ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-07-02 11:54:00 |
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“Dude,” growled the mini-pirate, tightening the bandana over her head for the finishing touches of her I’m going to cut bitches ensemble - complete with heavy-stomping boots, indigo pants, an over-sized Jolly Roger tank top, and fingerless gloves. “So, like, the next time I plan a date? I’m doing it outside of this place. Nothing’s sacred.” Geraldine was sharpened and ready because, oh, guess what? The skies were farting demons. Legitimate demons. Portals swirled all around, rips into what Ham Sandwich called the Veil, and it was allowing all sorts of shit to pass through. Kenzi already had gotten a taste of them with Birkhoff but there were more, fucktons more, even on lawns and it turns out that the motherload of all rifts was looming over one of the Wal-Marts. Orange County had some shit to say about mega-corporations in America, let’s be real. It was an all hands on deck situation, and she was going to fight with her human teeth and nails to help out in any way she could. And alongside Geraldine, sheathed onto her back, there was also one other thing she had and was dying to use. Her chainsaw. It wasn’t small, and it was a bit heavy but fuck yeah, Kenzi seemed to grab onto it with ease. Goggles were over her eyes, too, because power tools also had some safety rules to oblige by, alright? But it was a hilarious moment in the living room to see Sharkbait decked out and ready for demonic war. “I’m ready to go, Bubba!” Goggles on the eyes, of course. Killian shouldn’t be surprised - he shouldn’t be surprised by anything that went on here, so he supposed the fact that he wasn’t could be considered a mark in his favour. For him, it was full-out pirate gear, sword in its scabbard, even the hook on where his prosthetic should have been - but he wasn’t about to take on demons without an extra bit of sharpness on his person. “Alright, let’s get on it then,” he took in the sight of his sister, armed and ready - with a fucking chainsaw, of all choices (seemed like it’d be messy). “Apparently those strange green openings are everywhere - looks like a bloody tornado from Oz, but I don’t ask questions.” Just tell him what he needed to kill and how, and the bloodthirsty side of him would rear its aggressive head. Taking two steps forward, toward the door, he didn’t get very far when all of a sudden something slammed into the houseboat - now that was surprising, the way the structure rocked upon the water, considering how quiet and still it was most of the time. “The fuck was that?!” To the topdeck, for investigation purposes. That chainsaw was charged, ready to fuckin’ go, and she tested its power by a brief press of the trigger - vrooooooooooom, like an engine with blades. Fond memories of slicing and dicing the Norn’s tree, most def. “Yerp, and Maxy’s got lots of them to close, the poor dude. Guess all we can do is be stationed by them until - gah!” What in hell’s bells was that? Good thing her shoes were practical for this sort of thing, otherwise coordination and balance would have been lost. Kenzi kept her feet planted until the tilt of the boat settled, but was quick to follow her older brother out like a shadow - where he went, she went, because there was no way in hell she was going to leave his side. “Thaaaat’s a good question,” she mumbled. A really good one, and one with an answer she was sort of afraid to hear? There wasn’t one of those rifts out here, they definitely didn’t see one above them, but a glimpse down below and into the waters there was a light there. Sputters and cracks of green glaring right back at them, which debunked her assumption and put an anvil riiiiight into the pits of her gut. “Uh. Killy? That’s - that’s a thing, in the water. I can’t take power tool into the water.” “Oh, you’ve got to be - “ Killian was cut off by another literal rock of the boat - he reached for Kenzi, to help keep her steady, and now that he was outside he could see the culprit. The rippling dark water glowed in a lime green, radioactive way - and it was one of those cunting things, naturally. Did his bad luck ever cease? “Well, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let whatever that is eat our house,” he growled, running back into the houseboat. When he emerged he had the underwater rifle, a bit like a harpoon (it shot pointy things, rather than bullets) he’d used to kill the basilisk when Kenzi was sick. Though upon returning, there was yet another punch of something to their home - sounded like a fucking Kraken down there, and that’s when he saw the flash of sharp, hungry teeth. The glimmer of shiny scales, a fin flipping in the water before disappearing beneath. “Mermaids!” The realisation hit him, with the force of a bag of bricks dropped on his head. Wait. Waitwaitwaaaaaaait. “Mermaids?” Buddha’s fatrolls, mermaids! Kenzi loved mermaids! Like, she even wished she could be one, and hoard things in her own cove of treasures and brush her hair with a fork, and break into songs about how she wanted to be a part of your woooorld. But the excitement squelched once the reality of their situation began to process because, well, aside from the fact that it’d be just their luck to have one of those portal-spewing things under water around them, didn’t - Didn’t Killian hate them, for a really, really good reason? Right. Stick to the bro’s assessment of these goddamn beautiful creatures instead, because she doubted Ariel was down there to save them in case they almost drowned. “Looks like we’re going to be fishing for mermaids, aren’t we,” she winced, a little concerned with how to deal with them since the water - that was their domain, and that’s where they were attacking from. The chainsaw was set down for now, and thank fuck for Killian’s fishing hobby too. There was a net she was able to grab from the supplies, and its catch wasn’t big enough to snatch a half-fish creature, but the rod was long and she’d at least be able to do some whacking and overall disorient them. “You can’t be where the people are, ladies! Sorry!” “Looks like we are,” Killian grumbled, forming a plan in his head - or some semblance of one, because if he didn’t think fast they were going to be fucked. And not in a good way. “Good shot, trap them if you can - “ He positioned himself by the edge of the deck, and in addition to not allowing something to hurt his family or his home overall like hell he was going to let anything screw with his garden - blood rain had been enough, and then being dead meant that he didn’t get to care for his beloved herbs and vegetables. Kenzi was nice enough to look after them, but really. All of this was unnecessary, Orange County. “You know how to make bombs, don’t you?” he asked, and he could have sworn that was in his sister’s wheelhouse. Makeshift explosive perhaps, a Molotov cocktail, but she had the skills. “We’ll need a few.” The rifle was loaded and with a squint of those acidic blue eyes, burning bright in the dead of night, he fired at the mermaid who had just experienced a net rod whacking her in the face - all he needed was a few seconds pause, to get them to hold still enough for a thunk. A sharp, pointed object now embedded in her neck. Sorry, whichever one of Ariel’s sisters this was. He also wished he had that potion that allowed him to breathe underwater, the one Regina brewed, but there was no lamenting that right now. Makeshift explosives were in her area of expertise, just because it was in the generic lesson plan of Street Smarts 101. Needed a breakable container, motor oil, gasoline - she went through the necessities in her mind, wondering if they even had it all on board, if they’d even have the time. Last thing she wanted to do was leave Killian alone even for a split second to work her sticky fingers on making some ghetto explosives, but he had a point. Firepower would be super duper handy right now. But speak into the universe (sort of), and the universe delivers (sort of). It was a swirl of violet smoke that came into the marina, a brief tornado of it that quickly receded to reveal one normally dressed woman. Streets were too risky right now so teleportation it was, and the look of sheer agitation was replaced by one of confusion at the sight of the two of them, seemingly struggling over deck a little - why? A head popped up from the waters, a conch shell in her hand, and she brought her mouth to it and began to blow. A summoning of a turbulent storm was what the goddamn creature was attempting and now, Regina figured out just what the hell was even going on. A twist of her hand like she was opening a bottle of soda and crack went the mermaid’s neck. Telekinesis at its finest convenience. “What the heck are you two even wearing?” “Christ - “ Killian started a bit, just because of the appearance of smoke and the now floating, dead mermaid in the water by the house. Regina certainly knew how to make an entrance, didn’t she? “We’re geared up for battle, darling, it’s all out war on the streets - and as it turns out, one of those jolly green portal things opened up underneath the water.” And man-eating mermaids had obviously come out of them, a lovely present for the likes of them. He was so flattered, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had the rifle loaded and ready, and was pacing a little, watching the water with his eagle eye in order to spot more mermaids circling like the sea creatures of prey they were. But the storm the blow into the conch shell had called upon was currently beginning to roll in - a clap of thunder, clouds shifting in the black velvet sky, and Killian looked up only to feel a plop of one raindrop on his forehead. “Here it comes,” he muttered. “All hands on deck, loves?” SLAM, yet another angry tail-strike against the boat, and it seemed the remaining fish ladies were beginning to get agitated. “I’ve never seen anyone go Darth Vader on a mermaid before,” Kenzi quipped with a shrug, though she was impressed - two down, officially, now several teethy fish-tailed women to go! Their fins could be seen from the stormy waters, shimmers of blues and greens, purples too. A pretty mosaic colors, but they didn’t have time to admire the mythological wonders of the sea while a literal storm was about to rage above them too. Sigh. All hands on deck indeed, and in another puff she was on board. Regina didn’t want to risk herself by manually boarding the houseboat. Like hell she’d want to run a chance of getting snatched up and dragged into a watery grave. “Trevelyan’s going to have a trip closing that one,” she observed the ripples of emerald power from where she was, drops of rain beginning to patter down. Her own magic crackled from fingers curling inward. “Any recommendations aside from blasting them, pirate?” Uh, speaking of Inquisy-poo. “Lemme text the Ham Sandwich so he can add this one to the list,” muttered the goggled one. “You know, maybe he can get to this one ASAP before the boat flips over and we’re homeless. Can thay make the boat flip over?” “Blasting them will do. And bombs, if you want to make some, Kenzi - we can hold down the fort up here. Who knows how many of them will emerge,” Killian responded, and good thing he didn’t get seasick because Mother Nature’s anger plus mermaid anger, all attacking the houseboat at once, meant that a lesser being would be throwing up over the side of the deck. “And aye, wouldn’t put it past them to flip the boat over - perhaps not one on her own, but if they all gang up? Seems likely.” So yes, texting the one who could close this nonsense seemed the timely thing to do. For all of their sakes. A wave slammed hard into the boat next, not a fishtail, but a result of that storm - hence why the Jones’ siblings humble abode rocked in the water; that wave had hit her from both sides, and Killian was not pleased. Lightning was causing the water to shimmer too, jagged forks of electricity, and the wind picked up its pace as well, whistling ominously. The sky was now a blank, very onyx-coloured canvas. “Not today, harpy!” he snarled at a glistening tail that popped up, shooting at the mermaid, a spiked needle lodged in her body. She was quick though, he needed another kill shot, which was always difficult to make when the floor beneath him felt like it was about to give way. The crash of another wave sent him hurtling sideways, yet he still kept his kung-fu death grip on the rifle. “Fuck, why do we live here again??!” Text to the Ham Sandwich seeeeeeeeent! Sup dude, there’s a portal spitting out mermaids in the ocean under us, SOS was the message, pure and simple, and before Sharkbait was tossed overboard thanks to the power of waves, she gave the Captain a salute. “Because we don’t get moments of bonding like these elsewhere? But in I go, Bubba. Bombs ahoy! Don’t get eaten!” “We’ll discuss what household ingredients you have in there that can make an explosive much later,” Regina snorted, doing her best to keep her stability throughout the thrashing of the boat - it’d be much easier to handle an entire platoon of man-eating mermaids if it weren’t for their unfortunate weather situation. There was aggression to be let out, however, and there was never a shortage of it for the woman who once carried the title of Evil Queen - what other way to unleash it? Her free arm shot towards the infested waters and out of her palm came the undulations of energy, red as her once poisoned apples. It was a blast that ripped through the fins of the one Killian shot and soon, blood blotched the seas. How unsurprisingly satisfying. “I’m having unwanted flashbacks about Neverland!” she called out through the pelting rain, the thunderous skies, and then came another hit of tails and waves against the boat - it sent Regina tumbling right into Hook himself. Killian caught her, with his hooked arm, careful not to stab his beloved - he was sopping wet, and cold, and in danger of being struck by lightning, but that was all secondary to protecting the houseboat. It was the only living space he had, after all, and he even planned to use it as a home office for the PI business - having just taken the proper exams, his idea of celebration was not blowing up mermaids. “It’s our aggression fueling the storm,” he shouted over the hurricane-esque winds; difficult to hold a conversation when the nerve endings in your face felt frayed and everytime you opened your mouth, water fell in sideways. Not to mention he could barely bloody see through the downpour. “Remember, it was like that in Neverland too? Think of how much you love me,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on Her Majesty before letting go. Well, fuck trying to shoot anymore. His line of vision was water, the rain nearly drowning him. “I need to secure the cleats so we don’t flip over,” he added, calling to Regina. It was an old houseboat, so they were likely loose - and in this storm, that wasn’t helping matters. Ideally, he’d have taken the boat as far inland as possible and then beached her, for protecting, but they had no idea this storm was coming. He just hoped that Kenzi came back with more firepower quickly. How lucky he was that she found his sheer obnoxiousness adorable in this life - that kiss was met with an iconic roll of her eyes, albeit returned (she wouldn’t waste locking lips with Killian, that’s for sure) under the heat of the storm. A little hard to take the aggression out of mermaid killing, Captain, but fine. Attempt to think about happy thoughts, maybe his dick, or the unicorn stickers she was sure Mary Margaret shat out on a constant basis. Weren’t those lovely thoughts? “I got them!” Regina shouted, at least while he handled that, but while her hand began to warm up into another vortex of magical energies - Out came Kenzi, clumsily, almost tripping on her chainsaw and thank fuuuuuuck for the goggles against the rain - see? These proved to be handy. “Okay! So when we go back inside can we not freak about all the glitter that broke and spill??” Not to mention her stash of sequins and rhinestones for that were used to make designs on tit-tassels and lingerie that covered the floor. Or the other pieces of toppled knicknacks, even some furniture? Try making explosives while the boat was moving like a goddamn tilt-a-whirl. The inside was a total mess. “I got three, one for all of us!” A little fuel, petrol, and baking soda mixed in glass bottles, stuffed with what appeared to be Killian’s socks (sorry, bro, they were just lying around), which would be what they’d light. The little imp of a thief figured some of the queen’s fire-jojo could withstand the current downpour of Zeus’ own piss once they were ignited. “One for you,” to Killian. “One for youuuuuu.” To Gigi, who was both confused but impressed. “One for me! Fire, por favor?? A little bit??” “Oh, this is going to end poorly, isn’t it,” Regina sighed, a grumble mostly to herself but since this was their idea, fine. A wave of her hands, this time that zest of power turning into flame - a flame that flickered and sparked at the ends of her boyfriend’s socks. Of all things. Glass bottles in socks, what the actual hell? Killian was also impressed, and he didn’t even want to think of the state of the furniture right now. No doubt everything was all toppled over, willy nilly, things broken - but it was the least of his concerns. “As long as my two favourite ladies remain intact,” he yelled into the wind when he came back from securing the cleats - good thing he knew how to tie proper knots, even with one hand (involved some cinching, and figure eights), and he made sure to secure everything at the rear of the boat. So his lovely home wouldn’t come free from the slip, wouldn’t separate from the dock. The last thing they needed was to go spiraling off into the abyss, a cork bobbing in violent ocean water. Even so, the storm seemed to be calming a little - probably helped that Regina was less rage-filled, and both Killian and Kenzi were excited about bombs. “This is why she’s my Quartermaster,” he laughed, taking one of the sparking socks. “Pirate skills include knowing how to concoct explosives when necessary.” They didn’t have any cannons on deck, ergo. Now that he had a better visual, he could pick up the ripple of water where fins were, a bit further out. “Take that, you fishy slag!” was shouted triumphantly, as he hurled the bomb over the edge of the deck - only to watch the body parts fly after it detonated. Ouch. Following one home-made bombs came a second, and a third, all of which seemed to have hit something - or someone - to trigger a detonation. It wasn’t the remainder of the storm that caused the boat to shift but the sheer force of the explosions combined, an effective show of power that silenced the remainder of the ocean-dwellers. For now, that is. Blotches of oil spotted the waters and with them, the fire continued to burn a little. Kenzi’s eyes were protected from the brightness from - you guessed them - the motherfuckin’ goggles, and she adjusted them a little as she surveyed the view. “Mermaids down, pirates prevailed. I think I got this ‘scoundrel of the sea’ down pretty good.” Regina wasn’t as chipper, considering the rain soaked her to the bones and the pushing through the storm (now a light mist) had been exhausting enough. “That was officially the last thing I thought to endure when I decided to check on you two,” she said, pushing back strands of damp hair. “But we can probably expect a round two shortly until Trevelyan shows his face.” “We’ll have time to make more bombs, at least,” Killian pointed out, breathlessly, finding the way the flames flickered on oily patches in water to be almost soothing. It probably wasn’t good for the environment, but those fires served as a beacon of hope - a light that spoke of courageousness and ‘we are so fucking done, do not come near this houseboat.’ He slid an arm around Regina, the other coming up to use his sleeve to wipe at his eyes - but he was sure even the marrow in his bones was wet too, so it didn’t make much difference. “And you could maybe whip up something for breathing underwater?” the Captain asked, referring to the potion that he had taken himself, when submerging to kill the basilisk. Might be difficult to close a rift if the fellow was drowning. “But alright, let’s head inside. We’ll catch our deaths if we’re out here much longer, without a hot shower, and I’m not eager to repeat the experience of perishing.” Those queenly fingers pulled Killian’s face closer, a kiss to smack onto those wet lips of his. “If I’d known we’d be fighting mermaids I would have brought some,” Regina chuckled, tiredly - at least no one was hurt? “Trevelyan closed the one on my lawn, so my house is safe if we need to go elsewhere.” And she could always conjure a bottle of the breathing potion from her crypt of magics here, that wasn’t a problem. “We’re going to need to stuff more bottles with socks,” Kenzi confirmed with a nod, picking the chainsaw from the ground before one of them tripped and hurt themselves. “We’ve got materials left for a couple more, just not an endless supply. Next time, though. Pipe bombs. Seriously, I’ll have us stocked up. We’ll teach you and make it into like, I don’t know, a bonding cooking class?” Boom, bitch-balls! Wow. One glance was spared at the very enthusiastic sister, then back to her swashbuckler. “You two are definitely related.” |