The Arrival

Dec. 3rd, 2013 10:30 pm
jackdaws_master: Blond scruffy guy in early 1700s clothes on a dock, looking up at something offscreen (Default)
[personal profile] jackdaws_master
"Our helmsman's dead! Someone take the wheel!"

There was a storm, a colossal one, and a frigate looming up out of it. He can remember that. (And a figure- a man in a white hood? He thinks.)

There's no more powder-stench in his nostrils. The air's not sizzling with lightning the more. His ears've stopped ringing, though whether that's true quiet or deafness he can't say. But he's not pitching and rolling about, nor is the water tumbling him arse over teakettle like a kitten's play-thing. There's just sand...

His ribs heaving in a mighty cough that brings up near as much salt-water as air, Edward Kenway pushes himself up on an unfamiliar bit of Caribbean inlet and opens his eyes.

Date: 2013-12-04 05:41 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (gone baby)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
It's cold.

Chuck's still blinded from the explosion (he can't be blinded, he's dead), and he staggers, catching himself as he falls. The hard fiberglass of the drive suit jams into his knees, and the ground...

He opens his eyes, and pulls off his helmet (fuck, it's cold). There's grass.

Chuck rolls over onto his back, and stares up into early-evening sky. Is the Marshall chasing a RABIT? Chuck can't feel him, in his head, like the jaeger's not even – did the other man die, and leave Chuck stuck in his memories?

He's pretty sure that can't happen, but he hasn't interviewed that many dead people.

Chuck pushes himself up, glances around, and with a voice loud enough to reach the other side of a Shatterdome, yells: "MARSHALL!"
Edited Date: 2013-12-04 05:41 am (UTC)

Date: 2013-12-04 06:01 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (purveyor of deep thoughts)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck's pushed himself to his feet, his helmet in hand. He's considering putting it back on (keep some heat in), when he spots the guy walking his way.

He squints, a bit. His sight's coming back, but is that... is that Beckett? Why the fuck does the Marshall remember him looking like -- oh, whatever.

He waits to see what the projection of Beckett does. Maybe he can follow him to the Marshall.
Edited Date: 2013-12-04 06:01 am (UTC)

Date: 2013-12-04 06:10 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (uh)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck turns slightly to look behind him (there's no one there), then back to Beckett.

Beckett, who has a sword and sounds -- British? Some sort of British.

Beckett's looking straight at him.

Chuck raises a hand, and waves it experimentally, brow starting to furrow.

"Can you... see me?"

Date: 2013-12-04 06:41 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (pissed off)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"Of course you're not supposed to -- what are you even doing dressed like that, Beckett?"

Date: 2013-12-04 07:00 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (sideways glance)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"Kenway," he repeats, looking him in the eye. He clearly doesn't believe him, but he sighs. "Right."

He extends a hand, even though it's in an armoured glove. "Chuck Hansen," he says, "with Striker Eureka."

He glances away to look at the surroundings, mouth flattening.

Date: 2013-12-04 08:17 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (uh)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"Cuba?" Chuck asks, turning back to him, disbelief writ large on his face. "Well, there's your problem, mate. There's no way we're in Cuba."
Edited Date: 2013-12-04 08:17 am (UTC)

Date: 2013-12-04 11:48 pm (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (purveyor of deep thoughts)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"Yeah, well, I was at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, off Guam," he says. "Personally escorting some kaiju to Hell."

He turns away, to look through the half-light again. "Of course, I was also with the Marshall in Striker, so it's not like any of this makes any f-- that," he points towards a light, then sighs, lowering his hand. "That looks promising."

Date: 2013-12-06 04:08 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (sideways glance)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
The easiness in his voice bugs Chuck a bit, but he lets it sit for now. Mostly.

He's never known Beckett to be calm about kaiju.

He sighs. "I guess there's not much of a choice, is there?"

Date: 2013-12-06 04:26 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (gone baby)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"I have no idea what you're on," Chuck mutters to himself, going.

That's what has to be happening here, right? The Marshall's memory of some, intoxicated Beckett?

The only other option -- the only option he can think of, other than that -- is the one where he's somehow a projection, too, the Drift twisting the half-caught memories like a ball of--

He stops, suddenly, feeling sick. He looks down at his hands, and counts his fingers with his thumb.

If he's ignoring Kerney-- Conway? -- Beckett, well. He, at least, has to be a projection.

Date: 2013-12-06 04:41 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (purveyor of deep thoughts)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"Yeah," Chuck says, after a long moment. He follows behind, slower, before loping to catch up.

"Why're you okay with this?" Chuck asks, a little suspicious. "Do you think you're dead, too?"

If Beckett's died and decided to mock him even now, Chuck will -- Chuck will mostly be upset that the mission failed.

(Did the mission fail? Is him not being dead a sign of something worse happening?

He hopes he's dead. Fuck.)

Date: 2013-12-06 06:03 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (purveyor of deep thoughts)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
"How," Chuck says, "exactly would a dead man feel? Because there isn't another option I'm willing to accept, here."

Date: 2013-12-06 07:03 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (pissed off)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck stops and turns to him, muscle at the side of his jaw twitching. "I am not," he says, as controlled as possible, "a bloody Pom.

"And no," he adds, voice rising as he throws a hand out to his side, "we don't have zombies in Australia, but I was at the bottom of the Pacific setting off a bloody thermo-nuclear bomb so excuse me if I'm pretty fucking sure I'm dead."
Edited Date: 2013-12-06 07:07 am (UTC)

Date: 2013-12-06 07:19 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (pissed off)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck stares at him for a long moment, torn between bewildered and angry.

"It's the big bloody continent," he says, "you know, the one under Indonesia?

"You're fucking with me, aren't you."

Date: 2013-12-06 11:26 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (won't stay down)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck's heard of New Holland, even if he can't place it in his rage.

Beckett is fucking with him. And it was funny at first, maybe, maybe, but it's not funny now, Chuck died today.

Anyway, if he knew what Beckett was talking about, he'd be angry anyway at the condescension. He doesn't need any old American (Welshman, whatever) giving him history lessons.

Those thought happen very, very quickly. From the outside, his response looks more like grabbing 'Beckett' by the arms, and shoving him towards the ground, dropping his helmet in the process. From their last fight, he knows one thing Beckett can do -- when expecting it -- is keep his footing.

Chuck's feet slip a bit as he moves; winter grass isn't very forgiving.

Date: 2013-12-08 04:01 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (won't stay down)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck avoids the kick, but that doesn't mean it doesn't do its job. Chuck's used to fighting with a steady footing -- on a mat (with bare feet, usually) -- or as a 1.85 kiloton jaeger when ground conditions all but completely irrelevant.

He slips, slamming into the ground. He manages to grab the front of Beckett's shirt, though, aiming a surprisingly controlled punch at his jaw.

Date: 2013-12-08 05:49 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (... that's not good)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck's struggling to hold onto Beckett's shirt -- his gloves are made to protect his hands from electrical, chemical, and mechanical damage, not hold onto fabric.

Even trying was probably the wrong idea; Edward's blow slams into Chuck's left cheekbone, sending him sprawling.

That wouldn't be a problem -- a brawl is a brawl, and like hell is Chuck going to let Beckett get the better of him again, especially a Beckett who's weirdly convinced he's some sort of old fashioned pirate.

But this is outside, and there are rocks in the ground, and he's not wearing his helmet.

Thunk.

Chuck groans.

Date: 2013-12-08 06:04 am (UTC)
andinfluencepeople: (gone baby)
From: [personal profile] andinfluencepeople
Chuck lies on the ground. Sense returns pretty quickly, but for a long time it hurts to even think about moving.

He slowly sits up after around five minutes, and one hand goes to touch the wound almost instinctively. He flinches, and draws his hand away -- there's blood on the glove, but not much.

Once he can breathe without feeling like he's going to throw up or pass out, he reaches out for his helmet, and stands. He does not want to go into a building (probably full of people, and definitely full of light) with a headache like this, but it's cold and he's looking for the Marshall.

The Marshall. Right. This is his memory, anyway. Chucks snarls quietly, and makes his way towards civilization.
Edited Date: 2013-12-08 06:05 am (UTC)

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jackdaws_master: Blond scruffy guy in early 1700s clothes on a dock, looking up at something offscreen (Default)
Captain Edward Kenway

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