#oc_trevor

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!

I said refrigerator as a joke!

I didn’t expect him to actually be as heavy as one!

The hell you eat?!

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 sweet alcohol. Bourbon, maybe?

Writer brain off, Fighter brain on!

“Damn it, 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 wrenched me away from Allan.

“Time to go, Shadow!”

“Trevor?!” I demanded, trying to look behind me. “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 just before Trevor hit him square 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!”

I still hesitated, not wanting to wake up with a hollow pit in my stomach after Allan died due to Trevor’s shenanigans.

“Ok!” Trevor chirped. “Plan B!”

“What are you- Trevor!” I screamed as he scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder.

“Roll out!”

No amount of wriggling or punching the back of his thick skull did any good, but thankfully I could see Allan get up, albeit slowly, before Trevor turned a corner and I lost sight of him.

I couldn’t see where Trevor was going, but with his random corner turns I wondered if he even had an end destination in mind.

At one turn, I saw the edge of the marketplace from the movie and filed it away for later as Trevor continued on.

Gotta admit, his runnin’ form is very smooth. Unless he’s just glidin’ across things like a glitched character model?

I looked down.

Nope, he’s running.

Eventually, he unceremoniously dumped me onto the sidewalk then stood proudly with his hands on his hips as he flashed me a grin.

“Ta da!”

I immediately jumped to my feet and slammed him against the wall. “You could have killed Allan!”

“But I didn’t! It was just a little zap, people in Star Wars survive that all the time!”

“We ain’t in Star Wars!”

“Eh, technically we are since your fanfiction did overlap fandoms.”

“Cut the shit!” I spat, slamming him against the wall again.

“I thought you wanted to get away from ‘em!”

“Not if it involved shootin’ lightnin’ at Allan! Trevor, that kills people!”

“He’s fine! Not the first time he survived gettin’ struck by lightning anyway.”

Wait, Allan’s been hit by lightning before?

That wasn’t in my fanfiction.

Guess that’s dream liberties.

I’ll have to use that though, and research any lasting effects of bein’ struck by lightnin’ because there’s gotta be some.

“That doesn’t mean you can just zap him!”

“We had to keep this plot rollin’ somehow!”

“Trevor, I swear to fuck-!”

The door opened to the store beside me and it was then I noticed the writing on the door, thankfully in English: Police.

Piss.

I let go of Trevor as a man with light skin in his mid forties stuck his head out the door.

“Is… everythin’ alright?”

I groaned. “Yeah, just a minor argument.”

He looked even more concerned, bushy eyebrows furrowing as he stepped outside with me. “Argument with…?”

“Trev-” I turned and found myself alone. “Or.” I inhaled deeply, letting it out through gritted teeth. “Of course he’d split.”

Why can he phase in and out of scenes? I should be able to do the same, it’s my head!

“Was there someone else here, son?”

“Son?” I glanced at my chest. “I know I’m flat but c’mon.”

His brows shifted up, and I found myself reminded of the fisherman dad from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. “Oh, sorry, ma’am.”

I waved him off. “Eh, ain’t the first and won’t be the last. Besides, it’s deliberate. Attracts less trouble.”

“Speaking of trouble.”

Oh boy.

“Did you come from the docks, per chance?”

I stiffened. “Why?”

“Because I just received a report from a man that he nearly struck two dockworkers. One matched your…” His eyes drifted to my hair. “Description.”

I do like the color purple, but perhaps it gives me too strong of main character energy. At least I don’t have a tragic backstory. Just the typical emotional hangups that come from military parents who hail from the deep hills of Appalachia where mental illness like anxiety and ADD don’t exist and people would rather die than actually address their emotions.

“So the fucker can drag his fancy ass down ‘ere but can’t stop to say “sorry” when he almost runs someone over?” I scoffed. “What’s the world comin’ to?”

“What was a young lady such as yourself doin’ at the docks? It can be very dangerous there.”

“I was…”

Think think! Can’t get them in trouble, dream or not.

“Meetin’ some old friends.”

“Old friends?” he asked, frowning. “How does that lead to you being in the street?” He peered closer, brows shifting up again at the cut on the underside of my forearm. “And you’re cut?”

“Eh, we like to wrestle. Mutual asskickin’ is how I show affection.” I wiped my arm on my pants. “This is my bad, don’t worry about it.”

His frown shifted into a puzzled but amused smile. “Certainly unusual for a young lady, but not unheard of.”

Oh thank goodness this man ain’t sexist. Well, he kinda is, but for this time period I suppose he’s got a point.

“I take it you don’t want to file a report yourself, then?”

I quickly shook my head. “No no no, that isn’t necessary. It was just me and some old friends, that’s all.”

“Ah. In the future, I suggest keepin’ it at the docks. People get the wrong idea pretty easily, and I wouldn’t want a report filed if it doesn’t need to be.”

I’ll file that away for the next dream.

“I’ll keep it in mind. If that’s all, can I…?” I jerked my thumb down the street. “Go?”

He nodded. “As you were. I’ll take it off the books, miss…?”

“Call me Shadow.”

“Miss Shadow-“

“Just Shadow,” I corrected. “I don’t really like gendered terms, ya know?”

“Very well, Shadow. I’ll file it as resolved.”

I headed past him, back towards the marketplace. “Thanks!” I called over my shoulder before focusing forward again. As I walked away from the station, a frown dug into the corners of my mouth and my salt level rose.

First Trevor spooks me, then I smack poor Neil, then I had to leg it after making Allan all types of suspicious, then I got into a backalley brawl, and then I get stopped by a very persistent cop whom I have to lie to about the fight.

Reaching the edge of the marketplace and wading into the sea of people and knick-knacks, my irritation only grew.

And now I got fucking sensory overload!

“Some days it don’t pay to get outta bed,” I muttered through gritted teeth, trying to get through the crowded marketplace to Tintin before he and Sakharine split.

Because, maybe if I tempted Sakharine, he’d invite me to Marlinspike and I’d get to see the sailors again. For whatever reason, this dream hadn’t shifted yet and an inkling of hope had sparked in me that I still could get myself on that ship.

What the hell are we doing? We just escaped the sailors, why are we trying to worm our way back to them?

Because we didn’t willingly escape, Trevor dragged us away.

We were in the middle of fighting them!

Yes, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a dream in forever.

What I’d say, I had no idea. Where they were, I had no idea. How I’d get a ticket to Marlinspike, I had no idea.

Why I was acting like a dumbass moth to flame, I had no idea.

But it’d been a long time since I had a dream this good of the boys. Perhaps most would be distraught at having to physically fight their favorite characters, but it wouldn’t be the first time my enjoyable dreams of characters involved throwing hands. Or wrestling. Or a good ol’ chase.

Mutual asskicking really was how I showed affection, and that was just the way the cookie crumbled when you grew up with mostly guy best friends.

Concern had started to gnaw at me, admittedly, the longer this dream continued in a linear fashion. Dreams… they didn’t flow this smoothly.

Ever.

Not for me at least.

By now I would either be on the ship, or the ship would have turned into a literal submarine like that one time, or Allan and co would have accepted me into their motley crew, or I’d be on some random ass adventure with Allan and Tom, or the bunch would have morphed into different characters entirely.

Or a convoluted mix of all of the above.

My dreams were just like that.

The alternative of course was I had literally, body and soul, been yeeted across realities and found myself in the actual middle of one of my earliest fanfiction timelines with the crew and was now stuck here.

Which just wasn’t possible.

Wasn’t probable.

Wasn’t comprehensible.

It’s inconceivable, and I’m pretty damn sure that word is used correctly in this case!

Luckily, I had a few saving graces that kept me grounded in the reality that it was just a very, very vivid dream.

The first of course was the utter lack of pain. Real life, even in other realities, had pain. Granted the movie had somewhat slapstick physics at times, but still. I should have felt something as I tumbled down those crates.

Trevor phasing in and out of existence like a glitchy Skyrim character on my old Xbox360 also banished any chance of this being my fanfiction. Because that was not something that happened in any sort of reality, and certainly not in Tintin’s canon or my alternate timelines.

Sure there were aliens, but this was… something else.

The third of course was the fact the sailors knew Scarlett. She was my creation through and through, and while I didn’t know exactly how they knew her, the fact they did at all convinced me this was a dream.

And so I calmed my nerves and focused on completing my task before I woke up, weaving through the markets and trying to play a demented game of geoguesser with the buildings and the near perfect memory I had of the movie.

Were it a VHS, I’d have worn it out with how much I watched it.

No questions asked.

VHS? Ugh, now I feel old too. I shouldn’t feel this old at 19.

Tell that to our sixty year old back pain.

We sit like a shrimp and sleep like one of those Family Guy fall animations. Of course we got back pain.

Finally, I spotted my target.

Good timing, too, for Tintin had the ship in hand and was squaring off against Sakharine.

I stopped a little ways away.

Am I really gonna throw myself at this Ruskie for the chance to grapple with the sailors again?

Tintin looked ready to march away, his grip tightening on the model ship.

Of course I am!

“Hey!” I called, cursing when my accent drew the attention of some market-goers.

Quitchyer gawkin’. What’s the matter, ain’t heard the result of Kentucky parents and a southern upbringing?

“Tintin, there you are!” I said, jogging up to him and Sakharine.

Tintin turned to face me, surprise in his blue eyes.

Why does everyone in this movie have blue eyes? Just like why the hell is everyone in this movie so aggressively British? Sakharine is supposed to be a Ruskie! Mister Ivan Ivanovic Sakharine, can’t get more Russian with that.

What do you have against Russians? Our first and only hardcore reader for years was Russian, she even sent you pictures of her snowy backyard.

Oh I got nothing against ‘em. I’m just an equal opportunity irritant. Like Looney Tunes. Everyone catching these verbal hands, I don’t discriminate.

“Shadow!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been?”

He knows us?

We had that info dump courtesy of Trevor this morning, of course he knows us.

Tintin looked me up and down as Snowy came close and circled me, sniffing at my leg.. “What happened?”

I looked down, frowning at the muddy hems of my pants, a ripped patch at the knee, my bloody forearm, and a streak of what must have been a mix of mud and oil up the side of my shirt.

“Hell, look like I’ve been to war,” I muttered. “No wonder the cop stopped me.”

Aside from me yelling at air.

“You were stopped by police?” Tintin asked. “What ever were you doing?”

“May or may not have run into some buds at the docks. And you know me!” I think. “It’s not a hello without a friendly bodyslam. We got a bit carried away and caused some issues for a driver that apparently tattled to the cops.” I shook my head. “But I’m fine!”

“Are you certain?”

“Aye, I’m good!” I gave him two thumbs up. “Fit as a fiddle!”

His brows furrowed. “What does that even mean?”

“Ya know, I ain’t sure.” I turned to Sakharine. “Sorry to interrupt.” Not. “But wanted to catch Tintin ‘fore he left.”

Sakharine looked me up and down, a noticeable twitch at the corners of his mouth like he wanted to frown distastefully but also wanted to save face. “You are quite brave, getting into scraps with dockworkers. Those types of men can be quite vulgar and dangerous to young ladies.”

Oh, you’re one of those aristocrats. Grand.

“Maybe ‘round ‘ere, but in the states we Tomboys are quite common,” I said with a shrug, then turned my attention to the model ship. “Oh, neat! Looks like the Unicorn from that old pirate tale.”

Both Tintin and Sakharine looked at me with more interest. Especially Sakharine.

“You know of this ship?” Tintin asked.

“Aye! Pirate and sailor nerd, remember?”

“I was just about to go to the library to research it. Could I borrow your notes instead?”

“Ah, sorry mate. It’s more of just passin’ stuff I know, ain’t got the main source.” I couldn’t help myself as Snowy yipped questioningly, and I knelt down to rub the little terrier’s ears. “The library’s a good start,” I said as Snowy leaned into my hand, his stubby tail wagging like mad.

Man you’re adorable and cute for a menace.

“Would you like to accompany me?” Tintin asked.

“Ah, actually think imma wander ‘round the market for a bit.”

“Are you certain?”

“Aye,” I said, watching Snowy scamped off in pursuit of something in the marketplace. I stood, smiling at Tintin. “I’ll catch up later!”

It didn’t take long after he left for Sakharine to clear his throat. “You said you knew of the Unicorn?”

I turned to him. “That I do. Bit of a tragedy, if not an interestin’ one. Pirates, fatal clashes, hidden treasures. Sounds like something out of an old comic book, don’t it?”

Should we really be teasing this man? He had a guy killed for getting too involved.

Yeah, but what’s the worst that could happen? We’re dreamin’. Gunfights, rabid monsters, apocalyptic fallouts. We’ve survived it all.

“You know of the treasure then?”

“Heard rumors, aye. Talk about fascinatin’! Reckoned there may be something at Marlinspike, it was the old estate of the Haddocks, but don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to rummage ‘round there.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What use would you have for such an archaic tale?”

“Writer stuff.”

His gaze sharpened. “You are a reporter?”

I shook my head. “I don’t like people nearly enough for that mess. Nah, I’m just a fiction writer. Pirates are my jam.” At his blank look, I added, “I have a few characters who are pirates. They’re just interestin’, and the sea? Man, what I wouldn’t give for a chance to get out there on the water.”

Take the bait. Take the bait. Take the bait. Take the bait.

The suspicion turned to a look of false friendliness. “Why, if it is Marlinspike you desire, might I offer a tour?”

I straightened up.

Fool, you fell victim to one of the classic blunders!

“You know the guy who owns it now?”

He smiled, but it was far from comforting. It was amiable, sure, but given I knew the intent behind it I wanted to scrub myself with a wire-brush and bleach. Or maybe even Drano.

Allan’s sly smile brought out a sly smile of my own, but Sakharine’s made me want to square up. After, of course, I fed the toilet like a mama bird.

“I myself do. Purchased it some time ago, my dear.”

It took everything in me to not grimace at the term.

Ew. No. Nah. Don’t like that. That shit will be dealt with as soon as I get to Marlinspike. You’re lucky I need you right now.

“Well, shoot! If you’re offerin’, I’ll take it!” I gestured behind me with a thumb. “Mind if I get a sketchbook and grab a bite to eat? I can meet you back ‘ere in about thirty minutes.”

Odd I feel hungry in a dream. Eh, it should pass.

“I myself have a matter to attend to, so perhaps three pm this evening would work better? It is about an hour’s drive.”

You’re gonna go get your boys to come along and yoink me, ain’t you? Fine by me. I could do with another tussle.

“See you back in a few,” I replied with a smile. “What’s your name, by the way?”

Wait, did he ever tell Tintin his name? Or did Tintin just know it? Because if so, plot hole???

“Mister Sakharine.”

The designs for those large patches are:

Hunter: Battle themed sleeve (right arm), Kirituhi* inspired bands (legs). Crosshair: Sleeves of unrelated doodles (forearms and thighs). Tech: Record of every animal species he's met (back), Kirituhi* inspired bands (legs).

As for the civil designs, I based it on the group roles during undercover missions:

Hunter: Chaser (Parkour takedown) Crosshair: Distance Tracking (distance takedown if needed) Tech: Tourist Chameleon (lowers guard) Wrecker: Brawler (Distraction) Shadow: Wildcard (varies mission to mission) Trevor: Flirt (what it says on the tin)

Also, yes Trevor's species and age are unknown. He won't give me a straight answer and he'd change it the moment I try to give him something concrete.

The PSDs, unwatermarked versions, and high res versions of the Tatts/Scars/Civvies Ref Sheets are available for all patrons $5 and higher!

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