A breath of relief left Alonso’s lips as he watched the bullet pierce the strange creature’s watery form. He had taken out a lot of people and a lot of creatures in his time, but this was the first time he fired into something that seemed to be completely made out of water.
Before he squeezed the trigger, there was a fleeting thought that entertained the possibility of failure. That the bullet would simply pass through the thing, or like most bullets that passed through liquid it would slow to the point where it wouldn’t do enough damage. So when the bullet passed through the creature’s head and watched as it’s head splattered and scattered first before the rest of it’s body followed suit, he felt nothing but relief.
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Alonso called as he cocked the rifle in his grip. A few seconds later, another one of those creatures attempted to climb up onto the deck. Unfortunately for it, Alonso who now standing fully upright was ready for it and the second it’s head came into view squeezed the trigger.
Unfortunately, at that exactly moment, the ship lurched underneath him and caused him to topple and shift the barrel of his rifle slightly. Instead of hitting it’s head the bullet passed through its shoulder. Alonso watched as the creature reeled back in pain once the bullet impacted and tore through it, but quickly recovered. The creature’s body shook before it turned it’s sights on Alonso and opened it’s mouth to let out an angry ear-piercing shriek.
Alonso could see the space around the creature’s mouth vibrate as the sound traveled through the air and Alonso’s shoulder hunched over in pain and he was nearly brought to his knees. However, he fought through it as best as he could. With trembling hands he raised his gun, squared his shoulders, put the butt of the gun against his left shoulder, and took a deep breath.
He took a second to train his sight on the center of creature’s head and aimed right between the eyes. The ship rocked around him and the water sloshed onto the deck, but Alonso was determined and did not move. “Shut the hell up you son of a bitch…” he muttered under his breath before he squeezed the trigger and shot off the creatures head just before the ship rocked enough to knock him off his feet.
He was putting a lot of faith in Alonso, but he didn't have much of a choice. He knew the other man was one of the best shots he'd ever met -- and that was saying something, because Remy had met a lot of people -- but he was also one of the more reliable shots he'd met.
For a pirate crew, most of the people were surprisingly loyal. Maybe their willingness to fold newcomers in had more to do with their Captain than their natural inclinations, but either way, Remy was glad for it at times like these. He didn't have to do nearly as much leg work to endear himself to this crew as he had The Seawolf's, and it's nice to know that he's going to be covered while he steers them to safety.
If safety is what's waiting at the end of the tunnel, anyway. He can see more of the water creatures in the distance, rising up from the waters like the swell of a wave, and he knows that going back out into the deep waters is not an option. Not unless he wants the beasts to tear apart their ship and wreck it against the shallows like they have every other ship, anyway.
He grits his teeth, yanking hard on the wheel to avoid a patch of bar in the water, and shouts, "Watch your step, DeSoto! Our girl can't bank worth a damn!"
He can feel the hull scraping against sand and ground beneath them and clenches his jaw, hard, when he thinks of the damage that's being done. The muscles in his arms strain against where the wheel is fighting him, and he sends up a quick hope and a prayer that Maxine is still down in the engine room, keeping an eye on things and keeping them gunning forward as he drags The Spectre further and further into the harbor.
It's not quite the safe landing he wanted, but he knows the moment he well and truly runs them aground. The force of the impact knocks him off his feet, boots skidding out behind him as he clings to the wheel for dear life and struggles to hold it straight, and he smashes his jaw hard against water-slick wood.
"Going to leave a mark," he gasps, finally losing his fight and dropping back, watching the wheel cut wildly as the ship propels forward and buries itself in the thick, wet sand of the coast.
It's eerily silent once the ship groans and settles, and he forces himself to his feet on unsteady legs. His first priority is getting his pistol out and ready, and it's drawn as he turns, scanning behind him for more signs of the creatures. He can see them, bobbing and retreating into the water as the waves ripple out into the ocean, but he doesn't hear them anymore.
Still, he doesn't lower his pistol. "DeSoto?" He calls, brow furrowed, and amends, "Alonso? You still with me?"
