Four hours before...
Curly and Anya gleefully entered the suite, seeing Daisuke and Swansea passed out and immediately tackling them out of pure, earth-shattering euphoria as they shouted out in drunken terror.
"AAAAAAAAAAAA- oh it's you guys!" Daisuke exclaimed in pleasant surprise.
"GET THUH FUKK OFF ME!" Swansea shouted in great complaint.
The four of them mingled for a little bit, until Anya and Curly realized that Daisuke and Swansea were just so insanely drunk that normal conversation was nearly impossible. Idly glancing around, Anya was taken by surprise to see a stack of small medical injectors, sat upon a little glass stand next to the bar. Curiously, she walked up to it, seeing a note taped to the ledge of the stand and reading it more closely:
"Inject in case of extreme non-sobriety"
Anya laughed audibly as she read the message, then picked up one of the injectors and inspected the label. It was a concentrated dose of acetic acid, its label contents promising to be an advanced variant capable of detoxing the patient rapidly without risk of anemia or overdose possibility.
What a marvel of engineering! Anya thought in wonder. Her passion for the medical profession was the sole reason she had tried so hard to become a nurse practitioner. She wanted to help people with technology thought impossible, medicine thought magical, and compassion thought angelic.
A PASSION REIGNITED!
"SWANSEA!"
Swansea bolted up from his near-unconscious state, snapping to attention as Anya shouted.
"Y-YeeeesSss? OW FUCK!"
He flinched as Anya bolted over and jabbed the injector into his arm, observing him as he cursed and stared at her in confusion and slight fear.
"Duh fukk dihd yoo jus' do 'ta me?!"
"A detoxifier, give it a minute!"
Even if he didn't know what the fuck Anya just said to him, her adorable disposition was enough to assuage his fears that he hadn't been poisoned, and he slumped back in the lounge couch, grumbling to himself and falling back asleep. Anya moved over to Daisuke with another injector and turned him around.
"OoOoOoOohhh hey Anya! OWAH!"
Injected. Daisuke leaped backward, preparing for battle.
"SoOoOo! Thuh daaay uhrrives where weeee finuhlly FIGHT!" He declared confidently as he took a combat-ready position, then immediately lost his footing and tumbled to the floor in a contorted mess, falling asleep. Curly looked over at Anya from where he was standing and lifted an eyebrow.
"You're... not gonna dose me next, right?"
"No, these things make people sober quickly."
"Oh... okay. I don't really want that, I mean, the whole point of drinking is... you know... to stay drunk."
"Yeah, no, it wasn't- it's not for us, it's for them. They- they're already drunk, ya see? We're gonna- I mean... I kind of wanted to drink with them...?"
Curly's face widened into a large, mischievous smile.
"You really are diabolical, huh?"
"Don't call me diabolical! You make me sound like a cartoon villain!"
"I mean, let's be honest, it's pretty diabolical to reset a person's intoxication and force them to do it again."
He laughed and ran around the lounge as Anya chased him with the injector.
"I think you're pretty drunk right now, maybe you need a shot too!"
"NO, THAT'S A TAINTED SYRINGE, I DON'T WANT HPV!"
Around twenty minutes later, Daisuke and Swansea woke up groggily from their slumbers, somewhat shocked to find that their inebriation had worn off completely; and Swansea immediately groaned while Daisuke got up and started air-boxing.
"What did you do to us?!" Swansea complained in minor outrage, suddenly falling silent as a glass of wine came into his view, held by a grinning Anya.
"Getting you ready for round two!"
Swansea groaned again, but nonetheless took the glass and smirked uneasily.
"Well you certainly took the initiative, huh?" Swansea remarked, sipping the glass and sighing in relief; high-end wine. Anya sat back on the couch next to Curly, who was swishing the glass with his mind on a dozen thoughts. Daisuke was bopping it to the music, the kid that seemingly never ran out of energy since he'd come back.
"Hell yeah, I did!" Anya exclaimed, practically exuding happiness from her pores. "I need to brush up on my medical terminology again! I'm going to pass the medical exam this time around!"
"HELL YEAH, YOU WILL!" Swansea barked, shocked by the excitement he'd felt, and much to Anya's pleasant surprise. Perhaps it was because he'd never seen Anya this outgoing and confident- no, it was definitely that. He instinctively wanted to see her growth and be a part of it.
"What he said!" Daisuke shouted while pumping his fist. "I'll read the cards this time!"
Anya nodded dutifully as Curly went off to pour himself another glass; he had been consuming it like water the last few minutes.
Swansea's eyes glanced across Curly, a surge of resentment, outrage and indignation riding on his mind with every second he was in view. Every time Swansea took a look at this son of a bitch, he was forced to relive the horrorshow that led up to this point. He couldn't stop thinking about Curly's sheer ignorance and stupidity in the two most harrowing decisions made; trying to reason with a mentally fucked predator, then handing the KEYS TO THE SHIP over to that same psychopath!
INCOMPREHENSIBLY FUCKING STUPID!
It didn't matter much to Swansea upon finding out Curly had never crashed the ship. He had allowed those events to happen. For the foreseeable future, that was unforgivable.
Curly came back to the couch and sat with a groan, his eyes suddenly glancing upward and noticing the burning expression of outrage flaring across Swansea's face. Curly's features depressed considerably, and he turned softly to Anya as she was speaking to Daisuke.
"Be right back."
"Okay, Curly."
Curly placed his glass on the table and stood up stiffly from the couch, eyes jutted downwards in terrible shame, as he moved around the suite towards the gentleman's room. Swansea's rage was nearly extinguished by the turn of events, and sank back onto the couch, sighing in regret.
"What the fuck..." He mumbled, feeling somewhat resentful towards the universe. It was a true gift to... be alive again. It was incomprehensibly, indescribably beautiful, virtuous, and undeniably divine. But the drawbacks were apparent from the very beginning.
It was painful. All the emotions carried between every crewmate, the gruesome fates they shared on that cursed freighter. Too much baggage, trauma, drama, and emotions were shared over the whole ordeal. They knew they were going to die alone, in the middle of nowhere in space. The feelings behind that realization could never be adequately described, no matter how many sagas or epic tales it purported to need.
Ultimately... it left their minds nearly shattered when this came to be. And even now, these distractions and feelings of euphoria and gratitude were constantly battling with what Swansea could best describe as 'the event horizon of madness and insanity'.
He wanted them all to heal, recover, and thrive. He yearned for that. And because of this saint who rescued them, there was actually a fighting chance of that possibility coming true.
The one thing Swansea needed to do right now, no matter what feelings he held for any of the crew, especially Curly... was let it pass as water under the bridge. And just... enjoy the day, as Hawkes had put it.
He smiled, and got up from the lounge couch to approach the men's restroom; he wanted to make just a few amends with his former captain.
(Music: "Stalk", by cvstawayy)
"Okay," Daisuke started, pulling the flashcards out of a small cabinet filled with flashcards based on different topics. "Let's see here..."
Anya sat across from him, getting comfortable and lightly laying her hands on her lap as she eagerly awaited the next question. Daisuke peered at the flashcard.
"Alrighty... ahem... In the 2020s era, what was the zeitgeist of global politics on Terra?"
"...Uh, what?"
"Oh, sorry, I'll read it again-"
"Daisuke, I think you have the wrong cards."
Confused, Daisuke looked over the cards again, and a barely flickering light in his brain clicked on.
"Ohhh! My bad, my bad Anya!"
He sorted the flashcards into the tiny cabinet file, taking out a separate stack and reading from them. Anya felt a faint dread as she recalled the last time she asked him to play chess- and the end result of that match felt eerily similar to the predicted outcome of this questionnaire.
"What is the atomic number of Oxygen?"
"Daisuke... the files are labeled."
Daisuke's eyebrows raised in genuine surprise and he, once again, re-sorted the flashcards and pulled out new ones.
"If a = 24 inches, and is congruous with the height of the triangle, what is-"
"Daisuke, just get the flashcards under the 'Medical' tab!"
Daisuke, seemingly disappointed in himself, once more re-sorted the flashcards, pulling out new ones and looking through them with extreme scrutiny.
"..."
He studied just a bit longer, trying to be absolutely sure these were the correct flashcards. Anya was getting more anxious and eager to answer the medical questions, pursing her lips and tightening her hands into fists with growing anticipation.
"...'Narcissism' is a psychological trait closely associated with-"
"DAISUKE, ARE YOU TROLLING ME?!"
Daisuke fell backward in his chair, hitting the ground and rolling like an armadillo until he hit the carpeted half-steps behind him. He got up and groaned in frustration.
"Whaaat?" He questioned defensively. "Psychology is a part of medicine! Mental health, right?"
"ARE YOU DRUNK?"
(Music: "8080", by Priroda)
"Worthless fucking scum DOGSHIT CUNT!"
The volatile and crass verbiage was uttered maliciously by Hawkes, storming down the corridors of his ship, accompanied by a small cohort of garrison officers. He suddenly became aware of their presence and turned around to glare at them.
"Why... are... you... following... me?"
The garrison officers, despite wearing face-covering helmets, were visibly intimidated by the grizzled veteran behemoth staring them down. Most of them were rotated with other military ships yearly, and so new recruits didn't see much of the Captain outside of combat or interior disputes; and when they did see him, it was subtly terrifying.
"J-Just awaiting further orders, sir!"
"Where is your superior officer?"
The Captain's voice was brimming with rage and malice, and none of the garrison officers wanted to be on the receiving end of whatever savagery Captain Hawkes was looking to practice right now. Instead of responding to the question and potentially angering him further, they simply bowed their heads and scurried away in a hurry. Hawkes exhaled, trying to calm his mind before the rage consumed his psyche. He hated losing composure in front of his subordinates. Unfortunately, the one thing he was terrible at was regulating and handling his emotions.
Thanks to bullshit trauma from the past. Hawkes was infuriated by the sheer weakness of the human psyche. Combat, adversity and strife toughened warriors; yet it could break them in the same fold. Seeing a person shot through the head and thinking little of it, yet simultaneously despairing over the disappointment on a loved one's face. What a sick and twisted mindset humans had.
And yet, he was the gold-star example of this paradoxical existence.
His fists tightened in the furtherance of anger that continued to pierce his mind. He badly wanted to return to his Suite and mingle with his family some more, but he needed to handle some small matters first.
Oh, there was one now!
Jezarit had immediately come into view, exiting the Divinity Chamber whilst sighing in relief. That didn't last long at all, as his eyes suddenly swept upwards and noticed with pure horror that the Captain was glaring him down from a few meters away.
The gap was closed within a second, and Jazz flinched and stumbled backward as Hawkes nearly teleported a few inches in front of him with unnatural quickness.
"I didn't get an answer for that shit you pulled during Anya's revif- revifci- revi- I'M GONNA BEAT THE FUCKING SHIT OUT OF YOU!"
He shouted in pure rage and grabbed Jazz's collar, raising him up from the floor and shaking him fervently while Jazz screamed in terror and prayed in Russian.
"Bozhe, pomogi mne! Etot zver' menya razorvet na chasti!"
"I TOLD YOU TO STOP SPEAKING A DEAD FUCKIN' LANGUAGE!"
Hawkes growled in discontent, feeling no desire to rough up the impostor priest. He threw him down, straightening his own uniform and continuing to glare.
"If you don't know what the fuck to say, then DON'T! SAY IT!"
"Captain, for fuck's sake! It's literally my first time doing all this!"
"NO! EXCUSES!"
Hawkes stormed off, leaving a frenetically billowing cape in his wake. He headed toward the Medical wing to yell at-... to speak to the Chief Medical Officer. As he stormed his way there, he found it increasingly difficult to fight off the waves of blind rancor that would occasionally wrack his body. This was a sporadic and uniquely scarce feeling that only surfaced a handful of times in his life.
A fury, a rage, a wrath that pushed him toward overwhelming violence and destruction. It was a disease that had first surfaced when he'd seen his father kill his mother. It was a feeling he wanted to close off from the world; a feeling that was just as likely to hurt the people he loved as it was to bring terror on his enemies.
He was angered because his conviction to bring retribution upon the wicked was put into question by his past. Every time he'd struck at Jimmy, he saw a shard, a fragment of himself cowering and fighting back with desperation. A version of him void of compassion, self-obsessed, and deluded beyond reality.
Hawkes' end goal, through all this, was happiness and peace. He believed that the ends justified the means. He had to, because that was the summation of nearly his entire life's work.
And the goal had been discovered only two months ago.
Stood in front of the doors into the Medical wing, he pushed through them with as much restraint as he could muster, ignoring the scores of people inside the Medical wing who bowed their heads and placed their fists against their hearts as a sign of formality and loyalty. His eyes spotted Annie, the CMO, reading through a stack of reports in her office while her assistant helped her sort the reports into their respective file cabinets.
He barged into her office, much to her and her assistant's fright.
"Annie."
"FUCKING HELL, HAWKES!"
"Head to the Suite. We'll do their mental evals there."
The CMO cupped one hand around her forehead, groaning loudly and audibly, while her assistant eyed Hawkes up and down, somewhat filled with dread at his hulking physique. Hawkes noticed her assessing him and grinned malevolently, scaring her into averting her gaze. Annie noticed this ridiculous non-verbal exchange and remarked with annoyance.
"Stop being such a prick. My assistant is coming to observe, she needs to learn how to-"
"Don't care. Let's go."
As Captain Hawkes stormed off, Annie's assistant shakily whispered in her ear.
"Why is he so mean?"
Annie shook her head, a bit nervous herself. At the ripe old age of 27, she had spent nearly half her life (including young teenage years) serving onboard this ship, and had witnessed these near-manic episodes the Captain went through a handful of times. They were his version of mental breakdowns, and were observantly much more efficient and safe for the overall ship's well-being as opposed to going insane, entering a catatonic state, or outright going on a blind rampage and harming or killing crewmates, as she'd seen on plenty of other ships from plenty of lesser captains.
This was, summarily, a hyper-aggressive venting taking place over multiple hours or days. The general unofficial policy amongst the crew was to avoid him like the plague when he was like this. That was the trade-off for serving under the greatest Captain (in her belief) to ever sail the stars.
It really was awesome, in hindsight now, that Annie and her assistant would be stuck in a suite interviewing mental cases while a short-tempered nuclear bomb sat on the sidelines and watched her every move.
"When I'm doing the evals," Annie instructed her assistant, Dula. "You should take notes and keep that yapper shut. 'Why' should be self-explanatory."
Dula nodded fervently, moving to grab her notepad and pen as Annie got up from her desk and went to her file cabinet, taking out a small stack of mental evaluation forms.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the door to the Captain's Suite, noticing the two garrison officers stationed outside with rifles. They noticed the CMO coming up and saluted before moving aside to let them in.
"Anya, just take the knife, it's not that big and it'll serve as a useful self-defense weapon."
"No! That is a massive knife! I couldn't hold that with two hands if I tried!"
"You can definitely hold it with two hands, it's basically a short machete."
Fuck is this idiot doing? Annie thought in annoyance, rounding the corner to find Hawkes actively persuading Anya to take his two-foot-long combat knife as they sat on lounge chairs; the rest of the clown show was playing cards and other board games. The Suite was shockingly tidied-up and orderly, even after Hawkes and his precious crew had clearly indulged in the drink.
Annie shook her head as her assistant, Dula, marveled at the beautiful interior of the Suite and ogled the rumored 'resurrected' crew of the Tulpar. It was the first time in her life seeing dead men and women walk in the land of the living, and as a medical (wannabe) practitioner, this phenomenon had utterly fascinated her.
Her first instinct was to dart over to one of the crew and immediately begin interviewing them with every question she could conceive, but that was a wishful thought- Hawkes would undoubtedly grab her brittle body and launch her through the wall-to-wall window view of the terrarium. Dula noticed Hawkes' demeanor had also changed entirely; from brimming rage to quaint warmth- such a rapid transformation that she could hardly equate this peaceful ox with the bullish monster she'd met only a few minutes ago.
Hawkes' eyes glanced over and noticed Annie and her assistant, waving them over with an indifferent expression. They hurried over to him as he continued to strongly persuade Anya to take his combat knife- from Annie's assessment, it was far too cumbersome for someone with Anya's stature to wield. It was quite clear that Hawkes still had quite a bit of alcohol left in his system and had let his guard down entirely- something Annie had never seen him do her entire life onboard this ship.
This whole resurrection shit, to her, was so jarring to her orderly, coherent, decisive and calculating mind. She had come to terms with the grim truth of her existence long ago, having grappled with a mountain of existential crises, depression, anxiety, agony, and despair over the many years she'd spent as a medical officer- seeing the things she did. Then came the Day of Erudition horseshit, and there went her entire outlook on reality. Out the airlock, into deepspace!
Oh well. She was the CMO- not one to bitch her problems until everyone else had bitched theirs.
Hawkes temporarily snapped from his entranced state of trying to persuade Anya with the determination of a car salesman and glanced upward to see Annie and her assistant standing in the doorway tentatively. He grinned as a sick prank fomented in his mind, but ultimately dispelled it from his thoughts. He didn't want to look mean-spirited in front of his family.
His still-drunken gaze veered towards the barkeep, Roble, and softly barked an order.
"PUT MELANIE ON."
Roble shook his head anxiously, changing the track on the console managing the sound systems. By Roble's perception for the last few minutes, Hawkes had been a two-faced menace the moment he entered the Suite. His demeanor was bright, positive and accommodating while he spoke and interacted with the Tulpar crew, overflowing with profound glee and delight.
The moment he turned to Roble or one of the other tenants in the suite, PROFOUND RAGE.
Roble knew it wasn't favoritism that caused this behavior- hell, he wished it was. It was clear the Captain was in the middle of one of those...
Erm... what did Annie call it again? Roble thought to himself. It was really memorable and catchy... how the hell did I forget it so easily?!
"Noticed the Manic Panic?" Annie joked as she approached the bar, tapping the counter as a request for a shot glass.
"Oh- damn it, that was on the tip of my tongue!" Roble complained, bringing two shot glasses up and over the counter as Dula approached the counter behind Annie nervously. She'd never drank liquor before in her life, but the recent events as of the last three or so months was enough to push her toward the consideration.
"Are you sure we should be drinking before a mental evaluation, chief?" Dula hesitantly asked Annie, who peered back at Dula as if she had lost her mind.
"When the fuck did I ask you for advice?"
"Looking drippy as ever." Roble commented as he glanced over Annie's outfit, cleaning a glass in his hands as he surveyed her clothing.
A striking fusion of Norwellian (current era) aesthetics and modern (2000s era), edgy streetwear, perfectly suited for Annie, a trailblazer in making bold statements. The dark navy-blue high-neck sleeveless crop top features subtle cut-outs on the shoulders, balancing elegance with an edgy twist. Its sleek, fitted design emphasized clean lines and a minimalist yet powerful silhouette.
Layered loosely over her shoulders was a crisp white coat with oversized proportions, adding a structured and utilitarian vibe. It featured a unique patch detail on the arm and technical-style text accents, lending a futuristic, tech-inspired feel to the look. The coat was worn open, allowing it to flow effortlessly and showcase the rest of the outfit. The high-waisted black trousers were a standout piece, convened with structured tailoring and striking details like harness-inspired straps and mesh paneling at the thighs. These elements enhanced the overall industrial-chic aesthetic and added texture and depth to the ensemble. The wide-leg cut gave the pants a modern, relaxed fit while maintaining a sense of sophistication.
The outfit was grounded by chunky, futuristic shoes that blended sleek performance features with stark-white and gray, utilitarian design. The muted tones and thick soles provided a contemporary edge, complementing the rest of the look without overpowering it. The orange-tinted visor glasses were a show-stealer, exuding a high-tech, sci-fi feel that tied the entire outfit together. A sleek white headpiece, integrated with metallic accents and ear attachments, reinforced the futuristic theme, suggesting a blend of fashion and technology.
"Roble, can you pour the fuckin' whiskey please?!"
"I really wish I'd pursued fashion design in college."
"POUR THE WHISKEY!"
Roble poured the whiskey and hurriedly changed the song as Hawkes' gaze rose to him again, filled with shocked outrage that the song had not yet switched.
(Music: "Mattie's Rag", by Gerry Rafferty)
"Oh, man." Swansea muttered as he played poker with Curly, Daisuke and Jeremiah. "This reminds me of home. Fuck..."
"We'll be there soon." Curly said with tired and distant eyes. "Let's enjoy what we have now."
"No shit, sherlock." Swansea retorted, switching his gaze to Daisuke and watching him peer at his cards with nervous scrutiny. "It's a card game, not a quantum mechanics equation, Daisuke!"
"Y-Yeah, I know that!" Daisuke defended himself, sorting even more vociferously through all two of his cards. "I just have a hard time wrapping my mind around this... concept."
"...Concept? It's hard to wrap your mind around... poker. Daisuke, I love you, but I think you need to re-attend grade school if something like this is too difficult to handle."
"It's not difficult, damn it! Haven't you ever been confused about a game or topic you got introduced to for the first time?"
"Yes, Daisuke, and it didn't take me five business days to learn the RULES!"
"Why are there a bunch of face up cards on the table?" Jeremiah questioned earnestly, causing Swansea's jaw to drop to the floor (metaphorically).
"WE JUST WENT OVER THE RULES! ARE YOU BOTH RETARDED?!"
Jeremiah and Daisuke recoiled from the verbal backlash, then consolidated together and discussed their cards.
"We're gonna lose this game if we don't work together!" Daisuke impressed upon Jeremiah, who shook his head with a grim expression.
"I have an ace and a king, what about you?" Jeremiah queried Daisuke, who showed his own cards- Two queens. Jeremiah nodded solemnly.
"We'll need to combine our cards and see if it can overcome the cards on the table." Jeremiah said with supreme confidence, pointing at the poker river of cards face-up on the table. "If I recall correctly, we need high value cards to overcome the river."
"Alright, sounds good!" Daisuke exclaimed with a clenched fist.
Swansea stared at the both of them, utterly dumbfounded at how they even came to this random conclusion.
"Birds of a feather." He muttered in bewilderment, trying to dispel the miasma of stupidity radiating from these two hooligans. He looked to Curly, who was the only one of the group to be playing the game correctly.
"I think we found a second Daisuke." Swansea commented to him with dread in his voice. Curly looked at him with an expression of genuine horror.
"That would be lethal for our brains." He stated without a shred of a doubt.
"You're telling me." Swansea muttered in resignation.
Meanwhile, Daisuke and Jeremiah, who could clearly hear the two of them shit-talking, looked to each other with annoyance.
"They have some audacity, don't they?" Jeremiah queried. "Treating us like fools!"
"Yeah!" Daisuke said in support, pumping his fist in the air. "We can't let them win this game! Let's beat them and prove who the real fools are!"
"Hell yeah!" Jeremiah exclaimed in agreement, dapping Daisuke up and reviewing his cards once more in earnest determination; unknowing that their geese were already cooked.
During all these separate shenanigans, Hawkes stumbled up to Annie and spoke briefly to her.
"Let's do the mental evals in a few minutes."
Annie shook her head tiredly, downing the first shot and glancing over to see Dula holding the full shot glass and eyeing it tentatively.
"Down it, pussy!"
Dula's head recoiled back from the command, then ultimately tipped the glass into her mouth, coughing and gagging as it coursed down her throat. Both Annie and Roble chuckled mischievously as they watched her struggle for composure.
"I can't believe she downed the whole glass!"
"It's a true gift to be able to down Everclear like that." Annie remarked, much to Dula's abject horror.
"THAT WAS EVERCLEAR?!"
"Don't worry, it's only 98% proof."
"I'M GONNA DIEEE!"