Story Notes: This story isn't how I envisioned it, but it's not too bad. I haven't written this many chapters since the Bordurian Conspiracy. I adore that Story. Check that one out, if you haven't already.

Chapter Summary: Tintin and Rastapopoulus come face to face, potentially for the last time.

Suggested Music

1. This is My World - Hans Zimmer & Junkie XL (From Superman Vs Batman: Dawn of Justice)

2. Black and Blue - Hans Zimmer & Junkie XL (From Superman Vs Batman: Dawn of Justice)

Tintin's focus tightened and he started to sprint towards access to the main deck, whilst still trying to avoid Rastapopoulus' men. With his positivity his strength returned, until the foghorn ploughed through his finely tuned ears. Collapsing onto his knees, he covered his ears right up until the moment another merchant's vessel passed them by metres.

GREAT SNAKES!

Tintin sprinted to the ladders, launching himself up the steps.

Shoots immediately peppered the metal as Tintin emerged onto the main deck. He froze as the bullets stopped and stared up, facing the ice-cold features of the man who wanted him dead.

Now comes the end...

This is it.

A scream sounded, reverberating through the metal corridors of the ship.

Tintin scrambled running, back towards the ladder as the ship tore into the unprotected docks. Burying himself into a tight ball, he shielded himself. Metal seams cracked along the side, reducing what remained into a pulverised mess. Unable to do anything to stop it, he waited.

After what felt like minutes everything fell into an unsettling silence.

Tintin stood cautiously.

The ship had been crushed, mangled into a new shape under the influence of the greek docks. Fuel seeped from the damaged containers. The Francescini was going to blow.

I need to reach the shore.

Grasping the ladder, he took a few deep breaths and made his way back up to the main deck. Before he could pull himself onto the deck a force slammed into him, forcing him back down onto the lower deck. He landed on the floor with a thump.

What the...

Steps echoed on the top deck. It didn't deter Tintin from attempting the climb again. Once he stepped onto the deck, heat slammed into his skin as fires spread across the flooring. Rastaspopoulus stood at the other end, his steel eye's transfixed upon him. Flecks of fire reflected in his eyes, making him stop.

Why must it end like this?

I don't want to fight.

Rastapopoulus hurtled towards him before he got a chance to prepare, lunging at him with a small knife. He evaded the first blow, nearly catching himself against a piece of a broken rail. With every evasion, Rastapopoulus' anger grew. The attacks came faster, harder.

Tintin tried to retain his composure.

Don't panic...

His fist collided with his face.

As he hit the floor Rastapopoulus followed, swinging his arm forward with the knife. Tintin grabbed his hand, pushing up as hard as he could.

No!

Rastapopoulos sat on top of him, pushing the knife down, even with Tintin's resistance. Through gritted teeth, resistance proved difficult. The knife slipped closer to his pulsing jugular. His actions became more frantic, begging for release. As he looked up, Rastapopoulos' filled his vision. His eyes gleamed as the fire spread across the deck, not just in glee but in pleasure too.

Tintin braced himself as a flood of strength rushed through Rastapopoulos.

He squeezed his eye's shut, trying with every last ounce of strength.

Without thinking, he kicked Rastapopoulos, moving his head in time to avoid the blade slicing through his neck. Unable to get onto his feet, he crawled across the deck. A hand latched on his foot, pulling him back followed by an arm wrapping around his neck.

His body flushed against Rastapopoulos.

In instinct, his nails dug into the hairy arms holding him in place.

It did little to stop him.

No!

Get off me!

Tintin's legs kicked out, flaying involuntarily as his fate was chosen for him.

As vital seconds passed, his body surrendered.

Burning embers faded as his vision turned as black as the night.

x

As Tintin's body flopped to the ground, he relinquished his hold of the former reporter. He stood up, tempted to kick him repeatedly in the stomach, but refrained. He knew where he wanted to go. At long last, the boy was still ,and halfway to the state he wished.

You're mine now.

Wrapping his hand around the kid's ankle, he pulled him in the direction of the steps not caring about the way he pulled him up. Once he yanked him across the bridge, he pulled him next to the rail.

Time to go.

Rastapopoulos was so preoccupied he never noticed Tintin's flickering eyes.

x

Hands grasped his shoulders as his senses came back to life.

All of a sudden, he glanced at the main deck, at least 30 feet below.

OH, GOD!

He lashed out, managing to elbow him in the face, and dived for the radio room, kicking the door shut. It wouldn't give him much time to get out an emergency call. His finger frantically grabbed for the headphones as Rastapopoulos burst through the door.

Tintin ducked, avoiding the brunt of the impact.

But he couldn't avoid the wire.

Rastapopoulus wrapped the wire around Tintin's neck and yanked it with enough force to drag him from the seat. His finger flew to the ligature, clawing for release. His resistance only made it worse. As the ligature tightened further, he squeezed his eye's shut, kicking out at every surface within reach. Unable to do much else, he hit out with his elbows, desperate for release, oxygen and freedom.

Lights swept through the bridge.

Amongst the confusion, Rastapopoulus loosened his grip but not enough to make a difference.

As the helicopter circled, bullets slammed through the glass. Rastapopoulus grimaced in pain, completely letting go of the ligature in the process.

Tintin didn't hesitate as the bullets continued to slam into the bridge. He took the opportunity and dived for the door. His lungs ached, taking in as much air as possible as he thundered back across the deck. The deck disappeared from under him without warning. He fell straight in the hold, hitting several boxes before rolling onto the floor. Holding in a series of coughs he grimaced in pain as he grasped his stomach.

Come on, Tintin. Get up.

He struggled to his knees as smoke started to fill the hold.

Smoke? What...

Oh no...

Heat radiated from behind the door as he turned to find a large containment of explosives behind him.

The ship is going to blow!

I need to get out of here!

"Come out and face me you coward!"

I don't have a choice...

Clambering back over the boxes, as carefully as possible, he struggled back onto the deck to find Rastapopoulus standing 10 feet away.

Tintin breathed hard, pushing away the last of his fear and stood, facing the man who wanted to kill him.

Rastapopoulos stared at him, smiling smugly as he held the gun between his hands.

He pointed the gun straight at him.

Tintin didn't even flinch.

At that exact moment, the fire blasted through the door to the hold, causing a chain reaction that nothing could stop. A rumble sounded through the ship before the entire deck erupted like a volcano spurting fire and smoke high into the air. Tintin didn't have much choice in the matter. Flames flooded his vision as he was blown off his feet into the inky black sky. All stimuli faded, even as he hit the water.

As Tintin slammed into the water his focus obliterated, shattered into millions of tiny pieces as bubbles escaped his slightly parted lips. Flames and shrapnel filled the air, landing beside him in the waves, but nothing disrupted him. Nothing could rouse him. His fingers wrapped around a large piece of the ship, but it was all he could manage. Unable to do much else, he surrendered to the desire to sleep.