Pack it up, pack it in,

[saltwaterlungs]

CHARACTERS: Darcy, and YOU?!
DATE: First half of September prior to the event
LOCATION: Sports deck
SITUATION: A pirate-sponsored fight club for the sake of beating the shit out of each other bettering each other
WARNINGS: It’s a fight club. Violence is to be expected.

I came to win

Fliers go up around the ship, as they so often do. This time put up with a reasonable amount of tape and written in a much less flowery hand than people would expect, the announcement ‘FIGHT CLUB TUESDAY EVENINGS SPORTS DECK: MAKE FRIENDS AND THEN HIT THEM’.
Anyone going to the sport’s deck after 7pm for the Tuesdays before the excursion will find tennis court set up for an impromptu fight club. There’s a notebook with a pen off to one side as a sign-in sheet, and a small list of rules written in the same handwriting as the fliers.
-No killing or dying
-Respect tapping out
-If you’re learning, respect your teacher/s
-If you’re teaching, respect your student/s
-Cause problems, get kicked out

Off to the sidelines, Darcy can be found supervising, keeping an eye out for any issues.

Battle me that's a sin

In one corner is supplies for fencing and swordplay. Three protective jackets, mesh masks, and blunt training sabers in a loose pile, plus whatever weaponry people themselves supply. There’s a circular arena drawn out on the ground, with a narrower fencing piste drawn through the middle of it.

I won't ever slack up

For those more inclined to hand-to-hand combat, a couple of the punching bags from the gym have been dragged out onto the court, along with focus-pads and a couple of long strips of bandages bandages to wrap one’s hands with. An arena has been drawn out, about the right dimensions for a boxing ring.

Punk you better back up

Over on the furthest side- deliberately angled to face off the ship- there’s a makeshift shooting range consisting of a bunch of water bottles and some mannequins from the Tommy Bahama laid out as targets to shoot at. A line has been drawn on the ground, presumably to stand behind when shooting.

Try and play the role and yo the whole crew'll act up

Right in the middle of everything is an arena marked out for no clear purpose, with no equipment nearby. It can probably be presumed that this is somewhere for people to spar, or more likely, show off in front of everyone.

Comments

[saltwaterlungs]

"Yeah, I thought that too. But... I don't know."

The elevator chimes at last, the doors open, and Darcy leads them both in, hitting the deck zero button with maybe a bit too much gusto considering that her own hands are bruised and aching, again.

"I think he's scared. The assholes that murdered us, they had no reason to do it. They were just... doing it because they could, because they could get away with it, whatever. But you remember what it was like just not remembering your name, right? It's scary. And it's not exactly like he can leave and do something else, either. You know he told Skulduggery that he doesn't want anyone to control him ever again? He can't even remember who did, he just knows they did."

She's pretty sure that's going to hit Vance hard.

[pinballer]

Vance might look like he lacks empathy, but he doesn't, he's just really good at keeping people at arm's length and burning any bridges before they can even start to be built.

"I'm still not gonna let him hurt me, if I have any say in it."

[saltwaterlungs]

"You don't have to. I don't let him talk shit to me or anything. Just because he's hurting doesn't mean he gets to hurt people."

And wow that is some very pointed eye contact she's making at Vance right now.

[pinballer]

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he says, rolling his eyes, "I'm just a guy who likes to pick fights, not some superpowered...torture thing."

So it's less bad when he does it, right? Maybe not good. But less bad.

[saltwaterlungs]

"Yeah, and one of you picked on an eight year old."

Darcy leans against the wall of the elevator, taking the time as she usually does to surveil the rest of the ship through the glass.

"You ever read Asterix and Obelix?"

[pinballer]

"I'm sure he's done worse than scare a kid."

He doesn't bother observing anything. Most of his attention is being paid to the pain in his hands.

"No. I don't actually read that much."

[saltwaterlungs]

There's a conversation to be had about adhering to principles, of staying human in the face of monsters, but that's probably not a talk to be had with Darcy and probably not now. Instead she indicates roughly in the direction of the library and says-

"It's a comic we had back home. It's really funny, the library should have it I think- it's these Gaulish warriors fighting off the Roman Empire, I'll try and find it for you."

[pinballer]

"Alright," he says, "Have you read the one with the fatass cat that keeps pissing off his total dweeb of an owner? That one's funny."

Yes, Vance Hopper, local tough guy, has just copped to enjoying Garfield. In his defense, Garfield wouldn't make it to Colorado for another year or so so he's just discovering it now.

"But even if you find it and I like it, you should know it's not gonna fix anything. I've done a lot of stuff I like and I'm still fucking mad."

[saltwaterlungs]

"What, Garfield?" oh she's telling everyone about this, but for the moment her poker-face holds and she doesn't outright laugh at the idea of tough guy Vance reading Garfield, "yeah, that one's pretty good. I read a bunch of comics while I was learning English, so."

Most of her favourites had been translated into English after all- and seeing how the jokes changed was a valuable lesson in how to translate things. His comment earns a snort, and Darcy folds her arms.

"I know. I'm trying to do this weird thing called 'finding things in common', I don't know if Americans do it."

[pinballer]

"Well yeah, but we usually do that with people we like," he says.

He assumes nobody here likes him, and he's okay with that. Really. That's what he tells himself, anyway.

[saltwaterlungs]

The elevator dings for deck 0 and Darcy leads the charge out. She of course presumes it's a jab at her, and she takes a deep breath before responding.

"Okay- you don't have to like me, Vance. Honestly, I don't give a fuck either way. We don't have to be friends. If you don't want me to keep trying then I can stop. We're all stuck on this fucking ship and we're probably going to end up running into each other every day, and I have a duty to the dead, so you're probably going to have to deal with me anyway. I'm just trying to make it less shitty for both of us, here."

[pinballer]

"It's not about whether I like you," he says, waving his hand and then wincing when it hurts, "I've always been a bad kid. I don't know how to be anything else, or if I even can. The more you get to know me the more you're gonna hate me."

Just like everyone else, he thinks as he follows her out of the elevator.

[saltwaterlungs]

"Don't tell me what I'm going to do."

Darcy knows the way to the infirmary off by heart by now, she barely needs to think as she makes her way down the nearly silent corridors.

"It's like anything. You didn't get good at punching the first time you did it, you don't get good at having friends the first time you do it. And unless you're torturing puppies and kicking orphans off rooftops as a hobby, you can't be that bad."

[pinballer]

"No, nothing like that," he says, "But I'm the only one who's ever messed with the kid here, aren't I?"

Here's where he'd usually stick his hands in his pockets if he could. It hurts less for everyone to just write him off as a lost cause than it does to try to make friends and be hated anyway.

[saltwaterlungs]

"Probably. Almost definitely, actually. Are you going to do it again?"

The million dollar question, one she already knows the answer to, but one he needs to say out loud.

[pinballer]

"No, but the fact that I did at all means I'm the worst one here, doesn't it?" he says, "Why would you wanna be friends with the biggest jerk?"

[saltwaterlungs]

"Max nearly ran me over with his car. Two separate people have shoved me in water, and like, they didn't know? But my first death was drowning. People hurt each other because people suck. But I've hurt people too. Like, badly. All anyone can do is just... do better next time, ehn? Nobody's a saint and nobody's irredeemable. You just... need to not do the shit again next time."

She pushes open the door to the infirmary, huffing upon not seeing an attendant. Guess she's doing this herself.

[pinballer]

"Yeah, whatever," he says, which is about as close to an 'I'll try' as he's willing to get.

He follows her into the infirmary, looking down at his bruised and bloodied hands. "I did it once, you know. Broke through the wall. Tore the place apart, he had to spend a fortune fixing it up. If the goddamned freezer wasn't in the way I would've made it out."

And he's still clinging onto that as proof that he's as tough as he says he is, like it's the only thing he did with his life that he's still proud of.

[saltwaterlungs]

"The dude who killed you?" she asks as she rummages through the supplies. She goes to pelt a box of painkillers in his direction before very quickly remembering he's in no state to catch anything, and instead retrieves one of those electrolyte drinks for Vance to take them with and a couple of ice packs for his hands. She leaves the blister pack near him, because if he's anything like her, removing the tablets for him will be taken as an insult and not an act of care.

Then it's further into the cupboard for antiseptic wipes and long strips of bandages. She has no idea what you're really meant to do with hands fucked up from punching, but wrapping them is meant to keep your hand bones in the right place, so hopefully? Wrapping them now will help keep them in the right spot?

"Badass. Like a one-man wrecking crew or something. 'm sorry you didn't make it out."

When he's ready, she'll be waiting with the wipes and bandages to start sorting his hands out.

[pinballer]

"Yeah. It helped take him down, even if it was too late for me," he says, "Me and the other ghosts, we all got together and told the next kid how to take him out."

Getting the painkillers out hurts, and so does grabbing the drink, but he doesn't complain. He's rather do it on his own than let someone else hold it up for him like he's helpless.

"So I'm not totally fucking useless at the teamwork thing. I'm just better at it when there's someone who needs their ass beat," he says, sighing as he holds his hands out for the bandages. That part, he can't do himself.

[saltwaterlungs]

"The dead are our superheroes," she misquotes, "They face fire without flinching, fall from tall buildings, something something. I can't remember how the rest of it goes. It's something one of my Krewemates used to say. You did a good thing for that kid."

"This is going to hurt," she warns as she sets about cleaning his hands with the wipes. It stings like a motherfucker, and Darcy's nothing but neutral and methodical as she goes about her task, trying to remember how Terre Mere used to patch her up and talk her through it.

"Deep breaths. Pain is just a sensation. If you don't hold onto it, it'll pass through you."

She half-starts the bandaging, then scrunches her face up as she tries to recall how to do it on someone else's hands. That part is maybe not the most comforting.

[pinballer]

"It wasn't for the kid. It was to drag that fucker down," he says, teeth clenched as he braces himself for the pain, "And don't worry about it. Pain's nothing."

Of course everything that happened to him at the Grabber's house hurt. But the fear and the hopelessness was worse. The thought that he was just going to suffer and then be snuffed out forever.

"Jesus Christ," he says, wincing as she wipes his wounds, "It's fine, keep going."

[saltwaterlungs]

"It can be both."

Darcy pauses with the cleaning for just a moment, because Vance is still not fucking listening to her even when it would actually help him.

"I said deep breaths. Just... try and relax. The harder you try and muscle through it, the more it's going to hurt. Repeat something in your head, think about the alphabet backwards, whatever, just don't focus on the pain."

[pinballer]

"I'm not a fucking wuss, just keep going," he says, biting down on his bottom lip.

The alphabet backwards is impossible, he thinks, but he thinks about some of his favorite songs instead and it manages to distract him just enough.

[saltwaterlungs]

Fine, he wants to prove he's a tough guy, she'll oblige him. Darcy presses ever-so-slightly harder than she needs to with the wipes. She's been careful with the already-forming bruises on his hands up until now, but tough guys get the tough guy treatment. His hands are nearly cleaned up anyway.