We officially enter crossover status with this chapter, courtesy of the Improbability Drive.
Disclaimer: Namco owns Soul Calibur. Remedy, SCEA, and Nintendo own our guest appearances, in that order.
My sincere yet half-hearted apologies to Marguerite Perrin for my portrayal of Sophitia.
Chapter Twelve: My Big Fat Greek Shipwreck
They say the last thing you see before you die is a flash of light. An instant stretching out into an eternity, with all the time in the world to think of what could've been, what went wrong…before it's all cut short. The trouble was, when the flash ended, I was still alive.
I shouldn't have been. They were all dead. Woden, Vinnie, Winterson, Vlad…Mona. I thought, when I saw that flash of light, that I was on my way to join them, that my life had been cut short like a book slamming shut right before the climax.
No…not before it. I'd had my fill of the charnel house they called life, all the killing and mayhem and blood like one big morbid enchilada. So I guess I was hoping I could allow myself to quietly fade away, not giving a damn about the world I left behind, and settle down for a mildly pleasant eternity.
Boy, was I ever wrong.
When I woke up that night, I was on a dock outside the most backwater place I'd ever seen. Looks like Scottie'd beamed me down to the wrong part of history, wherever I was. The streets were bustling with grinning locals; I guess nobody ever told them bad things come out at night. If their presence wasn't enough to make me sure they had a screw loose, their clothes were. I'd think the Renaissance Fair had come to town if some of the women weren't vaguely attractive.
I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I intended to find out. There was a ship approaching the docks I was on, a derelict. It wasn't just abandoned, though; it was a goddamned Spanish pirate ship. Like a zombie from an eon long gone, here it came, shambling towards me.
I figured I'd wait it out. And guard my brain, in case it was hungry.
When Cervantes came to, the first thing he was aware of was that he was on the Adrian, which was a bit puzzling because he'd left the ship docked when they went to confront Zasalamel. He looked around him, and was surprised to find that not only was he aboard his ship, but it had been transported to an inlet that he didn't recognize. The sheer face of a mountain stretched up to the left of the Adrian, and to the right the inlet tapered off into a harbor and the opening to a city.
From the architecture, he could guess he was somewhere in the Mediterranean. There was no doubt that the Improbability Meltdown had caused this, but had it taken him full circle? Was he back in Italy, like he was when he met Yoshimitsu?
And where was Yoshimitsu? Where was everybody, for that matter?
His only hope for the time being was to pull into the harbor and get some information out of the locals. This world still needed saving, dammit; that Setsuka woman couldn't be allowed to run rampant with that kind of unlimited power. Cervantes had to find his allies and rally them to go back and defeat her, and to find them, he'd have to figure out where he was. So without further ado, he turned the Adrian towards the docks, when suddenly—
"Captain Cervantes! So, you've finally come back for more!"
He whirled in astonishment, and standing on the deck was a familiar skirt-clad blonde. No, not the tavern wench he'd had Ivy with, it was Sophitia Alexandra! The woman who'd shattered his Soul Edge and sent him to the underworld before! Cervantes felt a twinge of anger race up his spine. "You!" he barked. "I've a score to settle with you!"
"You were supposed to stay dead." Sophitia brought the Omega Sword to bear, pointing it at the dread pirate. "Your ungodly kind were not meant to trouble this world any---"
"Cut the rambling, you scurvy dog!" shouted Cervantes. "Why did you seek me out again?
"Because you aren't allowed to exist!" snapped the Greek shieldmaiden. "You're ungodly! Everything about you is ungodly!"
"Woman, is there ANYONE in your family who isn't a religious fanatic of some sort?"
"Don't disparage my relatives! You have no right, you're not a HephaestiAAAAAANNN!"
"Augh! Don't screech like that!"
"You deserved to be sent to the underworld! You were tampering with DARK-SIDED STUFF!" screamed Sophitia, waving the sword about wildly as she stamped back and forth. "GARGOYLES? PSYCHICS?"
"You're not making any sense."
"Your ungodly ears can't make sense of it! Get the hell off my ship, in Zeus's name I pray, amen."
"Now just a minute!" yelled Cervantes, drawing Acheron and Nirvana from their sheaths. "This is MY ship, and I'll be keelhauled before I'll let anybody order me off it! Have at you, wench!"
They dashed forward, and the two swords clanged together in a shower of sparks.
His eyes squeezed shut, drawing worry lines across the pale flesh of his tattooed forehead. The air was thin up at this altitude, to the point that it stung his lungs just to breathe, but it was all insignificant compared to the agony in his soul.
"The gods of Olympus have abandoned me…"
As one, his fists clenched until they shook, sending shivers up the chains embedded into his forearms. He took a step forward, lingering over the edge.
"Now…there is no hope."
And so Kratos cast himself from the second-highest mountain in all of Greece (the highest having been changed into a statue of Aldous Huxley by Setsuka's overzealous use of the Improbability Drive). After ten years, it would all be over.
Cervantes brought his swords to bear and stepped back, keeping Nirvana's pistol trained on Sophitia's circling form. "You won't take me again, Grecian wench! Let's go another round!" he shouted, preparing to spring forward.
Her sandals scraped across the deckboards of the Adrian as she circled the pirate captain. "It would be my pleasure to send you back where you came from! I'm a GOD WARRIORRRR, and---"
"…….AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGH……."
Both of them looked up. "What's that sound?" Sophitia wondered.
A couple seconds later, Kratos came crashing down on her head, sending them both through the deck in an explosion of wooden shards. They didn't stop there, penetrating the hull as well and plummeting to the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.
Cervantes took a second to think about this. On the one hand, his worst enemy had just been conveniently removed by a screaming red blur. On the other, the ship had already tilted and was halfway underwater.
Goddammit, he was going to have to swim to shore.
As always, Lady Luck was a fifty-cent whore, and I was fresh out of quarters.
Looked like whoever was in that decrepit boat wasn't sailing first class any longer. They must've hit something, because the ship was keeling over like a man who's had one too many. In a couple minutes, it'd probably break apart and sink. The Titanic of Middle of Nowhere, 1600.
Terrific. If I couldn't ask them, I was going to have to go into that freakshow of a city and finding out where I was from them. Information gathering's never been my forte, except when it's done with the universal language of gunshot wounds.
"Shit…looks like I don't have a choice."
I might've spoken too soon. Somebody'd dove over the side as the ship went down, and was swimming towards me. The survivor instinct is something I've always appreciated, seeing as how I've had to rely on it just as much as my trusty slow-motion leap. Maybe this guy could help me out when he got to the docks. But just in case he wasn't in the mood for chit-chat, I had my nine in my hand and a whole bag full of oxycontin that said he couldn't take me down.
With a deep breath, Cervantes heaved himself up onto the dock. "Son of a submariner!" he snarled. "Stupid 'god warrior' sunk my ship and left me stranded in Athens!" At least, he assumed he was in Athens. Where else would Sophitia be hanging around?
His attention was drawn to the man walking steadily towards him. Cervantes, dripping wet and pissed off, was only further puzzled by the approach of this strange-looking individual. He wore slacks and a dress shirt with a tie, but a leather jacket took the place of a sport coat. A Beretta 9mm rested in his right hand.
As I approached the man who'd climbed up onto the docks, I was finally able to get a good look at him. To put it nicely, it seemed he'd been ambushed by an army wielding ugly sticks and beaten within an inch of his life, then buried under the ugly tree itself. On top of that, his entire body smelled like whiskey, the cheap kind that you either drown a regrettable past in or suffocate one with its overbearing smell, so it can't catch up with you. Somehow, I wasn't entirely sure if he'd be much help.
"It's rum, not whiskey!" snapped Cervantes. "And why are you narrating out loud?"
"Sorry." I'd extend a hand to him, but experience told me that these kinds of people were like hungry jackals; they were always looking for a reason to strike, and also got set off by sudden movements. "Detective Max Payne, NYPD. I heard you mention Athens…"
"Yeah, Athens," replied the dread pirate. "Its village idiot just sank my ship out there, and I've got places to be. You know a place I can hijack another one?"
Obviously, he'd mistaken me for a local. "Look, buddy, I don't even know why I'm here. The last thing I remember, they were taking me in after the shootout at the manor, and then there's a flash of light and boom, here I stand. So I don't think I'm the best person to ask for help with Grand Theft Galleon."
"A flash of light?" Cervantes scratched the back of his head. "Ah! You must've been brought here by the Improbability Meltdown! That'd explain why you don't seem to fit in. Hey, you should come with me. When we stop Setsuka, I'll see if I can send you home."
It was a gamble. By agreeing to go with this man, I was pulling the trigger on a revolver pointed at my own head, without even knowing how many bullets were in the chambers. I was putting my life in the hands of a man I'd only just met, and one who looked like he'd been around the block a few times. It was a deadly game of Russian—
"Look, are you coming or not?"
"I don't have much of a choice," I answered. "Let's go find a ride."
"You know," said Cervantes, "I bet you're not the only person who's been displaced. There's got to be others who were transported here by the Meltdown, or the Merton if you were to ask Ted Woolsey, and it's entirely possible somebody else might've gotten switched between dimensions."
As if on cue, a shadow fell over Athens (this was possible at night because the Improbability Meltdown had turned the stars into suns, thus wiping out the entire population of Latvia with skin cancer), and everyone simultaneously looked up to see the last thing they were expecting: an airship. A massive, wooden ship in the sky.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Cervantes.
I slid the magazine into my nine like the yin clicking into the yang, completing the Tao of Asskicking. "I'm thinking we found our ship."
Roy Koopa had no earthly idea where he was, but damned if he wasn't going to conquer it.
The last thing he remembered, he'd been blowing things up in the Mushroom Kingdom, and then there was a flash of light and he'd been blowing up some city he didn't recognize. Oh well. Somewhere in his walnut-sized brain, he reasoned that this was probably a trick. Yeah, a trick. The Mario Bros must've changed the appearance of the kingdom so he'd get confused and leave it alone, but he wasn't stupid. No, he'd just continue the bombardment.
"Continue the assault!" Roy ordered. "Unleash the Bob-Ombs!"
He didn't have time to see that order through to completion, however, because as they raised the anchor, two unfamiliar individuals flew up with it onto the deck. Roy stared. "Dammit! Why does that happen EVERY TIME we raise the anchor?"
"We're taking the ship," said Cervantes. "Hand it over peacefully, and you can go."
"Like hell you're taking it," snapped the Koopaling. "I'd like to see you try."
With a sigh, I unholstered my gun and pointed it in that freakish turtle-thing's face, bringing his entire existence to a halt as he stared down its barrel. "All right, Leonardo," I said, "my name is Man With A Gun To Your Forehead, and if we aren't leaving on a jet plane very, very soon, your skull's gonna be so much Jackson Pollock."
Roy's eyes widened. "Uh...OK, you can have it."
"Good," Cervantes grinned, "because you won't be needing it where you're going."
Sophitia floundered to the surface, sputtering with frustration. "What?" she screeched. "How did that ungodly pirate overcome me?"
"It seems," replied Kratos as he surfaced, "that my falling from the sky interrupted your battle and sunk the ship."
"What? You bastard! You ruined everything!"
He ducked a slap. "Shut up, shrine whore! Surrender your maidenhead to the mighty Kratos, and---"
"…..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHHH…….."
"Do you hear something overhead?"
Cervantes dusted off his hands, having finished throwing Roy overboard. "Whew. He was heavier than he looked. Anyway…" He turned and manned the steering wheel. "Onward! To Hung Lo Shrine!"
As the flying boat in the sky set off towards wherever the hell it was we were going, I couldn't help but wonder if we could change what was coming. Or if we were doomed to a straight, linear path, a one-way single lane on the superhighway of fate from which we couldn't---
"Can you please not narrate while I'm steering?"
"Sorry."
Next: Yoshimitsu, Cassandra, Talim, and Raphael are the single most unlikely party ever. And they will not miss a chance to remind each other of it. An appearance by the Koreans, plus someone previously thought to be gone, in Chapter Thirteen, "We, the King of All Cosmos".
