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All Hands On Deck



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Sun Jun 05, 2016 9:52 pm
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Sevro says...



Keegan Myers



"Mr. Myers," I heard from behind me, mere seconds after I had dropped the empty wallet into the dark waters below. All my senses buzzed for a moment. I thought the voice belonged to Twig at first, and that he had come back for round two, but the subtle accent and deep tone disbanded that idea pretty quickly. I turned around, wiping the surprise off my face.

"Who're you?" I asked, taking in the enormity and presence this guy had. I couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he was tall—taller than me. Now, there are two kinds of strength. One kind is derived from hours of lifting and flexing and repeating, hours spent in a gym on all the fancy equipment. I like to think of that as wanna-be strength. It's usually just for show, and it's never worth shit when it matters most. The other kind of strength comes from a hard day's work. It's there after you spend a couple months in the field, be it a battle field or a farming field. It's the true kind of strength.

And I could tell that this guy was honest-to-God strong.

"Jean-Claude Baptiste. First Mate to Captain Sanders," he said. I picked up the accent a little more. Definitely French. He held out his hand.

I grasped it with my own. "Keegan Myers. But it, uh, looks like you already knew that, didn't you." I smiled a little, a real smile. Maybe there would be someone on this God-forsaken ark that I didn't want to toss overboard immediately after learning their name.

"Yes," he admitted. "Mr. Pritchett informed me of your...profile."

I leaned back against the railing to disguise my surprise. I knew that Pritchett must've known something about me, but I didn't know it's extent. And I didn't know he'd be sharing his knowledge with anyone else.

"You're all set, Keegan," the doctor said, like he did every time I had to endure his annoying presence. Twice a month. Supposedly, there were still bits of bullet in my leg, and it "needed to be monitored". I hated the appointments. I always left in a state of frustration. Today was no different. I glared at the doctor and walked out of the examination room. He was well aware of the problem I had with these appointments. There was rarely a visit where we didn't argue about it.

I had barely gotten back to the registration desk to set the date on my next appointment when the doctor called my name from behind me. I turned around, but it wasn't the balding man in a white lab coat bustling toward me. No, it was a prestigious-looking guy, leisurely ambling my way with his hands in his suit pockets. I had never seen him before.

"Mr. Myers, I'll cut right to the chase." He voice was like a strong winter wind. He spoke sharply, like an angry parent. "My name is Nathaniel Pritchett. I've been monitoring your recent activities, and I do believe that fate demands our paths intersect, in one way or another."

I wasted no time interrupting him. "And, uh, in what way would that be, Jehovah's Stalkers?" I asked him, raising my eyebrows.

"If you'll walk with me, I have a proposition that I think you'll be quite fond of," Pritchett said, not paying any mind to my quip. I agreed. Like I had anywhere else to be. Curiosity almost always got the best of me anyway. I followed him and his suit out of the hospital and we fell into step on the cracked sidewalk. "I have theorized that there is an island off the coast of Africa. Several passenger airlines have disappeared in the past several years, and I think that's where they are, to this very day." His voice took on an excited tone when he talked about the Mysterious Island. My breathing had quickened. If he noticed, he didn't let it show on his face. He continued. "I am in the process of gathering an elite group of diverse people, each with their own unique skill sets. I would like to offer you a spot on the ship bound for the island."

"Why me?" I asked.
What's the catch, I wondered.

"That, Mr. Myers, is something you'll have to discover for yourself." He gave me a knowing look that stopped my heart. He stopped walking and took a manila envelope out of his suit jacket. He held it out for me to take. "This should answer all further questions you may have."

I took the envelope slowly. "What's in it for me?" I asked him.

He had begun to walk away. He turned back around. "Three million dollars and an adventure you won't soon forget."


My eyes narrowed. "What's in this, uh, profile you got on me?"

"Many things; occupations, the locations of all your previous and current houses, a complete medical file, criminal record..." Jean-Claude said, crossing his arms. "Now I have a question for you, Keegan. Why are you here?"

My jaw squashed the wad of gum in my mouth. An air bubble popped as I pressed my back teeth together. "You mean besides the dough?"

"If...that is not the only reason, then yes. Besides that," he said with that accent of his.

"Right," I said slowly, buying some time to come up with an answer. I didn't want to sound all sappy and explain an undying love for adventure or a need to try new things, or something cliche like that. And I sure as hell didn't want to tell the truth. "Well, God knows this, uh, math club needs someone to keep 'em in line." He made a 'hm' noise. I don't know if that was his way of laughing, or if it was because he saw through my thin shield. I hoped to the heavens that she wasn't in my profile. I immediately shut down that train of thought.

"You and the doctor are already fighting?" Jean-Claude asked. It was more of a statement, but I could tell he wanted a response. And this was a topic that I didn't have to lie about.

"Yeah, well, sometimes, you just gotta let 'em blow off some steam, ya know? I just hope he stays outta my face for the rest of this cruise," I said, stretching my shoulders. "'Captain Sanders', huh?"

"Yes. What about him?"

"I haven't seen him yet. Is he gonna make his rounds any time soon, or is he one of those shy, recluse types?" I asked.

"Trust me, when the captain would like to meet you, he will meet you," he said, tilting his chin down ominously. My mouth twisted into a little sneer. How bad could a captain be? "It was good to meet you, Keegan, but I have other passengers to speak with." And with a nod, Jean-Claude walked away. I decided to give myself a little tour.

After exploring the upper decks, I could tell my shadow was getting longer on the cinnamon-colored planks. The sun was sinking into the sea and the coast was nearly out of sight. I had to get up early to catch my flight here, so I decided to hit the bunk early. Changing into Adidas shorts and a generic gray T-shirt, I propped up my pillows and leaned against them. Something was wrong with my charging cord, so my phone was only at 21% after half a day of being plugged in. I stretched the tangled wire over to my position on my bunk so I could check my phone. After about half an hour of checking social media with the crappy wifi on this rowboat, I put my phone down on the little wooden table and settled down farther into my bed. I drifted off to sleep pretty quick. I was no stranger to sleeping in foreign places.

~•~

If there was one thing that being a SEAL taught me, it was to sleep lightly. The slightest noise would wake me up, and I was certainly not a pro at distinguishing bad sounds from normal sounds. So, when Twig came in about an hour after I had fallen asleep on top of my covers, my eyes snapped open and I leaned up onto my elbow. My other arm flung out near my stomach. He shot me a glance and walked over to his bunk on the other side of the room. I laid back down and went to sleep.

~•~

I awoke again, several hours later, from a bad dream. That's why I wasn't really sure if the scream was a figment of my nightmare or if it came from outside the cabin. That's why I hesitated in getting up. When I did, I did so quietly. I crept over to the door. For the life of me, I couldn't remember whether the door had creaked when Twig came in. I took a risk and swung it open fast, hoping that the speed would negate the squeaks. I was blessed with silence. My eyes were wide as I crept out of my cabin. I made my way slowly towards the deck, and just as I got to the corner of the corridor, someone ran into me. I grabbed their shoulders, and pulled them in a semicircle so their back was to the wall. I heard a gasp. Definitely female. I loosened my grip. My arms slid back to my sides as she looked up. Her face was illuminated by the weak moonlight. She looked terrified and confused.

"Did you scream?" I asked her in a low voice. The last thing I needed was a crowd of people being woken up by this commotion. She furrowed her brow, as if she couldn't remember whether she had screamed or not.

"Yeah...I guess I did," she says, scouring the planks for an answer.

"Why? What happened?" I fired questions at her. I looked around again. I didn't see anyone else, and the waves covered any sounds I would have otherwise heard.

"I don't know...there-there was a...guy, a-and he was...dead," she said, shaking her head. She must've realized how crazy it sounded as she said it. My mind was numb with surprise.

"Where?" I demanded. She shook her head again immediately at my question.

"No, you shouldn't go out there. There's-there are already people taking care of it," she said quietly. My mind was in complete military-mode. My thoughts were racing. Was it murder? If so, who was the killer? Hell, who was the victim? And just as that thought came to mind, reality slammed me in the chest.

There was a murderer on the boat.


Spoiler! :
@Jexy let me know if I need to change anything about Jean-Claude.
@AllisontheWriter Tell me if I misinterpreted Jane. I left their conversation open. You can continue it/end it how you'd like, or Wes could come around the corner, @Savvy, and join them. Up to you guys.
@CandyWizard I mentioned Dryden. It was short, but if you have a problem with it, let me know.
Also, if you guys picked up on this, I gave little hints here and there to a mysterious "she" in the post. More info will be released in further posts, but I might update Keegan's character profile in the secrets section ;)
Overall, hope this is okay!
"They think I'm still a child. The fools. Alexander was a child when he ruined his first nation."
—Darrow from the Red Rising trilogy by Pierce Brown<3


Spoiler! :
Formerly olsene and Caterpickle





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Tue Jun 07, 2016 2:27 am
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Jexy says...



Jean-Claude Baptiste

After his introduction to Keegan, the First Mate had stalked the ship for a time, but the other passengers seemed to have retired, and so Jean-Claude did the same. A few hours passed in his cabin, spent reading a dusty old book found on the empty shelves in his berth until there was a sudden knocking at his door. By then the sun had retreated over the horizon.

"Jean-Claude!" An urgent whisper filters through the door. The Frenchman bolts to his feet and rushes over to the door with his recognition of the Captain's voice. He throws the door open and offers him to come inside, but he shakes his head. It is then that Jean-Claude notices the Captain's clenched hands, and the shaky look in his eyes. Merde. Not again... The large man closes the door behind him and follows the Captain with a knowing grunt. What poor soul has fallen to Sanders' urges this time?

The two men make their way through the steam room and maintenance tunnels along the length of the boat until Sanders' takes a sudden turn, placing them on the second deck. There are voices ahead and the Captain straightens, his more frantic demeanor fades. The Captain is truly a master of deceit.... The two men turn a final corner and come face to face with two people bathed in shadow. A flashlight appears in the Captain's hand and their faces are illuminated. Merde. The Captain's son is one of the two, and the other is Jane West. Jean-Claude immediately reviews what he knows of the girl in his mind. His eyes narrow. Amnesiacs always complicate things.

Sanders takes a small step forwards and addresses the two, still unaware of the two men's presence. "And what d'we have here?" His tone is devoid entirely of the panic that was so clear only moments before. He repeats himself as the two whirl in surprise. "What d'we have here?" The boy's eyes widen almost comically in recognition. "Dad?"

"Don't look at me like you've never seen me before, boy." Even Jean-Claude allows a flinch to smear his features and is grateful for the darkness that at least partially cloaks his face. The Captain seems almost gleeful in this surprise meeting, though, knowing the Captain, this was probably hardly a surprise. "Run off to bed." His tone loses any semblance of friendliness or humour, and the two scamper away without debate. No doubt the boy was confused and angry, the girl was visibly scared. He pushes the two from his mind as the Captain turns and exposes the body to Jean-Claude. Ah, Kale. Poor bastard... He keeps his face clear.

"Help me clean this up will you?" Sanders jerks his thumb to the body, neck bent at an unnatural angle. The Frenchman grunts and moves forwards to take up the body over his shoulder. A short time later, Kale has been stuffed into the massive turbine in the steam room. "The evidence will soon be shark bait. Thank you again, Jean-Claude. I don't know what I'd do without you." A rough pat on the man's back is followed by heavy footsteps on the metal floor that soon fade into the distance. Jean-Claude simply stares into the closed hatch as he tries to force down the sick feeling in his stomach. Perhaps I should have stayed with the Army after all. The men I killed there actually deserved it... Most of the time..... But this..... This is wrong. The First Mate shakes these thoughts from his head. The Captain took me on after my country deserted me. I owe him everything, his faults aside. There is nothing else for me in this life.





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Fri Jun 10, 2016 9:18 am
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Persistence says...



Eugene Dryden


"Dusty. What's yours?" the girl asked, brushing her red curls behind her ear with her steady hand. She was gorgeous, but there was much more to her than that. There was something in her eyes, some sort of curiousness that also made her seem mysterious. Who knew what kind of secrets her desire to learn had revealed to her? I sure wanted to find out.

"Eugene," I said and smirked. "If that's too formal for you, you can just call me Doctor." She lowered her head and looked away – she was shy, and it felt good to see her chuckle. She seemed impressed with my title, but not as much as other people when I 'casually' mentioned I was a doctor.

"It's nice to meet you, Eugene," she said as her eyes investigated the horizon.

I extended my hand for a handshake. "The pleasure is mine." She took it, and she shook my hand five times as long as I had shaken any other person's. It was awkward for a second, but we both laughed about it. "So, Dusty, what brings you to this…expedition?"

"Art?" She seemed unsure in her answer. "The money? A little bit of both."

I scratched my head and nodded. "You're an artist?" Maybe that's how she painted a smile on my face. "What kind of art are you into?"

"I draw," she said modestly. "But I can do other stuff, too."

…drew a smile on my face.

"Hey, Doc!" a girl shouted from a distance as she strode towards us. She looked to be in her late teens, tall, blonde, hair just as curly as Dusty's.

"Ceci!" I replied as she approached, holding a small box in her hand. "Do you have it?"

"Yeah, but I'll need it back for tomorrow's math test," she said and winked at Dusty. She handed me the box; it was a small calculator.

I pocketed the small item. "Sweetheart, this won't even be a calculator by tomorrow."

Ceci raised her brows. "And your face won't be as pretty if you call me 'sweetheart' again."

"Whatever you say, honey," I said and she punched me lightly in the shoulder. I noticed that Dusty had been standing in silence, eyeing the deck floorboards. "Hey, this is Dusty. She's pretty cool."

"Hi, I'm Cecily. And I'm about to go get some poison. Wanna come?" she asked Dusty, who awkwardly stared at her with wide-open eyes.

"She means alcohol," I said and smiled as she did the same. "And no, I just came from there."

Ceci chuckled and poked my chest with her finger. "I wasn't asking you. Come on," she turned to Dusty and pulled her by her arm. "It'll be fun."

"Okay. It was great meeting you!" she exclaimed as she was being pulled away, her hair bouncing in the wind. I had just said I didn't want to go back, so I couldn't follow after them, but I watched Dusty go until they were out of sight.

I had nowhere to go, so I returned back to my cabin. Keegan was lying on his bed – probably sleeping. He almost jumped up as he heard me come in, seemingly ready to snap my neck at the slightest provocation. We didn't say anything to each other; I just flopped onto my bed and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up, and Keegan wasn't in his bed. The door was left open, a cold current of air flowing through to my rolled-up sleeves. I drowsily strolled to the door, with the intention of closing it and going back to sleep.

My clean-cut roommate popped out of nowhere, startling me quite a bit. "Get back inside, Twig," growled and paced past me. "And shut the door," he commanded. I felt a sudden rush as my eyes popped fully open.

I complied, closing the door on my second attempt. Maybe there was something wrong with it, and that's why Keegan had left it open. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Someone got killed just now."

"What?" I gasped. "Here?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, on the Moon! Of course here, genius."

"Who got killed?" In the back of my mind I feared that it could have been Dusty or Cecily or that old guy. I would have even thought of Keegan if he hadn't been standing right in front of me.

"Some guy. Old crew member. Got his neck snapped." I was starting to get annoyed with having to ask him questions to have him tell me things.

I was relieved it wasn't anyone I knew. I mean, people die all the time, right? Better if it's someone random than someone in my life. "Who did it?" I asked as I scratched my head.

"You didn't; that's for sure."

"How do you know that I didn't?" I smirked as he rolled his eyes once more and threw me a gaze that had 'Cause you're a Twig written all over it. Though, having seen him wake up as soon as I made the slightest of noises, I realized that he knew he would have heard me if I'd tried to sneak out. "How do I know you didn't kill him?"

He looked me in the eyes as he slowly walked up to me. I nearly stepped back, but I managed to hold my ground. He stood in front of me, almost breathing in my face. "You don't," he said and lay down on his bed straight after.

I thought I'd find out more about it, so I left the cabin and went to the only person I could trust to have my safety as his top priority: Captain Sanders. Without me the mission wouldn’t go according to plan, so if anyone could keep me away from danger, it was him.

I knocked on the door of the Captain's cabin – no answer. I had heard some random guy on the ship say "Captain's cabin's always open. You just gotta be man enough to face him", so I placed my hand on the knob and I pushed it open. Sanders was leaning over his desk, back turned towards me. I walked up to him, and when he turned around he still had a bit of white powder on his nose. He looked angry that I'd interrupted him, but he squeezed his fists and refrained from punching me. "You have a little, right here," I said and pointed at my own nose. I imagined myself snorting coke, and I cringed at the thought of using anything but alcohol to damage my beautiful brain.

He wiped the cocaine off. "How can I help you, Doctor?" he said through his teeth.

"I heard there's been a murder. If there's anything I can do to help with it…"

"That… has been taken care of." For the briefest of seconds, his eyes darted at a large wooden chest nailed to his cabin's floor.

"So, you know who did it?"

"Yes, we do: it was nobody. He killed himself for losing his job. Even left a note about it."

"Oh. Well, okay." I nodded. It was a very unusual situation, so there wasn't much more I could say.

"I'd appreciate it if you would tell the others."

"Sure thing, Cap." There was something he wasn't telling me. I left his cabin and waited around the corner. It wasn't long before he left and I heard his uneven footsteps slowly grow more distant.

Captain's cabin's always open, so I just entered it after I threw a few swift glances around, making sure nobody could see me. I knelt down before the wooden chest, and I uncovered the lid. It smelled like plastic or burnt rubber, and it was empty, except for a plastic sheet that covered the bottom. The sheet had been flattened – there had been something smooth and heavy pressing down on it. There were several perpendicular lines not too far from each other. Whatever was in there had to have had the shape of a brick. "Money," I whispered to myself.

I quickly got up and made my way back to my cabin.
Deep thoughts remind me of unfinished





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Jexy says...



Jean-Claude Baptiste

The Frenchman had retired to his cabin after the disposal had been taken care of, but just as he was falling asleep; a knock at his door. Jean-Claude sits up straight on his bunk and listens carefully for a moment. Knock knock. Not my door, the Captain's... But who would be calling on him now? Scowling, he pushes up off his bed and creeps silently to his own door, pushing it open and wincing at the poorly-oiled hinges as they squeak. Sanders' door is standing open and voices float out into the breezy air and the Frenchman moves to investigate. Doctor Dryden. No doubt inquiring about the killing. Word moves even faster than I thought it would...

After a few words, the doctor turns to leave and Jean-Claude takes a step back into a shadowy alcove set into the wall behind him, and Dryden passes by without a second glance. The First Mate almost moves to ask the Captain what that was about, but the footsteps suddenly stop just around the corner. Jean-Claude's eyes narrow, and back into the alcove he goes.

Not much time passed before the Captain opens his door again and heads down the walkway, who knows to do what. Sure enough, only moments after Sanders' footsteps have retreated faintly away, the doctor's head comes around the corner, looking around warily. He comes padding back down to the Captain's door and eases it open, slipping inside with hardly a sound. Jean-Claude makes his way from the alcove and up to the porthole window, casting a glance inside. What're you up to, Doctor Dryden? The man is crouched in front of the Captain's wooden chest, and the First Mate almost kicks the door in until he sees for himself that the box is empty. Eugene takes another look around before closing the lid and stepping back to the door, and Jean-Claude just makes it to the alcove in time. The doctor closes the cabin door behind him and stalks off quietly, no doubt headed back to his own bunk.

These passengers are too nosy for the Captain's liking. What was Pritchett thinking? Perhaps he wanted to test the Captain's patience, or maybe the passengers' ingenuity. Whatever it is, the Captain won't like it. Jean-Claude slips into his cabin again to retrieve a number of... tools before heading back out.








This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.
— T.S. Eliot