got knocked out"

Speaking of shoes, I'm so glad I'm wearing my waterproof boots or they'd probably be soaked through thanks to Hector. My pants are already disgusting.

"You know, your ability to wisecrack even when you're feelin' like shit is commendable."

"It's called bad copin' mechanisms. And salt."

"It's called a good sense of humor." He shrugged. "Means you will fit in great with the boys."

I glanced at him, not sure I'd heard him right. He looked sincere, but knew he could mask his true thoughts. "Y-... You still want me along for the ride?" I stammered in disbelief.

"You still have far more knowledge than anyone else in this race." His arm hovered above me before he draped it over my shoulders. "Not a chance in hell I'd turn a golden goose away."

My skin prickled under his touch initially, but as he rested more of his arm's weight on my shoulders it went away. I wasn't thrilled with being touched, but given it came from a place of comfort I let it slide.

"And if that goose don't lay? Then what?" I asked. "What if this movie begins to deviate too much and my knowledge... becomes outdated?"

I didn't want to admit weakness around him, but I wanted all the cards on the table so I didn't have to constantly worry about what would happen when the information inevitably came out.

Because while I thoroughly enjoyed writing suspense... I despised living through it.

His answer came immediately. "Then I'll keep it around for amusement."

He... he liked me being dramatic? Being snarky? Liked my theatrics? Liked me biting back when he tried poking me?

He... liked having me around?

Just for me, for what I alone gave without reference to the treasure hunt?

No.

Not possible.

No one liked me for... me.

There was always a catch.

"Really want me on your team?" I ventured, scarcely daring to hope.

"More than Sakharine does." His arm drew me closer. "You'd be more appreciated with the boys and with me than you would ever be by him."

He's manipulating you.

Yes, but... he's doin' a damn good job of it.

I wouldn't lie, the thought of being accepted into the Karaboudjan crew was just too good to pass up. Dream or no dream, being a genuinely welcomed part of any group was too damn tempting.

An hour, a day, a week, it didn't matter.

I'd be damned if I let the chance slip through my fingers.

And what of your anxiety? Your weirdness? Think they too won't turn their backs?

Doubt slithered up my leg and around my neck, slowly constricting me.

People closer than them left you behind. What's to stop them from doing the same?

I couldn't pretend forever. Couldn't mask forever.

Shit... what was I even thinking? I couldn't keep up, couldn't-

"Me and the boys need you, kid," Allan spoke up, breaking through my thoughts. "You can't lead us to Scarlett, sure. But that knowledge? That foresight? We need it. I need it." He paused. "Need you."

"No one needs me," I remarked with a weak laugh, genuine hurt lingering just beneath the thin veil of humor. "Everyone loves keepin' the stray around 'til they realize that mutt comes with fleas."

Hector whined, staring at me with a look of betrayal.

"Sorry, bud." I reached down and rubbed his ears. "But you probably have at least one flea or two."

This time he snorted, but settled his head back on his paws.

Can I talk to animals here or is this just a plot hole? Worldbuilding hole? Hellhole?

"Think you have fleas, huh?" Allan asked. "Well, then you're in good company. Most strays I pick up do."

I glanced at him, shocked, then stared at the ground.

Even with my host of issues... Allan still wanted me around?

Fleas or no fleas, I really did want to be around the crew. Hellish moments aside, I loved all the banter, the teasing, the roughhousing. The... odd sort of acceptance of my quirky humor and sass.

And... even if the rest of the crew didn't want anything to do with me...

Tom and Allan did.

My comfort characters wanted me around.

That alone would be enough.

"Alright, Allan." I took a deep breath and straightened. "What's the play?"

His expression shifted back to the confident yet amicable front I'd gotten this morning. "You want to know about cargo ships, namely mine. I want that knowledge in that thick skull of yours," he mused. "Way I see it, we both have something the other wants."

"Reckon so."

"Then how about it?" He offered his right hand to shake. "Seems this partnership would benefit us both."

"Is that what this is?" I chuckled, raising a brow.

"Or I could have the boys kidnap you," he said breezily, a small smile playing across his lips. A lazy shrug accompanied his next words. "Let you show off some more of that fancy learnin'."

The corner of my mouth twitched. "I do kinda stay wishin' a motherfucker would."

"What if I throw some street-fightin' lessons in on top of the cargo ship information?"

Fighting lessons from sailors? Um yes please?

I pretended to ponder that, tapping my chin. "Hmm. Throw in a gun and you got yourself a deal."

"A gun, huh?"

"Stay strapped or get clapped."

"I'll see what I can do." He moved his hand closer. "Partners?"

I glanced down at it again before meeting his gaze. "Aye." I grinned, shaking his hand hard. "Partners."

[shads-shipposts]

Hey everyone! I'm back to complete the rest of part one! I did originally intend to post earlier in March, but then I finally got a job! Plus I just wasn't happy with the flow of things so I ended up restructuring a lot of things. Due to the job, it took longer than expected but I wanted to at least get a larger stockpile of chapters before I started posting again. I have up to ch 15 written, and am almost done with ch 16. Instead of the bi-weekly uploads, I'm sticking to weekly (every Sunday) uploads anywhere between 9-11AM EST. 

Enjoy the chaos!

Masterlist

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Hope she'll be alright in there.

To hell with Allan, if that creep lays a hand on 'er I'll flay him alive myself.

Neil's eyes remained fixed on the manor as he and Harry stood by the old blue car, worry and guilt swirling within him. As the dark shadows gradually rose up the faded and ivy-choked facade, so too did his apprehension rise.

This was taking too long.

He looked at his watch, dismayed and angry that only a few minutes had passed.

Felt like hours.

Neil glared at the manor again, tapping his foot impatiently.

He should have gone in there with them. Shouldn't have put his faith in Allan to keep Shadow 100% safe. Neil trusted the first mate enough to follow his command, sure, but he knew how men like Allan operated.

To stay in their good graces, you had to be useful. No free rides, no charity. You earned your keep with men like Allan. If you didn't appease them day and night, you could count on being cast aside. If you were lucky, you'd just be booted out of the crew and sent home with nothing. If you weren't...

The sea kept the secrets she was given, and rarely if ever would she cough them up.

Allan seemed to take to Shadow well enough; he wouldn't tolerate the constant sass if he didn't find her at least somewhat amusing. But would that be enough for a selfish man like Allan to stick his neck out for her?

At least Tom was with them. Neil knew he had a darker, nastier side to him, but from what he'd seen, the third mate had a soft spot for Shadow just as she did for him.

Probably reminds him of Scarlett.

Neil never met the alien himself, but he heard enough about her to understand her importance to the crew. Particularly Tom.

Harry, in his drunken ramblings, mentioned Scarlett saved Tom's life and had been closest to her before she mysteriously vanished. It made sense that Tom would form a bond with someone who reminded him of the person who saved his life nearly at the cost of her own.

"Oi," Harry grunted around an unlit cigarette, elbowing him. "Let's see that lighter, mine isn't workin'."

Neil rolled his eyes, fishing his out of his pocket and giving it to Harry. "That's goin' to be the death of ya."

"Hasn't killed me yet," Harry snorted, cupping his hand around the flickering flame and lighting the end of the cigarette. As it smoldered, he flicked the lighter shut and focused once more on the hulking silhouette of Marlinspike.

He hasn't stopped staring at that manor since Shadow went in, either.

Gravel crunching beneath light footsteps drew Neil's attention to the bottom of the main steps leading into the back of the manor. For a brief, hopeful moment Neil thought Shadow escaped through the basement. But while the shape resembled a shadow, with jet black fur aside from tan points, it wasn't the American.

Instead, the estate's guard dog crept cautiously toward Neil and Harry.

A rush of affection overtook Neil, and he crouched down. "Hey, mate," he coaxed, extending a hand. "Where'd you come from?"

Seemingly encouraged by the friendly tone, the dog snuck closer and wagged its tail. Hesitantly at first, but then with more vigor when Neil patted his head and scratched his ears.

"That's it. Come have a bit of a scratch," Neil chuckled, the rottweiler's presence helping him relax.

Should he encourage the pup to stick around? Would Shadow be happy with him, or was she scared of dogs? If the latter was true, Neil would shoo him off. But Shadow struck him as an animal lover, so maybe keeping the guard dog around would lift her spirits after Sakharine inevitably stressed her out.

Animals always cheered his sister up, too

Harry sighed. "You and your strays, Neil. Pickin' 'em up left and right, you bring back another and Allan'll have your hide."

Fuck him to the moon. I don't give a damn what he thinks if this helps Shadow.

"Speakin' of strays, what d'ya think of the kid?" Neil prompted. "I mean, she's gonna be stickin' with us after all."

Harry rolled his eyes, taking a drag before exhaling and gesturing vaguely. "Think she should trot her ass back to whatever fancy university she came from, and leave the fightin' to the big dogs."

Neil rolled his eyes. "I mean what do you really think?"

Harry fell silent, flicking Neil's lighter as his face shifted from disdain to concern. "She's in over 'er head," he muttered around the cigarette after a long pause. "She doesn't know what she's gettin' into, she can't."

"She knows, Harry."

"The hell she does. She's stubborn and treats everything as a joke, and it's gonna land herself in trouble that we can't get 'er out of," Harry fretted. He flicked the lighter anxiously. "Then what? I'm not... I can't bury a kid." Sorrow crossed his face. "Not again."

Neil's chest ached.

It'd been years since that terrible night when Harry's dirty dealings caught up to him and stole his family from him, but it still weighed heavily on him. Countless times Neil had to nudge the bottle away from Harry, the older man often snapping viciously at him before immediately breaking down again.

"Shadow's not exactly a kid, Harry," Neil said gently.

"You know what I mean," Harry growled, pointing the cigarette at Neil. "She's too young to go down this path. Someone's gotta tell 'er the truth of it all, it's not glamorous. Not fun." He tapped his foot. "It's too late for us. We're in it for life. Shadow can still avoid it."

"Don't think she wants to get mixed up in the life, mate." Neil rubbed Hector's side. "Think she's just fixated on the ship because we're sailors, not because we're smugglers."

"Then she's still a damn fool for even comin' near us."

"She's more street savvy than you give 'er credit for."

Harry shook his head. "Neil, she's not Charlie. Don't treat 'er like she is."

Too fucking far.

Neil's voice turned cold as his throat seized. "I'm aware she's not my sister. She's a shadow, not a bloody ghost."

Harry shot him an apologetic look. "Look, I... didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Neil growled, cutting him off. "But watch your fuckin' mouth."

Tense silence passed between the men, broken only by birdsong and the crunch of gravel beneath Harry's shoe as he shifted back and forth. Neil focused on the guard dog, choking back harsh, damning words that could bring Harry to his knees.

He knew the secrets.

Knew the weaknesses.

Knew exactly how to cut him so deep that even the entirety of the ship's stores couldn't numb the pain.

But what would that accomplish?

He didn't need to add to the tension. Shadow would have enough of a struggle as it was without Harry lashing out when she inevitably made a snarky comment.

Focus on the pup.

And so Neil did, focusing on getting the dog's leg to do the happy-kick even when the Rottweiler's body blurred beneath him.

"I... I think Charlie would have liked Shadow," Harry said eventually.

Neil lifted his eyes, focusing his watery vision on the manor. "Yeah." A bittersweet smile ghosted his face. "She damn well would have."

Allan took one hell of a risk touching Shadow with such familiarity.

Nearly every other close contact ended in a bite or a kick. Even if the actions held no genuine malice, Shadow didn't exactly inspire confidence when it came to predicting her actions.

But the risk was necessary; he needed to know just how comfortable she was with him. Before manipulating anyone, you had to know what boundary would cause them to pull away. What boundary would make all the other defenses raise, locking you out as they prepared to defend against a greater attack. To know their deal-breakers, you had to first have an idea of where the boundary even was.

After all... the only sure way to know where the barbed wire lay was to venture into No Man's Land yourself.

Thankfully, Shadow correctly read his touch as playful, and responded playfully back. There'd been some shrapnel in the form of a mildly disgruntled glare at his arm when he first touched her, but no barbed wire here.

Not yet.

It could be because she thought it was a dream and therefore didn't take it seriously, but he liked to think it was because she had at least some trust in him.

Good.

Very good.

Trust meant loyalty, and loyalty was useful. Especially during a high-stakes race to riches where multiple factions all bitterly fought to come out ahead.

Loyalty freely admitted without any fight? Even better.

Didn't take a super sleuth to figure out where Shadow stood; the kid had zero filter and offered no false pretense. What you saw was what you got, for better or worse, and Allan admittedly relished the change of pace. It got tiresome constantly fretting about backstabbers and narcs. Shadow flat-out said she could excuse most crimes as long as you didn't annoy her personally.

As for an undercover detective, she antagonized Sakharine any chance she got. Were she a plant, she'd try to cozy up to that aristocratic fool.

So, Allan supposed, that meant he could consider her a trustworthy ally. Now it'd be even easier to get her alone and ask her more pressing questions.

Namely, those pertaining to Scarlett.

She consistently dodged the topic, but she definitely knew the Alphian. And because she knew the Alphian, she knew Allan and his men. Hell, she even admitted it was because they mentioned Scarlett that she knew she was generally safe to drop her guard a little around them.

She knew Scarlett, and Allan's determination to get the truth of Scarlett out of her could not be overstated.

But the way she kept going on about dreams starting to unnerve Allan, and he honestly was beginning to wonder if he'd left one nightmare this morning and was caught up in another. Things certainly held a similar level of absurdity. But unlike his last memory of Scarlett, this nightmare remained less scary and more utterly perplexing and headache inducing.

The type that didn't make you wake up in a cold sweat, breathing hard and shaking, but the type that made you slowly sit up on the edge of the bed and stare blankly across the room as you tried to decipher what the fuck just happened.

He still didn't know what to make of Shadow's head splitting a boulder into fours, with the woman coming out the other side with not even a bruise.

Allan saw what happened when men went up against rocks, either stationary or wielded by an enemy...

No man came out unscathed.

Allan glanced at Shadow from the corner of his eye.

What's with you, kid?

What secrets are you hiding?

What aren't you telling me?

And how can I get it out of you?

Everyone had something they'd get loose-lipped for. Allan couldn't very well threaten anyone, as he needed her to like him rather than fear him. Allan was also short on funds right now, so bribery through money was out of the question. That didn't seem like her currency, anyway. He could try alcohol, but if Shadow realized his game her shields could raise.

A more... subtle approach would be needed.

Get her reliant on you. Get her to trust you. See you as someone to turn to when things go sideways.

Luckily, he very well may have an opportunity presented to him on a golden platter soon.

Sakharine may have pretended to be a cool-headed and unfazed nobleman, but the moment things went wrong and people stood up against him, that facade dropped.

Any belittling or condesecntion would drive Shadow straight to Allan, and he'd welcome her with open arms.

Her stubbornness could cause issues for Allan himself, but unlike Sakharine, Allan welcomed high-spirited fighters to his team. Spend too much time with yes-men and you forgot how to handle a legitimate threat.

Wit could atrophy just like any muscle.

Kid's definitely strong. Both in terms of will and physicality. Got more fire in her than some men I've served with.

It was nothing short of satisfying to see someone finally bite back at the boss, Allan had to admit. His crew couldn't without risking retribution, or the withholding of funds. Even Allan himself was at risk of the same punishment, and the bitter truth was he needed that money.

Shadow didn't, and so she offered much needed reprieve from Sakharine's ego.

That fire and spirit wasn't without pitfalls, however, and he wouldn't put it past Sakharine to put a hit out on Shadow if she pushed him too far. Sakharine himself would never dirty his hands or "stoop that low", Allan knew, but the same could not be said of the men with him.

Sure Allan's own men weren't lawful and had their own assemblage of vices that would make a priest flee, but across the board there was one boundary they would not cross. One boundary Allan wouldn't never tolerate in the men under his command.

Sakharine's two favored lapdogs, Kevin Walker and Anthony Rochester... they had no such reservations. Did Sakharine never do a background check on the men he dealt with? Did he even care what those two had on their records?

Kill all you want. Loot all you want. Torture all you want.

The moment you stepped into the realm of sexual assault, you earned yourself a one way ticket to the bottom of the sea.

Some things you just had to draw the line at.

Allan would happily let her poke and prod at Sakharine, even bite him, but he'd keep a close eye out for any threats from Sakharine that went too far.

Funds and Allan's plight be damned, that would not fly.

Unfortunately, Allan knew fight of some kind involving Shadow was inevitable. Whether Allan and his men started the fight to protect Shadow, or Shadow started it to protect herself, it would happen.

The only question was when.

He and his men took it easy on her that morning. If they didn't hold back, excluding guns of course, would Shadow be able to keep up? She may not have been gun-shy, which was still valuable, but some men who didn't fear guns couldn't handle themselves in an unarmed scuffle.

Could she take a true, honest hit and keep going?

Could she shake it off and press ahead?

She went up against an actual rock and came out on top. She'll survive.

Allan glanced at her they all walked down the now dark corridor to the showroom, taking note of squared shoulders and a confident stride that almost outpaced Tom's. She held her head high, laser-focused on the door at the end of the hall.

She looked ready to fight.

If you have any magic abilities, please keep it hidden until we leave this idiot. I don't need him catching on to your potential.

Sakharine saw her as just a mild nuisance and liability at the moment, and Allan hoped to keep it that way. Sakharine wouldn't waste his honeyed words on someone he didn't see as overly valuable. It'd be far easier to sway Shadow to his side without Sakharine trying to play the lesser of two evils.

Because unfortunately... the man would probably win.

"Hey, kid," Allan said in a low tone, pulling her to a stop. "He's goin' to try to get under your skin."

Shadow raised a brow. "Duh."

"Just... want you to be ready for it."

"Don't you worry." Shadow's gaze shifted back down the hall, a new darkness to it. "I ain't got a habit of sidin' with people that have a god-complex and think themselves better than everyone."

Tom shook his head. "Don't write 'im off, kid," he stressed. "He's sharp, sharper than you think. He will find your weakness."

"Well, sucks to be him, but my mind is already made up."

Allan followed behind her as she headed for the end of the hall again.

Perhaps it is, kid. But everyone has a price. And he will find yours.

He just hoped the man was too angry to be cunning.

The aristocrat waited for them, impatiently pacing back and forth. The moment he saw them, fury blazed in his eyes and he stormed over.

Here we go.

"That was a foolish move, girl." Sakharine pointed his cane at Shadow. "You should be thanking me for being merciful and not suing you for everything you're worth."

At least he's still legal-minded in his threats.

Shadow scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I ain't worth jack shit," she said, baring her teeth in a sarcastic grin.

Sakharine's jaw tensed as he stepped closer. "You are trying my patience and that is a very dangerous thing to do."

Tom started forward, fists clenched, but Allan halted him with an arm across his chest.

Allan didn't miss the way Shadow shifted her weight to her toes, or the way her shoulders tensed as her hands readied to fend off a blow. Despite all the Sakharine's posturing, without his sword cane, he wouldn't stand a chance in hand-to-hand combat with Shadow.

A full-force kick from her would break something, especially if she fought dirty and went to the knee. Not to mention that if she bit Allan and Neil, albeit lightly, she'd probably give a much nastier wound to Sakharine.

"You gonna lecture me on escapin' after bein' threatened? Really?" Shadow scoffed. "I mean I said it before and I'll say it again, that's a shit way to get someone on your team."

"Who said I wanted that?"

"Why else would you oh so graciously offer to bring me here?" Shadow asked. She gestured towards the door. "I laid that breadcrumb out about Rackham back at the market and you went to it like a malnourished magpie."

She knows about that?

Add it to the list of things she shouldn't know.

It was becoming... a worryingly long list.

"Your insolence and brazen disrespect will not do you any favors here," Sakharine snapped. "This is not America, and I will not tolerate it. I am being more than gracious and forgiving of your flippancy. You would do well to cooperate and cease this folly."

"I ain't even aware of what I need to do to cooperate," Shadow retorted. "You keep throwing threats left, right, and center, and are more wordy than a thesaurus, but ain't said once what you want from me."

"I want information, you obstinate woman!"

Shadow gave him an unimpressed look. "About...?"

"The bloody Unicorn!"

This is all it takes to get to you? A snarky teenager? Guess you're just used to people tripping over themselves to please you, Allan thought. But thank you so very, very much for the opportunity to win Shadow to me.

"Let me try, boss," Allan offered, stepping forward.

Sakharine glanced at him, then back at Shadow. "Last chance, my dear. Or I will let this man deal with you, and his methods will be far more brutal than mine."

Shadow turned to Allan, a look of guarded curiosity in her eyes. Her weight shifted as he took another step towards her, eyes roaming his body for weapons, but other than that she didn't move.

Easy, kid. Just work with me here.

"Oh, I don't think any threats will be necessary, boss," Allan said, keeping his eyes on Shadow as he offered a friendly smile. "Care to fill me in, kid?"

Shadow's eyes finally shifted back to Sakharine, and Allan caught a small smirk before it vanished.

She's willing to cooperate with me, then, especially if it's to spite Sakharine. Think I'm really beginning to like you, Shadow.

"Sure, I'll spill. But, uh." She looked Sakharine up and down. "May wanna sit down for this."

"I do not need advice from such a foolish youth."

Shadow's nose wrinkled. "Fine. Hope your crypt keeper ass has life alert because I sure as shit ain't helpin' you up."

Hope he has what?

"Alrighty, which method y'all want?" Shadow asked, bouncing a little on her toes as she clapped her hands together. She blinked innocently at Allan. "Band-Aid, or ease into it?"

"Rip it off, kid," Allan said.

Shadow shrugged. "Aye aye, sir," she replied, pointing to finger-guns at him. "You're a movie."

That was... not what he expected. Neither Tom nor Sakharine expected it either, both wearing expressions of shock and bafflement.

Allan was right alongside them.

A movie? Surely Shadow didn't think their lack of hostility towards her meant this whole thing was all just for show? Had someone lied to her? Was that why she was so at ease around them? Why she wasn't taking things seriously?

"We're... what?" Allan said after a long struggle to get his mouth to work properly.

"A movie." Shadow frowned thoughtfully. "Or... do y'all call 'em pictures in this time period?"

This time period?

Well, that canned his earlier hypothesis.

"You mean a cinema?" Tom asked, speaking up for the first time.

Shadow snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "That's the bitch. You're all characters in a cinema which happens to be my favorite. I can quote the entire script, start to finish, from memory. I know trivia, the production history, all the names of the background characters, the voice actors, and so much more."

"What's a voice actor?" Tom asked.

"The movie is animated. Although it's so advanced you probably wouldn't even recognize it as animated."

Oh. Oh no. This was far worse than his original hypothesis. Shadow didn't just believe they were actors...

She didn't even think they were real!

"You're kiddin'," Allan said, tone flat in disbelief.

Shadow glared at him. "This face look like I'm kiddin'?" she asked, pointing to it.

No, not particularly.

"You believe we are simply actors?" Sakharine demanded.

Shadow shook her head. "Oh, no! You are quite real." She shrugged, crossing her arms. "In this universe at least."

Sakharine's eyes widened. "This universe?"

"Did I stutter?" Shadow asked. "Y'all wanted the truth, so here it is! Now that you have it, you got the audacity, nay, the gall, to call me a liar?"

"You aren't exactly making sense," Tom muttered.

Shadow got a strangely sadistic grin. "Oh, then this definitely won't make sense! If the movie deal wasn't enough of a shell shock, here's another bombshell!" Shadow laughed, but it sounded a bit too deranged to be normal amusement. "Not only am I from another universe, I'm also from the future! December 31st, New Years Eve, in the year 2019. Ain't that fun?"

Not only did she think they weren't real, and she was from another universe, but she thought she was from another time period?

Just what level of delusion was he working with?

Allan blinked, looking her up and down."That's... why you keep goin' on about dreams," he said slowly as he struggled to wrap his mind around the information. "You think you've been... what? Warped into your favorite cinema?"

"Aye. Because if it's not a dream, then I was actually sucked into another universe." A slightly crazed, nervous grin showed far too many teeth. "And boy howdy I ain't got the energy to unpack that."

We're certainly in agreement there.

"You're... real funny, ya know that?" Tom laughed nervously.

Shadow just blinked at him.

Tom's smile faded. "You... aren't jokin', are ya?"

"Again." Shadow pointed at her face, drawing a circle with her finger. "Check the face."

Tom shot Allan a worried glance, and Allan fought the urge to let worry overcome his own features.

He couldn't allow that. Couldn't allow weakness in front of Sakahrine.

"I thought you were just a foolish woman in over your head, but you are simply mental!" Sakharine exclaimed finally, fury filling his gaze. "You honestly believe you are from another universe? I should consider having you committed!"

That struck a nerve, panic flashing in Shadow's eyes before anger replaced it.

"Well ex-fuckin'-scuse me!" Shadow spat, throwing her hands up. "I didn't realize I was dealin' with a big shot who knew all the answers and secrets of the universe. Do enlighten me then, oh wise one, how the hell do I know about your ancestor? How the hell do I know Haddock's being held prisoner? And how the fuck do I know Rackham's last words to Sir Francis Haddock were a curse on his name and a promise that he would find him in another time, in another life?"

"Someone told you, I know not who," Sakharine blustered. "Such things are not possible, no more so than aliens."

Clearly you've never heard about Alphians, Allan thought, still fighting a rising nervous breakdown.

Allan didn't honestly know which was worse; Shadow being absolutely mental or... Shadow quite possibly being right.

Because the more he pondered it, putting it up against the rest of Shadow's behavior and knowledge so far...

The more it made a horrible, sickening kind of sense.

How she knew about the Karaboudjan. How she knew who Allan, Tom, and some of the others were. How she knew the ship would be in port. How she knew the crew wouldn't seriously harm her. How she knew about Haddock's plight. How she knew about Rackham. How she knew about...

About Scarlett.

But if she was right...

Then everything Allan knew to be true was not real.

He was not real.

He was just some puppet, victim to the whims of some being beyond his comprehension.

Oh, if only he could go back to this morning when the only person he had to worry about controlling him was a rich peacock with delusions of grandeur.

But, wait.

But if Scarlett is just another character alongside us in this universe...

Why is Shadow so twitchy about her?

There was something else, some truth even darker and more twisted than them simply being movie characters in Shadow's reality.

And Allan wasn't quite sure if he wanted the full answer.

He'd have to stow the rising existential panic and deal with it later, there were far more pressing matters to deal with. He had to get Shadow away from Sakharine so he could talk to her privately without alerting the aristocrat to the brewing mutiny. The sooner the better.

Scarlett would just have to wait.

Between the two, Shadow currently offered far more value to Allan; all the power in the world didn't hold a candle to foresight.

He couldn't let Sakharine claim that foresight for himself.

Nothing personal, boss, though maybe it is a little personal. But this is a game you only win by holding all the cards.

And Shadow very well could be the ace up his sleeve that tipped things in his favor. 

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