#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]

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]

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

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

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]

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

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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.

[acestintinsideblog]

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Allan Thompson on the daily with his crew

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Doodles o some of my favorite boys!

(Pardon the shitty drawing on the other side of the page)