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violetmuses · 3 years

Text

Grey || Chapter 1

2023

Helmut Zemo

Scheisse!

I’d forgotten that some electronic devices would have spotty reception during this flight to Madripoor, but another part of me cursed once more for attempting to contact someone in particular. Several decades passed since I’d last seen her in and I knew better than to act as if she’d listen to me, especially since my imprisonment.

“Did something in your plan go awry?” James probed, sitting across from me without closing too much space between us both. Meanwhile, Sam perched himself into one chair of the opposite aisle, sitting alone.

“No, James, but I appreciate your concern regarding the mission.” I tucked away the small burner phone, hoping that he would not ask many other questions before we landed. We shared silence, but prompted gratefulness to reach my thoughts.

Only I knew the truth.

______

“Got word from high. You ain’t welcome here.” This bearded guard addressed me minutes after we reached Madripoor. By now, I’d entered the Brass Monkey Saloon with James and Sam, planning to contact Selby then after. This bar also lined with decor that would’ve reminded children of Halloween as skulls perched in all corners.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if you insist, either come and talk to me or bring Selby for a chat.” Facing that guard, I motioned my gloved hand between him and James, showing authority I’d held by noting current placement of the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Sam, dressed in his red-brown suit, remained silent.

“The Power Broker, really?” James eyed me without much emotion whilst asking his brief question.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray that we stay under his radar.” I remarked, keeping my voice low amid the presence of others.

“Do you know him?” Sam countered, leaning as well.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor, he’s judge, jury, and executioner.” I continued, acknowledging how influential The Power Broker had been.

“ Зимний солдат, атака.” A different patron of the bar had lurked nearby, but dared to touch my shoulder. In turn, I uttered Russian, signaling the need for James to attack. Voices of shock and surprise had filled the area, adding noise.

“What is going on?” Sam questioned me moments later. Across the room, James then turned the earlier patron’s arm and inflicted more pain to others almost immediately afterwards. Here, we won, earning slight notice in the venue now.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” I uttered to Sam , shoving another guest of the bar towards this fray. As long as we kept up notice here, there wouldn’t be problems, no matter how much people recorded with their phones.

“Shit.” Sam mumbled in return moments later, watching as various people aimed their guns or readied other weapons to defend against us. Meanwhile, James had now clutched his brace around someone’s throat, holding him near the bar counter.

“Stay in character before the whole bar turns on us…Молодец, Солдат.” I reminded James and Sam, keeping my warning quick as Sam peered. I then spoke in Russian once more and turned to face James, still encouraging him as The Winter Soldier.

“Selby will see you now.” The Bartender acknowledged what happened and permitted our entrance towards Selby. Meanwhile, that poor and seemingly helpless victim of James slipped off the bar with this large thud, coughing.

“Thank you.” I said, quickly leaving as Sam and James began to trail behind me. At least we could leave this bar alive.

______

“You should know Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and start making demands.” Selby lounged on her favorite sofa once more, resting her arm onto its backend.

“Not a demand, an offer.” I sat down in one of the adjacent armchairs. Both James and Sam cornered themselves to stand in the room, not bothering to act comfortable while staying in character.

“A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting in a German prison. How did you escape?” Selby remarked back, noting my current presence and freedom away from those claustrophobic walls.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” I smirked, emitting feigned arrogance to keep us alive just a bit longer. There was no other choice. Once again, I knew much better to give us away, especially now.

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger. What’s the offer?” Selby bravely purred in the direction of Sam, gesturing her hands to imitate the ferocious cat of his alias-namesake. Yet, her eyes faced me, asking to describe the purpose of our visit.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum and I will give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want” I stood up from the armchair and lurked to James, momentarily baiting Selby here.

“Now, that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you or want or thank or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the Serum, but things didn’t go as planned.” Selby almost plastered her wickedly famous smile whilst I then sat back down in the posh armchair and listened to this extremely significant information. James and Sam were once again quiet.

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” I asked, lifting one of my gloved fingers to emphasize the question itself.

“The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery’s gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby rose from her sofa and gestured to me. I could only imagine what else had to be done.

Just when I planned to respond, Sam's cell phone buzzed out loud. My thoughts now raced with anger as we all glanced around the room. Selby’s guards had departed the nearby shadows and lifted weapons, planning to attack, of course.

After Selby demanded for the call to go on speaker, we heard Sam’s sister, Sarah. This clueless and innocent woman did not realize our mission in the slightest. As Sam and Sarah bickered to and fro, I froze, eying nothing but the farthest wall.

“Sam, let me call you back.” It was not long before Sarah had acknowledged Sam by name, ruining our cover during this mission immediately. Even James had nearly lost his own composure, for good reason.

“Sam, who’s Sam? Kill them!” Selby glanced around, realizing that we were all imposters now. Just moments later, however, this singular gunshot pierced through the glass of a nearby window, ending Selby’s life without fail. Accurate, perfect.

“They’re gonna pin this on us.” Sam huffed. Between gunshots, guards in the room aimed to put up a fight with us. James and Sam defend themselves as I rose from the armchair and cornered us all, lifting my hands when Sam had addressed me.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” I breathed to respond quickly. Outside the bar, cell phones chimed, pinging a bounty message. A reward would be given to anyone who found Selby’s killers.

______

“Deactivate your hustle mode because you sell fake Monet pieces.” Sam wasn’t convinced that Sharon Carter kept such exquisite artwork in this high-rise. James and Sam were moving around, eyeing the property as others would keep sight.

“No, she means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet, Van Gogh, classics.” I recalled more information, but paused midway through my own acknowledgements… Sharon, James and Sam still conversed, but left me alone.

At that moment, I cornered to take out my burner phone, hoping to see if a call would actually go through. At least I could rid this device if need be, otherwise the digital exchange would be found by others. Blue and white lighting of the room kept me hidden to an extent.

Placing the phone against my ear, I watched as Sam and James kept chatting with one another. Sharon looked uninterested, but annoyed all at once. Meanwhile, I listened as three dialing rings filled my ears. I’d waited too long for this moment.

“Hi, you’ve reached Dionne Charles. I’m sorry for missing your call, but if you leave a message after the tone, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks and have a great day.”

There it was. Somehow, her sweet voice hadn’t aged in the decades that passed since we first met. I shut both eyes, immediately remembering the pretty smile that always hid whenever she sipped from those champagne flutes after the auction.

Before I could dare to clear my throat and leave a message, Sam caught me off guard.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night to use your phone or change into different clothes? Sharon’s got clients visiting soon.” Before I could dare to clear my throat and leave a message, Sam caught me off guard.

“Apologises.” Facing Sam in return, I tucked away my phone once more, heading towards one of the last guest rooms located here to switch my current attire.

Tonight would show a great reprieve until the next hurdle came along.

#zemo tfatws #helmut zemo #au fic

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thearrangment-phff · 6 years

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LVI. Henrietta

January 2018

“He looked so happy,” smiled Isabella as she looked down at the pictures of her uncle Henri at the Winter Olympics.

“He is proud of all of his Luxembourgish people,” replied Princess Christine of Orleans-Braganza

“Eugenie is going to announce her engagement to Jack tomorrow,” added Isabella.

“Such a waste one of the three blood princesses of the United Kingdom will be marrying a commoner,” interrupted Princess Charlotte.

“British princesses have been marrying commoners since the time of Princess Margaret. Your argument doesn’t make any sense,” argued Countess Olympia.

“At least Princess Margaret became Countess of Snowdon after marriage. Who in their right mind would turn down a title?”

“People who understand the burden and want to give their children less complicated lives,” whispered Isabella.

“You’ve never experienced the royal life until you married so I don’t understand your complaining. Besides, I will make sure your children, grandchildren, and those who come after them will all get titles,” smiled Charlotte.

“You’ll be dead before my children marry,” deadpanned Isabella.

“You’ll regret the day I die.”

“That’s enough. The both of you clearly act more like children than the women you are. Belle perhaps we shall go to see Princess Beatrice now, to talk about your trip to Switzerland. I’m sure your family would love to see you and bringing Princess Beatrice would offer some bonding time,” smiled Christine with a high attempt to soothe things between the women in the room.

“I’ll spend 6 days in Switzerland with Bea, half on it will be spent at the World Economic Forum then the rest with family. I won’t need ladies with me so you all will have your own free time. I’ll return only on the day I have an engagement with my father-in-law. I won’t need ladies then either,” explained Isabella.

“That’s over a week without any one of us,” said Olympia.

“I understand that. The day after that I will find out the genders of my babies. I won’t have you there either. It will be only Harry and I but I will tell you what they are with the rest of my family and friends. Do we have an agreement?”

All four women nodded at Isabella, “We care for you so much Belle. You must I understand that,” spoke Countess Gaelle.

“I do understand that, but I also understand that I am a grown woman who is fully capable of taking care of herself.”

“So does that mean you are talking to Harry again? Like the grown woman you are?” asked Olympia.

“The last thing I need is a lecture from you about relationships. You all are dismissed.”

His Royal Highness The Duke of York is proud to announce the engagement of his daughter Her Royal Highness Princess Eugenie of York and Mr. Jack Brooksbank

“Thank you for inviting me. Your family was very kind this week.”

“Oh of course. You are my family now,” smiled Isabella.

“We haven’t had much time to sit down and talk. Ever since the engagement you’ve been so busy,” said Beatrice.

“Yes. I wanted to hit the ground running after I married Harry. It seems that it was more like doing a 100-meter dash than a marathon,” joked Isabella.

“My father has been praising you these last couple of days. It’s been like 6 months and you’ve almost hit over 250 engagements. I don’t think Harry has done that many this year.”

“There are many hours in the day and much to do,” smiled Isabella.

“Have you thought of names?” asked Beatrice looking directly at Isabella’s stomach.

“A few for both genders but Harry and I have an appointment in a couple of days to find out indefinitely,” answered Isabella.

“I’m very excited for you. It seems like both you and Harry are just glowing since the announcement.”

“Thank you. Would you mind if I set you up with one of my cousins?” asked Isabella.

Beatrice went a little wide-eyed, “Oh I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not? I know at least half a dozen cousins who would be absolutely infatuated with you.”

“I just don’t think it would a good idea.”

“You're not still in love with that Clark boy, are you?”

“How do you know about him? But no, I’m not in love with him. You would understand, spending almost a decade with someone and having ended the relationship, you’ll still have some feelings for them.”

“You know about Joachim?” asked Isabella.

“Harry mentioned him a couple of times. I know your family marries second cousins a lot and at your wedding reception I heard some people talking.”

“He’s like a ghost that lingers in my life. I’m married with children on the way but people can’t seem to forget about him,” said Isabella.

“I know how that feels,” laughed Beatrice, “Well anyways, have you thought about godparents?”

“You won’t let me set you up?” asked Isabella.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Oh well, okay. Going back to the question, I was thinking of asking you.”

“Really? I would be honored. Thank you for thinking of me. It’ll be my first godchild,” smiled Beatrice.

“Harry is very close to all his cousins, so I thought it would be fitting to look at them for godparents. It’s common in my family to choose brothers and sisters, but I think Harry doesn’t want to do that.”

“When will the christening be?”

“June 11, the day after your grandfather’s birthday,” answered Isabella.

“And location?”

“Well I was thinking Buckingham Palace but Windsor Castle would be the next best option.”

“Isn’t Kate having her baby first, but you're going to have the christening first? The press will have a field day with that. They love making unnecessary drama over everything.”

“Kate and I aren’t on the best of terms. We rarely see each other. I’ve barely even met you and your sister until recently.”

“You disappeared for weeks after the wedding. You rarely are with the family though it’s not like we see each other every weekend.”

“I admit, my ladies used to control every minute. I don’t plan on letting them control my life once these two little ones are born,” said Isabella as she rubbed her stomach a couple of times.

“Your Imperial Highness, if you would follow me we can see the famous portrait of King Charles.”

Isabella looked around finding the people smiling at her and cameras flashing. Her smile was instant but she was exhausted. Isabella had spent on her day on her feet with her father-in-law touring a museum with portraits of her ancestors. They weren’t Harry’s ancestors, but hers which gave her a sense of pride.

“Ma’am, would you care to speak about King Charles?”

“I’m afraid I know very little about him,” smiled Isabella slightly.

“What about his daughters Your Imperial Highness?”

“That I do know more about. I descend from his youngest daughter Henrietta of England. She had two daughters and once again I descend from the youngest daughter. She is the ancestress to the Habsburgs and Bourbons.”

“Is that where your English roots come from?”

“Goodness no. Through my great-grandmother Queen Astrid of the Belgians, I can trace my British ancestry to the Hanover dynasty by King George II. I was blessed with a wonderful grandmother, the Archduchess Yolande, who helped teach me my family history. She knew the importance of knowing where you come from and never let any of my siblings or I forget it,” answered Isabella.

“Will we ever see one of your daughters bare the name, Henrietta?”

She let out a little laugh that pleased the crowd, “Henrietta is a lovely name and it’s the female form of Harry’s name. The world will just have to wait and see.”

Charles had come closer to Isabella and the crowd had moved away to give them space, “They all love you.”

“I don’t think they love me,” laughed Isabella.

“I think you remind them of Diana,” whispered Charles.

“I’m not. Farthest thing from her I believe.”

“Thank you for being here with me.”

“Thank you for having me,” replied Isabella.

“It seems appropriate seeing how he is your ancestor through a legitimate line.”

“Sometimes I forget I have Stuart blood in me as well. It always seems to get lost in all my family history,” confessed Isabella.

“Yes, well I imagine you would forget the little bit of English blood you have when you have much more Bourbon and Habsburg blood.”

“Could I come over after this engagement to Clarence House for tea?” asked Isabella.

“You are welcome to come by anytime Isabella.”

“Isabella it is so lovely to see you,” smiled Camilla.

“Thank you for having me. I know this was all short notice.”

“Tea doesn’t require much effort anyhow. Charles called me and he sounded so excited to get to sit down with you. Where is Harry by the way?”

“Oh, he had an engagement with the rugby national team. I didn’t want him to miss it so I told we wouldn’t be talking about anything important,” answered Isabella.

“He’s in the drawing room. I have an engagement in a couple of hours so I won’t be able to join you but please feel free to come back anytime so we could have a sit-down.”

“Of course,” smiled Isabella.

Camilla had escorted Isabella to the drawing room before giving her a hug and walking the opposite way. Charles had gotten up from his seat and greeted Isabella with a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

“Isabella, what would you like to talk about?”

“Well the tour starts next month and during the time until then I want to start to process of moving out of Kensington and into St. James Palace.”

“That won’t be possible. St. James’ need repairs and parliament would never agree to fund the repairs,” argued Charles.

“And that is why I am willing to foot the bill as long as I get to live there and set up my own household away from Will and Kate. I want Harry to be more than the spare and that starts with cutting the cord between the two,” explained Isabella.

“I will see what I can do, but I make no promises. What does Harry think about leaving Kensington?”

“He will agree to what I do because we know I have our best interest in the end. And thank you for speaking on my behalf, that is all I ask for. I think separating Will and Harry will be good for everyone.”

“How are you? I never even asked about how the pregnancy is going,” said Charles, changing the subject.

“Some days are better than others. I’m tired all the time, my feet and back hurt, and sometimes the pain in my lower stomach is so bad that I can barely stand. But that’s all the nothing, or at least it will be nothing once I see their little face,” confessed Isabella.

“It’s been hard, hasn’t it? You look as if you are about to faint.”

“And this has been an easy day,” joked Isabella.

“Has the physicians at the royal household been looking after you?” asked Charles.

“They have been more than kind. It is just a difficult pregnancy.”

“Kate took on very little before and after the pregnancy. Perhaps you should follow her lead,” suggested Charles.

Isabella had let out a little laugh, “I am the wife of the spare. Should I do that they would surely try and send me the guillotine. All the world’s sympathies have gone to Kate there are none left for me,” smiled Isabella.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Believe it? I know it. I am the wife of the spare. We all know what happens to them.”

#PHFF #Prince Harry Fanfiction #Prince Harry Fanfic #Royal Fanfic #Royal Fanfiction #Fanfiction

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gigglefitjunkrat · 7 years

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Found At Sea

Guess who wrote a fanfiction for Fisherman Recluse Roadhog and Beach Bum Junkrat?

Warnings for Alcohol Use, Descriptions of Drowning, and Mild Violence

Chapter 1/?

Beeping and static gurgling was pretty much the first of three consistent noises Jamie had in his daily life. You’ve got your surf, just your basic rhythmic waves swelling and crashing on the shore. You’ve got your flip flops, doing that annoying thing where they spring up and slap your heels no matter how weird you walk to avoid it. And of course, you’ve got your metal detector.

At this point it was more of a habit than a hobby. Trying to imagine one day that some rich sucker takes off his solid gold rings or, maybe takes off their necklace so it isn’t tarnished in the waves, that was the original motivation that had this habit rolling. As if in some small way he was taking back a lil something from the greedy shits that wave their money around in his face. Sometimes people even leave wallets.

More often than not, that classic static beep combo would lead to useless junk, like crushed beer cans and pennies. When he first started combing he had to get used to holding the thing far to his left so the metal joints in his prosthetic wouldn’t wheel him around in circles. Even after a fairly consistent line of disappointment, habits aren’t something you tend to shrug off. Every afternoon, when people would slowly pack up and go back to their invisible lives in the background of the beach, there he’d be. Metal detector, flip flops, ocean, beep beep beep.

The day got a slight bit more interesting when the hooks started showing up.

Not the tiny hobby fishing hooks, but the giant thick ones that could pull sharks out of the waves if enough power was behind them. Not many people go out ocean fishing from this particular marina, since a good chunk of the population was stuffed shirts that couldn’t lift a finger without breaking a sweat. That being a given, the only thing it brought to mind was the old urban legend about the recluse that lives out on the sea.

“He only shows up about twice a year, usually only two days. The boat comes in from the open sea, sells it’s catch, and disappears… Alone, he’s strong enough to reel in marlin after marlin without tiring out. He’s famous for bringing in the biggest healthiest ocean fish, but he’s also a complete recluse. Nobody’s ever talked to him, nobody knows his story, nobody even knows his name. Him and his boat are well known, but a complete mystery.”

Jamie and a couple of on and off friends sat around a dune fire, killing off the last of the beers that’d showed up just as mysteriously.

“I heard once that he’d been out at sea so long, the sun and the silence made him lose his mind… If someone’s even a little bit in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw them aside like they was nothin’... I knew a guy who’s friend got his shoulder dislocated after he accidentally blocked the guy at the market.” “I’d be tempted to call you a liar if it weren’t for the stories I’ve heard about him…”

“We’ve all got our theories. Here’s mine: He’s a murderer. And uh… He stays out on the ocean so the law can’t find him.”

“Th’law has boats, y’know”

“Yeah, so? Nobody’d find him out there, the waves’d make it damn near impossible to hunt down a single boat, let alone a guy who basically made a name for himself by disappearing.”

“You make it sound so spooky.”

“Innit though?”

Jamie barely finishes off his third drink before letting out an overly loud cackle. “Oooh! Nothin’ scarier than an antisocial fisherman, I’m shakin’ all over!” To accentuate, he wrapped his arms around his torso and gave an exaggerated shiver before falling back in the sand, wheezing with laughter. It was a good few seconds before he realized nobody was really joining in on the humor, to which he lifted his head and looked at everyone around the fire. They returned his questioning look as if he was the idjit getting blanched over an angler.

“Th’lot of you’s not seriously afraid of this guy, right? What’s there to be scared of?”

They all took turns looking at each other, silently deciding who should speak first. All the while Jamie had to hold back a snicker at how serious things got all the sudden. “Well, I met him once… The guy’s a giant. Seven foot something, I don’t know. I was sitting on the docks when he tethered the Sea Pig--” “The Sea Pig?” “--When he tethered his boat at the marina. I tried to just watch him out of the corner of my eye without turning towards him but I could feel his eyes burning into me. It made my skin crawl, I almost jumped into the fucking water to get away from him when he walked behind me.”

Fourth drink down.

“So you’re all pissing yourselves over a big guy with a staring problem?”

“For real Jamie, you weren’t there…”

“Yeah yeah, sure if I was the guy woulda snapped me in half, yeah?”

An exasperated murmur passed between the group again.

“Once, I saw a group of blow-in’s try to pick a fight with him. Everyone else’d be smart enough to leave the guy be, but these four guys thought they were some hot shit. He was ignoring them like they weren’t even there up until one of them slapped the back of his head… Punched the guy so hard he sent him flying into the opposite wall while his buddies scrambled to run away, then he just casually got comfortable again and went back to reading the paper.”

There was another quiet moment, like everyone was waiting for a reaction. To answer the moment, Jamie shrugged and took a long drink from his fifth… Fourth? Fifth drink that night, and breathed out.

“Is that supposed to be scary? Anybody’d wanna knock the wind out of some fruit loops tryna pick a fight they can’t handle.” “...Sounds like you’re trying to defend him.” “Yeah, well, sounds like you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” “Whatever, man…”

Jamie was still stifling a laugh at the whole bit. The fact that this was the most well known local legend spoke at length about the creativity of the whole damn city. Just as he was about to get carried away thinking of a better scare than a random tussle, another voice at the fire started in again.

“I followed him once, when he came on shore to go to a hotel--”

Jamie howled with laughter at a joke that he’d told himself almost immediately.

“D-Didja spy on him in his underwear? Catch a glimpse of ‘is cock and go pale?”

“God, Jamie…”

“Musta been quite an intimidating fella!”

“That’s not why it was--”

“Coulda killed a man if he cracked a fatty too close!”

Jamie once again got caught up in his own laughter. The murmur started distancing itself until there was nothing but the sore exhausted ache of a joke gone stale and the gentle crash of the ocean. Ah well. Too drunk to care. Jamie faked a wave at the group of friends that had abandoned him and continued to laugh, thinking of one thing after another to keep the giggles coming. It was kind of ridiculous, being afraid of some guy that spent too much time alone on the ocean. Like there weren’t more frightening things on the shore, daily. Like, unattended children in the supermarket, or… Stepping on a lionfish, or, uh… Having your mates ditch your drunk ass on the beach.

Staggering upright, Jamie tried to get orientated to start walking. It was taking two or four seconds longer to balance himself than he would have guessed, but once he got situated he was confident enough. He looked towards the city in the distance, where all his potential sleeping accommodations had disappeared to, and… Sneered. Who th’hell needs friends like that anyway, up and disappearing because he didn’t soil his’self at the mere thought of a weird fisherman that didn’t get on well with the general public…

Who gives a flying fuck what anyone thinks about anything. He barked another laugh before flipping off the city and turning, stumbling towards the docks, somewhat aimless. More than likely it would be another night of sleeping on the sand, hoping some uptight cop didn’t make it his civic duty to cuff him for loitering.

Eventually, the rising tide made Jamie decided against the sand under the docks, instead shuffling up to the rickety stairs that lead to the boat path. There was usually at least one or two cabins left unlocked overnight anyway, the ones farthest away from the center being his best bet. He bumbled on and off boat after boat, checking doors, shrugging, moving on. Finally he got to one that was plain left open. Cocky bastard probably thought nobody’d risk it. Or he just didn’t think a drunk would be wobbling around this late at night. T’hell with it. Jamie carefully maneuvered down the stairs into the main living quarters.

Looked… Broken in, from a glance. Curtains were bleached, bed was unmade, one or two half eaten meals were still sitting out… All and all, not a terrible place to nurse an eventual hangover. Jamie stretched upright in the most excessive way possible before flopping down on the bed like he owned the place. Who cares who this boat belongs to. Who cares where his friends went. Who cares what’ll happen in the morning. Who cares?

Two seconds later, Jamie was asleep, having dreams about the ocean. It rose and fell like the breath of life beat within it. Rising and falling, rising and falling, rising so high it threatened to swallow him whole. Under the waves, he saw a looming figure. Something big. In a dreaming daze, he thought it to be that lone fisherman, waiting under the swell to reach out and drag him under. Almost like some kind of sailors myth come from the depths to prove a point that it was real and dangerous.

During the dream, Jamie remembered putting his arms out, daring whatever lay beneath the waves to come and get him, laughing with the same reckless joy that crashes over someone who has absolutely nothing to lose. The dark figure pulled him under the riptide, tearing the air out of his lungs and pulling the heat from his bones. All the while, Jamie could feel the smile tugging at his cheeks. In the dream, he almost felt invincible. Like the water and the waves could never truly kill him. Nothing could, so long as he refused to be afraid. After floating in darkness for a while, he drifted off into a deeper slumber, somewhere beyond dreams. Beyond hangovers and campfire stories. Somewhere quiet, calm, dark… Almost resembling safety.

It was… Eery. Cold. Still. Like the world had stopped turning.

And for a moment he was almost ready to accept it.

The sway of the ocean was not unexpected. The bright blinding sun flooding his senses, still not unexpected. The foggy memory of a grip on his leg and a yank out of bed? Eh, coulda been any number of memories from couch surfing in the marina. Now, the feeling of dangling over the side of a boat with the ocean soaking his hair? Probably a good time to come to his senses.

Jamie took a few long, hard blinks before opening his eyes to see the incredible mass of a man holding him by the leg. At first it almost didn’t feel real, until the surf caught his nose and made him sputter for breath. Suddenly he sprang to life and tried to coil himself around the anchor holding him above the sea, reaching up in a vain attempt to get away from the curling water below. A deep, coarse voice rumbled through him and snapped him to his senses cleaner than any cold water could.

“Give me one good reason not to drop you…”

Jamie looked at the water below him. It was deep blue, deeper and darker than he’d ever known the ocean could be from the shore. In a moment of panic, he flailed his limbs and tried to see what (who?) was holding him. The sun eclipsed him, kept him hidden in shadow and light, too sharp to distinguish shapes from. He shook his head, trying to get a clean line of thought on what was happening. It was difficult to construct a good argument, what with the blood rushing to his head while some insanely strong guy held him over the water, demanding a reason to let him live.

“OI, WAIT A MINUTE MATE, WAIT WAIT WAIT, I CAN’T SWIM!”

“...” “And! And I didn’t mean to stow away on your boat, honest! If I’d known you were going to be back so soon or that you were going out to sea, I wouldn’t have--”

“...”

“Listen, listen, I’m worth more alive and on board than dead in the ocean! I can uh… I’m good with tinkering?”

“...”

“I mean, I’ve fixed a good lot of things just by looking at them at my mates houses, I might be able to fix… Y’know, second thoughts here, maybe I shouldn’t fiddle around with anything keeping us afloat out here, definitely nothing flammable.”

The grip on Jamie’s leg loosened for a split second.

“HEY, HEY, DON’T DROP ME! I ONLY STAYED ON YOUR BOAT BECAUSE I HAVE NO WHERE ELSE TO GO, ALRIGHT?”

“...”

Finally, after all the blood had gone to his head, Jamie was pulled back over the rail and met the floor of the boat, granted it was face first. He quickly tried to orientate himself to see the guy who’d just threatened to drop him in the ocean.

He was… Gigantic. Probably the biggest guy Jamie’d ever met face-to-face. In that instant it became pretty apparent what an incredible hulking mass of a man this guy was. At the very least he must have been seven feet tall. He was wearing some kind of mask, the kind that’s supposed to keep the wind from tearing your face to shreds out on the ocean. The mask was the only thing visible of his face, the rest sort of blocked out by the sun behind him.

“Thank--” He didn’t have time to say much before bile was rising in his throat.

With the sudden change of gravity, light, and the hangover battling it out, Jamie rushed to the side of the boat. After a minute or two puking his guts out over the edge, he got the chance to read the name of the ship in the light of day. Congratulations, Dipstick. You stowed away on the goddamned Sea Pig.

#Junkrat #Roadhog #Roadrat

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