by Captain Sammitch, thedoctor and Grimm
"Beachside homes are already being subjected to damage... reports of people being trapped down there, amidst the storm and the wreckage..."
Phil Smith was just now figuring out that he might have underestimated Jason's fury. He turned off the tube and grabbed a jacket. Closing his door behind him, Phil ran down to the living room and found it empty. Finding Danny's note, he read it, then looked out the window at the driving rain and the objects tossed about by the howling wind. This was serious.
Dirk Bell walked in, silent as always. The same icepick was being swung against Phil's temples, but he fought it off as best he could. Pain, pain, pain, death... loss... suffering... friends dead... mission... duty... survival... PAIN!
Phil gasped as it became too much for him. "Mr. Bell!" Phil managed to croak out.
Dirk glanced at him. "Something wrong, kid?"
Phil steadied himself, grabbing hold of the table. "I'm... I'm... telepathic. You keep emanating things, and I can't control the flow of them."
Dirk shrugged. "Didn't know I emanated so well. Guess I'm talented."
Phil shook his head. "How could you possibly have lived through so much pain?"
Dirk gazed deep into nowhere. "You'd be surprised what you can put up with when you got no choice." He started to walk away.
Regaining his strength, Phil followed. "Wait! I have to know something!"
Dirk stopped, not turning to face Phil.
"Will people die?" Phil asked timidly.
Dirk laughed, but it was a hollow, mirthless laugh that chilled Phil's very soul. The gunslinger turned to him. "People die every day, kid. Comes with the whole life options package. If--" Dirk nodded toward the window. "--you are asking whether people will die from this, I can guarantee that will happen. There are only so many people doing something about it, and there's not very much anyone can do, anyway." Dirk turned and walked away. "Personally, I'm going to be very surprised if all of us make it through this."
Phil slumped into a chair. What to do about this? If Phil had ever lived through a hurricane before, it was quite obviously not something he'd be able to recall. But people were dying! It was just too big for him. He couldn't be some kind of big hero and just stroll out and save the day.
"You can't just be a hero outright. You can't just instantly have the right plan, move, or catch phrase for every single moment. That sort of thing only happens in the comics. All you can do in that moment when it's all up to you is decide what you're made of, and what you have to do in that moment. Everything else? Well, there's not much you can do about everything else, anyway."
Danny Hearn had told him that. Danny was probably out there right now, in fact. So why am I still sitting here?
It was that moment. It was all up to Phil. And he knew what he had to do.
Phil jumped to his feet and headed out the door, making his way outside into Jason's fury. He hoped he'd survive.
Just off the shore of La Perdita:
"It's getting too bad out here! We need to get to shelter!" Vic yelled to Bobby.
"Not 'til we get this unloaded!" the other man yelled back over the howling winds and the crashing waves. "Do you realize how much money this shit is worth? I ain't lettin' no damn storm keep me from fillin' my wallet!"
The fury of Hurricane Jason had yet to reach La Perdita in full, but it was making its presence known. Creeping ever closer to the island nation, winds, rain, and waves began to claim the shores.
The two men were covered in ponchos and moved with careful steps across the deck of their boat. They were loading crates onto a dinghy tied off to the side. Peter, who sat nervously in the dinghy, also began to have his doubts. "Vic's right, Bobby. This is gettin' way too serious. We should pull into harbor."
"Listen, you two, I ain't about to pull into harbor with this shit on board. Now, just unload it and stash it where I told you to."
"Fuck!" Vic lost his grip on the box when his right hand left its edge and moved to the back of his head.
"Watch it, dumb ass!" Bobby yelled before a loud THUNK landed beside him. "What the--? Hail!" Another thunk sounded on the deck. The men could hear the water splashing occasionally. The pace of the hail quickened until the men were overtaken by the golf ball-sized ice. "INSIDE!"
Bobby and Vic quickly ran to the safety of the boat's interior. Peter began to climb the side of the larger boat, all the while hail pounded against his body. There was no footing, and the waves made holding on difficult. Both boats bobbed up and down ferociously as the man tried to pull himself up.
The dinghy suddenly disappeared from under the man's feet. He hung from the larger boat. The dinghy reappeared, but this time not under Peter. He let out a scream that the falling hail and rushing wind overcame as it moved directly at him. The bow struck him hard in the back. Reflexes made the man let loose his hold. The sea claimed his body and refused to let it go.
Vic and Bobby were too busy trying to get the boat started to notice at first that Peter was missing. "Where's the key?"
Vic said, "I took it out."
"Why in the hell would you remove the key on a boat?"
"Habit!" Vic fumbled under his poncho for the key. The waves were getting bigger. The men could feel the boat tip on her side more and more with each one. "Found it!" But it was too late. The last wave was too much for the boat to take. It wasn't made for seas this rough. Vic and Bobby slid across the floor as the boat capsized.
Charts, maps, ores, and everything else that was packed away flew with gravity to the ceiling of the room. Everything now lay on the floor as water rushed in. Both men were disoriented and held the taste of saltwater in their mouths. When it was man against nature, nature always won.
Hurricane Jason had claimed its first victims.
Back on the mainland:
"Some of us can't fly, you know," Grimm muttered under his breath while walking through the driving sheets of rain.
He continued walking until noticing a large shadow passing over him.
"Greem, you are needing a lift?"
He looked up and noticed a large hovercraft next to him, Blackwulf's head sticking out the doorway.
"Yeah, where the hell did this thing come from?"
As the purple-skinned man pulled him inside, he responded, "The one you are calling Chance is passing by in it. He is picking up the rest of the team after seeing Danny's note."
Phil walked up to Grimm with a towel. "Umm... Here, you should dry off. You don't wanna catch your dea--" Phil stopped in mid-sentence, sensing complete and utter darkness. The void. He pulled back sharply, dropping the towel on the floor.
"Uh, sorry," he mumbled.
"It's okay, kid. I"m used to it." Grimm picked up the towel and dried off as best as he could, while finding a place to sit.
Chance steered the Stormloader in the direction of the beach.