cool guys don't look at no ghosts

[triggerworn]

WHO: Frank Castle and Steve Rogers
WHERE: Ghost ship!
WHEN: November 29
WHAT: Just bros doing a sweep of the ship
WARNING(S): guns n ghosts

It's been a while since Frank Castle has carried out a mission that isn't his own. In a way it's still his own doing. Or at least, that's what Frank tells himself. He's here in this world because of his own choices, and if the mission means getting anywhere closer to his goal then there really is no other option. Today the General has informed him that he is to inspect the ship for looters and bring along another individual. Any looters are to be "deterred as deemed necessary."

With Steve Rogers accompanying him, Frank stands at the ship's entrance. He can't see very far in, with darkness enveloping the ship and all but ordering the two men to turn around. Switching on the flashlight mounted to his rifle, Frank turns to his companion with a mild lift of the eyebrows.

"Ready?"

Comments

[enshields]

"You gotta ask?" Steve says it like a smart-ass, one corner of his mouth quirked up into half a smile. He'd have said, born that way to Buck, but while he likes Frank well enough, right now the only thing they really share is the camaraderie of military service, of War.

Steve's dressed in all-black, tac-gear that's reinforced over vital organs but nothing that screams Captain America. The shield is still in the Architect's manor. He hasn't touched it, even though she made it plain and clear it's his to do with what he will. Thing of it is-- it's not his. Not anymore. It belongs to a ghost.

He's got an assault rifle slung across his back. He doesn't bother bringing it up to bear, in the close quarters of the ship he'd rather take a fight head-on than worry about destructuralizing the ship with a ricochet shot. The guns are more insurance than game-plan.

"I'll take point." Frank's good, but Steve's a lot closer than he is to bulletproof, so he just steps lightly in front of him and starts into the dark without preamble. He's got a flashlight on a holster strap across his chest, so he just flicks it on. He doesn't really need it, but might as well.

[triggerworn]

Frank gives a grunt of "mm" in affirmation. Inwardly he takes note of their respective approaches. While they both accomplish the same objective in possessing a gun and providing a source of light, the two men go about it in very different ways. For Frank, having a gun in his hands is familiar. It's not quite comforting, but it helps him make sense of the world around him. To ground the situation when everything else seems foreign.

He allows Steve to move forward, not questioning the logic in a sound decision. They have their own respective strengths and if the situation goes sour they both need to make it out alive. Contracts aren't finished in a box.

Dressed in his own black body armor, Frank stays in the shadows behind his own light. As he continues through the ship he moves methodically and efficiently, staying close to what walls and barriers he can.

A rustling sound cuts through the stillness and Frank stops. He isn't sure it's from outside or inside the ship, but it's worth taking a look. Motioning with his light, he indicates his suggestion of investigating the source of the noise.

[enshields]

He cocks his head to one side-- just barely, he can make out voices, speaking wisps of the local tongue. The way they echo suggests a larger space than the one they're in right now, and Steve does a few mental calculations - they're below the water line, and the only space large enough to account for those particular echoes would be some sort of cargo bay.

So he uncurls his hand from the stop gesture and quickly signs out: at least three, several hundred yards off, a bit lower than they are now. No way to tell yet if they're part of the target demographic they're here to clean up, or if they're just here for a lark. They'll have to get closer for that.

Steve covers his light with one hand, clicks it off altogether and steps down into a maintenance corridor, barely wide enough for the breadth of his shoulders. He's been keeping a running tally of the ship's layout in his head as they've progressed, and he has a pretty good idea of where they are and how to move forward. Up ahead, it turns into a catwalk above a cavernous, well-lit space. Time to step lightly.

[triggerworn]

Through the shadows Frank can see Steve's signal and gives a quick nod. When Steve carries on ahead it's difficult to stay back. Years of experience and training keeps Frank where he is as agreed. Though these days he's used to carrying out solo missions, he knows the dangers of bucking a plan. After depending on his own eyes and ears for survival, it's gnawing on Frank to not see what Steve sees.

Yet he follows, covering Steve's back and keeping on the alert for more movement. When he reaches the corridor, Frank too clicks off his light right before allowing his shoulder strap to carry the weight of the gun against his back. He slips though, uncomfortably, but he manages. It's what comes next that gives Frank pause. He's never been the most careful guy. A mission based on overpowering an opponent always made more sense.

As he walks across the opening Frank makes an extra effort to note the drop beneath. There are two more catwalks down, way down, running perpendicular to the current one on which he and Steve stand.

In the stillness an unmistakable crack of wood rings out. Though it didn't come from Frank, he can feel the catwalk bowing in a way it hadn't only a second ago.

"Move!"

[enshields]

There's absolutely no wasted time between the crack of the wood, Frank's warning shout and Steve's reaction. The catwalk gives way, there's a lurch as the wooden frame twists. He jumps. There's a second catwalk further down and he reaches out to grab at the railing. It slows him, jolts his shoulder so bad it punches the breath out of his lungs, but three hundred odd pounds on the old, rotten wood doesn't bode well for its future. The catwalk bows in the direction of his weight, and then damn near disintegrates.

The rest of it's just falling. He's good at that one. Call it a paratrooper thing. It's one helluva drop, but he's got an acrobat's grace and a supersoldier's durability. He twists in the air, gets his feet under him and hits the ground in a roll meant to spare his knees. The fall, however, puts him smack in the middle of a group of rather surprised looking-- pirates? He doesn't have time to finish the thought, to draw a breath. Debris rains around them, causing enough distraction to buy them time.

(Shift. Focus. It's just battle math.)

Frank's human. That fall was almost thirty meters. Even if it doesn't kill him outright, he'll be out of the fight for good, and maybe dead depending on how quickly Steve can haul him out and get him to a doctor.

(One person starts reaching for his gun, having recovered from the shock of a stranger literally dropping into their midst. Steve has an eighth of a second before he fires, before Frank hits the deck. There is a war inside that man, worse than any Steve's ever seen. If anyone will have pulled their gun during the drop, it'll be Frank fucking Castle, and Steve's going to trust that he'll have the clean shot.)

Steve pivots on his heel, launches himself backwards without even looking to see where Frank will be, trusting his instincts and the shift in the air that he'll be in the right spot when it matters. He has to calculate the amount of give he'll need to his posture to keep the impact from being on par with hitting concrete.

He catches Frank just a little off-balance, there's a near simultaneous eruption of gunfire like applause around them. It's sloppy, they're still fighting the falling shards and splinters of wood, but one lucky bullet hits him in the ceramic plate over his kidney. It'll bruise, but it's nowhere near fatal. He does not, however, have any intention of standing there long enough to let anyone take potshots at him, so he half-sets, half-drops Frank onto his feet about as inelegantly as anything and pulls the gun up in its webbing in the next heartbeat.

"Go!" More efficient if they split up, they can cover more in the crossfire.