Freeze Frame [Xan]

[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i1090.photobucket.com/albums/i374/cf_icons/Tiger%20and%20Bunny/Kaburagi%20T%20Kotetsu/39.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]coming out of the sun[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]HOW DID IT END UP LIKE THIS?[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]933 WORDS[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]TAGGED: XAN[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]MUSIC[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]The marine boat slowed to a crawl as the island came into view. The water lapped at its hull slightly frenetically, as if the sullen blue around the landmass was warning the marines of the island they were due to come to a halt at. But those on board the marine ship already knew; Sedna Island and the World Government's Navy had a bad history with each other: the people on the island, that seemed to lurch out of the horizon and glare disapprovingly at any that came near, mimicked their home's abhorrent looks in their behaviour. Renowned for being home to the most inhospitable people in the Blues, Sedna Island was not a typical destination for the marine boats' routes; in an effort to avoid wasting resources on calming civil unrest the marines normally chose to sail straight past the island. However today they were making an exception: they were, after all, carrying someone exceptional on their boat. Ex-Captain Dustin Williams still had more authority than others cared to mention, at least unofficially. He was the exception to the rule amongst the marines; whilst officially a seaman recruit Dustin could still request the things with the authority of someone of his former rank boasted. He demanded to be released from his Maricean duties, and thus he was released. He demanded to go to North Blue, and thus he was sent. He demanded to go to Sedna Island, and thus here they were, approaching the shore with the alacrity of someone who perhaps did not realised the hostility its natives possessed. Dustin did not realise the hostility Sedna Island's natives possessed. It was simply the first island on the map from their perspective as they entered the North Blue from the Calm Belt. Dustin had no particular like for Sedna Island, nor did he have any particular dislike: he simply wished to be off of the marine boat as soon as possible, regardless of where he landed he was going to take a break, a break from all this stressful business of morals and resolve. When he was next called into action, he'd simply do the job with no questions asked - he could solve the mystery of marine corruption without getting stressed, surely? Dustin sure hoped so. The Wild Tiger wasn't good with cages. He needed the freedom to do as he pleased, and if that came through relaxation on Sedna Island, then so be it, he supposed. It was with a passive expression the mammoth of a man rose from his seated position on the bow of the marine vessel. He had been sitting there ever since they had departed from Maricea, wanting to be the first to see what form his respite would take. Since he had been sitting cross-legged his lanky legs were a little stiff, and so when the marine stood up he found that a little brisk warm up was required to remain effective in the field of mobility. “Argh that was a long journey.” Muttered the seaman recruit as he stood tall like a spear tip jutting out into the sky, a spire of the marine’s justice coming to Sedna Island… But he was here to relax, wasn’t he, and so really none of that was of any importance. What was important was that he escape from the ideology his uniform purported he had. The boat came to a halt in Sedna Island’s port. As the marines around him dropped anchor – for they would be staying one day to commandeer supplies from the natives, an action that would no doubt improve their reputation around these parts – Dustin finished limbering up and promptly proceeded to leap from the bow of the marine craft onto the cobbled promenade. It was a rather impressive jump, considering the marine’s ship was at least twenty feet tall. A little dust kicked up around the seaman recruit as he landed, thankfully not on anyone, and then quickly dispersed as he stood straight again, ready to get to that delightful business of relaxing. His little display was apparently flagrant in the people of Sedna’s minds, however, and those that had witnessed the marine’s acrobatics clapped slowly, sarcastically. Dustin looked around to see the source of the clapping and saw a little crowd had gathered at the promenade. Apparently they’d seen the marines coming, and coalesced to give them a typical Sednan welcome. Apparently said welcome wasn’t very warm. But he could give them that: it was, after all, the frigid North Blue. The looks on the crowd’s faces told him that the people of the milieu weren’t as friendly as he’d assumed they’d be; which was a shame as he certainly was very amiable indeed. On this occasion, however, he’d pay them no mind and look for some sort of hotel to stay in – if this island had any: judging from the welcoming committee they weren’t exactly cordial people. Still, if one was to be found then the ex-Captain would find it, and then stay in it free of charge; marine business was very lucrative – at least for the marines: they could stay where they liked and use their occupation as payment. Of course there were limits, and often this was only viable in countries sponsored or represented in the World Government, but Dustin didn’t know that Sedna didn’t fit either of those criteria, and he was a rather tall, muscular man, so there wasn’t going to be any problem. The looks of his fists saw to that. But what could he say in defense of his frame? Wild Tigers didn’t like cages. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Deleted]

"Marines...? That's all I need. The fish aren't biting, probably because of that oversized, ugly piece of junk they call a ship scaring them away, and now I have to deal with all and any grief these no good Justice-Bashers are bringing with them. Why don't they understand good people want to be left alone?" grouched a seasoned and embittered voice. The vessel for this brooding, unforgiving spirit was that of an old man in a faded yellow life jacket and a fisherman's hat with a crude beige hue. He sat in a petite, one-man canoe with bait in a trunk placed at one end and a mini-cooler full of beer bottles at the other. Once the marine ship paced and he no longer had any notable foreign presence interceding within his local waters he readjusted his face to the slightly more mild blanket-brood and slumped his shoulder, focusing his eyes on the rippling section of the water's surface where his reel pierce the ocean blue.

The all-too-familiar monotonous stasis the fisherman found himself in folded and mutilated time around him. The reel stayed the same. The way in which the waters formed waves stayed the same. The sound of the ocean against the boat stayed the same. The taste of the ice-cold beer on his lips stayed they same. Even the position of the reel breaking the water seemed to be at a constant. With no obvious or accessible feature to distinguish one moment in time from the next the fisherman had become accustomed to accepting that he was in a realm outside of time, where this seemingly singular instant could last five seconds when it felt like five hour or vice versa; the art of fishing took had long since been an extremely admirable past time to the fisherman, who recognised on some level that in order to go at and make a catch, one must risk sitting open and immersed in this void first.

Like a lost traveller, buffeted by a snowstorm, he had been prone to the atmosphere so long it had overcome him. He was no long 'cold', shivering in this storm of time, but began to feel tingle and complacent to sit in the realm without time forever. This feeling of numbness, the intoxication of his boredom came with it a fear; a fear of change, of a new moment, of a new instant. That's why the fisherman's eyes widened as his reel quivered. It took him a few seconds to overcome his innate fear, glaring at the reel with the dishevelled intensity of a cat. He finally clasped the rod in his hands and warily recoiled the line. The line went taught and the fisherman could feel the tension. The swallowed his heart, which had just shot up to his throat and coiled faster.

It was heavy.

Real heavy.

He could tell whatever this was would be a big one. The fisherman tilted back in his boat to anchor the catch at the end of his rod and with a firm and determined grunt hoisted his catch out of the water and onto the side of his boat. He looked down with a naturally brimming smile, but as his eyes fixed on the mass he just raised from the depths, his elation crumbled gradually into a lost and confused gasp.

His catch had not silver-pale skin, now gills; it didn't even have a tail fine. This catch did have wings however, and a backpack, upon witch the fisherman's hook was snared. The bait was given a few second to whimper semi-conscious above water having been coasting under it for a while. As his lung pumped, causing his nostrils to draw unadulterated air after a long time snorting saline water with air bubbles, the pressure difference sucked the water in his lungs out. The bait began shaking before spewing water from its mouth and nose in a coughing fit.

---

Havoc mustered the wherewithal to pry his eye-lids open. He saw a hazy, dim reflection of his partially drown, almost lifeless face in a pool of seawater, snot and throw up he was responsible for. His throat was warm and odour of vomit and salt lingered on his tongue and tonsils, chunks still warm in crannies of his mouth. His upper body dropped over the side of a canoe, his lower have still submerged in the ocean. He lifted his head, tracing the form of a man seated right by him from sick-covered boot to floppy beige hat. The man said nothing and did nothing and Havoc was still too out of sorts to focus on any major line of reasoning. He tilted his head the other way, seeing an island in a cold-climate fog. Seeing the cold weather prompted Havoc's psyche to recognised he was cold. And wet. He immediately began shivering and creaked his head to look at the fisherman once more.

"Where am I-...!"

---

The fisherman pressed a dispassionate foot sole into the trout of his catch, launching it back off into the water where he was sure it belonged.

"Immigrants? That's all I need. The fish aren't biting, probably because of their stinky, decrepit excuse for body scaring them away, and now I have to deal with all and any grief this no good charity-case is bringing with him. Why doesn't anyone understand that good people want to be left alone." he exasperated into the air as he coiled his line, pulled back at whisked it out back into the sea.

Suddenly, just before the line kissed the face of the waters once more-

---

Havoc thrust his hand out gripping the rod. The other arrived afterwards and clasped the boat. His head rose out of the water, reddened by the boot from before.

“I like your life-jacket, I think I’ll take it...”

[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i1090.photobucket.com/albums/i374/cf_icons/Tiger%20and%20Bunny/Kaburagi%20T%20Kotetsu/13.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]i can't give it up[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]BECAUSE I CARE TOO MUCH[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]1059 WORDS[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]TAGGED: XAN[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]MUSIC[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]Just as the seaman recruit set off to find shelter, the first obstacle in his goal of relaxation popped up. A shout from the crowd - or perhaps more accurately, a voluminous grumble - alerted the marine to the fact that something amiss was occurring. It was because of his trained senses as a proprietor of the law that he turned around almost instantly after the shout was heard, and it was because of his sculpted muscles that he reached the edge of the harbour in a few moments. However, there was no prior experience or knowledge or training that caused Dustin to turn to the crowd and inquire as to what all the fuss was all about. From his perspective, all that was going on was a fisherman kicking back an oddly large catch into the sea, where it belonged. To the brown haired marine's mind, nothing was wrong; therefore there was no reason to start clamouring and attracting the attention of the enforcers of the law and wasting the precious idle time of said enforcers. He was only mildly annoyed though, and so when he did inquire his tone was still very friendly - though the same could not, unfortunately, be said for the person he asked. "What's going on? Why was someone shouting - or grumbling loudly?" Said the ex-Captain, his voice intoned with authority. The wrecking ball of a man towered over the people that comprised the crowd, looming over them like the metaphorical dark clouds that made the natives of Sedna Island so bitter. However just because Dustin had the same vantage point as those metaphorical clouds did not, apparently, mean that he had the same level of power over the people. One face turned to peer up at the seaman recruit, a snarl as true and as nasty as any the marine had ever seen plastered on the person's visage. The man's eyes were beady like tiny black buttons, his nose long and crooked like the morals he appeared to purport. Dustin could tell by the harrowing look he received that things were not going to go smoothly. But then again, when did they ever? The ex-Captain would have sighed, but he found himself almost breathless around these odd folk. Never had he felt so ostracised in his life - and this was after the corrupted demotion he suffered. Dustin could do nothing but stare back at the man, which was unfortunate, for the man found himself able to do as he pleased, which would likely explain why he said, "What're you looking at zippy? The action's over there, out at sea! Ol' Sanmi's got a big'un for us to eat - and by us, I mean we the us that isn't you." "Yeah, I think I got it." Muttered Dustin in reply. He was really starting to dislike these people. But, in his rudeness the crooked old man with the beady eyes had disclosed some information: there was a man out at sea, on a boat, fishing for the crowd to eat. And if that was enough to elicit a shout from these silently sour people, then it must have been a big deal to them. And if it meant a lot, then it was worth a lot, and if it was worth a lot, then there was always someone looking to capitalise and make off with the lot. Which meant there had to be a marine there to stop them. The Wild Tiger growled in frustration. Why oh why was his sense of duty so strong? Sometimes Dustin wished he wasn't the hero, wished he could be like some of his colleagues and let the people go about their business without supervision; sometimes he yearned to be of the opinion that the marines rolled in, swept up the mess and cut off the loose ends that were the bad guys before going away again to let the civilians recover by themselves. It was like one big circus act and the marines were the safety net - but from time to time the mammoth of a man longed to take the net away, and recycle it into a mop, a bucket and some soapy justice. "Oi- tha's no fish, tha's a guy!" Said a voice from the crowd, forcing Dustin's train of thought to come to an abrupt halt. He looked out to the boat again, and, sure enough, there was a hand around Sanmi's fishing rod - a human hand, connected to an arm, and, judging by the way it was very much alive, connected to a person under the waves. Dustin peered harder, and caught sight of a head bobbing in the blue. "Hundred beri says he drowns!" Piped up a voice, a surprisingly nubile voice, in the crowd. "Two hundred says he don't!" Piped up another, that seemed to be even younger than the first. "Be quiet both o' yous! Everyone knows Sanmi don't take passengers out ta' sea; you know the smart money's on the drowning!" Dustin was speechless. 'What a horrible town...' Though that didn't mean he wasn't short of thoughts. Suddenly picking the first island he saw didn't seem like such a good idea. He wondered how much face he could save if he got back on the boat when no one was looking and waited for the marines to depart as per usual. Then he wondered why he was being such a coward. Then he wondered why he kept wondering so much, and then his thoughts devolved into empty notions until something deep inside him told him that the right thing to do right now was to shout out and check if everyone was okay. Maybe it was in his blood - he was a marine through and through, after all. "Hey! Sanmi and the person in the sea! Need any help?" [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Deleted]

"You like my wh- ...get of my boat!" insist Sanmi, deciding mid-sentence not to be drawn in by Havoc's confusing return. He jerked the rod out of Havoc's hand and began trying to whack Havoc over the head with it and send him back to the depths, supposedly to the amusement of an enthusiastic flock of spectators standing at the pier. Their cheers and encourage towards the fisherman dissolved into the ambience of the personal struggle between Sanmi and Havoc.

Havoc was somewhat pinned, holding one arm over his head to defend it from the caning Sanmi was giving him with his tool of destruction. The other was holding firmly onto the side of the boat, it being the only this kept his weary and weighted body afloat. Havoc's arm quivered, his neural receptors confused and overloaded by the prickly-cold atmosphere of the North Blue air and the stingy-heat of the bruises and welts the rod was leaving on his arm. Havoc could feel his zeal floundering. His gripping hand began to buckle, which enticed Samni to stand up and real start putting his weight into the hits. The crowd was then incensed by the hometown hero's stance and began to scream with even more passion and hatred for the random floating stranger.

Both men glance towards shore when a stocky figure called out in spite of the crowd chanting "Drown Him! Drown Him!"

"Hey! Sanmi and the person in the sea! Need any help?"

Both men looked on bemused, both questioning with their eyes 'Why would I ever ask for help from the like of you!?'. Given the level of effort and energy their current situation demanded, neither man waste too much effort making sure this exact message was displayed perfectly through their disapproving scowls. The fisherman reared his head back into the tussle first, lifting the rod over his head to prod Havoc in the facial area, hopefully plucking out an eye or two.

As the old man raised his hands to give a deciding blow, Havoc saw his opportunity and gripped the canoe with both hands. He stopped trying to tread water and allowed his body to be immersed by the waves and plummet. He slipped under just before the rod could pelt him across the face. As his backpack-weighted body sank, his hands coerced the canoe to revolve and follow suit. Sanmi murmured and jostled erratically as he tried to keep his balance before finally behind tipped into the water. He emerged less than a moment later, flailing his limbs, clearly no where near as comfortably being in the water in full fishing gear as simply on it.

As he waddled he shifted his eyes this way and that trying to spot the annoying catch that would not stay off the boat, swatting at his life jacket to keep it down and out of view. The waters finally regained order, the ripples of his capsize succeeding and the unilateral waves continued to lap against the upturned canoe.

Havoc, under water, kicked as firmly as possible, rising up into the upturned canoe. He gasped as his head poke up in the small cocoon of trapped air. He blinked rapidly and starkly. In his head he already knew what he would do next, he just need to take a few seconds to enter a realm beyond time of his own. Havoc breathed in with a resounding and all-encompassing tranquilly. For that moment he dispelled the voices and message his body was accumulation at his brain; The notes from his arm that spoke of pain and necessity to be treated; The whines from his legs that spoke of tiredness; the groans from his back that spoke of the stress carrying the heavy backpack in water; the shrieks from his face that spoke of being very wet and very cold. The hollars from his eyes that alarmed him constantly of the marine outfit that was at the shore. He transition all these voices to mute to hear from the one voice that was actually processed by rational thoughts of the mind - the voice from his brain. The voice simply reminded Havoc of why his was in the water in the first place, and how, by comparison, these fleeting annoyances had no bearing on the situation that brought him hear.

With that in mind, Havoc dipped under water once more and made strokes to shift underneath the fisherman. Havoc clung at one of Sanmi's feet and pulled down, dragging him underneath. Used the guise of Sanmi's naturally flustered composure Havoc groped the fisherman._[1]. The fisherman eventually tussled back and pushed Havoc back. Havoc fell into the despair of a turtle when the weight on his back anchored his body front-side-up. He was forced to slip out of it and carry it in one arm. Sanmi thrust at the water erroneously, trying to make his way back to the surface. (In actuality the buoyancy of his jacket was down all the work. His uneducated flops were halting the process in all honesty, not helping.) He reached up a hand when the surface was coming into reach. Havoc clasped at an ankle with his free hand, ceasing Samni's rise less than an inch from the open air and pulled the man back into the deep. Havoc continued as he began, flustering the fisherman with his handsy invasion._[1] One of the oars, which had slipped out of it's holster in the mean time sank into range of the fisherman who gripped it and got in a solid swipe right across Havoc's face, cutting-dead the supply of adrenaline that was motivate most of his accelerated functions. Havoc floated in stasis for a moment, his hands becoming lacks and his mind adrift. He blinked back to reality, and looked around. He could no longer see the fisherman, but the life jacket was slowly rising to the surface as his bag sank down below. Havoc look between the two, trying to decided if he truly had the energy to swim down for the bag now and drag it all the way to the life jacket. He heart was also whimpering; he would need a breath soon. Havoc looked down at the bag and didn't fancy the odds. He turned back to the life jacket, putting it on and then slipped underneath the canoe again. Havoc tried to be ask quick as possible in getting enough air into his lungs and dived back under and looked around for the bag. He couldn't see it, however across the way Havoc could see ripples; the presence of someone swimming towards him. Havoc swam back up into the canoe for what would be his last time and pulled out one of his throwing stars and broke off a piece if the remaining oar. He tread water with his feet as he closed his eyes and tried to re-envision the view of the shoreline he had when looking at the marine and carved a vague diagram into the wood. Havoc finally dipped underneath and vanished from the scene.

"Help!" He-*blublub*-lp!" squealed Samni, randomly thrusting one of the five points on his body above water. The crowd, which had been aghast ever since the canoe rolled over suddenly began to panic, recognising that this act of peril was in fact not a fanciful and entertaining spectacle but actually of old-man Samni drowning. Immediately two of the stronger, bulkier townsfolk unveiled items of clothing before jumping in the blisteringly cold waters to help Samni.

SPOILER: Click to show

[1]Art of the Yatagarasu: Senzaku (Prying Shroud)
Havoc can place something on, or take something away from a person either in passing or the middle or another action while in melee range. The object has to be small and light enough to be taken with one-hand and for the mark not to feel the weight difference.
(Used to unbutton the fisherman's jack and eventually slip it off.)

[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i1090.photobucket.com/albums/i374/cf_icons/Tiger%20and%20Bunny/Kaburagi%20T%20Kotetsu/7.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]back against the wall[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]WITH THE STRENGTH OF A WILL AND CAUSE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]1186 WORDS[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]TAGGED: XAN[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]MUSIC[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]Shock! Horror! They didn't want his help! Dustin stared blank faced at out at the sea. How could this be? He was the hero. He was always needed, or so he had thought. And yet here he was, primed and ready to go, but alas the destination had rejected him. He frowned in his best attempt to hide his indignation, but probably ended up creating a rather more comical look than he had intended. What could he do but sit and stare and watch how things played out? That marine ship over there was looking really tempting right now… maybe it was better if he didn’t relax; maybe it was better if he just was on the job the whole time – at least then he didn’t have to deal with these truly ghastly people and their ways. Not wanting any help – pfft! He’d show them alright, just waiting by the phone for them to call when distressed and laugh evilly before slamming it down. Okay, so maybe he was being a little childish, but Dustin was truly hurt. “Hey look! Sanmi’s fallen in!” Dustin looked again out at the sea, peered harder into the greyish blue waters. Sure enough, the fisherman was no longer in his wooden boat, and a little more visual searching told the seaman recruit that there were now two faces bobbing about in the water, although from the looks of their expressions some sort of struggle was going on. Apparently, though, that didn’t matter to the people of Sedna Island, for a voice quickly chirped up, “New bet! 300 beri Sanmi drowns!” Which was quickly responded to with, “Pfft! He’s a fisherman; ‘course he can swim! 500 beri he don’t!” ‘I’m tired of this…’ Thought Dustin, wiping his face with his hand in dismissal of the frankly revolting natives of the island. He wouldn’t let them stress him out today, not any more, not any longer. He had work to do, it seemed – two people struggling in the sea was a cry for help, and Dustin wouldn’t play ‘deaf ears’ today: he was a marine; he had to help regardless of whether or not he wanted to. It was a shame sometimes, but if felt damn good a lot of the time. Although to be fair, it rained here sometimes, but it was cold a lot of the time too – ‘Storm clouds gathering…’ Maybe he’d enjoy it. He probably wouldn’t. No, no – he knew he wouldn’t. “Hang on, I’m coming to get you both!” Dustin sighed under his breath as he stepped back. It was clear by the way he ushered the crowd behind him that he was going to take a running leap into the sea and rescue the displaced fisherman. The people of Sedna may not have wanted a hero, but that wasn’t going to stop him from acting like one. Dustin took off his cap, throwing it deftly onto a tall section of the promenade’s low wall where it hung like a prize from a mantelpiece. However no prize was gained just yet; he still had to make it into the water. The ex-Captain’s muscles bulged as he got on his haunches: he was likely taking this far too seriously, but there was no room for frivolousness in the execution of a marine’s duty! He started to run, covering the distance between him and the low wall in a matter of seconds, his long legs eating up the space like candy. In no time at all Dustin’s foot found purchase on the wall and the seaman recruit leaped into the air, propelling himself with the strength of one iron leg. He ascended with alacrity; no doubt he’d look like a fine exhibit of the honed human known as athletes. The mammoth of a marine outstretched his arms and touched the tips of his fingers together in front of him as he prepared for the descent into the water. After arching his back the marine began to look a lot like a shark – or even one of those fishmen types one saw every now and then. Not that the Sednans were impressed. “900 beri he flops!” “SHUT UP ALREADY!” Gravity got up from its slumber having been sucker punched by the marine’s feats of incredible strength and started to act, bringing Dustin down with increasing speed. It was a perfect dive really, with nary a disturbance to the grey blanket of water he pierced with precision; arrow like in his carrying out of the acrobatics. Dustin rose to the surface, fate having timed it just so that he didn’t hear the new round of bets. Immediately he began searching for Sanmi – in his haste to get into the bracing water he’d overshot the distance by quite a way, meaning that he was actually further out to sea than both the fisherman and his odd catch. His brown hair, thoroughly soaked by now, flopped into his face, so in a way someone had won some money because of him. He parted it and spat the salty brine out before starting to look for the fisherman. Dustin swam a little rather than tread water; he didn’t want to spend any more time in this icy sea than he had to, and thus it was better to keep moving than to stay stationary. “HHEL-gurg-lre-rhg-rugr-LLP!” That intermittent gargling noise must have been Sanmi drowning! Zooming through the water, proving that he was as effective on land as well as in the sea, Dustin followed the noise. Luckily for him, drowning people aren’t too quiet about it and thus it was easy to listen out for the call again. In a few moments he had one hand on the old man’s body and one hand on his brow: the ex-Captain was performing the ubiquitous gesture used to ‘further’ your vision by placing one hand above his eyes while looking out at something. In this case, he was looking at the promenade, looking for an easy place to ‘dock’ the fisherman – the marine boat was much too large to swim around with Sanmi in but one hand, and the man needed urgent medical attention immediately. Using the same ‘periscope’ manoeuvre Dustin searched for the boat; it had since drifted quite a ways away from Sanmi during his little rescue mission. Meanwhile two other men had dived into the water, not to help Sanmi, as it had appeared, but rather to rob him of his possessions. When they said they were an emotionally cold people, they weren’t joking. ‘…Should have seen that coming.’ Dustin sighed. He did not relish the prospect of fending off two other people with one hand while in the water while trying to keep another man above the water. Already the situation was escalating; he needed to diffuse it as soon as he could – if he knocked out the men they’d drown too: Dustin certainly wasn’t going to carry three people back to shore in time to save them from pneumonia, or any other health complications like that. It was racking up, the difficulty setting: ironic, since this was no time for games. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Deleted]

Havoc swam for as long as his legs and arms could manage, but eventually, he felt forced to give in to the waves and the life jacket, merely doing what he could to stay awake and keep water from being flushed down his nose. The waves aimless ferried Havoc around the island. He sat in the water for some time, chanting to himself as he waited for the currently to get him as close to the shore as they would. His breathes were hard, being pumped in and out of an icy cold chest. His perspiration and respiration turned to humid vapour before leaving his throat.

In the end, Havoc didn't even make to shore by his own power. He was in the foetal position as the waters spewed him out on to
a wave cut platform round the other side of a cliff face to the port. He didn't move at first, but each successive wave teased and poked him, fondling the inside of his nostrils and slapping his cheek as he lay on the strandline. When he couldn't take the algid taunting any further Havoc rolled further across the gravel to be out of the wave of the waterline, but now he could see inland. He saw the embankment before him, and the fact it was not that high. He was so wrapped up in his personal hell of cold, wet scorn that he didn't even register the looming clouds and cackles that came with him. Unbeknownst to him, Havoc began to slowly reanimate only after the dark shroud cast by the dark, fluffy presence in the skies above enveloped him, as if the grim ominous shadow vitalised him, renewing his fortitude and strength. Havoc then marched up and over the hill during in the heart of the shroud lacking all grace and manifesting all lethargy. He dripped, leaving puddled masses in his step. His arms were left to hang from his shoulder, prey to the wind. His matty, salty hair drooped callously about his head and his face was ghastly. His eyes were baggy and blood shot, his cheeks pals and sickly thin. His lips turning colourless and shrivelling.

---

"Come on be quick. I want to take a look at the marine ship!" exclaimed one, running ahead.

"B-b-but mom said marines are scary..." pleaded the other, creeping behind and clinging against walls as they moved through the alleyways. This happened often, prompting the bigger of the two to stop and look back impatiently at the first to get him to hurry up. "They come and arrest you to throw you in a big fire in the sea to feed the Busaloo-Gustus!" he expressed whimsically.

"Hmm? Absolute Justice?" replied the first, not quite hearing the second properly.

"No, Busaloo-Gustus!" insisted the first. "It's the monster that takes your soul once the marines put a bounty on your head."

"Stop being such a baby! Something like that can't exist!"

"No please, it's true, honest. Let's turn back now, I don't want them to put anything on my head..." begged the latter. The first looked back as he ran on ahead.

"Ha-ha~! Big baby! I wish that monster was real, so then I could punch it in its face and send it and the marines back where they came from. I'm not afraid of any B-"

---

Havoc turned to view the object that crashed into his leg. As weak and strained as he was, he couldn't move with any great zeal or urgency, craning his upper body, revolving gradually and eerily to see a bug-eyed childlike face whimpering the letter 'B' while in a timid, snotty-nosed heap on the ground. Lightning blitz across the skies, illuminated Havoc's face from behind the matted veil for just a moment. He was still too numb to the cold and the catching pneumonia to respond to the weather in any way.

"Busaloo-Gustus!" screamed a young shrill voice, prompting Havoc to lift his head and see who it was. Something in this interaction caused the whimpering boy at his soggy feet and the other further down the road to scream really load. In his zombie-like mood, Havoc could do little more than groan meekly and lifelessly at the headache their voice boxes were giving him. Their shrieks pierced his drum and rippled crudely through his brain. He wailed, lifting his hands to his head as they ran away. Their voices soon faded, and once they left, Havoc came to the first sanctuary he could, a storage shed at the end of a farm plot. Havoc tried to nudge and shoulder barge the door. The door shook but did not budge. Havoc breathed heavily and slowly removed his jumper from around his upper body and balled it about his fist. He punched at a window pane over and over till it broke. He shifted as much of the pieces out the way as possible and crawled in. He saw a mound of Hay stack and he nestled in, taking off his clothes and snuggling in with a shiver as the weather did its work up above.

[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i1090.photobucket.com/albums/i374/cf_icons/Tiger%20and%20Bunny/Kaburagi%20T%20Kotetsu/32.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]out into the daylight[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT THROUGH IT ALL[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]1121 WORDS[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]TAGGED: XAN[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]MUSIC[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]"Okay guys, I don't want a scene so if you could just turn around an-" "LE'S TAKE 'IS STUFF!" "YEA GOOD PLAN BOSS." "..." Dustin was speechless. How could such an unfriendly people possess such zest for being hostile? It wasn't as if being unapproachable was enjoyable - at least not to his mind. Last the ex-Captain checked, most people tried to be considered at least a tiny part sociable, if not as sociable as they could possibly be. Save for recluses, of course, but recluses were at least civil about it - this lot were good for nothing but coveting and gambling! And they weren't even that good at gambling too... It was shameful. The brown haired seaman recruit nearly dawdled as the two men swam towards him; they were thuggish in appearance, being wider than the marine himself although considerably less tall. Like all the people on Sedna Island his clothing was grey, as if, despite his crude tones, he still managed to fit in with the anonymity, the sans-identity hate of the island. He surged through the water like a barge boat, as did his accomplice who, while also speaking in the same tones, was less of an egregious mistake than his ‘boss’. There wasn’t much Dustin could do that wouldn’t result in a bad situation for both parties. He was currently trying to avoid altercations, as they primarily took time away from the half-drowning Sanmi, and also gave time to the bone-biting chill of the water surrounding Sedna Island. He was an experienced marine, he could handle this… or so he told himself. Doubt, like the cold, was starting to seep through the ex-Captain’s clothing: soon it would reach his skin, soon it would reach his bones, then his heart, then his soul. His eyes fogged over with black as he sunk down into the water – that kicked up a fuss; he was much too alive for that! Dustin kicked back up to the surface, luck smiling down on him for he was now between the two thuggish Sednans. “Okay okay, you better leave us alone – this man is practically drowning already!” Said Dustin, gesturing to his load before gesturing back to the thuggish swimmers – the universal sign for ‘Feast your eyes on this! Accept the information I’m giving you!’ It would have worked too, but the brown haired seaman recruit appeared to be forgetting that Sedna Island was in the little corner of the universe that didn’t care about the universe; they positively shut their eyes to the seemingly obvious truth to the rest of the world: being sociable was a good thing and took no effort at all; not robbing the drowning was common sense; feasting eyes on information and accepting it went quickly and smoothly without any rousing of deep-seeded feelings of hate for old men who flopped about in the water like a fish out of it. In short, they heeded no warnings. In fact, they kicked the warnings back to whence they came, spurred on by their own garbled threats. The water, it seemed, was not the natural habitat for Homo Caudices – that is, the wild thuggish brute, as evidenced by its stunning ability to repeat what it just said earlier in an attempt to redirect the situation into the realms of comprehensible; away from the mires of higher thought and into the airy atmosphere of ‘any blockhead could figure this out’. "LE'S TAKE 'IS STUFF!" "YEA GOOD PLAN BOSS." "..." ‘Whaaaaaat...?’ Dustin was a gain lost for words. The men swam with more vigour than before, quickly closing the gap. The ex-Captain of the marines sighed. He didn’t want to have to enact his get out plan, but the situation had not been ameliorated as he’d hoped; the other party were steadfast in their position of blindly committing crimes not only in front of, but actually against an enforcer of the law. Still, he couldn’t do much else but wistfully pass breath through his teeth and regret the course of action he would have to take. It was not a decision Dustin took lightly either – his thoughts were struggling under the weight of the decision. ‘So… it has come to this… a shame – better not get any reprimands or I swear…’ It was clearly not something to be relished. In fact there was almost the threat of being chided for his actions – but violent force was the only way to get through to this species of human being, that somehow survived on this island. Alas, there was no place for dilly-dallying in the world of cut and dry marines. He could take action, or he could be passive and in this world the only good marines were the ones that took action; it was them that were deemed heroes, after all. “Well, I guess you asked for it. Sort of.” Muttered Dustin as the men swam closer. It was unfair, really, to strike during their efforts to reach the battleground, but it in the context of the combat it was probably justifiable – after all, the mammoth of a seaman recruit’s attack was in the protection of a civilian, who was about to be robbed by two thugs whilst drowning. As complex as the situation had gotten, Dustin had a rather simple answer for it. Beat up one of the bad guys and run away – the other one had to save his colleague, surely, which would give them enough time to make it to shore; where aid and the prospect of arrest lay in wait for his assailants. And so, as his hand sliced through the water with ease and guided the icy blue like a cloth into the eyes of the foremost waterborne thug the ex-Captain of the marines did not feel much remorse. The thug cried out in pain – apparently the boss thug for he said, “ARGH MY EYES!” Which was suitably followed up by, “BOSS. ARE YOU OKAY.” Which was suitably followed up by, “…” Dustin continued the fight, balling his hand into a fist and thrusting forward into the thug boss’ face. He heard the crunch as nose gave way to fist, then swept it away as his hand swept from the side into his opponent’s cheek. He had been aiming for the throat, but the typically feminine strike still did the job of discombobulating his target; Dustin’s hand was so large that it clipped the thug boss’ ear, leaving the mellifluous ringing of justice between them. He’d probably overdone it, but he had to be effective in all fairness. Besides, they’d totally asked for it. “GUH…” “BOSS. LET ME HELP YOU.” “…” Dustin said nothing and swam away. He was worried whatever those two had was contagious. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Deleted]

Havoc lay in the dampening barrow of harrow his body shivering, but not of chill, but of a troubled mind. He was stirring in his delusions and hallucinations. Havoc wasn't dreaming. The images in his head were to reminiscent and disjointed to even be considered a nightmare. In his subconscious, having finally been comfortable enough in this outland shed to go to sleep, Havoc was seeing images of a traumatic experience that was seemingly on the back-burner while he wafted through the icy waters which guided his decrepit body to Sedna.

He saw images; faces - glimpses of people he recognised as family. There was blood and fire, sprayed indiscriminately about each panel of this erratic picture show interlaced perfectly with times screams and wails.

"N~n... No~... N-n-no..." murmured Havoc. His mind was so far gone he had no assurance that this actually the phrase his mouth formed. A presence slowly moved into position over Havoc. It didn't touch him, but studied him, checking the stranded con man for signs of discord or worry. Lightning flashed in the air once more and as the sky light up, so did Havoc's eyes. He looked at the presence for less than an instant before moving into auto-pilot. Havoc pounced against the presence, dropping him to the ground on his back, with a shuriken at voyeur's neck._[1] Even in the roughest of times, Havoc had the practice and sense of mind to put up what little weaponry he had left in a place that was easily accessible.

"Woah-Woah-Woah!" exclaimed the voiced hurriedly. Looking into Havoc's primal aggressive clear with shock and fright. "Havoc! HAVOC! Calm down! It's me! Look carefully! Think!" the presence urged, nervously over the blade nuzzling into his neck. Havoc scrutinized the man's face and unwittingly pulled his head back as he began to remember. The sensation was eerie and confusing. Havoc was beginning to remember things he didn't know he forgot. Havoc's eye's search the scared witless face he had pinned down, his mind coming to a conclusion that his heart found hard to accept.

"C...Chova?" whimpered Havoc, uttering the label that came to mind. The presence smiled, albeit nervously and shook his head rapidly.

"Hey... man... glad I found you... you think you could...?" mumbled Chova meekly, pointing to the shuriken. Havoc paused for a moment before pulled back and giving Chova room. Chova rubbed his neck and coughed, having been unable to breath properly in fear of Havoc's blade piercing his neck. Havoc lay back against the wall of the shed, looking a complete loss, running a hand through his hair.

"What the hell was that man? Something crazy got into you. You can't even recognised your own partner?" whined Chova, still rubbing but looking on at Havoc displeased.

"Partner...?" parroted Havoc softly. "No...no-no-no, I... I work alone; Only me... I..." rambled the out-of-wits thief. Chova looked on at him silently with a face full of concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeing that Havoc continued to mumble to himself. Chova came over to Havoc who immediately stood to his feet and pointed his shuriken Chova's way, warning him to come no further. Chova stopped immediately and held up his hands signifying he meant no harm.

"You- y-y-y-you're not my... partner? No I... I..." rambled Havoc, searching for the definitive answer. Chova swallowed some spit before he began to talk, inching forward towards Havoc.

"Think back very carefully over the last two years. I've been around. All this time. Bailing you out when you get in too deep. How do you think you could survive half the stunts you pull if you were on your own?" explained Chova in as tranquil and easy a voice as possible.

"The Baratie Swindle," intercepted Havoc, his eyes literally scanning his memories from left to right.

"Yes, where you baited two rival crews to meet at the Baratie while you stole from their ships. I was the one on lookout that whole time, making sure you had enough time to get everything you needed." explained Chova. Havoc cross-referenced the memory, and in disbelief, found the man's words to be true. This went back and forth a few more times, before Havoc finally gave in. By this time Chova was in arm's reach and slowly gripped Havoc's shuriken-wielding hand and lowered it. "It's me. Welcome back." he mused nervously.

"How...how did we get here? I... can't... remember..." requested Havoc, slumping back down once more. Chova gave an ominous look before turning away to one of the shelves in the shed.

"Don't worry about that for now. You don't seem like you're in the right frame of mind to be taking in anything else. The sea's obviously weren't kind to you. Rest, rejuvenate. It's been a long and harrowing day... but as always it all starts back up again tomorrow my friend." instructed Chova as he looked through the animal food the owner had stocked. He turned back with one particular can in hand. "Get some sleep... and try not to spring out and kill me when you wake up." he rebutted, still a little unnerved by Havoc's entire episode. Havoc's face was trembling, unnerved. Chova was correct; everything Havoc had suddenly remembered up until know was a lot to take in considering the circumstances, but it was hard for him to let go of his curiosity. He lay his head back down in the hay as lightning flashed once more.

In the morning, it would all make sense.

SPOILER: Click to show

[1]Art of the Yatagarasu: Senzaku (Prying Shroud)
Havoc can place something on, or take something away from a person either in passing or the middle or another action while in melee range. The object has to be small and light enough to be taken with one-hand and for the mark not to feel the weight difference.

[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i1090.photobucket.com/albums/i374/cf_icons/Tiger%20and%20Bunny/Kaburagi%20T%20Kotetsu/50.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -3px;]had i seen it in your eyes[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]THERE'D HAVE BEEN NO TRY AFTER TRY[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]821 WORDS[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]TAGGED: XAN[/style][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]MUSIC[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]It was sopping wet! It was huge! It was angry! It came from the deep! One hand hauled two bodies onto the rough concrete; the abrasive unwelcoming stone was befitting for the island and its people and as Dustin felt solid ground for the first time in a few minutes - which had decided to mess around and play eternity - he started to wonder about the reaction his heroism would elicit from the so far incredibly tough crowd. Although if first impressions were anything to go by, the people would just look at their friend Sanmi in his non-dead state and shrug and tell the mammoth of a marine to stop staring at them; it was rude to do so. "He's alive, just barely. And so am I. More barely than he is but yunno... sort of tired?" Mumbled the seaman recruit to the crowd. He dared not look at their expressions. Instead, he left the fisherman on the promenade for them to treat, if they so wished. He sighed. He'd have preferred to just leave it all behind, go away and do something else - like the thing he'd actually come here to do: relax. And yet while he'd accepted that such a thing would not be on the cards today, he certainly hadn't ruled out the possibility of finding some respite from the world tomorrow. Dustin was certain he wasn't going back on the ship for a good few weeks. It was his time off, and they were going to make him take a break - regardless of if he wanted to. Dustin picked up his hat from the little bollard on which he left it. It was dry, enticingly so; enough for the brown haired ex-Captain to place it on his head without a word; only a contented half-smile would be enough to do his trusty cap justice. But the smile was a ruse. Dustin was not happy. He was incensed. Those people behind him (for he had since turned to pick up the hat from its position) were not to be interacted with. He had to sign off, tell them that he was done with this. They made him feel like some sort of half-alive zombie and he was done with dying. The graveyard would not be where he spent his vacation. He would make sure of that. His bones weren't dry yet - his little watery excursion had ensured that: furthermore there was some semblance of passion pumping around his body; flesh and blood that would keep him fully alive for the foreseeable future. In the near future, he would turn around and address the crowd, who were no doubt watching the seaman recruit and placing bets on whatever action he was going to do next - hell, he could hear them doing it. Still, their gambling problems weren't going to stop Dustin - as evidenced by his speech. "Anywho, screw all you guys - have fun being bitter and miserable and whatever crap you do." He said, the venom almost dripping off of his words as he spoke acerbically. He turned his back on the world of cold people and cold morals - it had nothing for him. It was said that you couldn't feed your body on misunderstandings of love, but the mammoth of a marine was almost assured that he would starve of said emotion's rejection. Dustin trudged, even his strong shoulders slumped down with the weight of the demons that plagued him. He needed rest... He needed escape. Dustin began to pick up the pace. His amble turned into a brisk stroll. The hairs on his neck stood on end - was this to be a thriller? He felt a chill, the breath of the distant Sednans brushing over the back of his head, causing the seaman recruit to bristle with cold. What was that chasing him? What was that chasing him? 'What is that chasing me?!' Whatever it was, it was coming closer. Dustin's soaked clothes felt as if they were made from lead as he tried desperately to run away. He was now in a full sprint to who-knew-where: as long as it wasn't where he was then it was better than what doomsday denizens had greeted him when he had arrived on the island. The wind kept howling. Dustin kept running. But what was chasing him was always coming closer; it was simply biding its time, simply waiting for the ex-Captain to slip up and fall into its black hole clutches. It mocked the brown haired marine, whispering its name like a sordid prayer in his ear, in his mind in his soul - there was no escape from the predator. There was no escape from the truth. He was pale. The sky was now a black sea. And through the windows of the booths from which the hotelier worked, they saw the once proud seaman recruit; Drowning. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Deleted]

The shiver trickled devilishly against Havoc's spine. He was in the limbo beyond the world of the living but before the world of dreams. His mind, which had turned against itself some time before he washed up in this unforgiving land refused to let go and pass through the numbness into an open dream less the Ego in its need to please the desires of the heart, clutch a reel of history locked up by the Super Ego and broadcast it on the screen of visions while the Super Ego lay powerless in slumber to stop it. All the while the Id lay crumpled in a foetal position in a barrel of hay quivering, not in response to the cold, the wet or the wet cold. It shivered in fright of the struggle manifesting between the other two factors of Havoc's personality.

The Id had been suffering for years, Havoc unaware of how his actions had tormented this third of himself. It had been born with the inherent function to protected Havoc, to make him function instinctively and with an inherent morality and law. With each passing scam, as Havoc tried to descend to higher reputations and challenges as a deceiver of others, he had to chip away at this inherent 'good', mutilating even, to reach a point where he could be false by nature. The fight continued, clashing with the fragile balance of the limbo. The weather which seeped in through the broken window did nothing to appease Havoc's splintered mind and with one ferocious crackle of thunder, the Id, the Ego and the Super Ego flinch in fear like a rabbit to the sound of a predator.

In that instant, Havoc was awake, his eyes trying to open, yet asleep, his mind filling the unsorted memories from his personal box of chaos.

He was on a ship. A familiar ship.

"...the...The Shining Wizard..." uttered the sentient part of Havoc, highlighting the name that flickered in the ember glow, half smeared on the port-side of the ship. The impure light resonated from an abundance of fires sprouting from various parts of the ship. A full-circle swivel established that for Havoc. He was aghast, none of it being new in memory, but still struck a chord of horror in him. This ship, it belonged to a crew Havoc had been tail-gating, one he planned to leave behind soon enough.

As if in response to his heart demanding to know the caused of this sudden tyranny, Havoc saw a collective of the crew run from the rear towards a figured that burst from the flames at the figure head. The figure stood silhouetted impossibly against the flames, that set the scene for battle. Havoc could tell instantly and instinctively that they was a defiant, unrepentant demeanour to this being, something the other crew members felt as the charged into battle against him.

On after another the figure slew the crew as it it already knew exactly how to strike, where they were weakest, where they were most vulnerable. Havoc blinked, his eyes welling up with tears brought by anger rather than sorrow. He knew these movements. He knew them well. They were his. Havoc moved to chase after the figure which left the crew for dead on the fire. He paused as he stood among them. He knew he couldn't help them now, this was just a dream, but it was hard to pass them by even from the 'other side'. The inferno suddenly spurred, fanning it's terrific blaze in an instant. The figure had reach the summit of the ship, the crow's nest. Havoc's eyes widened as the figure lambasted the pirate flag with a new symbol. With his symbol before looking back at the chaos and jumping off into the waters.

Havoc ran to the side of the ship and began to scream in vein within the vision, calling out profanities and threats of malice and vengeance, trying to taunt the marine to returning to the ship and facing him. This crew; they were good people, as good as pirates can get. He took what he saw as a show that someone was after him; that someone was giving him a calling card of mockery and dishonour, using the crew as a sacrifice. If that be the case this torment psychotic Havoc was more than ready to accept the challenge, even if he was to go down in a fictitious blaze of glory. His words we falling on imaginary deaf ears. Realising that interaction was prohibited in this vision, Havoc looked about the deck for his own apparition, the version of him within the dream, which saw this first hand. He looked in the water, to see a bug-eyed familiar face wallowing in the water.

The lips were mouthing something. Havoc stared out to himself trying to figure out what he was trying to say while he kept repeating it over and over. He could feel himself deciphering it, getting closer and closer to the answer, as he grazed it with his fingertips the flames lit up a powder keg below deck filling Havoc's field of vision in a glistening white.

---

"...voc...Havoc...HAVOC!!" snapped a voice flooding Havoc's ears.

"I'm sorry!" cried Havoc allowed and haphazardly. That was the phrase he was chanting in the waters watching the inferno, however he wasn't alone in cool waters watching a roaring fire. He was in the arms of Chova whiel there was a knocking at the door of the shed.

"Who's in there!? Come out, before I get my gun!" riled a voices from the outside. Havoc looked to the door still in shock, not able to recognised the morbid yet definitive light of the sun through the window or the urgent aura of his situation. Chova scooped up and threw Havoc's clothes at his stilled frame.

"Come on! Wake up! We have to go!" crackled Chavo frantically. Havoc recognised it must have been the owner. Chavo pointed to hole in the back of the shed and kicked out the planks surrounding it to create a crawl space. Havoc, finally getting to grips, scurried out as he put his still somewhat damp clothes back on. As he escaped, a snippet of cloth caught against a jagged piece of broken wood. By the time the farmer burst through the propped up barn door, any presence of a stowaway had gone... but for a crimson piece of cloth dangling from a hole and the busted window pane of glass sprinkled against the ground.