Post by "The Asshole" Whitey Ford on May 8, 2017 19:24:28 GMT -5
Anywhere he could have stood, the view would have been breathtaking. But from his particular vantage point, he had the best seat in the house. The cold sea breeze left him feeling relaxed, high above the deck of the replica pirate ship that he had rented. Ford leaned against the rail of the crows next, peering out at the horizon. The breeze was catching in the red sash he sported over his flowing white shirt, along with brown cloth pants and a pirate captains hat. Below, crew members were sporting similar pirate attire, at his request. I rented the damn pirate ship, so the crew has to dress like pirates, god damnit. He thought to himself.
"Starboard!" One of the crew members cried out. Confused, Whitey looked up towards the sky. It's still daylight, why is he talking about stars? Ford was having a hard time grasping the seafaring lingo, but it didn't bother him much; he wasn't out here to BECOME a pirate, he was only there to help him think like one. High Tide had been on quite the roll in the weeks of late, and had progressed just as far in the Icemann tournament as Whitey had, which was a feat unto itself.
A female's voice called up to him. "One: why are you dressed like a pirate? Two: Why didn't you tell me that I could dress up like a pirate? You said we were going for a cruise, I didn't know there'd be costumes." When Whitey glanced down again at the deck, he saw Jamie standing there, hands on her hips and staring back up at him, her black hair flowing in the wind.
"It was a test! Anyone going on a cruise shouldn't have to ask if they should dress like a pirate." Although pretending to be a pirate was good fun, Whitey had other motives. He wanted to get inside of the head of Tide, think how he thinks, and try to put into perspective why he had found such success as of late. His win over Crazy Boy last week had pushed him to the limit, but still he emerged victories. And Whitey had no intention of becoming another victim on that momentum surge; on the contrary, he was hellbent on being the one to stop Tide and send him back down to the middle card. If Whitey beat Tide, big deal. If Tide beat Whitey...BIG deal. His loss to Eira had taken some of the wind out of his sails (pun intended) but he couldn't afford to take another. He had big prizes to take; Seromine and his followers, as well as the formitable World Champion Grimm. "Don't tell me you're not having fun. Now swab the deck or take the wheel...mizzenmast...sail...whatever, do pirate things."
"Why don't you come down here and y'know...actually spend time with me?" She replied, only budging her hands from her hips to cross them over her chest.
"Why is the sky blue? You'll understand soon, I don't really know why I do anything."
"Bullshit. Come down."
"Fucking A! I'm having a moment and trying to be profound here! I'm thinking about Trauma and...just shut up, I'll be down in a minute." Whitey sighed, and returned to scanning the horizon. His training tactic to understand his opponent better was proving fruitless. He felt confident he could win...overconfident, some might say. A smile flitted over his lips as he remembered his enduring success since his return.
A clap of thunder in the distance wiped the smile from his face. Not too far away it seemed, there were pitch black clouds forming. He could see a flash of lightning follow the thunder closely; there might have never been a truer image of foreboding. I can't afford to be overconfident...I've been picking a fight with some tough dudes. Seromine has been a nuisance, and Grimm actually called me out last Trauma. If I lose focus, it might spell the end of me. I've fought hard to get back to the top, but with all the game I've talked...I need to win this tournament, I need to beat High Tide, and I need to secure my second World Title run...all the while finding a way to rid PCW of those religious fanatics, Seromine and Rick Majors. Gabriel...whatever. Rickabriel. Gabrajors. I like that. Gabrajors.
The thunder clapped again, and Whitey's grip on the railing tightened. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about things to come. Usually his instincts were on point, despite the alcoholism and the drug abuse, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly where his unease was coming from. Was Tide riding his own wave, and was it going to crash through Whitey and leave him drowning in the riptide? Was Seromine actually as devout and his cause as holy as he claimed, and he'd strike Whitey down as fast as a flash of lightning? Was Grimm really as...grim as he claimed was he?
"Hurry up!" Jamie cried, her voice becoming more and more demanding. Whitey rolled his eyes and leaned over the railing.
"FINE! I'll just do all my pirating all at once!" He shouted at her, and brandished a long bladed knife from a scabbard at his side.
"Whitey...don't. Just don't."
"Always wanted to try this..." Ford hopped up onto the railing of the crows nest, and eyed the nearest sail. Holding the knife with the blade pointed down, Whitey fidged his feet to make sure he had the best footing...and leapt. The knife punched through the sail with ease, and he began to slide down, cutting through the fabric like butter. The only problem was that this was not the movies, and Whitey was not a real pirate. The descent was much, MUCH quicker than he anticipated. "Oh shit!" Whitey let go of the knife with one hand to try and grab the ripped sail to slow his descent, but all he succeeded in doing was jarring the knife out of his other hands grasp completely. The fabric continued to rip for a few feet, but it was a bit slower. His grip wasn't as good, however, and he was flung from the sail.
Ford could hear Jamie screaming from below him, but he too busy flying through the air haphazardly to respond. His hip struck one of the posts protrudring from the mast painfully, and he found himself plummeting facefirst towards the deck of the ship. Luckily and unluckily for him, his foot had gotten snared in a tangle of ropes, and jerked him to a stop a few dozen feet from the deck.
As he hung there uncerominiously, swearing at the pain in his leg, he heard her laugh. "Well, maybe pirating isn't for you! You should audition for a ninja next."
"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING SAY THAT!" Ford pointed angrily down at her, his face growing red as the blood rushed to his head, and as he realized the whole crew was laughing at him. "Ninjas suck, pirates are cool!" Although, I guess I'd settle on being a samauri...
In any case,[i/] He thought. The pirates life isn't for me. At least not on the open water...I'llhave to beat Tide enough to send him back to sea. The thunder boomed again, closer this time. Because I think I'll have my hands full with the next storm.[/i]
"Starboard!" One of the crew members cried out. Confused, Whitey looked up towards the sky. It's still daylight, why is he talking about stars? Ford was having a hard time grasping the seafaring lingo, but it didn't bother him much; he wasn't out here to BECOME a pirate, he was only there to help him think like one. High Tide had been on quite the roll in the weeks of late, and had progressed just as far in the Icemann tournament as Whitey had, which was a feat unto itself.
A female's voice called up to him. "One: why are you dressed like a pirate? Two: Why didn't you tell me that I could dress up like a pirate? You said we were going for a cruise, I didn't know there'd be costumes." When Whitey glanced down again at the deck, he saw Jamie standing there, hands on her hips and staring back up at him, her black hair flowing in the wind.
"It was a test! Anyone going on a cruise shouldn't have to ask if they should dress like a pirate." Although pretending to be a pirate was good fun, Whitey had other motives. He wanted to get inside of the head of Tide, think how he thinks, and try to put into perspective why he had found such success as of late. His win over Crazy Boy last week had pushed him to the limit, but still he emerged victories. And Whitey had no intention of becoming another victim on that momentum surge; on the contrary, he was hellbent on being the one to stop Tide and send him back down to the middle card. If Whitey beat Tide, big deal. If Tide beat Whitey...BIG deal. His loss to Eira had taken some of the wind out of his sails (pun intended) but he couldn't afford to take another. He had big prizes to take; Seromine and his followers, as well as the formitable World Champion Grimm. "Don't tell me you're not having fun. Now swab the deck or take the wheel...mizzenmast...sail...whatever, do pirate things."
"Why don't you come down here and y'know...actually spend time with me?" She replied, only budging her hands from her hips to cross them over her chest.
"Why is the sky blue? You'll understand soon, I don't really know why I do anything."
"Bullshit. Come down."
"Fucking A! I'm having a moment and trying to be profound here! I'm thinking about Trauma and...just shut up, I'll be down in a minute." Whitey sighed, and returned to scanning the horizon. His training tactic to understand his opponent better was proving fruitless. He felt confident he could win...overconfident, some might say. A smile flitted over his lips as he remembered his enduring success since his return.
A clap of thunder in the distance wiped the smile from his face. Not too far away it seemed, there were pitch black clouds forming. He could see a flash of lightning follow the thunder closely; there might have never been a truer image of foreboding. I can't afford to be overconfident...I've been picking a fight with some tough dudes. Seromine has been a nuisance, and Grimm actually called me out last Trauma. If I lose focus, it might spell the end of me. I've fought hard to get back to the top, but with all the game I've talked...I need to win this tournament, I need to beat High Tide, and I need to secure my second World Title run...all the while finding a way to rid PCW of those religious fanatics, Seromine and Rick Majors. Gabriel...whatever. Rickabriel. Gabrajors. I like that. Gabrajors.
The thunder clapped again, and Whitey's grip on the railing tightened. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about things to come. Usually his instincts were on point, despite the alcoholism and the drug abuse, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly where his unease was coming from. Was Tide riding his own wave, and was it going to crash through Whitey and leave him drowning in the riptide? Was Seromine actually as devout and his cause as holy as he claimed, and he'd strike Whitey down as fast as a flash of lightning? Was Grimm really as...grim as he claimed was he?
"Hurry up!" Jamie cried, her voice becoming more and more demanding. Whitey rolled his eyes and leaned over the railing.
"FINE! I'll just do all my pirating all at once!" He shouted at her, and brandished a long bladed knife from a scabbard at his side.
"Whitey...don't. Just don't."
"Always wanted to try this..." Ford hopped up onto the railing of the crows nest, and eyed the nearest sail. Holding the knife with the blade pointed down, Whitey fidged his feet to make sure he had the best footing...and leapt. The knife punched through the sail with ease, and he began to slide down, cutting through the fabric like butter. The only problem was that this was not the movies, and Whitey was not a real pirate. The descent was much, MUCH quicker than he anticipated. "Oh shit!" Whitey let go of the knife with one hand to try and grab the ripped sail to slow his descent, but all he succeeded in doing was jarring the knife out of his other hands grasp completely. The fabric continued to rip for a few feet, but it was a bit slower. His grip wasn't as good, however, and he was flung from the sail.
Ford could hear Jamie screaming from below him, but he too busy flying through the air haphazardly to respond. His hip struck one of the posts protrudring from the mast painfully, and he found himself plummeting facefirst towards the deck of the ship. Luckily and unluckily for him, his foot had gotten snared in a tangle of ropes, and jerked him to a stop a few dozen feet from the deck.
As he hung there uncerominiously, swearing at the pain in his leg, he heard her laugh. "Well, maybe pirating isn't for you! You should audition for a ninja next."
"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING SAY THAT!" Ford pointed angrily down at her, his face growing red as the blood rushed to his head, and as he realized the whole crew was laughing at him. "Ninjas suck, pirates are cool!" Although, I guess I'd settle on being a samauri...
In any case,[i/] He thought. The pirates life isn't for me. At least not on the open water...I'llhave to beat Tide enough to send him back to sea. The thunder boomed again, closer this time. Because I think I'll have my hands full with the next storm.[/i]
