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shads-shipposts · 2 months ago

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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.

#adventures!au #tintin #tintin 2011 #karaboudjan #allan thompson #tom karaboudjan #hobbs karaboudjan #ivan ivanovitch sakharine #neil karaboudjan #ollie karaboudjan #nick karaboudjan #will karaboudjan

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