Post by Church on Nov 30, 2021 16:31:36 GMT -6
“Just...be careful, ok?”
“This is the Director of Security you’re talkin’ to.”
“Not on this boat you’re not.”
“Yeah, well...maybe it’s time I start claiming my territory again. It doesn't just start with beating Robbie Hope.”
“Just be careful, is all I’m saying. So what exactly is the plan here?”
“Well, I’m gonna start by trying to find the fucking guy that held me captive.”
“What?! Why? Why are we going down that well, we need to figure out how to get the hell out of this.”
“Says the person who came TO the boat. I missed the “All Aboard” call.”
“Weighing my options, being here is no different than Vegas. Choose your own morality wasteland. I chose the one you were stuck in, ya big stubborn bear.”
“I’m not mad that you’re here. I’ll keep you safe. BUT know that your choice comes with this. Instead of being back in the States, filling your head with the What Ifs...now you’re here, stuck with the What’s Next.”
“I understand, Church. I’m not trying to stop you. L.A. got me on this boat for a reason. And he got you that walkie for a reason. You want to play the revenge game? Fine. That’s when they say ‘dig two graves’, but let’s make it three, cause I’ll lay down right beside you.”
The walkie talkie crackled to life in Church’s hand, finally breaking at least an hour of silence. Church perched up on the boat, keeping eyes open on every movement of guard, employee, person, thing. It was like a puzzle that he still didn’t have all the pieces to, but he knew that being in on their communications was atleast a piece in the right direction.
“Junior, you copy?”
“I copy.”
And for the first time, a guard within eyesight of Church was the one to answer his radio. Junior. Code name? Nick name?
“He needs your help with something, go ahead and leave the dock for a few, I’ll come down and cover you.”
“Which he?” “Junior” responded into his walkie, turning his back to the only way on or off the boat that didn’t involve a swim. Church ducked his large frame down as much as he could behind the corner of a wall, one that he believed led into one of the server rooms. The ship was so large, it felt like the BPW matches took place in a different zip code from where he found himself.
“Joker needs you. Don’t keep him waiting”
Junior reluctantly starts walking inward to the boat, leaving the dock unwatched momentarily. The guard fiddles with the walkie talkie a bit, changing the channel on the top switch. Church peers, doing the same...he watches Junior speak into the receiver, and as he does, Church quick-spins the dial through channels to find the voice.
“-- --- -- -n my way”
Channel 9. Joker? This puzzle…a voice responds through the particular channel, one that makes Church almost stand straight up with tension.
“Lucky you, the buck was passed again I see. Be here in 2 minutes.”
That voice, Church knew it. It was him. The voice he heard from a thousand shadows while kept in a cell.
He had spent the last 2 days fully glued to the radio chatter, this was the first time that voice came over transmission. His heart beat fast as he imagined his hands full around the mysterious neck that he couldn’t quite reach from behind steel bars. He made a move to be in better position and dropped down to the same level as Junior, keeping distance and using every wall, crate or piece of equipment to keep by his side as potential cover. He turned the volume down on the radio, but not off, as he kept it close to his head in his right hand. The radio came to life again, Church confident in the level of volume he had it at as he pressed it tight against his ear.
“It’s just for a little experiment, son, don’t worry.”
Son. Church’s teeth tightened; The times he had been called that by the faceless man.
“I do think our channel may be compromised, go to Tokyo.” Church panicked at the statement, pulling the walkie from his ear and glancing up quickly at the guard walking down the hallway stretched out before him. The guard, not stopping his walk, looks to the top of his radio and switches the channel setting.
“Fuck” Church muttered to himself, as he then himself kept moving forward to maintain loose pursuit. He calmed his mind quickly. Tokyo. What would he do?
With a crew as large as Jabberwock, it would have to be simple.
Complexity leads to miscommunication. It would have to be based on a system that the words
could be interchangeable but mean the same thing, like calling an audible at the line of scrimmage.
Complexity leads to miscommunication. It would have to be based on a system that the words
could be interchangeable but mean the same thing, like calling an audible at the line of scrimmage.
Tokyo.
Not gonna be geographic, something that fits better within the 16 channel options.
Church switched the channel from ‘9’ to ‘5’.
Number of letters in the word.
That’s what I’d do.
Except I wouldn’t mention I suspected interference.
Just say “Go To Tokyo”, dumbass.
He held the walkie back up towards his ear, not sure if he’d receive any chatter whatsoever on this channel, but it wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point. He followed the errand-running guard into the belly of the ship, making sure his boots hit softly on the steel as they descended several levels down stairs.
Church could tell the depth wasn’t as far down as it felt. It was that point of the ship that smelled like you were below the water line, but gravity hadn’t yet released an ounce of strength on his body. The hallways at this point stopped being straight-forward passageways and turned into what almost felt more like a sewer system. Rats in a maze.
Growing a bit too confident, Church was within the same hallway confinement as the guard when the walkie crackled. It seemed to startle Junior, and it sure as fuck startled Church, who immediately dropped down to a crouch beneath a large black container beside him. The big man froze completely, slowly reaching over and turning off his own walkie.
Junior looked behind him slowly, but only picked up on what may have been an echoing sound from his own radio. He looked down towards his hand, as that voice came alive again.
“You’ve got 30 seconds or I’ll have you executed.” It was followed by an evil cackle that could haunt a child for life before cutting back to silence. Junior shook his head as he looked up at the heavy door, reaching up to knock. The door opened from the inside before his knuckles could connect to steel. And just like that, he was inside with the door slammed shut.
Church stayed crouched behind the shipping container for a few moments. He was certainly no L.A. Blackwater, as he likened a stealthy pursuit to a movie scene in his mind rather than drawing off of real life experience. Much more of a face-to-face problem solver. These were stakes unlike his casino had ever seen, however, and one wrong move and Church was convinced he’d lose his chance at slitting this guy's throat. Metaphorically. Maybe.
He stayed low, ready to move at any moment, as he made his way down the hallway to the door. Sealed like a chamber, no window looked in. He walked further down the hallway and took the nearest left turn, looking for a window, a vent, hell a fuckin’ glory hole. Anything.
He clicked the walkie back on, keeping the volume about 2 clicks from silence. He scrolled through the channels slowly, seeing if he could pick up anything. Plenty of crackling white noise from this far down into the ship; sounded like a technological campfire. The kind of noise that puts babies to sleep but annoys a grown man to no end.
“-- --”
Church didn’t know what he was looking for. He’s got a location, he knew the right call was to call this a rousing success and get out of there before there was any more chance of getting spotted in the off limits. Two things were noteworthy to the former champ. This room and where it was on the ship...and the nonexistent security other than a wandering Junior along the way.
“--- ---- -- ---”
Church started his trip back up to life.
“--- --Potter, do you copy? Where the fuck is Junior, the dock is unwatched!”
With a widened stride and increased pace, Church got himself around the far corner in case the soft sound of voices traveled through that door that looked like it would silence a gunshot. Unlikely.
“I copy, Jimothy called him down, I’m on watch up here.”
“No you’re FUCKING NOT, and DO NOT USE THAT FUCKING NAME, Potter, jesus christ.”
“Sorry, Joker needed to see him.”
Jimothy?
*Credit to J.C./McManus for the banner*