Hana buried her face in the crick of her elbow, scurrying down into the hold to bring Junkrat up top in the face of this new conflagration of dange, only having caught him making his way down into the hold. She barreled down the staircase, finding the man crouched down between two cannons which, to her horror, were both aimed upward, toward the very deck of the ship. She quickly raised her arms in some attempt to stop him, causing him to lose his balance in shock.
"Quit it! Stop! What're you-?!"
Junkrat recoiled, pouncing toward Hana and covering her mouth with a shaking hand, his head quickly aiming back up toward the deck as he muttered quietly, "Shh! Cap'n's orders, sheila! I'm just- YEOW!"
Hana buried her teeth into the tender skin of his palm, forcing him to recoil in pain as she Officer snarled, "Don't touch me!"
The cannoneer waved his hand to ease the pain, pointing upward as he explained in a spatter of frustration, "Even though I'm tryin' ya keep ya trap shut so we don't all get killed?! That bloody fool up there's a damn ghost're somethin'!"
Hana peered up toward the even slays of dark light that peered through the lengths of lumber above her, replying, "Captain Morrison wants his cannons aimed at his own ship?! You've gotta wake up pretty early to-!"
She paused as Junkrat's face fell into a pale slate, his eyes widening as they peered over Hana's head, the officer spinning around to catch a glimpse of whatever had him in a tizzy, her eyes growing into wide orbs themselves at the sight of a pale purple haze that coalesced at the ceiling, fragments of sickly fabric sliding through the slate of lumber and wrapping around the darkening shade like clothing affixed to an invisible person.
"Th-The hell is that?!" Hana gasped as she quickly stepped back, running into Junkrat as the two watched in horror the showdown swirling around in a circle, almost as if examining the gunnery hold, leaving the two crewmen baffled by its sheer ineffability.
Jack's pistol remained fixed on the Reaper, his head downcast to allow his eyes just a hint of guidance down its sights, though he flinched at the sound of Jesse, his second mate gasping in surprise, "The fuck-?!"
Unable to turn away, Jack shivered at what lay behind him, though the shuffling of Jesse's boots meant his second mate was already sprawling into action, the seadog hooping over and stomping on a cloud of thick vapor that had appeared in the deck itself.
A dark, unmistakeable French, voice emerged, "Two cannons, fixed on this deck."
"Then make sure they don't go off," the Reaper ordered with a wry sort of tone.
Jesse's boots slid around, trying to halt the invading thing in the floor, though it quickly seeped through the deck and out of sight, leaving Jesse spinning around and ordering, "Lu! Get out here and wet the deck, quick!"
Lucio bounded our from behind the barrel and yanked out an assortment of rags from his pocket nervously enough, tossing a handful toward Jesse, who caught more than a few and traded some with Angela, "Keep it trapped down there; that Aussie bastard will think up a way to keep it-"
"Jesse!" cried Angela as a skeletal figure bounded across the opposing ship, landing behind the second mate and throwing a fiercesome elbow into the back of his head, sending him falling to the deck.
Angela recoiled at the jangling collection of bones behind a thick scarlet red cloak, a skull dangling lopsidedly until two boney hands reached up to spin it back into place.
"Ha HA!" mused the skeleton woman, "Street lessons for the dummies out there! Fight dirty, especially with the clearly more imposing-"
In a burst of retaliatory defiance, Angela dashed forward, covering her head as she tackled the skeletal being, hoping to dislocate whatever of its wiry frame as she could, though the cloak kept Sombra in place as the two tumbled to the deck. In the middle of the fray, Sombra had jumped atop of Angela, cackling happily as she threw her thin arms around, trying to claw at the woman beneath her as Angela pushed her away with her knees, bracing herself with both arms.
Jesse jumped to his feet, shouting at Lucio before dashing toward the skeletal frame, "LU! GO!"
Lucio swallowed his fear and dropped the rags onto the deck, warily skating around the deck, trying to wet the deck while also retaining some distance from their freakish foes, not daring to whet their appetites as well. Sombra laughed as she scratched what she could of Angela's body, though in an instant, Jesse pounced like a jaguar into her body, sending her flying, her skull skittering in the opposite direction from her body as both rolled along the deck unceremoniously.
Sliding to a stop, Jesse noticed the abstract disunion, quickly crawling along the wood below until he could push himself to his feet, Sombra's lifeless body doing much the same, it's feet clanging along the wood with hollow steps, Jesse's eyes keeping pace-
"BWAAAR-" CRASH!
Jesse's eyes flew open as his feet slid out from underneath him, landing him on his ass as he looked over his shoulder with a frightful stare.
Lena froze, a costly error, she knew, given that she was literally hanging by the slightest impurities along the ship's side, her toes digging into an inch of lumber that had warped outward from the inner hull. Still, the growl she'd heard was of the pure ply evil sort, a kind of bloodcurdling yelp that shook the nerves of even the most devout toward gods. She took a breath, examining her current state, having worked her away along the outside of the ship nearly to its bow. She couldn't help but feel concern, deciding to worm her way upward for a peek at whatever horrors greeted her up above, frustrated that she wasn't involved to help.
She stepped up to the next ill-placed board, reaching for one of the ropes that was brought over the edge of the deck, meant to anchor the massive crates left on the deck's outer perimeter, using it to bring herself up, greeted only by one of the very same crates. She turned her body to peer around its side, her eyes widening at the sight of a ghastly looking spook of a being standing overtop their stowaway, unable to catch anything else from her vantage point.
Lena's hand came up to better anchor herself, sliding up the coarse, splintery edge of the crate she was currently taking cover behind, pulling herself ever so gently, tracing the border of the crate at the edge of her sight, trying to remain buried behind its solid face when she gradually realized that this incorporeal thing was along the deck in the crate's path, were it to slide along the length of the deck.
A wry grin emerged along Lena's face. Truly, as Captain Morrison had surmised, she knew exactly what wild thing to do.
She reached into her back pocket, slipping out a small pocket knife before sliding back down to the side of the ship, whipping out the blade as she began slicing away at the single rope keeping the crate anchored down, grinning with a sinister zeal as she worked the line with vigorous motions.
Jesse's eyes went wide as he scurried to his feet, diving as the ghoulish beast suddenly dashed toward the edge of the ghost ship, going airborne with the sort of body that could capsize larger ships with a precise landing. Jesse grabbed hold of Angela just as the beast slammed into the edge of the Splitstream, the entire ship tilting in a delicate balance, taking everybody's feet out from under them, save for the Reaper, who remained standing at the same upward angle that the deck now maintained.
Fareeha slid down toward the ocean below, directly into the ghoul's wingspan, though her separation from the Reaper allowed her control of her body, digging her boots into the deck, trying to slow herself as barrels and boxes fell into the water below, just avoiding the ghoul's body during its balancing act.
Lena's body went empty with that rush of guts that often comes with weightlessness, the g-forces nearly forcing her to puke as she ship went near-vertical. Her eyes reddened from the forceful motion; she just barely held on as the ship's ascent paused, throwing her body in a spiral anchored only by her arm which had wrapped up in the crate's line, leaving her hanging on for dear life.
She quickly stared down, watching everything on deck falling into the ocean, before noticing the very crate she'd been in the process of hacking at its rope dangling there, ready to be used as ammunition. Lena desperately worked her way up to the ship's side, taking her pocket knife into her fist and stabbing furiously at its wiry strands, gritting her teeth, knowing this was the best time to strike.
In a breathless moment, the rope snapped, brought to ruin by the sheer weight of the gigantic box, sending the crate careening down toward the ocean. The ghoul sneered with delight at Fareeha slid furiously down toward his open hand, the stowaway's eyes widening in terror as she neared his gaping maw of a hand, her body trembling in a moment as a humongous crate flew just by her, the last glimpse of the ghoul being it's surprised face right as the crate smashed into its body, launching his large body directly into the sea, sending the Splitstream back toward its normal orientation, sending a magnificent spout of water in the opposite direction as the ship reoriented itself.
Junkrat and Hana went sprawling across the gunnery hold, the ship's rapid changes in motion having left nearly everything against the wall, though now, every cannonball, the two free cannons, everything suddenly rolled the opposite direction, right toward the two of them, leaving Hana with a look of terror on her face. In a split second, Junkrat grabbed her, lifting her into his arms as he danced along the amassed amount of cannonballs rolling toward them, the gunner ducking and diving out of reach of the ones going airborne until he landed on his feet with only the two cannons barreling down toward him.
Hana's eyes went wide, though her guts went weightless as the man tossed her into the air, freeing his arms for him to corral one of the cannons, diving at one and wrapping himself around its muzzle, swinging it into place as its backside hit the side of the ship.
Hitting the floor, Hana stared up at the shade that swirled among the ceiling, almost curiously, though its voice escaped with a plain tone, punctuated only with a feminine, French accent, "Putain, so easy this was."
"Oh…yeah?!" Junkrat muttered in reply, massasing his arms as his muscles convulsed from exertion, "We're just gettin' started! Huh, sheila?!"
Hana shook her head, "N-No, I think I'm d-done…"
Frowning, Junkrat placed his fists on his hips, shrugging, "Oh c'mon, we can't give-"
"GAH!" muttered the shade, flying along the ceiling as if in search of something, whirling around from end to end, quickening its pace.
Junkrat watched curiously, with Hana soon following suit, her eyes narrowing in confusion at the shade's movements, when a drop of water fell onto her forehead, forcing her to examine the slats of wood further, noticing how drenched they'd become due to Lucio's swabbing. She threw her head toward Junkrat, catching his steely gaze that accompanied his slow train of thought.
"They're too damp for it to get through!" she shouted, "It needs air! We need to suffocate it!"
Junkrat immediately turned an about face, instantly eying a case of gunpower he'd managed to notice amidst his dodging, shouting to himself, "If ya' trappin inna cave-in, gunpowda'll- Well I don't remember the rest of the thing, but it's an old Aussie proverb we-"
"Junkrat!" Hana cried, hopping to her feet.
"Right!" he replied, looking around for something to transport the gunpower so as to not scorch his hands with an open flame, "Let's see…let's see…c'mon…c-"
"SQUEE!" came the tiny whine of Hammond, stuck in his tiny ball as he rolled furiously along the floor toward Junkrat, the hamster's plastic enclosure caught afire.
Without a second thought, Junkrat grinned, reaching down to grab the only portion of the ball not lit with flame, happily exclaiming, "Hamm'nd! Yer a genius!"
He dumped the hamster to the floor before cupping half the ball in his hand, dumping a handful of gunpowder into his concaved recess, the gunpower immediately catching fire and sparking with a furious intensity as the flames began licking at the oxygen surrounding it. The shade recoiled at the sight, its fabric shrinking into itself as if in defense, slinking back away as Junkrat walked closer with the bowl as if in offering.
"T'es rien qu'un petit connard!" the shade cried out.
Junkrat grinned, "You betcha! Fuck with tha Splitstream, will ya?!"
He waved the bowl from side to side, luring the shade back into a corner until it was trapped, Junkrat taking a final few steps until the ghostly shade began to evaporate, its tattered fabrics of makeshift clothing catching fire as the void shrunk further and further, until the flames from the gunpower had nothing left to feed off of.
Hana caught her breath, though Junkrat spun around, directing her this time, "Offica'! Up to the vent ya go! I need some direction if I'm gonna aim this thing properly!"
He dashed off toward the cannon he'd ensured as stopped its momentum facing the bottom of the deck, leaving Hana to cough as she moved toward the opposing wall, climbing up the ladder that led up to the trap door upon the deck.
Jack weakly pushed himself up, finding himself wholly disoriented from hitting the deck and having to catch himself twice as the ship ran back and forth. In a matter of a single moment, his mind clicked back on, his head turning back and forth to find his pistol, to no avail, his body spinning around onto his back, though his eyes narrowed defiantly as he found the Reaper standing above him, aiming his duelist pistol back at him, keeping the Captain pinned down. Jack showed his teeth as they barred like a trapped dog, earning him a sort of amused chuckle from the apparition.
"Very wily, your crew," the Reaper complimented, "But I don't think they can save you at this moment."
Jack noticed Jesse weakly crawling around to the back of the ghost, trying to get a jump on him, but to no avail, as Jack waved him off, "McCree, cut it out. There's nothing you can do."
Jesse came to a stop, his jaw fallen as his chest worked overtime with breaths, his eyes staring holes into the back of the Reaper's figure, much to the being's delight, "I must say, for all your defiance, I do admire a man who knows when he's lost."
Lowering his head, Jack chuckled, "It doesn't come naturally, let me tell you."
Hana's eyes peeked out just an inch off the deck, her hand waving Junkrat down as he knelt just behind his cannon. Her teeth chattered, knowing how she needed to act if her Captain were to… She refused to think it, though as a cold sweat ran down the back of her neck, she clutched her hand into a fist, silently awaiting the order to fire.
The Reaper's mask turned only slightly as the thud of Lena's body slipping back onto the ship from over the railing, nearly lifeless save for her rapid panting, the ordeal having taken its toll on her as well. The Reaper shook its head, signaled only by his mask's movements, turning back toward Jack with an admiring voice.
"They just appear out of nowhere," the thing noted, "Are they usually this prepared to die?"
Jack raised his eyes, "Only when their backs are to the wall."
He watched the dark vapor of the Reaper's hand slithering along the barrel of the pistol, coursing through the weapon's inner mechanisms, unsure at what devilish things where happening within its confines. He hadn't a clue what might have happened to the ammunition within- the blanks.
Angela sidled over to Lucio, the chef nursing a gash along his arm that he'd suffered during the near-barrel roll of the ship, though both of them had their eyes trained on nothing but their Captain, and Angela's father.
"I'd like to think I left them all with something that might have made them better people," Jack muttered, almost in a confession, "I wasn't always the best man, but I wanted nothing more than for them to be the best people they all could be."
"Cute," the Reaper muttered, fixing his aim, "There are no good people in hell. Those who are learn to be quite bad within a day. Have you ever been shot by a bullet blessed by the waters of Our Lady of Mercy? It feels like your skin being torn off, inch by inch, and your very soul shredded into bits."
Jack chuckled under his breath, grinning as he shared a glance with Jesse, "McCree. I'll never forget what you taught me."
The Reaper pulled the trigger.
"Even the impossible can exist. if you believe it to be so."
Nothing.
"Fate. Luck."
The Reaper's eyes began to glow red as he slid the barrel out from the gun's mechanism, watching the bullets fall to the deck, each and every one of them unmistakeably blanks.
"Even bullets," Jack finished with a defiantly boyish smirk.
The Reaper slammed the gun into the wood beneath him, the gun shattering into millions of pieces as plumes of red smoke poured out from beneath his mask, a voice rupturing from his bodyless form, "You think you can fool death?!"
The Reaper stomped toward the Captain, shooting a vapored arm toward him, grabbing him by the throat and yanking him toward him, the two meeting face to face as the Reaper roared, "I'LL HAVE YOU TOO!"
Fareeha flew in from nowhere, though she was immediately tackled by Sombra, the skeleton rolling around with the powerful woman as the two wrestled, leaving Jesse to give a bestial growl as he pushed his muscles to the limit, fighting his very body to stand, his eyes bloodshot as his heart raced. He knew he hadn't the time, the Reaper materialized a dagger out from his body, throwing his arm back, prepared to bury it into Jack's body, the ghost swinging the sharpened weapon d-
Angela flew into the spectre's mask, sending the two of them flying across the deck, Jack's eyes bursting open wide in horror as he fell to his knees, unable to move. His throat dried, his fingers tensed his knuckles felt about to burst. The Reaper grabbed Angela, picked her up by the throat and threw her against the rotund mast in the front of the bow, the woman to terrified to act at the ghost wound up his arm again, fury pouring from his every ghastly, vicious orifice.
His hand flew toward Angela, when in midair, a hand flew up to meet the knife, the owner already able to figure they couldn't halt its momentum, but they merely redirected it, pulling it close so that it missed Angela by a hair, the dagger's blade embedding itself straight into Jesse's shoulder as the man gasped for a breath, the shock rushing through him as his knees immediately weakened, the Reaper's arm following him as he knelt down, his hand still tight around the dagger's handle, shared with the spectral grasp of this evil being.
The Reaper growled, "I don't give two shits who's first! You'll all-!"
Jesse bit down hard, his teeth nearly fusing, nearly shoving themselves back into his gums as his grip tightened, his eyes showing a determination characteristing of a feral beast as he pulled the the knife into him further.
"JESSE!" Angela cried with a horrified voice.
The Reaper watched with utter astonishment and confusion, unable to resist the pull of this old seadog. Jesse pulled his fist away and met the bare tip of the weapon, pushing it deeper into his shoulder until until it matched his skin, making it irretrievable as his shaking breaths pulsated in the wind, "F-F-Fuck y-you…"
The Reaper blew into a frenzy, blasting a ghastly pulse of energy before him, sending Jesse and Angela to the deck as he looked around and around, unable to comprehend the sheer insanity surrounding him. His body ceased to take on a human form, simply becoming a legless ghost as it floated quickly toward the first face it could find, Angela, careening toward her until a single word broke the being's concentration.
"MOIRA!" Fareeha shouted out, her foot pinning Sombra's skeletal body to the ground as she held out her necklace.
The ghost stopped in its tracks, not bothering to waste any of its rising demonic energy with speaking and simply cruising toward Fareeha at maximum speed. Fareeha's eyes narrowed, she brought the necklace to her lips before giving it a kiss, the final one she would ever share with her beloved.
She brought her arm up, the Reaper suddenly spouting out desperately, "NOOOO!"
With that, Fareeha threw the vial into the deck, shattering its tiny glass into bits along the wooden slats beneath her feet, sending the Reaper into a maddening flurry of demonic curses in tongues Fareeha hadn't been able to even comprehend. The ghastly being fell to the deck, its body covering the spill as if desperately trying to lap up whatever it could of the spill mass of two souls, furiously attempting to recover what he'd just lost.
Fareeha watched him with piteous eyes, "I gave up my past to move on. You should too."
If the ghost heard, it failed to acknowledge her, merely sucking at the wood beneath its form, trying to worm its etherial tendrils into every crack, every splinter, in a foolhardy attempt at finding the woman he'd lost centuries prior.
Jack turned to watch Fareeha, throwing his head to the side to signal for her to get out of the way, which she did, allowing the Captain to find Hana's face peeking out from just beneath the deck. He shut his eyes, knowing that his ship had been doomed since they'd brought this stowaway aboard, Fareeha, apparently, thinking of his wife, this ship. The world they'd built together. forever.
He took a deep breath, his voice dry yet full of drearisome intent, "Fire."
With that, it took only a second or two for the cannon below deck to burst in a hellfire of gunpower, the cannonball within shattering a massive portion of the deck, sending shrapnel skyward in an explosive cacophony of destruction, within which flyeth the shattered mask of the Reaper itself, the cloud of mess bellowing into the winds before finding its place among the ocean.
The Splitstream, Jack's home, was finished.