Sketch time with the Adventures!AU Bad Batchers (plus Shadow and Trev)! Tried tweaking the proportions slightly to allow for better silhouettes, but also wanted to give them some clothes for the OtaGS Remaster (which is coming to a fanfic site near you in like 2040 lol). ALSO wanted to add in elements of their critter DNA, at least for the Batchers. Shadow and Trevor are original species of mine. Hunter is Karkadon (with coloration inspo being a tiger shark), Crosshair is a nexu, and Wrecker is a jungle rancor (hence the greenish tint)! Tech be part cyborg lol
Close ups below!
Reblogs/comments/favs are greatly appreciated! Just plz don't repost, I really don't want to watermark over my art ;-;
A bit of What if...?, featuring Shadow if they stuck around the ship after the events of Anachronism and ended up becoming one of Allan's core trusted group+Allan's apprentice. Outside of Tom, Shadow is the only one Allan really trusts to get things done (though he still keeps them away from the really dirty work). Bit of a father/deranged goblin child dynamic.
With my confidence increasing in art, I'm testing the waters with styles and also trying to get better at my self-insert. Plus old men lol, they have so many damn lines on their faces. Also gave Allan some hair on his arms and the backs of his hands so that's fun lol
Read Ch 11: Anarchist Animals from the story Anachronism (Adventures!AU Prequel) by Shadow7567 (Adventures!AU Director...
Another week, another chapter! We pick up right where we left off, and things go downhill pretty quick. But, it's lore accurate to my own fighting style! :D
CW: Graphic canon-atypical violence, mild descriptiveness of brewing panic attacks.
"Fact is, boss," Allan said, speaking up and trying to keep his voice uninterested. "Even if the kid is loony." He ignored the offended look Shadow sent his way. "She knows too much to be let go."
Both about the current hunt and about Scarlett.
"I say we take her on board, just make sure she doesn't decide to slip away and warn anyone."
"You mean to bring her aboard the ship? That is no place for a woman to step foot," Sakharine scoffed.
"I'll show you where I'd like to place my foot," Shadow muttered.
"Tell me then, boss," Allan said, ignoring Shadow. "What would you suggest? Kidnappin' holds quite a lighter sentence compared to murder."
"You always result to baser urges, but why should I be surprised?" Sakharine retorted, earning himself a fierce glare from Shadow.
That's it. Drive her right to me. Dig yourself deeper in this hole.
"We discussed this earlier, boss," Allan said, letting his voice harden. "Shadow's not for the crew to pass around. Thought I made that clear."
See, kid? You can trust me. You want to trust me. I'll keep you safe. I'm the better option. Not him. Me.
"What other reason would you want a young woman on the ship?"
Allan asked with a lazy gesture at Shadow. "You plan to just let her run free?"
Sakharine shook his head in disgust. "Of course not. She would remain here, we have rooms to lock her away in."
Allan glanced at the broken window in unison with Shadow and Tom. "Sure, sure. But don't really think you want to leave Nestor alone with Shadow 'ere. Kid packs a punch, and those teeth are wickedly sharp."
Sakharine raised a brow. "And who, pray tell, would manage her on the ship?"
Allan gestured to his crewmate. "Tom. She's sweet on 'im anyway, kept lettin' 'im off light during the brawl this morning."
"And what if she sabotages the ship?" Sakharine demanded.
"She's wild, not insane," Allan replied. "Only a fool would destroy a ship while they're on it in the middle of the Atlantic with no help for miles." He slipped into a persuasive tone. "Think about it. She can't call for help, and she'll be under guard at all times so she won't be able to damage anything. Bringing her aboard is the best course of action."
Sakharine narrowed his eyes, then moved away to ponder the suggestion.
As he turned his back, Shadow shot Allan a questioning look as her head tilted ever so slightly. There was still anger there, but a new dose of worry and mistrust.
The "committed" comment from his boss must have gotten to her.
I won't toss you in there, kid. I want you right here where I can get that knowledge out of your head.
Besides, throwing someone in an asylum to be committed rested at the very bottom of his list for punishments toward his enemies. He'd seen the inside of those hellholes.
Animals sold for slaughter received better treatment.
Keeping his face neutral lest Sakharine turned around and caught him, Allan gave Shadow a quick wink.
Her brows lifted before furrowing once more, this time in thought.
He gestured subtly for her to remain calm, hand relaxed and palm parallel with the floor. "Relax," he mouthed.
She scanned him again, but he saw her ears twitch before she looked back at Sakharine.
I'll take that as you understand what I'm doing.
Allan shot a glance at Tom, making sure the man wasn't close to passing out from shock. He stood near Shadow, but leaned on a table with his brows furrows and eyes shifting rapidly from side to side as they often did when he struggled to process something.
Allan moved to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. Tom jumped under it, but just nodded without making eye contact and rested his hand over Allan's.
Shadow had been watching Sakharine mutter to himself by the window, irritation in those blue eyes, but now she looked between Allan and Tom with concern.
Why do you have a soft spot for Tom?
And why do I have a weird feeling it's related to Scarlett?
Tom nodded, offering a weak smile before staring at the ground again.
Shadow didn't look convinced, turning to Allan for reassurance with a quizzical, worried furrow on her brow.
Allan just gave her a subtle nod.
He's fine.
Some of the worry left Shadow's face, but she still watched Tom carefully for any signs of collapse.
"You said you knew this... movie script by heart?" Sakharine called from the window.
Shadow huffed. "Need hearin' aids, old man? Aye."
Sakharine shot her a hateful glare but returned to his ponderings.
Shadow rolled her eyes ,but her expression softened once more when it returned to Tom. Her hand moved, starting to reach out, but uncertainty flooded her face and she dropped it back to her side.
Fighting with words and fists and feet and teeth is in your comfort zone, but comforting someone requires stepping outside that bubble?
No matter, he could use her uncertainty to his advantage. He needed to show she could look to him to lead if she found herself on uneven ground. And the best way to encourage that was to reward it with support when she stumbled.
He shifted behind her and nudged her closer to Tom.
Shadow glanced at him but stepped to Tom's side. Waiting, she leaned on the table next to him and pressed her leg against his.
Tom patted her leg without looking. "I'm fine."
"Can you cease your mutterings? I am trying to think," Sakharine snapped at them, gaze trained on the window.
Satisfaction ran through Allan at Shadow's venomous look, although the low growl from her caused a bit of concern for two reasons.
A, humans did not make noises like that. Not normal ones at least.
B... it reminded him way too much of Scarlett.
Tom seemed to think the same, glancing at Shadow with slight surprise before looking at Allan over her head. "You hear that?" he mouthed, indicating Shadow with his eyes.
Allan nodded.
Tom glanced again at Shadow, a thoughtful look on his face now.
Shadow... really had a lot of parallels to Scarlett.
An androgynous, freckled face with blue eyes that varied between more green and more blue depending on her mood.
A sharp tongue and wit that always had a creative flare.
Odd little behavioral quirks more animal than human.
Reliance on biting and kicking in fights.
Disdain for authority and those who threw their weight around.
Brash and reckless actions spurned by strong emotions.
And...
A willingness to help Allan and his men rid themselves of an occupying force.
Something weird was going on here.
"Hmm," Sakharine mused finally, snapping Allan's attention back to the present. "She would certainly be a liability."
Did Shadow wince?
A new wave of apprehension that had nothing to do with Scarlett rose in Allan's throat.
Physical setbacks were one thing, behavioral quirks were one thing, emotional insecurities were one thing... but emotional scarring? Far harder to plan for, and therefore harder to control. People with trauma in their past, even those with the most steadfast personalities, could turn in an instant if you hit a sore spot. Older men may be able to keep a lid on the boiling water, but as young as Shadow was...
He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. Shadow at first glared at the hand, shifting away slightly, but she relaxed somewhat when he added pressure.
Sakharine continued, voice grating out through clenched teeth, "But as much as it pains... me to admit it, Allan, you are correct."
Oh, I hope it eats you alive having to step down off your high horse to give me any sort of credit.
Sakharine turned to face them again, a grimace on his face like he just smelled something unpleasant. "Perhaps spending time with your men would teach her some manners."
Shadow looked less than impressed about the comment, one brow raised as her nose wrinkled in disdain. Tom also looked irked, scoffing quietly with a shake of his head.
As for Allan, it took everything not to laugh as he knew damn well his men would only make Shadow worse, not better.
A rough around the edges lot with a laundry list of crimes ranging from petty theft to gruesome premeditated murder of the first degree, they certainly wouldn't be used as shining beacons of morality any time soon.
"Very well," Sakharine said firmly, strolling back to them. "Get her aboard by any means necessary. Should she struggle or resist, remind her of her position in this."
Careful, boss, Allan thought, catching sight of the anger sparking to life in Shadow's eyes as she pulled from his grasp. She just might have a go at you, and I won't be pulling her off your bony carcass. Not right away at least.
He still needed the self-important geezer.
For now.
"Do not look at me like that," Sakharine said with mock remorse as he stepped closer to Shadow, who again stepped forward to meet the challenge.
Allan grabbed the back of Tom's belt as the man quickly stood, just in case the man dove headlong into the resulting fray. Tom shot him an annoyed look as Allan pulled him back, but the first mate shook his head in warning.
Don't get involved, you'll make things worse.
"I offered you civility first," Sakharine continued. "But I'm afraid you've proven yourself unworthy of such grace."
Shadow narrowed her eyes, a snarl revealing her teeth. "Fuckin' bite me."
Yeah, the boys are going to love you.
"Such foul language. But I'm sure, in time." Sakharine tilted her chin up with his left hand, forcing Allan to tighten his grip on Tom's belt. "You will see the error of your ways."
Bad idea.
Shadow's eyes drifted down. "Ya know," she drawled, voice unnervingly calm in a manner that sent alarm bells ringing in Allan's head. "In karate, they didn't teach me to make the first move." Her gaze lifted, eyes colder than ice. "They taught me to make the last."
CRUNCH.
Allan knew she'd bite him, and bite hard, but he didn't expect her to bite clear through his thumb!
Fucking hell!
The older man shrieked in agony, snatching his hand to his chest as thick, dark blood seeped from between his fingers. He leveled an enraged glare at Shadow. "You savage bitch!"
Shadow spat the severed thumb onto the red-splattered tile floor. "You talked to me like a dog," she snarled, a wild look entering her eyes as she bared her teeth in a borderline psychotic grin. "So I bit you like one!"
The gears spun in Allan's head as he grabbed Tom's arm and dug his heels in to hold the shorter but stronger man back.
Shadow was more or less at ease with Allan and his men, joking with them even during the fights. She hadn't struck with intent to seriously harm when fighting Allan or his men, even when a gun and a knife got involved. She let Allan and his men more or less manhandle her, with only mild retaliation if she reacted at all.
She barely tolerated Sakharine before this, detestation in her gaze now as she glared at him. She took off a finger just now with Sakharine, just because the man talked down to her and touched her face. That single touch from Sakharine was enough to earn a very painful wound.
Shadow wasn't after the treasure, nor after Sakharine's money and power. There was no loyalty there, no respect. Nothing to win her to the aristocrat.
But Allan...
That was another story entirely.
He finally let go of Tom, quickly stepping in between Sakharine and Shadow to prevent any more attacks. Predictably, Tom immediately went to Shadow and stood protectively by her side with an arm held out in front of her, barring Sakharine from her with a fierce glare usually reserved for men on Tom's hit list.
Tom, it's not Shadow's health you need to be worried about. She's got murder in her eyes and I don't really feel like finding out tonight if she's got the stomach to actually commit.
"You have overstepped, and this will not... go unpunished," Sakharine hissed, tears streaming from his eyes as more blood pooled on the black and white tile flooring. His words came in broken segments, chest heaving. "Rabid strays... like you deserve nothing more than to be put down... like the animals you are!"
Allan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and quickly wrapped it tightly around the injured hand. "I'll deal with her, boss," he grunted, somewhat concerned about how much red stained his own hands.
He's goin' to need to go to the ER with this!
Allan looked at Shadow, anger seeping through. He said she could bite him, not amputate a finger! What was she thinking? Had she thought at all?
Her gaze stopped him from yelling, however.
Those blue eyes held rage and hatred, yes, but also... confusion. They drifted to the thumb on the floor then to Sakharine's bloodied hand. Her mouth moved as she tasted the blood dripping from it, a slightly haunted look briefly passing over her face before she shook herself and glared at Sakharine again with a low growl.
Still think this is a dream?
"See that you teach that... wench some manners," Sakharine seethed, gritting his teeth against the pain as he pushed Allan away. "Because if you won't... I'll see to it that... my men do."
The louder, angrier growl that came from Shadow just barely classified as human, and she ducked around Tom's arm and headed for Sakharine again. Tom did nothing, a morbid and savage sort of eagerness in his dark eyes.
Damn you, Thomas! Keep her out of this before she digs herself deeper!
Clamping a hand on Shadow's shoulder to halt her, leaving a crimson handprint on her grey shirt, Allan barked, "Enough!"
Shadow's wild eyes didn't leave Sakharine, reddened teeth still bared, but she also didn't snap at Allan's hand despite being well within range. Nor did her hands grab his wrist. Nor did her leg move to nail him south of the belt.
Allan tested the waters, slowly pushing her back towards Tom. It took some pressure, but she did eventually step back.
"Tom," he ordered, pushing her one last time before letting go. "Get 'er back to the car."
"Can I find a sink first?" Shadow asked, spitting out more blood. "I don't wanna catch whatever STD that fuckwit is carrying."
"Should have thought about that before you bit his finger off!" Allan retorted, but nodded to Tom.
She yielded more easily with him, shooting one last glare at Sakharine before following Tom as he pulled her by her upper arm out of the room.
Allan turned to Sakharine. "You need to get that checked by a doc, boss," he said, trying to tend to the man's hand again.
The bastard was no use to him if he bled to death.
Sakharine sent a venomous glare after Shadow as he pushed Allan away. "I should have... that mongrel arrested for assault!"
"She could also have the lot of us arrested for kidnapping and extortion," Allan reminded him.
"Then we will... have to find another punishment fitting... for that savage animal. Perhaps a muzzle, since she wants to be so..." He sucked in a pained breath. "Rabid. Or a night in that cage."
Not if I can help it. Treat someone like a beast and don't be shocked when they decide to prove you right.
"Take away her teeth and you may find she has other methods of ruinin' your day," Allan remarked. "But I'll handle her. You really should go to a doc for that injury, human spit is notorious for causin' infections."
"At a public hospital? The last thing I need to do is give that FBI agent a trail to sniff out," Sakharine spat. "No, I have connections. He will attend to me here."
"Suit yourself, boss," Allan said with a shrug as the man staggered out of the room, screaming for his butler.
"Sir."
Allan jumped with a curse, shocked to find Nestor standing nearby.
He didn't particularly care for the man, but also didn't feel any hostility either. Nestor had enough sense to keep his mouth closed and not question the strange visitors his master had, which Allan could certainly respect.
What Allan didn't respect, however, was how easily the man snuck up on him. It'd been years since someone crept up on him so easily. Worse... Allan could have sworn the man wasn't even in the room until... just now.
"Shouldn't you be attending to your master?" Allan demanded.
Nestor, unnervingly, didn't comment but just kept staring at him.
"What is it?" Allan growled, heart still racing.
"Do keep an eye on the young lady." Despite his age and sleepy look, Nestor's eyes glinted as sharply as a steel blade. "Her headstrong nature may lead her to make a rash decision. It would be unwise to leave her unattended."
"Keep her away from Sakharine and don't let the man catch her alone."
Allan turned to leave. "Don't concern yourself. My men won't let 'er outta their sights."
"It would be best." Nestor paused. "She trusts you."
Allan stopped and faced him. "What of it?"
"Take care not to lose it."
Did... his eyes just go green?
"She would be a very dangerous enemy."
Yes, his eyes were definitely green now.
"Even Scarlett would look harmless next to her."
What!?
The green faded, but the chill in Allan's bones remained. It only worsened when Nestor gave him a confused look.
"Everything alright, sir?"
"What did you just say?"
Nestor frowned. "It would be best not to let her out of your sight?"
Not that, the other thing!
But Nestor wasn't the sort to play games, so Allan had no doubt the man genuinely did not recall...
Whatever just happened.
"Right," Allan muttered, heading for the door so Nestor didn't spot the look of alarm spreading across his face.
He didn't care for that spooky incident.
Not one bit.
That was the first time he'd heard Scarlett's name from anyone outside his men aside from Shadow but she didn't exactly count given her god-like knowledge.
Nestor knew nothing, nothing about Scarlett. Allan never mentioned her to Sakharine, and none of the crew that Scarlett interacted with had spoken to Sakharine without Allan nearby.
No one knew of Scarlett.
Except for Shadow and...
Trevor.
Who also had green eyes.
Allan stopped dead in his tracks, an odd combination of horror and confusion swelling in his chest.
He'd been certain the man was an Alphian thanks to his lightning attack from earlier, but now?
Alphians, at least what little he knew of them, didn't possess people. Scarlett could stalk people's dreams and take them out, but only when the other person was asleep!
At least... Allan thought Scarlett had that ability.
He swore he knew more about Alphians when Scarlett was around, but now he could recall less and less with each passing day. Whole chunks of information, vital information, just... gone. What little remained was almost too hazy or foggy to be of any use.
He did remember one thing, however.
Scarlett was a force that ordinary people were ill-equipped to deal with. Especially if you had no idea what an Alphian was.
Trevor had to be an Alphian, but the possible possession suggested he had another species in him. Alphians weren't the only aliens running around, Allan knew, and if Alphians could interbreed with humans then another species could interbreed with Alphians too.
The question now, of course, was what species? Were they just as powerful as Alphians? Or perhaps even more so?
Congrats, Shadow. You just became even more important.
No more. No more would he allow her to dance around this subject. The issue of Scarlett had dragged out long enough; Allan would get his answers before they left Marlinspike.
But, for now...
He had to deal with the fallout of the mess he just allowed.
Anger.
Fury.
Shock.
Confusion.
Worry.
Dread.
Fear.
Panic.
All emotions coursing through me, shifting more rapidly than some concert strobe light.
It didn't take long for the heat of the moment to cool and fade, leaving horror to take its place as the reality of what just happened sank in. I'd managed to hold it off while I was stuck in that room, but unfortunately... fighting to keep anxiety spirals at bay only makes them worse...
And now mine returned with a vengeance.
I'd... I'd just bitten a man's finger off.
It'd been easy, as easy as biting a carrot in half, but it wasn't as easy as it should have been.
Wasn't as clean as it should have been.
Wasn't... as abstract as it should have been.
His thumb should have been like biting smoke or fog. It should have evaporated under my teeth.
I could never taste in dreams.
Never smell.
I shouldn't have felt bone and tendon, felt them sever and shear beneath my teeth. Shouldn't have felt the skin break, felt the blood vessels pop and explode under the pressure. Shouldn't have felt hot, thick blood fill my mouth and trickle down the back of my tongue into my throat.
It felt so very, very real.
The sharp tang of copper and the pungent smell adjacent to spoiled milk continued to override my senses, damn near choking me. If the overpowering taste of blood wasn't enough, I felt the tell-tale signs of a rising panic attack; a ringing in my ears, the rapid pace of my heart, an ache in my lungs that threatened to worsen, and an overwhelming urge to flee.
It didn't matter where.
How.
When.
I just needed to run.
Get out of here.
Escape this place.
I halted, an acidic burn crawling its way up my throat. My hand covered my mouth, eyes wide as I fought to keep whatever it was down.
"Shit," Tom gasped, yanking me inside a suite where he dragged me past the dark four-poster bed and into the connected bathroom of dark brown jungle wallpaper and checkered tiles.
I barely made it before retching over the open toilet. Nothing came out aside from blood and spit, and my nausea only worsened as I stared at the mess swirling amongst the murky water. At some point Tom turned the light on, but I'd rather him have kept it off.
The last thing I needed right now was that damn buzzing from the cloudy, incandescent bulbs.
Tom looped my arm over his shoulders and pulled me to my feet with a strong, warm hand around my waist for support. He guided me to the sink, murmuring soft words of comfort as he helped me lean against it.
I didn't have the energy to thank him, hyper-focused on getting the damn taste out of my mouth. The water bore an iron-y flavor, but I didn't know if that was just rust or remnants of blood. Only when the water finally washed clear did I mumble a "thanks" to the man.
"Here, sit down," he urged, pulling me back into the dim and dusty bedroom where he helped me sit on the dropcloth-covered couch in front of the bed.
Smells in here...
"I'll get a light-"
I grabbed his wrist, voice coarser than sandpaper. "No."
"Oh, ok." Tom knelt beside me on one knee, a hand on my shoulder. "You alright?"
"Ash." My eyes, unfocused and vacant, rested on the floor. "It should have been ash."
He sounded really concerned now. "Ash?"
I dragged my eyes to his. Pale blue stared back, alarm mingled with worry. "That was flesh and bone," I rasped. "Dreams don't... it should have just... it shouldn't have been so real."
Tom didn't seem to know what to make of that, resting a clumsy but comforting hand on my leg. "Shadow-"
"There you lot are," Allan barked, stalking through the door. "You and I need to have a chat, missy."
I jumped to my feet, nervous energy pulsing through me again.
Oh shit.
Think! What do we have? What do we have? No chairs, no bats, no wooden legs, no knives... no nothing! No nothing!
"What the bloody hellwere you thinkin'?" he demanded.
I snatched Tom's arm as the sailor stood too, and he winced as I gripped it like my life depended on it.
If this... if this was real... it very well might.
This wasn't Dream!Allan, I wasn't safe here. I'd bitten his boss, taken a finger off even. He was probably coming in now to off me.
I prayed it'd be quick, but I doubted it.
Movie Allan laughed when Sakharine ordered him to break every bone in Tintin's body. Threatened to gut Tintin and "swab the deck with his innards". Tried shooting Tintin numerous times. Tried to throw Haddock to his death.
Comics Allan was even worse.
Constantly beat the shit out of his crew at the slightest inconvenience in the Crab with the Golden Claws. Kidnapped anyone who got a bit too nosy. Planned to tie lead to Tintin's, a minor's, feet and drown him. Was heavily implied to have tortured Haddock to get information on Tintin while in that cellar. In the later comics, even if he was in a good mood, he dealt in human trafficking. Beat Sküt unconscious when he didn't go along with abandoning Tintin and Haddock when the ship caught fire. Conned revolutionaries into doing his dirty work, all the while planning to blow them sky high. Fully intended to drag people out to sea in an airplane and sink them, leaving them to drown.
A sociopath in the purest sense of the word.
"You're breaking my heart."
The last thing I ever wanted was to be on the wrong side of that cruel taunt.
Gun. Tom's got a gun, right?
You want to land us in more trouble?!
Find it! Don't have to use it, but find it!
Allan stopped a few paces away. "Do you have any idea what kind of man Sakharine is? That man will have shit done to you that you're too moral to imagine!"
Find it! Don't have to use it, but find it!
"Al! Quit yellin' at 'er!" Tom protested.
There, at his hip, near the spine. Left side. In the waistband. Concealed. Awkward to grab, but no price was too great for life.
"I have every right to yell at 'er!" he snapped, gesturing at me with an open hand. "She bit Sakharine's thumb off!"
"You said I could bite him!" I protested, hand slipping down Tom's arm towards his hip as I shifted closer.
Allan showed me the blood on his hands. "I didn't know you'd take his damn finger off!"
"Fuck around and find out!"
"That phrase goes both ways, kid," Allan hissed. "You better come through with that future knowledge of yours, or he will turn you to fish food!"
Stop yelling stop yelling stop yelling!
Tears already burned the back of my throat, and my stomach twisted at the thought of crying in front of Allan. But I was nearing the end of my rope, and a breakdown loomed closer with every shout.
"I didn't know what else to do!" I protested, desperate to get him to stop screaming at me. "I've never had anyone talk to me like that!" I shook my head, retreating in on myself as I shifted closer to Tom. This time in search of comfort rather than a weapon. "Like I'm... not even worth anything. Like I'm not even human." I faced Allan again, frustration flashing through me. "How am I supposed to react to that?!"
Anger still clouded Allan's face, but understanding flickered in his eyes. He inhaled deeply before he turned, a muffled scream following as he covered his face with his hands. The force of it tipped his head back, and when he finished his shoulders slumped and his hands dropped back to his side.
Better than a slap in the face.
He turned back to me. "You have no idea the position you just put me in, kid," he said through clenched teeth. "I don't want to hurt you, but if he decides to withhold money from my crew unless I carry out his order to do so, I'll be in a very bad spot. You understand that?"
I said nothing, but nodded.
At least he stopped yelling.
I'm still straight up not having a good time.
"The only reason he didn't order me to kill you on the spot was the value you hold. Do not push your luck, or you'll find yourself in a hole I can't help you out of."
I looked away, focusing on a stain on the carpet. I cursed silently when it blurred, then cursed aloud when a tear dripped on my arm. I frantically wiped it away, frustration and anger mingling with the already toxic cocktail of emotion swirling inside me.
Why did my body have to release stress through tears?
Why couldn't my frustration show through dry anger?
Through some other, less compromising method?
A method that didn't make me look weak in front of a hungry shark?
Too late now.
This drug smuggler had just been gifted the secret to make me break and no doubt planned to store that little nugget of information away to use against me at the worst moment.
"Are... you cryin'?"
I found enough anger in me to glare at Allan. "No fuckin' shit, bright eyes," I spat, wiping my eyes again. "Happy now? Finally got the proof you need to toss me into the loony bin? I'm sure Sakharine would love that."
Tom pulled his arm from my grip and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. "I think ya did good," he assured me, voice soft and encouraging.
I leaned gratefully into his warmth, hugging myself as he rubbed my shoulder. Typically I'd hate being touched but... how could I say no to comfort from my comfort character? Especially when his heavy arm and strong hand provided much needed grounding as I threatened to spiral out of control into a full on meltdown.
Allan's eyes drifted to my hands, tightly gripping my shoulders with nails digging into my skin. To my immense relief, some of the anger faded from his face and his shoulders relaxed.
"Did you mean to take his thumb off?"
"Didn't... didn't think it'd be like that," I replied honestly, voice catching in my throat. "Thought... ash." I shook my head helplessly, leaning further into Tom. "Should have been ash."
"You still think you're dreamin'?"
"I..." My voice shrank, any remaining ember of confidence snuffed out. "I don't know."
Allan continued to stare for a moment before he groaned. "At least I have solace knowin' you wouldn't have done it if you thought it was real."
He started to walk closer but immediately halted when a growl burst from my throat and I bared my teeth as I pulled Tom in front of me again.
The sailor turned to face Allan, an arm half behind him to shield me even more. "Al, don't. She was just scared," he said, a hard edge to his voice. "That prick had it comin'."
"I know that." Allan raised his hands. "I'm not goin' to off 'er."
"Not sure I believe that," I muttered.
"You really think me stupid enough to slaughter the golden goose?" he scoffed.
Is that all I am to you?
What else could you ever be to Allan Thompson?
Deadweight.
An obstacle.
An inconvenience.
A burden.
A target.
Of the latter two, I didn't really know which was worse.
One would kill me mentally, the other would kill me physically.
Both would be slow, so agonizingly slow.
But the end would be the same; a withered corpse with no light in her eyes.
At least... for the time being, he had made his view of me clear; until the scrolls were in hand, I was worth far more alive. For now. It remained to be seen if he'd be so friendly once my use expired.
Perhaps he'd just send me on my way.
Or perhaps some worse fate awaited me.
No matter the way you sliced it, my life expectancy was on a timer and Allan controlled the countdown.
Read Ch 2: All Around Me Are Familiar Faces from the story Anachronism (Adventures!AU Prequel) by Shadow7567 (Adventure...
I love how 2025 decided to welcome me by smacking me with the first case of the flu I've ever had. But that ain't gonna stop me (even if it's annoying the piss outta me).
We're back with Allan and co, who are also gifted a headache in the form of Shadow. This will be the last "slow" chapter for a few, as things get very chaotic very quick in chapter 3.
Thanks again for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated. Also, woe to me for forgetting, but a big thanks to @showtimeatfreddys for being the beta reader for this fic. Y'all can thank them for act 1 going from 10 to 20 chapters, as they pointed out problem areas and plot holes so I could fix them before posting <3
Beginning: Here
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Ao3 Version: Here
He already had enough to deal with that morning, then the boss just had to come by and talk to him as if he were a child. Telling him things he already knew and warning him about the consequences for failure... which he also already knew.
How stupid did he really think Allan to be?
Did he really believe that Allan managed to gain control of the ship and crew by being an idiot?
He knew that damn FBI agent was trouble, and he knew not to give him any reason to come snooping aboard the ship. As for the warnings about keeping an eye on his crew lest one get cold feet, nearly all were too loyal to Allan to betray him and those who weren't as steadfast knew what fate awaited them if they stepped out of line and tried to play hero.
Tom slipped back inside the dayroom, sympathy knitting his brow. "You alright?"
"Don't know who that peacock thinks I am," Allan grumbled.
"What'd he say?"
"Oh, the usual." Allan leaned back on the couch, letting his head rest against the wall as he closed his eyes. "Keep an eye out for the agent, keep an eye on the crew, and don't forget I'm owned body and soul and should I think about double crossin' him he'll see to it I spend the rest of my miserable days rottin' in a cell."
Tom groaned. "Ugh, I really hate that man."
Allan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really hope he finds that wretched model ship he's goin' on about so we can get the hell out of here tonight."
"What's a model ship got to do with treasure anyway?"
"He thinks it will have a scroll, just like his does, and he can match them together."
"If he's wrong?"
"Either way, we're gettin' paid. One just has a bigger payday at the end." Allan shook his head. "For once, I'd like whoever takes over this rust-bucket to be normal. Is that too much to ask?"
"Might be."
Allan looked at the door as a new voice sounded. John Bailey stood just outside, a weird look on his face.
Allan groaned. "What is it now, Johnny?"
"May want to come see this," Johnny said, gesturing down the hall with a thumb. "We have a visitor. An American."
"Fuck me," Allan snapped, rolling his eyes. "That agent's back?"
"Not... exactly."
Allan exchanged a glance with Tom, curiosity creeping over the anger. "Interpol?"
"I honestly have no idea. He's a pretty lousy undercover agent if so."
Interest piqued, Allan pushed himself to his feet and settled his cap back on his head. "Show me."
The moment he stepped into the doorway of the lower gangplank, the hair caught Allan's eye. A dark reddish-purple, falling just to the top of broad shoulders on an otherwise fairly small frame. At least, small compared to the men moving around on the docks. He, or she, looked so out of place it was almost hilarious, sitting cross legged atop a crate scribbling furiously in a sketchbook.
"That's 'im," Johnny said. "Told 'im to sit there to sketch."
"He's certainly focused on it," Allan replied, keeping his eyes on the kid. He could see them, but they couldn't easily see him unless they looked hard. Considering how fervently they focused on sketching, he doubted they even knew they were being watched.
The odd sight of someone sketching wasn't exactly concerning, but the fact they frequently looked at the Karaboudjan was.
Surely, they couldn't be a reporter or journalist. Even from this distance, Allan wouldn't put them over twenty. Maybe over eighteen. Softer features didn't exactly help discern their age, or even their gender.
Then again, that ginger nuisance Allan and his men ran across near Egypt also didn't look like a journalist but had caused a world of hurt for Allan's operations. Looks could be incredibly deceiving.
"He say why he was around?"
"Apparently likes cargo ships and wanted to sketch one."
"That's it?"
"I came to get you soon as I could, so didn't really chat too long."
Allan grunted in acknowledgment, studying the kid's face as they looked up to get another reference of the ship. Just androgynous enough to fool someone at a first glance, Allan found himself leaning towards a woman. Late teens, not super exposed to hard labor outdoors judging by the lighter skin. But no stranger to physical activity, as while her arms weren't overly muscular they still had a definition to them found not through time in the gym but through a physically demanding sport. Coupled with her brazen trip to the docks by herself, signaling self assurance in her ability to defend herself, Allan would wager she had some form of martial arts under her belt.
Someone not to overestimate...
Wait.
Allan squinted, risking a step closer.
He couldn't be sure from this distance, but the kid almost looked... familiar? The features, the build, the length of the hair...
Maybe...
No.
Surely not.
His dream that morning was making him paranoid, that was all. It was embarrassing really, that a simple nightmare had him so rattled he saw Scarlett's face everywhere now.
Yet his eyes remained trained on the kid.
Now that he'd realized the similarities, Allan felt like he stared at Scarlett's doppelgänger minus the less than human attributes.
Whoever this kid was, he couldn't let her walk away without a few... harmless questions.
It was because of her clear fascination and focus on the ship, nothing more. He just needed... needed to keep an eye out. The FBI and Interpol could have spies everywhere.
It was purely business.
It wasn't personal.
It wasn't dire.
It wasn't Scarlett.
"Good work, Johnny," Allan murmured. "I'll handle it. As you were."
Johnny dipped his head to Allan and headed back inside, only to be replaced by another member of Allan's crew.
Brawny with broad shoulders and a long torso, Neil Irwin wiped some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "Mornin', boss."
Allan didn't look away from the American. "Mornin'."
"See somethin'?"
Allan dipped his head towards the kid. "We got a watcher."
"Yeah, she's been there since I started unloadin'."
Allan glanced at him. "Talk to 'er?"
Neil shook his head. "Didn't see a need to. She's outta the way, and is mindin' 'er business. Ain't botherin' no one."
Allan turned his attention back to the kid. "Right."
"Should I have?" Neil asked.
"Not sure yet," Allan replied slowly.
And he hated that he wasn't. Uncertainty could put you at risk to be blindsided, and blindsides were a death sentence in Allan's line of work. Especially right now.
"Nice hair, though," Neil commented with a small laugh. "Reminds me of my sister, she always liked dyein' 'er hair fancy colors."
Tom tilted his head as he watched her scribble. "Purple, though? Bit anachronistic, don't ya think?"
Neil glanced at Tom and elbowed him with a sly grin. "Didn't think you could manage big words like that, Tommy."
Tom glared at him, clearly fighting down a smile of his own. "Piss off," he growled, shoving Neil.
"Stow it," Allan snapped as the pair started going for headlocks and rib shots.
"What's wrong?" Tom asked, smacking Neil's hat off in one last blow.
Tom, you well-meaning but unobservant idiot.
"Look at 'er face."
Tom gave him an odd look, but peered across the docks. "Is there... somethin' I'm lookin' for?"
Fuck's sake.
"She doesn't remind you of Scarlett?"
Tom's eyes widened. "Oh... shit, yeah. I see it now," he murmured.
"Wait," Neil exclaimed. "Scarlett was real?!"
Allan smacked his arm. "Keep your voice down!"
Neil winced. "Sorry. Just... I thought she was just a drunken ramblin'."
"How'd you hear of her?"
Neil rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, Harry. Got pissed one night and went on and on about this alien sheila with a bloody tail of all things."
"Oh, she had more than a tail," Allan muttered, not at all surprised that Harry Hobbs was the one to tell Neil.
Allan only allowed him to drink on the ship, away from outsiders, because it was a very risky gamble what would come out of his mouth. Could be professions of love to the crew, could be a challenge to the mermaid figurehead in the card room, or it could be details about his rather adventurous port endeavors that no one wanted to hear.
"He mentioned shapeshiftin' and ice powers, too, but I didn't believe 'im since he's said crazier things." Neil shook his head in disbelief. "But you're sayin' she's real? Not some drunken hallucination Harry saw?"
"Either she was real, or the entire ship had mass psychosis."
Neil looked over at the kid again. "Damn... aliens are real," he rasped, then looked up. "She come from space? How the hell she end up on the ship?"
Allan wished he knew the answer to the first question. At one time, he felt like he did. He was fairly certain Alphians weren't on Earth through technological means, what little information he could recall about their history pointing to migration through magical portals.
But at least he could answer the second.
"We were taken over by a group of mercs, who first employed our help to hunt down one of their fugitives. Turns out they didn't play fair, and ordered us to stop at a small-town pier in the middle of nowhere near the coast of Virginia in the states. More and more mercs joined them, and it really looked like they planned to off us."
"Sounds bleak."
"It was. Then Scarlett showed up. She had two allies with 'er, but one joined the mercs and the other was killed by 'em to try and threaten Scarlett. She didn't take kindly to it, and came to me to ask permission to kill the merc who killed her friend."
"An alien with supernatural powers asked permission?"
"She feared me, apparently." Allan then snorted. "Not enough to not knock me out and go after the merc when I said no."
"What happened after that?"
"That's just it," Allan grumbled. "Everything goes fuzzy after that. Only one man has any more memory of Scarlett after me."
"Who?"
"Me," Tom said. "I saw 'er leave the ship and went after 'er, but one of the mercs found me." He ran his fingers over the jagged scar on his cheek. "Almost did me in, but Scarlett saved me. She got 'urt in the process, though. Tried gettin' 'er back to the ship, but... it all goes fuzzy for me too."
"Let me... get this straight," Neil said slowly. "The ship was taken over by mercs, you had the luck of comin' across a supernatural alien who initially helped but turned against you, then the memory of 'er just... ends. No leads, nothin'?"
"She didn't betray us!" Tom protested. "She just... went against Allan's orders. She was pretty bent on revenge for her friend's death."
"But you haven't been able to track 'er down since then?"
"I haven't been able to track down information on her damn species, let alone Scarlett herself," Allan grumbled.
"She kinda just vanished without a trace," Tom added. "We're still not exactly sure what all happened those few days she was 'round 'ere."
"And you think the sketcher is her?"
Allan shook his head. "Not a chance. Scarlett had some... unmistakable traits. But this kid looks very similar otherwise."
"No offense, boss," Neil said slowly. "But is that the only reason you're so fixated on this kid? A similar appearance?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot," Allan growled.
"I'm not," Neil said, unshaken by the anger in Allan's tone. "But it still sounds like some fever dream."
"I'm not the only one who remembers 'er, Neil."
"It's strange, I won't lie," Neil said. "And I'm certainly not sayin' it didn't happen." He looked towards the kid again. "But I draw the line at goin' after people who are mindin' their business."
He had a point, Allan had to admit. While Allan didn't look down on collateral damage for the same reason Neil did, he still didn't care for it. Collateral damage could get the wrong people involved, people who otherwise would have been content to look the other way until they were personally affected.
This kid, whoever she was, most likely wasn't any sort of undercover rat. Undercover agents sought to blend in, lay low, and stay on the outskirts. The big guns would be brazen and demand to inspect the ship, bringing a large force with them. She was... somewhere in the middle. Not challenging anyone, but not hiding either.
She clearly didn't know anything of the illegal dealings carried out on the ship.
Getting this kid involved could horribly backfire on Allan and his men, and the last thing they needed at the moment was more heat.
Maybe it was better to just leave her be. He should be focusing on the current job, not living in the past chasing ghosts.
Making a scene would only land him in hot water with more entities than he cared to take on at once.
"Oh, almost forgot," Johnny said, joining them again. "Got a name from 'im."
"Her," Tom corrected.
"Her?" Johnny echoed. "You sure?"
"No," Allan said before Tom could reply. "What was the name?"
"Shadow."
Allan's heart damn near stopped, his eyes flying wide as he looked at Tom.
No way. There was absolutely no way this was just a coincidence.
The dream, the Alphian on the docks, the kid's appearance, her interest in the Karaboudjan, her fucking name even...
This kid had a connection to Scarlett. Allan wouldn't even entertain the idea she did not any more.
The only question was how.
"What?" Neil said. "Why's that matter?"
"Shadow... was the name Scarlett first used," Tom croaked. "When she was tryin' to conceal 'er identity."
"That does it," Allan said. "I'm havin' a talk with that kid."
Tom looked at him, somewhat alarmed. "What if she bolts?" He gestured to the both of them. "We're not exactly the most friendly lookin'. Al, we can't risk that."
"Good point," Allan muttered, then turned to Neil. "Go try and talk to 'er."
Neil wasn't exactly any less physically imposing than Allan or Tom, but him alone may not be as threatening.
Neil looked less than thrilled with the order. "Just talkin', right?"
"Not gettin' cold feet, are you?" Allan asked, tone low.
Neil stood his ground. "No. I know what I signed up for, though, and one of the rules was no women or kids."
Allan knew damn well what the rules were; he implemented them himself.
"Bloody hell, we're not hurtin' 'er," Allan retorted. "All I need you to do is keep 'er distracted so we can get close. If she likes cargo ships like she said, she shouldn't mind talkin' to a man who works on one. No threats, just talk to 'er."
"And if she runs?"
It pained Allan, but he said, "Let 'er. Do not make a scene."
"Not... gonna do anythin' to 'er, right boss?" Neil asked, a new hardness to his tone.
"No, she's not in any danger. How many times do I need to say that?" Allan demanded, straining to keep his volume low so he didn't alert Shadow. "I just have questions for 'er."
Neil still didn't seem convinced.
"Just go," Allan ordered.
Neil hesitated, then headed for Shadow.
As Neil left, Allan turned to Tom. "Alert the boys. Get 'em to block the exits, but discreetly. Wait for my word, this could be nothin'."
"Thought we weren't makin' a scene?"
"That's why we block the kid's escape. Once she's surrounded, I can control the situation better."
"What if she notices and runs before they can close in?"
"If there's a gap, let 'er through. But once the circle closes, don't let 'er out.
Tom nodded and left to carry out the order.
Allan turned back to watch the kid, eyes narrowed.
