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Post by spasticjazzhands on Jun 25, 2023 9:21:00 GMT -8
He can't believe the new twists his life quickly became. He was only supposed to accompany a secure cargo mission...a mission he had no part of at that! When a secret military mission leads him to be assumed dead and shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean, only the creature and cause of the wreck can save him...for a price. On the run from her power-hungry brother in the midst of a royal ascension, she's caught in the nets of something that perhaps scares her more than familial issues: humans. While they didn't know the can of worms they opened when they brought her on board, one person survived and could prove to be useful. Together they will learn the power of trust, family, and acceptance as their worlds collide and are forced on a crazy adventure meeting lots of friends and foes they never thought possible.
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Post by spasticjazzhands on Jun 25, 2023 9:25:58 GMT -8
▀▄▀▄▀▄ 🇨🇭🇦🇵🇹🇪🇷 🇴🇳🇪 ▄▀▄▀▄ Fletcher Hayes was about as straight-laced a man could be: light olive skin with thickset eyebrows, an impeccable resting bitch face, a loving wife who dutifully dragged him to weekly church, and a successful career as a major in the navy. When asked by new recruits, especially as he was retiring and parting ways with his sailors, the one regret he would always admit to would be their lack of children though not from lack of trying. He never would have guessed that at the ripe age of 55, he would have to bury his soulmate before they could actually start their adventure together. He nor Ayla Hayes expected a pancreatic cancer diagnosis months after his official retirement, and it only took three excruciating months to shatter all of his dreams. His tightly cut afro curls now were dyed a bright purple in accordance with the recognized cancer ribbon color.
Now instead of boarding a cruise ship to the Bahamas with his wife, Fletcher was bundled up in a heavy coat and scarf, clutching a nondescript urn to his chest, and was receiving pitiful glances from the small crew sailing this ship. He should be thankful that the navy allowed him onboard to scatter Ayla’s ashes - she had always envied his sea travels and he thought she would like to be laid to rest among the rocky waves of the open ocean rather than along the safe shore of a sunny beach. He pulled every string he could imagine and cashed in a couple of well-earned favors to be included on this military cargo mission, but with how low-profile everyone seemed to treat this trek, Fletcher was allowed to join as a “special supervisor.”
As the waves grew choppier as dusk set in, Fletcher’s heavy eyebrows furrowed as the hand not holding Ayla’s urn shot out to grasp the railing. The ocean seemed to be growing uneasy but the skies were clear, seemingly unusual but not unheard of. With a huff, Fletcher resigned himself to step back into the belly of the ship, setting Ayla safely in the blankets of his cot. He knew it was strange, but he regularly took the urn out onto the deck each day they were at sea; it was small, fitting nicely inside the palm of his rough hand. He turned his attention to the small desk beside the cot to trace Ayla’s photographed smile when a knock on his door interrupted his grief.
“‘Ello, Major Hayes,” the captain of this mission was a very eager fellow who was a fair bit younger than Fletcher himself, “I had hoped to catch you at a good time.” His eyes drifted to Fletcher’s fingers still hovering over the photograph.
“”It is,” Fletcher stuffed his hands back in his pockets. He was quite tired of being treated like a fragile object.
“Then follow me quickly before meal time,” The captain waggled his finger, “I want to show you our special cargo for our mission. Figured it might cheer you up.”
“I’ve seen enough specialty guns for a lifetime,” Fletcher grumbled. Without even thinking about it, he snatched the urn up; perhaps Ayla would like to see whatever the captain had in store. As he followed the captain out of his space and deeper into the belly of the ship, the waves were getting larger and the two had to focus on where they were putting their feet.
The captain chuckled as the ship lurched to the right, “What’s down here is much more special than any gun the military could invent,” He was doing a really good job at keeping the major’s interest peaked. After entering a biometrically locked door, the captain turned with his arms held out dramatically. “I shouldn’t be showing anybody this, but since you’re retired and to be honest…who would believe you?”
Fletcher’s eyes were already adjusted to the darkness around them so he could clearly see a sealed tank giving off a faint glow as the captain stepped aside. The tank itself was about the size of his own small room in the ship and filled to the brim with clear seawater; the top openable to add or remove marine life. It bubbled serenely and was empty except a couple of large forms Fletcher assumed to be rocks at the bottom. Fletcher looked back at the captain with a puzzled look. This really wasn’t all that crazy all things considered.
“Go on,” The captain grinned as he fought to stay upright as the ship crashed through a large wave, “Take a closer look.”
Fletcher unsteadily made his way to the tank as one of the “rocks” shifted. As a wave swelled, he was thrown face first into the glass, barely catching himself with his hands, glad that the urn did not break. His roman nose now pressed against the glass, he was now face to face with a real-life mermaid. His mind emptied as they stared at each other: him in shock, her in contempt.
The captain laughed at the scene before him; it wasn’t everyday Fletcher Hayes was rendered speechless, “Mack’s fleet caught her tangled up in one of their nets out south. Thought this ship would fly under the radar enough to quietly transport her to Guantanamo Bay for whatever research they want to perform.”
“Research?” Fletcher managed to splutter. He blinked. The mermaid was still in front of him, now showing sharpened teeth stained with…something, but he was drawn to her eyes. Her eyes were the most terrifying part of her, he decided, pupil-less and giving off a faint light - they were very inhuman.
“Probe her, poke her, cut her open,” the captain shrugged, “Who knows what they’ll do there and who knows if this is even the first one they’ve caught. You know the government; they’re not necessarily the most forthcoming with information.”
“You’re okay with that?” Fletcher tore his gaze from her to glare at the flippant man. However scary this creature seemed, she didn’t deserve to be locked up in this tank just for their dubious purposes. He knew Ayla wouldn’t approve of this.
“I don’t have to be okay with it,” the captain frowned, “It’s an order.” He took a threatening step towards the retired major, putting one of his hands where Fletcher knew he kept a switchblade, normally used to slice apples. “This was a treat. To take your mind off things.”
Fletcher nodded, running his tongue over his lips, “Understood, sir,” He realized he was at a major disadvantage. He was only aboard this ship to spread Ayla’s ashes, and the captain was right. No one would believe that a mermaid was captured, and he doubted anyone with high enough clearance felt strongly enough to disobey the navy to free her. And, to be honest, she looked far from docile. A loud SMACK startled him into stepping backwards. The mermaid didn’t seem to like that he was so close to her container.
The captain chuckled, “She’s a wily one, that’s for sure. Anderson has a chunk out of his arm from transferring her in.” He rapped his fist on the glass and the mermaid retreated furiously. “And her claws are nothing to scoff at either. If you would have seen her thrash around, I doubt you’d feel guilty she’s caged.” He turned, “Let’s get some dinner now, yeah?”
Fletcher followed him back to the galley unsure if he could even stomach a meal after seeing the captured mermaid. It seemed like the greener sailors also had little appetite but that was due to their inexperience on rough seas; the galley had only a few people actually eating.
“We’re taking on quite a bit of water in the bilge due to these waves,” Fletcher overheard a deckhand quietly talking to the captain when they sat down at a table together. The younger sailor’s forehead glistened with sweat, “but there’s not a storm in sight on radar. The waves are just getting unmanageable.” Fletcher frowned into his peas as the captain waved the other off, rudely saying to just deal with it. He was glad Alya was now tucked into his outer jacket pocket.
Fletcher managed to get most of dinner down before settling back into his room. “What should I do, Alya?” He mumbled as his fingers stroked the smooth urn’s surface back and forth rhythmically. His mind was back on that mermaid. As he slowly sank into a light sleep, her angry face kept swimming to the surface of his thoughts.
CRACK! Fletcher was awoken by being tossed onto the floor as the ship tipped dangerously starboard. Groggily, he fought his way to his feet while gripping the desk bolted to the floor. “…the fuck?” After rubbing his eyes with a fist and finding Ayla with the other, he stumbled out into the hallway.
Immediately he knew something was very wrong as he was practically at a 45 degree angle. If he wasn’t incorrect, the ship was on her way to capsizing. Fletcher grabbed one of the sailors that was rushing around to question him.
“The hull has snapped!” The man’s eyes were filled with fear, and he wrenched himself from Fletcher’s grasp to continue his duty.
Fletcher looked from side to side before running to the bridge area where the captain was barking orders, pale and panic-stricken. “We’re going down!” Fletcher shouted, interrupting him.
“You think I don’t know that?” The captain growled, tugging at his tight collar. “Ready the lifeboats!” The other soldiers rushed to obey.
“Release that mermaid!” Fletcher demanded.
“I have more important things to-” his words were cut off by a large metal pole knocking him in the head, bringing him to the ground instantly dead. Running solely on adrenaline, Fletcher snatched the switchblade the captain had flashed hours before and sliced off his right forefinger. Throwing the bloodied blade back at his body, he felt his way back down below in the now flashing emergency lights. After scanning the captain’s prints, the finger was discarded on the floor, Fletcher wiping the blood on his heavy duty pants.
The faint light of the mermaid’s eyes almost called Fletcher forward as he climbed up onto the tank, and the ship groaned and creaked as she continued to slip into the waves. Water was seeping onto the floors. The tank lid had a simple opening mechanism that Fletcher undid in seconds. The mermaid and him stared at each other.
“You’re free to go,” Fletcher said lamely as he made his descent down the small ladder, “You’ll be back in the ocean soon.” When he stepped on the floor, he slipped, and Alta’s urn fell from his pocket. “Shit!” He cried and leapt after it right as the ship jolted downwards, cracking his head and slipping into unconsciousness…
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