#oc Nick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shads-shipposts · 1 year ago

Text

So, my sailor fic Anachronism won't be released in full until at least 2029 due to other projects in my neverending queue, but! There's a profound lack of Karaboudjan crew content on this site and I feel like rectifying that. Plus I haven't cursed this hellsite with my nonsense in ages, and that's gotta be fixed.

So, here's a touch-up/completion of something I'm fairly certain I posted a while back. Ch 2 of Anachronism, called Run and Gun! It takes place the morning of the Tintin movie's beginning, but don't worry about not having chapter 1 to read yet. Honestly, things will probably make less sense if you read chapter one. Plus I haven't written it yet.

All you need to know is Anachronism involves a literal self-insert (I get sucked into the movie) but with the twist of its actually the same universe as one of my old Tintin fanfics that was never finished. Hence why Allan is after me, he's got bits of memory missing and ain't happy about it. Also, being a black belt ain't made up. I trained for 4 1/2 years and got it in 2019. This story takes place in 2020, specifically Jan 1.

Enough ramble, on with the show! Depending on the reception, I may post more book snippets as I go along. So be sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed! Or if you have thoughts on characterization, it's been a while since I've written with these guys.

CW: Langauge, minor peril, utter chaos

Word Count: 3700

---------------------------

“Catch that kid! I want her alive!”

Well ain’t this dandy? All I wanted to do was sketch the ship, now I’m in a run and gun chase scene! This is what I get for being curious!

At least this was just a dream, so I couldn’t really get hurt.

Right?

Usually my dream would have shifted into something unhinged by now. Things were too stable, too realistic. Too… what was the word? Linear.

Footsteps came quick behind me, and close. Blackbelt or not, running was not my forte. My fighting style was quick and brutal, so I never had to worry about stamina. Fights were only supposed to last a few seconds, otherwise they were brawls.

I was not trained for that.

I just really hoped it wasn’t Allan right behind me. He had questions, and to be fair I had a hell of a lot of my own, but I didn’t think he’d be keen on sitting down and having a calm chat about them.

I risked a glance behind me.

Not Allan, or any other sailor I recognized, but a young guy. No older than me, or taller, but probably faster.

“No hard feelin’, doll!” he called. “Boss wants you back, so I’m takin’ ya back!”

“Ain’t you precious!” I retorted, anger sparking through me at the nickname. “Call me that again and I’ll drop your ass!”

“That fire won’t do you any favors with the boss!”

“And your smooth talk won’t do you any favors with me!”

I had to lose this guy, he was getting close.

Spotting a brick wall maybe eight feet high, I changed course and headed straight for it. Hopefully this young fella couldn’t vault walls like I could.

Let’s see if all that self taught parkour pays off!

Jumping at the wall, right foot first, the treads of my boot caught the rough brick and I propelled myself over the obstacle. I landed in a puddle, but at least I was gone from the bad side of the wall.

“Oh what the hell?!”

Ha! Lost him!

“Nick! Where’d she go?”

“She vaulted the wall!”

Well, that was no good. That sounded like Neil, and he could probably toss Nick over the wall.

Time to make like my name and vanish!

Spying an open door, I darted inside a warehouse and climbed up behind some crates. I was careful to not put myself into a corner, however, because I knew my harsh breathing would give myself away. I could control it decently well, but even still.

My reprieve was horrifically short lived.

Voices, inside the warehouse.

“Those footprints led in here.”

Damn puddle.

“Be careful, fellas. She’s feisty!” came Nick’s laugh.

“Anyone would be annoyed to deal with you,” another sailor snorted. “Remember, boss wants her alive. Preferably unharmed, but use force to get her down if needed.”

Oh, it’s gonna be needed.

Noise came from my right, and I turned in anticipation as I waited for the sailor to show himself. He sure was making a lot of noise, and I thought I even heard a crate tumble down to the floor.

The reason for all the excess noise soon revealed itself.

“Gotcha!” Nick laughed, arms wrapping around my middle. He hauled me up and towards himself, but that gave me an idea.

Throwing all my weight back into him, he yelped and we both tumbled backwards, heels over head, down the tall stack of crates. Something that should have hurt like the dickens, but didn’t.

This was a dream after all.

Down we went, Nick having a much worse time than me. It was a long way to the cobblestone floor, the sailor who made all the noise rushing to beat us to the bottom where another sailor waited. I didn’t recognize them, so I didn’t feel too bad when I kicked off the pile of crates and launched us both into the legs into one sailor as he darted below us to grab me.

He went down, he and Nick ending up in tangled a pile of sore limbs, leaving me free to spring free and ready myself to square up with the remaining sailor.

Though I honestly wished he would have been the one Nick currently struggled to detangle himself from. I’d faced off some big guys in karate, but this fella was on another level.

Leverage. I’d have to use leverage.

In a way that did not anger this big guy.

“Little girl has skill,” he remarked in a thick Russian accent, giving me a smile that was surprisingly more good-natured than sinister. “But sadly will not make safe.”

“Get ‘er, Ollie!”

Diving into a shoulder roll, I sprang up and immediately changed direction and dove into another one just as his arms closed over the spot I just was. I darted out the door, immediately slamming into another sailor and taking us into the street.

I could not catch a break!

A car horn sounded, but before I could react, the sailor I ran into snatched the back of my jeans’ waistband and rolled us out of the way to the other side of the street. I kicked off with my legs, aiding him the best I could.

Neither of us were gonna be able to fight if we both got flattened by multiple tons of steel.

Angry yelling followed from the driver, but I didn’t really have the time to say sorry as I found myself locked in a grappling match with the sailor who saved both our skins.

Why couldn’t the other black belts have just ignored the awkwardness and taught me grappling?! I didn’t know dick about this!

But I did know one thing.

As an arm came down and tried to loop around my neck, I bared my teeth and sank them into his bare arm.

It tasted like sweat, dirt, sea-water, and engine grease.

Not that I knew what the last tasted like.

“Youch!” a semi-familiar voice yelled, quickly releasing his hold on me.

Diving away, I sprang up but stopped in horror as I found myself staring down a dead-end alley. Spinning around into a right fighting-stance, guard up and front leg ready to strike, I finally saw the sailor I’d nearly gotten run over.

Neil knelt on the ground, blocking my way out as he nursed his wounded arm. I hadn’t bitten too hard, more concerned with just getting free via surprise, so all he had to worry about was spit and a bruise. Inspecting the bite mark, he then looked up at me with an expression halfway between amusement and shock.

“You just bite me, Shortie?”

“Well pardon me for wantin’ to escape!”

He snorted in amusement, a partial smile on his face. “Apology accepted, but afraid I can’t grant that escape.”

As if on cue, more sailors joined him at the entrance to the alley. Hobbs, Tom, Ollie, Nick, the unnamed sailor Nick fell on, and…

“Shit,” I hissed, locking eyes with Allan.

“What’s the rush?” he asked. “It’s rude to not say goodbye, kid.”

That easy-going and nonthreatening smile don’t fool me, Al. Tom’s the Golden Retriever, not you. You’re a German Shepherd with anger management issues or some shit.

Nick and the unnamed sailor stood on either side of the entrance, looking the opposite directions as they presumably kept a look out for any passersby. The others moved into the alley, pushing me further back.

Hobbs laughed, looking me up and down. “What’re we all standin’ around for? She’s not so tough, watch!”

He came forward, reaching for my arm. I waited until he got just close enough, subtly shifting my weight to my left leg, before letting it fly.

It caught him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and back towards the group.

“Nice strike,” Ollie said, arms crossed and stance relaxed as Neil erupted into laughter.

“Don’t encourage her!” Hobbs spat, slowly staggering to his feet.

“Looks like we got a martial artist on our hands, boys,” Allan remarked, looking me up and down. “No wonder they felt so safe takin’ a stroll down the docks.”

Not my brightest idea, but even in a dream I can gather ideas.

“Now I get why you said it was reflex after you smacked me in the face,” Neil said, still laughing at a wounded Hobbs.

“Sad to say, kid, all that fancy dojo-learnin’ won’t do you much good here on the street. But we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Allan said, tone now conversational and even charismatic in a way. “Up to you.”

Of course he’d switch to charming and agreeable now, he had me cornered. Ol’ good cop bad cop, except Allan Thompson played both roles. Good trick, scare someone out of their wits then act all friendly so they would be more likely to cooperate and “make it easier for everyone”.

Unfortunately, I never in my life “made it easy” for anyone and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna start now.

“All we need from you is some answers,” Allan continued, stance relaxed and arms loose by his sides.

“You and me both,” I muttered.

The way you shift from threatening to trustworthy is amazing, sir. Were you not out for blood, I’d study you like a prison psychologist.

“Quit fightin’,” Hobbs growled, coming up on the right. “You’re just gonna get yourself hurt.” He emphasized his words by pulling a blade out.

I ain’t the one that got Sparta-kicked just a minute ago.

“No need for violence,” Allan called over to him, but he said nothing about sheathing the blade. He looked back over at me. “I’d suggest playin’ nice, kid. No more of that warehouse nonsense, these fellas won’t be as easy to deal with as the new guy.”

“Drop the act, Allan,” I growled. “You and I both know that sweet talkin’ is empty and I ain’t so stupid as to be charmed by honeyed words like that.”

His expression changed, the easy-going smile shifting to something not quite sinister but definitely not friendly. “We’re gettin’ those answers, kid. One way or another.” His tone darkened. “You want to play rough, we can play rough.”

Hobbs flanked his right with a blade, Neil his left with nothing but his bare hands. Tom stood back, waiting and watching the scene unfold with sharp eyes and a hand on his hip close to what I knew to be a firearm.

“Four corners, huh?” I asked, shifting into a ready stance with my weight on my toes. “A gun, a knife, and fists. All I need is a kicker. You good at round-house kicks, Allan?”

He didn’t say anything, still bearing that dangerous smile that sent shivers down my spine yet also brought a similar smile to my own face.

“Think this is a game?” Hobbs demanded.

I flashed a toothy grin his way. “Play ball, bitch.”

Allan shrugged. “If you insist.”

Hobbs came first, blade aimed for my leg. A simple horse stance to horse stance paired with a wrist throw took care of him.

Neil was next, swinging wide with a haymaker that didn’t make much sense but he’d already proved enigmatic in his methods so I didn’t spend time questioning him. I just stepped in, blocked the punch on the inside of his arm, and wrapped my hand around the back of his neck. By a stroke of luck, I threw him into Hobbs and they both went down.

But now I found myself facing Tom, or rather, not facing him.

He locked me in a bear hug from behind, but unlucky for him this was one of the easiest attacks to break.

Drive my heel onto the top of his foot, punch out and step into a horse stance to break the hold, elbow to the gut to wind him, grab the arm, kneel, bend, and flip.

Tom fell hard onto the cobblestones in front of me, arm trapped in an armbar, but as I drew back a fist to strike his ribs, I found myself unable to commit.

Instead, I threw his arm away and dove into a shoulder roll to escape before he could spring up and grab me.

But what was waiting for me was worse, and I sprang to my feet to find Allan’s pistol pointed straight at my chest.

He was in arms reach, and I knew how to disarm him, but I risked the trigger getting pulled and the bullet hitting one of the others. If I could just get him to shift slightly, then I only risked the wall getting hit.

Unless it ricocheted…

“Hey, what gives?” Hobbs groaned, cradling his wrist. “Why does Tom get let off easy?”

“Maybe because he didn’t try stabbin’ the kid!” Neil smacked him over the head. “What were you thinkin’, dickhead?!”

“I was just aimin’ for ‘er leg! I wouldn’t hit anythin’ vital!”

My attention slipped, focused on the bickering pair.

Allan immediately took advantage of the mistake.

“Tom.”

Act!

I stepped in, both hands grabbing the top of Allan’s and forcing the gun down. For some reason, it didn’t go off. Snatching it from his grasp, I slammed my foot into his gut and drove him back. The force sent him off his feet, just like Hobbs, but before he recovered I had the gun ready and aimed at him.

I’d never be able to pull the trigger, even with it just aimed at his foot, but I just hoped they wouldn’t know that.

Allan did notice, however, where I was aiming and where my finger was; resting along the barrel, far from the trigger. Still kneeling, his eyes traveled from the gun to me, slightly narrowed. Tom came up from the side, cautiously, but Allan stopped him with a hand.

“Why would you risk gettin’ shot to get the gun,” he asked, one hand over his stomach where I nailed him. He stood, eyes trained on mine. “Only to aim it somewhere that wouldn’t even stop your attacker?”

“Mind your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Considerin’ I have my gun aimed at my foot, think it is my business.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for a murder charge.”

Dream or no dream. Not that that is the whole reason.

“Did not stop you from trying to break neck in warehouse,” Ollie commented, still standing calm as could be near the front of the alley.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.”

He tilted his head. “You are not desperate. Dedicated to escape, but not desperately seeking.”

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ chased by a buncha shrinks.”

“He’s right, though,” Allan said. “You’ve not once been lethal. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Sure was painful,” Hobbs grumbled, shaking his wrist.

Allan stepped closer, and I raised my gun to his arm.

He shook his head. “Again, not lethal.”

“Good trigger discipline,” Ollie commented.

“Won’t help.” Allan stepped closer again, hands still at his sides.

I still couldn’t bring myself to aim at his face. You never aimed a gun at something you didn’t intend to shoot. Aiming it anywhere near him was already breaking that rule.

Instead, I warned, “Back! Don’t test me, mate, I’ll pull this trigger.”

Lies. All of it lies.

I knew that… and so did Allan. We were in the 2011 movie, but I was not dealing with movie!Allan. I was dealing with some variant of the one I originally wrote with all those years ago, which was closer to the comics; smarter, more cunning, and a lot sharper than anything the movie even hinted at. The charismatic side was new, but very unwelcome. I didn’t know how to even begin thwarting it, and he fucking knew that.

“Come on, then.” He opened his arms. “Pull the trigger, kid. Shoot me down.”

I looked into his eyes, reading the challenge there clear as day. The moment I pulled the trigger and hit any part of him, the others would pounce. They’d already tried attacking separately once before; they would not make the same mistake twice.

We were both within striking range, both able to absolutely ruin the other’s day. But still we remained, unmoving, staring the other down. Locked in a battle of wits, a battle which neither party was going to give up easily. There was too much at stake to walk away.

We both wanted answers. The only question was… who wanted them more?

Tom stepped into my field of view, slowly. “Shadow, just drop the gun, yeah?” he tried, a hand reaching out. “Ya can’t hurt us.”

“Don’t mistake my inaction for inability,” I growled, not taking my eyes off Allan. “I know my way around a gun.”

“It’s not that. You don’t want to pull that trigger, trust me.”

Neil and Hobbs were cautiously approaching now too, staying back at a gesture from Allan. The first mate didn’t take his eyes from me, however.

They were way too calm considering I had a loaded gun. Or…

My eyes widened.

Did I?

Grabbing the slide, I aimed away from Allan and looked inside to find an empty chamber. Ejecting the clip, I found it to also be empty.

They weren’t scared of the gun because there was no reason to be scared of it. It was useless, unless I threw it at one of them. That wouldn’t do any good.

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” I whined, dropping the gun.

Allan reached out with his foot and slid the gun behind him, where Ollie picked it up. “Tough luck, kid.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

“It’d be best if ya just came with us,” Tom said, stepping forward only to stop when I shifted into a fighting stance and brought my guard up.

“Er, not a good idea,” Neil said, shaking his head. “Can’t win a boxin’ match wit’ Tom, Shortie. You got lucky he grabbed you. He usually just punches.”

“A, I’m taller than him,” I grumbled, gesturing at Hobbs and earning a venomous glare. “B, I know I can’t beat him.” I looked between the men, heart pounding against my ribs. “But I sure as hell can make you wish you left me alone.”

Dismay crossed Tom’s face. “Doesn’t ‘ave to be like this.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I prepared to go down fighting. “We both know it does. Unless you let me walk outta here.” I smiled humorlessly. “And that clearly ain’t happenin’.”

Dream or not, this was gonna hurt. Emotionally, and physically. Getting beat up by Tom was not something I ever wanted to go through. Something told me he would take it relatively easy on me, but even a light yet solid hit to the diaphragm from him would take me down. If I was bad at grappling, boxing was even worse.

And we already established I wouldn’t be able to hurt him.

“We won’t ask again, kid,” Allan warned as the men all took a step toward me. “This has gone on long enough.” There was no smile on his face and no amused tolerance in his voice with his next command. “Stand down.��

I shook my head. “No. Y’all square up.”

“Yoooo, Shadow!”

We all looked up, fight briefly paused, and rage filled me as I saw Trevor looking down at us from the roof.

“You miserable and worthless list of terms and conditions!” I hissed. “Get your ass down here so I can at least fuck up your face ‘fore I’m torn to bits!”

He laughed. “What, after I was gonna offer you an escape?”

“Oh yeah?” I gestured angrily at the sailors. “Little late!”

“Not really! Got a little magic trick!”

“Now ain’t the time for games!”

“Not a game! Watch!” He threw a small sphere at us. “Abracadabra!”

It bounced off a crate and landed at my feet, making the men jump back.

“Grenade!”

A hiss and explosion of smoke later thankfully disproved Neil’s initial theory, but left us all with sore throats and watery eyes.

Not that it stopped one sailor.

A shoulder slammed into my stomach, driving me back into the wall. I brought my elbow down, hitting the tender spot between the shoulder blade and neck, but the man grabbed me as he fell and we both went down. Arms tightened around my middle, whoever it was trying to pin me to the ground.

Allan, judging by the feel of rolled up sleeves.

He brought his full weight down, nearly knocking the breath from me and almost causing my arms to buckle. The man was heavy! A hand grabbed one elbow, yanking it back, and down I went. I rolled as I fell, teeth aimed for his shoulder. I missed the bulk of it, but managed to at least catch the cloth.

Tasted and smelled heavily like tobacco and what I assumed was some time of smokey yet slightly sweet alcohol. Bourbon, maybe?

Writer brain off, Fighter brain on!

“Damn it all, kid, quit bitin’!” came the raspy yell, but I couldn’t tell if it was anger or smoke that caused his tone.

“Nien!” I growled through a mouthful of shirt.

He rolled us both out of the alley onto the sidewalk, out of the smoke. I ended up on top as we came to a stop right by the curb, but before I could strike, a hand snatched my arm and dragged me away from Allan.

“Time to go, Shadow!”

“Trevor?! Get off-!”

“Let’s go, let’s go, no time for slow!” Trevor sang, yanking me to my feet before turning to Allan. The hair all along my body stood on end before Trevor hit him smack in the chest with a small blast of lightning.

It sent Allan back to the sidewalk, and damn near sent me into shock.

“Trevor, are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill him?!” I screamed, frozen as Allan laid groaning on the ground.

“Relax, he’s fine!” Trevor yanked me down the road, away from the alley and the docks. “C’mon!”

Giving one last look at Allan, who was indeed slowly recovering and coming back up on one knee, I turned and followed Trevor away from the scene.

#karaboudjan #tintin 2011 #tom karaboudjan #allan thompson #neil karaboudjan #hobbs karaboudjan #OC ollie #OC nick #Anachronism fic #if you require serious fics #this ain't the one #we got furries and magic and self-awareness up in this ish

4 notes · View notes