Swim and Let Dry Part 2

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

Finally, they arrive at the location of the reflectors, only to find a bizarre foe waiting for them.



The scene the binoculars picked out made Wanda frown and she hunkered down even more in her hiding spot. They’d picked a good spot to check out the cove but the sight of the two ships – one not only larger than the other but rougher looking as well; the second boat seemed to be more along the lines of the luxury ones they’d seen since they’d arrived – and the men on them and in the cove was not a promising sight. She passed the binoculars to the person on her right and sighed. “There’s quite a number of them,” she murmured quietly as a wave crashed near by. The sound of the sea prevented any extra sound from carrying too far away from them.

"Pirates are the new bacon." Marie-Ange said. "Somehow I suspect none of these will have eyeliner and a stumbling gait from syphilis. Which is a shame. And they have guns. Why can we never have pirates with parrots and cursed gold instead of -guns-." Not that she could recall having ever encountered pirates before. "I wonder what they would do if an army of skeletons swarmed their boat. I wonder if I can make an army of skeletons.." She set the binoculars down and dug through her pockets for a deck of cards. "I suppose they would just shoot them..."

"Ohmigod, what are you smoking and can I have some?" Mark asked amusedly. "I hope this is more like China and less like Uganda. I prefer kicking ass over running the fuck away from people with guns." He bit his lip as he pondered, his hand involuntarily sliding into his pocket to withdraw Esther. "What's the plan, boss? Does it involve kicking ass?"

Pete scowled, and flicked his cigarette away. "No, because I am not a fucking yanqui, and can say 'arse' properly. Wanda: as much damage and explosions all round as you can produce, please. Mark, how does that exoskeleton of your do with incoming fire? Bets, you're with me, behind him until we get close, and then just fuck them up as fast as possible. Angie, as many alternate targets for them as you can produce, please. Haller, can you keep us all linked? Did I forget anyone?"

"If I have to access TK the link will go down, but I'll try," Jim said, shifting. He hadn't brought his leathers, and didn't miss them for this. There wasn't much likelihood of pirates mounting any substantial retaliation against the X-Men, but after last summer he assumed nothing. The telepath nodded towards two others of the group. "What about Trotsky and Adrienne?"

The faint sound of the breach being worked, drew the teams attention to Esteban who placidly jacked the grenade into M79 and flicked the launcher closed. For an antique the weapon was in remarkably good condition, but then it was to be expected. Mustafa was a professional.

Majestically gnoring the rest of the X-Men, Trotsky cradled the Vietnam-era gun in one arm and crooked his other elbow toward Adrienne. "Miz Frost?"

"I'll take down some bacon-flavoured pirates," Adrienne confirmed, linking arms with Esteban as she gripped the M16 Mustafa had provided her, "as soon as I figure out how to fire this thing." Pulling off a glove, she keyed in to the assault rifle and watched it being assembled to give herself a better idea of how to use it.

"Crack squad you've assembled, Pete." Christian said with a wry smile. The aging operative had only a low caliber pistol, but had dismissed any thoughts of staying behind. "Remember, the Black Knight is faster, stronger, and harder to hurt than all of you, and that damn sword cuts through just about anything. If you get a chance to take him down, do it hard and fast. Otherwise, focus on getting those damn reflectors and getting the hell out. Now, let's go take a cruise, shall we?"

"Ever the poet, Christian" Betsy said with amusement. She turned towards Pete, business as usual. "Lead the way."

***

"Nazis, pirates, spies . . . What the fuck is the point of weed when I have this life?" Mark was answered by a spray of gunfire. He sighed and lifted one giant white energy hand to swat the shooter, who slammed into the hull of a docked boat and slid down into the water below. "I swear, I wake up every day and ask myself this question. How the fuck did I even get here?"

"Well, there you were, just you, me, Amanda and a stinking garbage bin," Wanda grunted as a pirate slammed into her. She blocked the downward swing of a knife but winced as it managed to knick part of her arm – it was the golden rule in a knife fight that everyone was going to get cut at some point or another. At such close quarters, it was difficult for either of them to maneuver so she used the space she did have against him. The soft parts of his face weren't much of a match for the harder parts of her forehead, after all.

"Oh, the good old days. I miss them." Mark pounded Wanda's attacker with a single blow like he was hammering a tent peg in the ground. Except the ground was hard, so instead of being driven into the earth, his legs broke instead.

Dropping the unconscious, she turned in time to see a pirate take aim at Mark's exoskeleton – which was bullet proof. If it hadn't been, Mark would have been dropped right then and there but with a little pluck of the strings it turned out differently. It pinged back at a weird angle off the armor and she watched as the man's eyes widened as the bullet pierced his own chest. "It must be bad if you miss me throwing your American self into the garbage," she said mildly as she paused to catch her breath. These guys were good. Good and irritating.

Surprised by the sudden shooting, Mark took a step back and accidentally crushed Wanda's attacker's legs even further. "Oops. Well, there were less guns involved back then. That's an automatic win."

She touched the cut on her arm and winced. "They just found other things to try and kill us with." Wanda paused, eyes widening slightly. "Mark?" she asked, watching as a trio of men approached them cautiously. "Are those grenades they're holding?"

Mark gulped and dropped his exoskeleton, and called up a blue force bubble before his feet hit the floor. "Yeah, I don't think I can handle them. Do your witchy thing, like, now."

“On three, we run in the other direction. This might get a touch messy.”

***

It was too dark, too confused; the only evidence he could make out of the others was the occasional red strobe of a hex-bolt. And even if there'd been time to look for them, it certainly wouldn't have been while Jim straddled the chest of a pirate who was much more heavily armed than common lore would have led him to believe.

This one had clutched his gun at muzzle and barrel to prevent it from being wrested away. Jim had accepted that, because while a man holding a gun was a threat, a man doing so while flat on his back was suddenly holding the means for a persistent attacker to inflict a crushed windpipe. And right now, face red with the effort and mismatched eyes fixed on the panicked, straining face beneath him, the X-Man was attempting to do just that.

His heart was pounding almost too hard for him to hear the thump of boots on the deck behind him -- and then the soft but unmistakably metallic collection of sounds that indicated the gun he was trying to drive into his victim's neck was no longer the only one he had to worry about.

"Bloody hell!"

A loud thump and a body falling right next to Jim. Betsy came into view, sai in hand, and stared down at Jim. "What are you doing?"

That split-second was enough to draw the man's attention, and that was enough. Jim snatched the gun from his hands and brought it up in a sweeping move that slammed the butt solidly into the side of the man's head. The body beneath him went limp. Gun in hand, Jim scrambled to his feet.

"Not being shot. Thanks, by the way." He slung the gun up and sent a burst of automatic fire past Betsy's shoulder, right into the three men who'd just careened around the corner. The shots went wide, but the chorus of curses indicated the point had been made. "Behind you," Jim added.

"I was beginning to wonder if you actually knew how to use that." Betsy tipped her head towards the gun. She moved closer to him, the question in her eyes but before she could actually speak, Betsy shoved Haller to her left as her fist connected with a face. The sound of bones breaking as the man fell to the ground in a tangled mess.

"If you ever discharge a weapon by my ear again...." She pulled her fist back, psi-blade glowing ominously, slowly diminishing into nothingness.

"It was a shot past your ear by me or a shot into your back by them. Don't worry--" a slow, grim smile spread across Jim's face as he took a run at another man, grasping the barrel with both hands, "--part've me was a little guy--" he twisted his torso, using the gun as a sort of fulcrum, and felt a cheekbone crunch beneath his elbow, "--with a lot of anger--" he drove his knee into the man's stomach as he buckled, shifted his grip on the barrel and brought the butt down across the man's back.

"I know," Jim panted as his opponent hit the deck, insensate, "how to handle guns."

Four more poor souls thought it wise to interrupt their conversation. Betsy continued on with speaking as she held the wrist of one particular grabby individual and gave a high kick to another coming her way. "That was not the exact vote of confidence I was looking for." She bent the wrist in her hand harder and the man fell to his knees. "You aren't exactly the physical type."

Betsy elbowed her opponent and pulled her sai and threw it with a guttural yell. The three pronged blade landed in the chest of a pirate holding a knife at Jim's back. "Not that I'm questioning your ability on the field," she punctuated each word with a punch to the fourth attackers sternum. "But hand-to-hand isn't really your forte."

"I'm more mind over matter," Jim agreed as her hapless opponent fell with a gurgle. "Especially when I'm next to someone who can take down four people in the time it takes me to do one. But I have been trained." The telepath pried Betsy's sai from the chest of a man. He was still alive, though from the sound of it he wished he wasn't. Now back-to-back with Betsy, Jim pressed the weapon into her hand.

A man rose from checking one of his fallen comrades. He was armed with only a knife, but there was murder in his eyes, and they were fixed on Betsy.

As the man rushed them from the right Jim threw his body into the intervening space, hooked the butt of the gun around the man's side, and used his torso as a pivot. The man went down. Jim proceeded to stomp pirate's hand until he dropped the knife, knuckles raw and bleeding. A grab at Jim's ankle threw the telepath flat on his back, but as the breath gusted out of him he arced his leg and brought his heel down hard on the man's back. The man screamed in pain, and Jim staggered to his feet to add to it with a vicious kick in the ribs. Still winded, Jim sent, #And sometimes it's just nice to do things the old-fashioned way.#

"Yes, I'm sure," Betsy said with annoyance, kneeling down and wiping the blood off her sai with the shirt of one of their fallen attackers. She shook her head at him. "Jim, old fashion has its time and place but I do not want to answer to your father if you take too long in eliminating the enemy. There's always the chance that our powers could stop working at any time." Betsy stood up and returned the blade to her side. She took a step towards Haller but then stopped.

No words passed between them, but none needed to. The moment Betsy froze, Jim was already moving into a duck.

Betsy looked up and caught sight of a gunman on a platform. From that distance, he looked like a troll. A very tall troll. Betsy tumbled to the ground, catching Jim's discarded gun and stood up, shooting three times. Direct hits. The man swayed before falling two floors to the ground.

"Did you just...Did I?" She wiped her hair from her face and sighed at the sight of Haller on the ground. "Jim?"

"Did what?" Jim began as he started to rise from the deck, then saw one of the fallen men trying to bring around a gun one-handed. He turned the rise into a somersault, scooped up one of the fallen sai, and righted himself to plunge the longest tine right through the back of the man's hand.

"Stop now," Jim said mildly as the pirate tried to pull away. The telepath let him withdraw the hand. He did not, however, relinquish the sai. There was a thin shriek.

Betsy stared flabbergasted at the groveling man and looked at Jim as he flipped the sai in his hand and offered it back to her. She studied his countenance, demeanor, and laughed hysterically, taking a step back. "You, you...." Stuttering, Betsy put her hand to her temple and pointed at the sai. "You don't know how to use that."

"Well, no, but it doesn't take a lot of special training to stab someone in the . . . hand . . ." Which didn't explain the instinctive and curiously well-executed somersault and grab. Jim lowered the bloodied sai and looked at her. "Okay, I think we need to have another talk about mindlinking."

"Like I'd help add to the melee that is your subconscious." Betsy said irritably, taking the sai back from him. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that this is my fault?"

"No, I'm just saying you're the one with a tendency to--" Somewhere to the left there was a shriek of tortured metal. It was answered by gunshots.

"Nevermind," Jim said, "right now we should probably concentrate."

"Right," Betsy said, taking off towards the fighting. She yelled back over her shoulder as she ran, smiling. "I love you, David Haller, but if you bring that up one more time, I may have to kill you."

Scooping up the gun, Jim took off after her. And, because there was a time and a place, didn't point out that considering the number of near-misses she'd already scored against him the law of averages was definitely on her side.

***

Zemo couldn't have possibly thought this was going to be a challenge, did he? The kid had been all too willing where the possession was concerned. What's a little body sharing between bloodthirsty allies, right? In his mind Sir Percy still saw himself inhabiting the body he was born into, one that was larger and stronger than this one, and also considerably paler. Nevertheless possessions were much like putting on a new ensemble, you just had to get used to the material. It was easy when they were so willing, though this child hadn't been the most willing of those he'd lived within.

Sir Percy had been down below, checking to make sure everything was going to schedule. It was too easy. All he was asking for was a fight, a skirmish, something to test his borrowed body. He sauntered up to the bridge with his sword hanging from his hip. Below the deck the noise from the fighting hadn't been loud enough for him to really pay attention to. Once he'd hit the bridge he could not only hear the fighting, he could see it. His lips curled up into a smile that held only the sort of joy a masochist would have welcomed. It wouldn't have been fun without the fight.

He didn't join in at first because there was something much more important. If for some reason the people attacking proved to be formidable, a fact he sorely doubted, he wouldn't let them slip past him to get what he needed to guard. Sir Percy moved quickly to secure the lenses he was there to ensure fell only into the hands of Zemo. Once they were in his possession he was back on the bridge and then out on the deck, sword in hand. His eyes searched quickly for anyone he didn't recognize as ally nearby.

I wish the boss was here, Esteban thought forlornly as he tracked the small group of the pirates approaching their leader through the sights on the M79.

Right about there... yes, that should do nicely.

The launcher fired with a dull 'whomp' and Trotsky reached for next grenade with smooth speed, the other hand breaking open the weapon for the reload.

Start as you mean to go on...

Wanda had been eyeing the grenade launcher with something close to curiosity when Esteban had been readying it and when it launched, she tracked the projectile with eager eyes. Affecting something that was moving was much harder than something that was simply standing still but that was were concentration and a steady hand, as it were, came into play.

The grenade went a little further than it probably had any right to before it exploded with a loud noise. It still hit Esteban's intended target but a small group of men further out suddenly found themselves floundering as a chunk of the sand they were standing on softened from the explosion, effectively going from gentle shifting sands to a sinking mess.

Pete had requested explosions from her, after all.

Mark took a step back as one of the pirates collapsed just inches away from him. That was too close for comfort. He raised a glowing hand and blasted at one on the ship who was aiming a gun that looked like something you'd see in Baghdad alleys. The shooter fell silently, and the gun crashed into the water. He stopped as he readied another blast, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Um, guys? There's a knight on the pirate ship."

"Since we're already dealing with spies and ex-nazis, sure, why not?" Jim muttered, wiping the sweat from his eyes. He turned to the light link he'd set up and sent, #Mr. Kane, we're seeing a man with a sword. He doesn't look like he belongs with the pirates. Is that the guy?#

#We're hunting someone calling himself Black Knight, and you see a man with a sword. Do I have to draw you a picture? I thought you lived at a school?# Kane thought back waspishly. Before he had a chance to say anything else, a group of roughly dressed but well armed men came into view. Kane shot the first one cleanly between the eyes, but they rushed him, and the aging Brit disappeared over a side railing as he was tackled.

"I thought Black Knight was just a nickname," Mark muttered. "Phoenix isn't actually a giant flaming bird, y'know." Mark blasted two of Kane's attackers, who howled in pain and scratched at their eyes as the plasma scorched their faces. "He can swim, right?"

"One can always hope," Wanda grunted and then cursed as her head snapped back - she'd let a pirate get too close and her jaw had paid the price. She managed to grab the hand that held a wicked looking blade and turned it around, forcing his swing to miss her and somehow he managed to stab himself in the leg. She righted herself and shook her head. Normally she would stop and try to find Kane but where the one pirate had dropped to the ground, two more had stepped up into his place.

Marie-Ange took a moment to glance over the rail before returning her attention to directing the trio of animated skeletons who were methodically attacking pirates one at a time. Even when one would fall to gunfire or being clubbed with a tire iron, she simply created another to take it's place. #I do not see him.# She sent over the link, mental voice sounding sharply off-key. #But I do not see his attacker either.#

Staying close to Esteban and his comforting grenade launcher, Adrienne ejected a spent magazine from her rifle and reloaded a fresh one, pressing the bolt release to continue firing at the knight on the ship. She didn't think she was having much effect on him, but she'd managed to hit a few pirates, and perhaps the knight would find the rain of gunfire annoying and make some stupid mistakes.

Bullets kept flying his way causing the Black Knight to cleave one of the pirates, who was technically on his side, in twain. The pirates were only allies so long as they did not try to shoot at himself. Several others lost limbs or their lives, sometimes so many limbs their lives were forfeit by consequence alone, for the same reason. After ridding himself of those nuisances Sir Percy had enough time to locate an actual enemy. His sword raised and swung, aiming to behead the man.

Pete threw himself to the side, the blade whistling over his head, rolled, and came up just out of the Knight's reach, backpedaling almost at once to keep himself out of the blade's arc.

"You know, squire, things didn't turn out very well for the last guy who tried to kill me with a sword..."

He sent a few hotknives at the knight, who caught them on his blade, giving Pete just enough room to step in under his guard and catch him with an uppercut, before being forced backwards again by a counterstroke that he only narrowly avoided as it sliced through his tie.

"Of course, you seem rather handier with that thing than the last guy did..."

#Mr. Kane's in the water but he's conscious--# Jim sent, although he couldn't spare any attention for the specifics with a pirate advancing on him with something that was disqualified from the classification of sword only on a technicality. Because his strength wasn't in melee fighting, the X-Man was trying to hang back to keep out of the way and maintain the link. Because he liked his organs on the inside, he tried to kick the blade out of his attacker's hand. His foot only clipped the flat, but fortunately someone solved the problem for him by thoughtfully colliding with his attacker from the side. What Jim lacked in martial prowess he made up for with a complete lack of scruples, and set about kicking the fallen man as hard as he could. He spared a glance over his shoulder, which abruptly turned into a dive for cover as a spurt of gunfire opened up from across the way. He hissed as he landed hard on his elbow. #Shit, watch the other ship!#

Jim's psi-voice was still strange to him. Dr. Farouk kept stressing that it was purely psychosomatic but the feel of it still was cutting, unpleasant and generally annoying as far as Trotsky was concerned. The thought registered in a faint, distant way as his hands moved with metronomic precision, changing targets and walking the barrage of explosive projectiles toward, and then across the bow of, the ship currently pinning down the young telepath.

Nothing like a few fragmentation grenades to occupy one's attention, Esteban thought contentedly.

Mark readied another blast when the two pirates halves fell off the boat. He looked up at the Knight and swore loudly. "Shit, Pete!" The air around him stilled as the plasma cooled, then thundered again as the bright white exoskeleton appeared. Mark broke into a run, stepping on anyone and anything in his way on the path to the ship.

Another spurt of gunfire from the other ship caused Wanda to backpedal to avoid getting riddled with bullets. The remaining pirate from the pair that had popped up - the other one was bleeding at her feet - dropped suddenly and she shook her head. Either these pirates were horrible shots or they didn't care who dropped. Probably the fewer comrades in arms running around, the bigger the share...

Wanda looked from the boat the Knight was on to the other ship and made a decision. As long as the other boat was in the water, they were facing a battle on two fronts. Pirates would keep coming off to join the fight and the shooters could keep the Knight covered while attempting to pick off those he was fighting. And if they needed her against the Black Knight, it wasn't as if her powers needed to be up close and personal, after all.

From his position of intimate association with the deck Jim caught site of Wanda as she peeled off from the action and down the gangplank. Whether it was through the link or simple logic he understood where she was going, and, just as immediately, understood he his choice. Staying meant getting in the way if he clung to the link, or risking telekinesis if he didn't. Telekinesis, that was imprecise at best, in the middle of a melee.

The adrenaline was eroding his self-control, each unnecessary dodge and duck chipping away a little further. He could feel Jack straining to get out. If he was going to run the risk of being sloppy, he preferred to do it around as few innocent bystanders as possible. They were close enough to the Knight and the lenses now; if it came down to it he'd have to risk they could do without him. Jim pulled himself off the deck and scrambled to his feet. #I'm backing up Wanda!# he sent, and darted off.

#Try and stay in one piece, luv.# Betsy sent to Jim as she ducked just in time to send one man flying overboard. With a smirk, she looked over the ship's stern. "That is definitely going to hurt in the morning."

The attackers were quite amusing, particularly the man from Sir Percy's land who seemed unaccustomed to those who can handle their weapons. Unfortunately for the Black Knight the man had been taken away by his pirate friends who wished a piece of the same man. One of them lost a head for the intrusion. Sir Percy had dearly wanted to shave a few limbs off that man. Clearly he'd needed a lesson in what it is to fight someone capable.

The loss of his sparring partner sent Sir Percy in search of another. During his noble days the knight never would have considered fighting a woman. Women and children were to be protected. Those women, however, were ladies. The ones here wore pants and fought alongside men. If they thought they could stand their ground against a man then he had no choice but to prove to them that their modern ideas were sorely misconstrued. Sir Percy arranged a polite smile on the tan face of his current inhabitation and advanced on a ginger woman as his sword swung in an arc to catch her from the side. When she looked at him he did not stop, though he did incline his head and utter a simple, "M'lady."

Marie-Ange had just enough time to roll to the side, any slower and the sword would've likely taken a slice out of her hip. She caught herself on one arm, swung out a leg to kick at the man's shin, and got back to her feet. The shin-kick hadn't connected, but it hadn't been meant to. It was a feint, a very simple one, but it had bought her a second or two, just enough time to get a good look at the sword that the man was wielding and create one of her own. "Sir Knight." She said, with a brief incline of her head as she brought up her imaged sword to block another strike.

#I think I have about ten seconds before he takes off my head# Marie-Ange sent over the link, barely keeping herself from getting sliced into ribbons, and to anyone who knew her, already struggling to keep the imaged sword solid.

"Then let's take off his," Mark said, and raised a giant glowing fist to slam the Knight. The impact showered them with sparks, and Mark staggered back involuntarily. "Fuck. Well, that got his attention . . ."

Having the same thought as Mark, Adrienne began firing at the Black Knight's head, cursing under her breath as several bullets glanced off him and bounced off Mark's exoskeleton. #Whoops. Sorry, tiger,# she projected to Mark in a mock of the simpery tone she'd used when they'd gone off to buy cocaine. She actually did feel sorry when one of her bullets ricocheted dangerously close to Marie-Ange, however. #Okay, I give up.# Rather than continue wasting bullets in a pointless attempt to annoy, the psychometrist turned her fire towards the pirates on the other ship, hoping to give Wanda and Haller some aid.

***

An explosion of rock and dirt from a bullet that barely missed her head had Wanda diving for cover, using rocks and hastily manipulated chaos energy to ensure she wouldn't get caught by a well-aimed shot. It hadn't come from any of the pirates swarming the cove but, instead, someone was covering their fellows attack from one of the boats. Spitting out grit, she started to realize that as long as the pirates had access to their boat they had access to extra men, weapons and a chance of escape.

In a crouched run, she headed for the uglier of the two boats since that had been the one the pirates had popped up from. That boat had to go or, at the very least, be crippled enough not to be of any further use in the fight.

Then, directly behind her, there was a rapid burst of gunfire -- but no bullets came, not even to stir the dirt. A thin figure detached itself from the shadows, and it was suddenly obvious why.

Haller lowered his hand, and behind Wanda there was a faint patter as a dozen bullets fell to the ground like hail. The younger man turned his attention to her, regarding her with eyes that were pale grey even in the moonlight.

"Don't depend on duck-and-cover unless you're in an earthquake," Jack informed her.

She shot him a tight smile with way too much teeth - she was covered in dust and specks of blood, a bit of an unsettling sight. "Welcome to the party, Jack," she said and then pointed at the pirate ship. "We need to even this out and prevent anyone from using that boat for a getaway if the Black Knight manages to shake everyone else off. Want to..."

The shadow above her head was the only warning as Wanda leaped sideways to avoid the pirate that had jumped off the cliff above her with a long blade pointed down. She just stared at him - his feet hit the soft sand and then he screamed as both legs suddenly broke at once in multiple places. A well aimed kick knocked him unconscious and she turned back to Haller.

"Want to help?" she finished.

Looking down at the whimpering man, the alter returned the same unpleasant smile in kind. His shirt was torn and his lip split from one of Jim's fights. Now Jack was out, and he was having the time of his life.

"Link's already dropped, and people are shooting at us." He turned meaningfully towards the second ship. "Let's break shit."

She darted towards it, already thinking of a good game plan. Her powers were powerful but to do enough damage on a ship that size they were going to have to get aboard it. Luck was on their side, though, considering that a number of the pirates had gotten off for the main fight previously. They just had to get past the rest.

Jack followed her at a fast walk, his extrasensory awareness blazing. For Jim the night had been all sound and sight, ghosted with impresisons from the link. To Jack, it was movement: bullets and people; the heavy bob of the boats in the water; even the waves on the shore. The ground under his feet was still and dead. Run, and he might lose it.

But when you could work at the speed of thought, you didn't need to hurry.

Jack walked, arms outstretched and palms together. In a world of things in motion, the two mutants moved through it untouched.

Wanda didn't spare a glance backwards but she was still smiling as her feet touched the gangplank and propelled her upwards. Normally, she would throw herself into the thick of the pirates but she had to rely on Jack to watch her back this time. Her goal wasn't the people but the slowly rocking boat under their feet.

Several tons of metal - not an easy thing to bring down but things stopped being improbable for her years ago. Red, angry rings pulsed around her wrists and hands as touched part of the boat, twisting out of the way of someone in her path. When she let go, a rusted handprint was left on the rail.

Screams issued from the deck as the occupants tried to decide between the man approaching and the woman aboard. Someone leaned over the rail with a rifle leveled at Jack's head, only to have the barrel fly backwards with such force it broke a nose. Closer, he needed to see her to tell who she was -- part of the ship was bathed in hellish red light. Power leakage rattled the wide steel gangplank under his boots. The two men waiting to intercept him at the top went overboard with a sweep of his arm. Lines of rust scored it like dried blood. The air was heavy with the smell of dying metal.

As Wanda dropped to her knees on the deck the alter began a series of alternations: to catch the bullets as they fired, or to seize upon a lull by hurling the shooters into the sea, all the time with the pulse of chaos energy just at the edge of his vision.

Lines crackled and flared in her vision and Wanda cocked a head at one, curious. It was an old ship, patched here and there throughout but there was one like that was almost screaming out to her. And it ran in the direct center of the ship. Her knowledge of seaworthy vessels was sadly lacking but that really couldn't have been good. For the ship. For her, it was perfect.

Kneeling next to the spot that her mind and powers had marked out, she slammed her hands onto the metal deck and felt it vibrate in response. Flecks of rust rose into the air like dust as the metal screeched under them all. Fingers firmly entrenched in decaying metal, she stopped the barrage of hex blasts and concentrated on playing on the strings, forcing things into place to suit her needs.

Jack hurled aside another curtain of lead, throwing the bullets back at the shooters. He didn't know what Wanda was doing, only that the shadows were dancing in the red light.

Until, with a teeth-grinding shriek, the deck under him dropped by a foot.

The telekinetic flung out his hand and managed to grab a rail. It was as flakey as peeling paint. The shriek had transformed into an ominous groan. "The fuck did you do?" Jack yelled, straining to make himself heard over the significantly less prepared crew.

"Delivering on what I promised!" Wanda bellowed back, struggling to regain her feet. The deck had gone from gently moving to pitching and shuddering - the bits that weren't being yanked apart, that was. A dull boom from below them had her stumbling towards Jack and the railing, though not under her own power, as something exploded.

The explosion was the final piece of the puzzle that Wanda had started and the ship starting to come apart at the seams. Or, really, the one giant one that ran through the middle where the welding had been the weakest. Above the sound of grating metal, she could hear the water rushing into the gaping hole in the side.

***

Marie-Ange's imaged sword finally disappeared on the next blocked strike, her concentration broken by the repeated impact of metal-on-ectoplasm as well as the gunfire. Pressed for options, she chose retreat, turning and running behind a stack of crates and barrels.

Sir Percy was becoming rather annoyed with the ant-like people who were attempting to attack him. They were parasitic, attempting to harm but just running away. They had no sense of honour. And now, now the woman was fleeing! "Ha!" The redhead fled because she finally had realised she wasn't able to stand against a man, a warrior, a knight. Sir Percy took a moment of self-important reflection, basking in his greatness. He deflected bullets and blows alike without having to concentrate much at all. These were hardly worthy adversaries. He watched one of his little pirate friends get hewn down by bullets from farther away before going after the scared little woman. These people ought to be taught a lasting lesson. Nothing says "rethink your strategy" as well as a woman's head on a pike!

She hadn't brought many of her tarot cards - but she had the always-present tiny sketchpad, filled with doodles of tiny imps and other creatures. Marie-Ange didn't really even need the moment she took to concentrate - her drawings were easier than anything else to animate - and a swarm of imps came out over the top of the stack, all making a beeline for the Knight.

Mark joined Marie-Ange's retreat, stumbling a little when he dropped the exoskeleton. He dove behind the stack of barrels inelegantly and queued up Hendrix. His fists ignited with the familiar purple fire, and he blasted at the knight to cover the imps' approach. "I think I liked China more. No super-powered Renn Faire rejects there."

Pete grappled with the knight, using his right arm to hold the Knight's sword out of the way, before driving his forehead into the man's nose, before being shoved off him, and only narrowly avoiding having the words shoved through him.

"I could really do without being gutted by this medieval reject. If anyone's got any clever ideas, I'm all ears."

The strange woman from his land with the atypical hair colour was an admirable fighter. She handled a sword with honour. Unfortunately the other man from Sir Percy's land fought dirty and with no honour at all. Had no one ever taught him the rules of combat? Slime streaked the ground from the imps, shredded and destroyed as they attacked him. Worthy opponents, at last, however they only managed to be through combined effort. The glory of defeating the enemy's two best warriors was a craving Sir Percy could nearly taste. As he deflected blows, dodging and swerving out of the way, and aiming to land blows of his own a nagging voice entered the back of Sir Percy's borrowed mind.

In his mind Zemo's voice was sort of nasal and a bit wheezy. Some could have said Sir Percy associated him with the incredibly geeky kid in class. It impressed upon him in that annoyed, modern parent way that Sir Percy had a duty to do. His glory would be nothing if Zemo found a way to kill him for failure. The lenses were already on him, it was just a matter of running away. Running. Away. Sir Percy rolled those words in his mind and a disgusted look manifested on his face instantly. He kept fighting while he decided whether or not to do this disgrace. He wanted to win his duel! He wanted to reign victorious! All his glory stolen from him by that nagging voice.

The opponents were gaining the upper hand and Sir Percy's mind was made up. He took several steps backward and grinned. The Black Knight bowed with great flourish. "I fear I must take my leave." His voice was all courtly nobility. Then he turned and ran for the edge of the ship. With one hand he launched himself over the side. His sword buried itself in the side of the ship and he rode it all the way down, the metal ripping as easily as a curtain would have in a similar situation. Latched to the side of the ship were jet skis. Sir Percy mounted one and started it with the air of his host's original mind. Sir Percy pushed his sword further down below the water whilst still buried in the metal of the ship. And then he drove off, splitting the side down the length of the ship under the water so it would sink. They couldn't follow if they were sinking.

Watching the action through the scope of her M16, Adrienne let out a curse. The imps were hard enough to swallow, but now the ship had been sliced like a tomato by a fucking sword? "What the fuck?!" she shouted to no one in particular. "Why is the knight on a fucking jetski? Someone take the fucking thing out, for Christ's sake!" She followed her own order and started shooting, but was aiming and firing without focus, without concentration, and didn't manage to land any shots on the ski.

The boat started to tip immediately, tossing Mark on his butt and the crates and barrels down on top of him. "I'll get right on that," he shouted back, tossing one of the empty barrels off of him and trying very hard not to fall back down. "I think this is the part where we abandon ship."

"Join the club."

The voice came from below. There, on the dark water, was a sizable chunk of what had probably been a deck, and crouching upon it was Jack. His hands were pressed flat to the rust-pocked surface; it was clear there was no way the metal was staying afloat without assistance. Wanda was struggling up the side, only sparing a moment to kick away a pirate stupid enough to try and follow. Flotsam bobbed around them, pulled by the current of the second ship's splintered carcass.

"Hurry," the alter rasped, reaffirming his telekinetic grip on the metal, "ship'll try to drag you down when it goes under. You could try jumping onto the other one -- oh, wait."

Wanda clung to the metal pitching under her as she pulled her long legs fully up under her. The entire time she glared at the straining telekinetic's head. "We," she stated, tossing her hair back dramatically, "were supposed to sink the ship. Look! I sank the ship!"

"While we were on it?"

"Next time I ask for property damage and general chaos, Wanda, can you take it as a read that I want a version of that that doesn't get in our bloody way?"

Pete lauched a spread of hotknives after the rapidly-vanishing knight, then sprinted across the pitching deck, and leapt for Jack's makeshift raft. A few moments later, he was joined Christian, who had swum around and now gripped to the edge.

"I remember this being easier thirty-five years ago." He muttered, as they bobbed in the warm ocean swell and watched the Black Knight disappear over the horizon.