[General Pain]

Aboard the SS Magelon Sorcerer

Aboard the SS Magelon Sorcerer

1st. May 2010

´´ The winds howled the 3rd day of the voyage, and the Captain proclaimed that the next night would prove a challenge for the crew. -"The Gods of the sea will test our resolve" Lord Melchett heard one of the crewman loyal to Florentino said. The seasoned veteran was heading for the main deck for his afternoon workout-session, sleep hadn't come easy as of lately and horrible nightmares from last weeks events woke him several times each night. "Luckily the captain has some decent Whiskey" he mumbled to himself as Barnaby passed him by offering a quiet greeting. To the S.A.S. legend Barnaby looked lost in thought, like there was different things making him hard to read bordering on rude. Lord Melchett paid him little heed, he was usually used to people staying out of his way, even fearing him....he smiled has he kept on training. Ignoring the small flickering lights; far off in the horizon.

Florentino on the other hand had a great time. Being slightly accustomed to the high seas in his earlier smuggling endeavours, he had set up a pretty decent "casino" in the mess hall. His rowdy gang of hoodlums kept playing and drinking whenever their shifts where over, and there was a distinct difference from Maos crewmen; who basically kept to themselves. Another joyous scream commenced as a lucky sailor/smuggler won with the worst possible hand in Texas Hold'em; 7-2 offsuite.
Florentino had experienced much in his earlier years of smuggling , but nothing came close to what he had experienced after teaming up with Barnaby the overcasious merc, Lord Melchett the ultra experienced, Mao the disturbed and genius Japanese computer specialist and that horrible stubborn old Russian, Igor Davidorf.
That character concerned him the most; that old annoying enigma kept surviving even after being wounded several times; and he is in his 80s? There where times Florentino thought some over-worldly energy kept him alive; back in his childhood his grandmother told stories about such things...he pondered further a moment until it once again was his hand and the thoughts of this vanished in a blur of cheap booze and cigar smoke.

In another part of the ship Mao was shivering with intense stomach cramps, being used to sushi, Coca Cola and frozen Pizzas, the high seas and the ships cuisine didn't agree with him; at least that was his believes....He had experienced much as of late, but the horrors in Texas had made him uneasy and concerned; even though he didn't want to show it. He had loads of unanswered questions; what was the connection between the Russian mob and the obvious alien masters? What happened to the Egyptian artefacts? What happened to the assassin at Hotel Carlton in Cairo? Who where the swastika-wearing group that spread havoc simultaneously with their own group in Texas ? Could he trust his friends? Where they his friends?
BUAAARRF!! - His questions had to wait...another bucket of goo was soon filled to the rim.... He longed for solid ground under his feet, Japanese solid ground...

Incidentally many of the same questions troubled Barnaby, with his family basically on the run in an oversized Winnebago across the US countryside, his thoughts often fell back to them. But now other more pressing matters where upon him: Is their next mission connected or not to past events; he have had a nagging feeling that they are all lead to the same unknown goal.....Or was it just paranoia that showed it's ugly face again. He pulled his raincoat tighter as he perceived the endless dance of the waves in every direction. Out here on this part of the ship he was alone, well except Lord Melchett that tireless went about his daily training routine. His resolve amazed Barnaby on many occasion. It was pouring down and the waves were growing in size, the ship though was used to this as it had done its job without question in many years. But what was that? He peered towards the lights that came and went far out in the distance. The sun had retreated beyond the horizon and the darkness broke through tirelessly as it had done for millennia. New questions emerged....where they being followed, was it a ship in distress, or something completely different....He took up his binoculars and studies further, but it was alas no more distinct. His mind was inspired by the endless rhythm of raindrops on his hat, playing Chopin's "The Raindrop Prelude"

Igor Davidorf, the oldest of them all, you could actually say venerable, lay quietly in his bed. The 2 earlier days had been filled with horrible nightmares, breathing difficulties, unknown memories like images flickering from a deranged Italian movie-director in a Daria Argento-style, cramps and an unknown hunger...His arm hurt...both of them come to think of it, his leg was also painful, but it all seemed unimportant, like there was a light in the end of the tunnel and he had loads of strength and endurance to fulfil his destiny. He felt unknown sensations of power surge around his body and especially his head. By midnight his vision started to blur and migraines emerged from the depths of his mind. He stood up in his sparsely furnitured cabin and looked in a small mirror on the wall by the cabin entrance, his face looked different but still blurry.....A strange sensation crept over every molecule of his skin.....he removed his glasses and for the first time in years he could look at his face as sharp as a surgeons scalpel...the last time he could remember his sight was as good most of Europe was still in the claws of the communists.....Shocked at first.....still amazed...he smiled....even his hair had gotten a darker shade of its former self...his smile grew as a forgotten part of his mind paid little attention to a flickering light outside in the darkness.....coming and going in a steady rhythm.´´

....´´