17081/You'll Never Believe The Size Of The One I Caught

You'll Never Believe The Size Of The One I Caught
Date of Scene:	02 February 2024
Location:	Atlantic Ocean Coastline
Synopsis:	Kiana arrives at the ship sunk by Green Goblin, and rescues the crew, the Roxxon executive, and saves Juggernaut from a long walk along the sea bottom back to land.
Cast of Characters:	Kiana, Cain Marko

---

Kiana has posed:
Black smoke rises into the air above the Atlantic Ocean from fires that burn on spilled fuel oil that floats in patches upon the rolling waters. Bits of debris float here and there, speaking to the enormity of the catastrophe that occurred earlier.

Of the Dutch-registered MS Swallow, only debris remains. The freighter that serviced Roxxon oil platforms, transferring equipment and men, slipped beneath the waves after having her back broken by missile strikes from the Green Goblin.

Faint cries of pain and even a feeble call now and then for help can be heard from sailors who survived the attack, though amidst the fire and smoke it's difficult for anyone floating in the water to even spot them.

Overhead the skies are slowly turning grey as clouds roll in from the west, a front coming through that promises rain and possibly storms. To the east the African coastline lies, though out of sight for those in the water. Back when there was a ship still to stand on, the coast could just be glimpsed on the furthest part of the horizon.

Cain Marko has posed:
The Swallow had taken a series of devastating hits and, ironically, fast became swallowed by the sea. Amidst the swift shattering and then sinking of the Roxxon freighter, Juggernaut had cradled the Roxxon executive to his chest like a large child with their smaller doll. Juggernaut isn't much for swimming, neither is Cain Marko. Which is precisely why the titanic bulk of the Juggernaut clings to a large sheet of detritus comprised of many components, barely holding together by a combination of simple pressure and the sea's own currents. Like plastics in the ocean can often meet and form massive sheets of waste, so too can the various bits and bobs of a sunken freighter. It stays afloat but only barely while the Juggernaut's free hand clings to it, threatening to rip the cloud of debris apart and ruin what safety that it can provide. The sailor already splayed out atop it is even the midst of frantically urging the Juggernaut to release his grip upon its edge, fearing for his own safety.

A growl of annoyance erupts from the Juggernaut as he hefts Brinkley up and onto the sheet of debris. The annoyance is made manifest when the Juggernaut reaches aside Roger and, truthfully, offers him an even greater boon. The complaining, frantic sailor is abruptly snatched up by the Juggernaut's thick fingers and unceremoniously flung away from the bed of refuse and scrap.

Even Brinkley's quick to begin complaining, urging the Juggernaut to release his grip upon the debris field held together by little more than currents and good fortune. It seems a demand - a plea - that the Juggernaut seems both obliged and willing to acknowledge given the agreements of his employment. "You owe me, little man," the thunderous voice of Cyttorak's avatar booms across the chop of the sea, "an extra two percent on my fee".

What's more alarming than the Juggernaut suddenly releasing his hold on the rapidly destabilizing debris field and suddenly disappearing from sight as he swiftly drops beneath the surface of the sea? It's the fact that the Juggernaut seems confident enough in his survival that he's already declared an additional charge on top of his originally negotiated contract. That's confidence.

Kiana has posed:
Roger Brinkley is battered and burned, his expensive suit singed by the explosion and ruined by the ocean water and the reek of burning fuel oil. Though the lack of serious injury is a testament to the Juggernaut having sheltered the Roxxon executive from the explosion.

"Maybe you could have kept him from blowing up the boat," Roger fumes, but has the sense to do it quietly given their situation. As Juggernaut disappears away into the depths, Roger looks about for signs of his other bodyguards. The last he saw they were firing their handguns at the attacker.


Four thousand miles away, the sun is shining down on the beaches of beautiful Genosha. A teenaged girl with the dark skin of a South Pacific Islander walks along the beach, feeling the waves lap over her toes as they rush up on shore. She's just starting to feel a little peckish and turns to look about the fringe of greenery that surrounds the hidden cove that she's come to call home. "Do I feel like passion fruit? Or Panama berries?" she asks herself, before glancing up to the coconuts growing on a palm overhead.

Before she can make good on her lunch plans, Kiana feels a pulsing from the small anklet that clings snug to her ankle. Her surroundings reel for a moment and Kiana can momentarily feel the panic of men struggling in the ocean. Some burned badly. Far to the east.

Without thinking, the bikini clad girl runs out into the cove's warm aqua waters. Once she's knee deep, the water seems to swirl about her in a spiral, and then she sinks down and disappears. Only to emerge amidst a hell of oil smoke and debris where the Roxxon freighter was sunk. She slips beneath the waves, having an easier time looking from beneath at first. Off some distance away, she sees a large form sinking towards the depths. It looks humanoid shaped though she writes it off, nearly ten feet tall it seems to large to be a man. And there she spots a man feebly struggling to stay above water, his clothing that of a sailor. With the speed of a fish and showing as little effort to propel herself, the girl races through the water to help him.

Cain Marko has posed:
Many of those trying their best to stay afloat, clinging to debris or simply treading water with the terrifying depths beneath them. For many when a young dark skinned woman begins to slip so nimbly among them, there is an initial sense of panic. Some thrash, even as they're rescued out of sheer fright. Yet others seem to accept their potential fate with nearly irrational calm; no doubt those same individuals see some mysterious doom a far greater boon than the fate of drowning at sea or becoming the later afternoon meal of some sea-based predator.

Among the oil, fire, and smoke those floundering sailors began to call out. Not for one another, but for the mysterious figure that seems to whisk away their compatriots.

Deep beneath the surface the Juggernaut has a far grimmer fate ahead of him. Well, if he weren't the Juggernaut, anyway. He continues to sink -- quite rapidly. He may attempt to grope at the water above in some desperate bid to pull himself up and out of the water. Massive feet, sheathed within equally massive boots, kick at the water. No matter his efforts, his descent goes uninterrupted. Slowed at times by his efforts, but inevitably and inexorably downward he is dragged. Deep, deep, deep into the abyss the Juggernaut falls until he's encased in darkness and the sense of something prowling among the inky black.

Kiana has posed:
One could not blame the sailors if they are prone to drunken stories later in life, when drunk enough to forget the NDAs that Roxxon will have them sign for big payouts. Tales of mermaids that save sailors from drowning. Lives that are not cut short this day as they are gathered in groups of two or three, and find themselves sinking into the water, only to be whisked away to the shore of a tropical paradise. Their 'mermaid' growing more tired each time the charm about her ankle is used to transport herself and the sailors.

The captain floats in the water. His navigator held in his arms to keep him from slipping beneath the waves. If his wounds don't end the navigator, his blood in the water will draw sharks before long.

"You're ok, I'm going to get you out of here," a female voice says from behind him. The captain turns his head, seeing sun-kissed brown hair and tanned skin, and soft brown eyes that shine with empathy. "He's badly hurt? We'll go straight to the hospital," Kiana tells him. "If I can." Thankful for the fountain out front of the Genoshan hospital where she was once taken, the trio sink into the water again.

One by one the sailors are gathered in and taken away to the island in the Indian Ocean. Finally Kiana fishes out an injured man in a suit. "Our boss, have you found our boss?" the bodyguard says woozily.

"I saw one more person, hopefully that's him," Kiana replies, and the two glide through the water as easily as if they were being towed. They round a patch of burning oil and there's Roger.

As Kiana and his bodyguard approach, he spots them. "Who are you? Are you working with Juggernaut?"

The eighteen year old girl shakes her head. "I'm not working with anyone. I came to save you. Is there someone else?"

Roger points down into the water. "He sank, but I don't think he drowns," he says, reaching out his arms for the slender young woman, the debris falling apart beneath him.

"Easy, you don't have to grab so hard, I won't let you drown," Kiana assures him. Not quite sure if that grasp of his was entirely about not drowning given where he grabbed her! "Hold on, I'll get you to shore in Genosha," she tells them.

And then they are gone. Leaving one down in the dark of the ocean's bottom.

Cain Marko has posed:
Time seems to move dramatically slower for the Juggernaut as he continues to fall and fall into the darkness below. Deeper and deeper he sinks, the light above fading more and more. While it is there above him, ever taunting him as it shrinks away; it's the darkness that begins to envelope all but directly above him. He cranes his shoulders, permitting him one last look to the faint twinkle of light from above. Just as his booted feet impact something - the sea floor - and the Juggernaut comes to rest upon the ocean's bottom.

He doesn't breath; neither out, nor in. There are no sighs or grumbles, only internalized annoyance and contained rage. Not just rage; but fuel. Anger that seems to propel him to take his first steps against the pressure that squeezes at him, finding that he - The Unstoppable Juggernaut - is not one to give in to such simple, mortal things as a little hydrostatic pressure.

The first steps are slow, tentative. Dust and debris is kicked up from the ocean floor, further muddying the waters and darkening them until even the twinkle of light above is clouded and concealed. As though in slow motion he moves, fighting against the pressures of such depths in his bid to begin building up enough momentum to begin walking his way back to shore.

Still that sense of something prowling in the darkness is felt. Still Juggernaut is uncaring of it. The mightiest of krakens would surely discover its would-be meal isn't some weak shark to be feasted upon. The Juggernaut does not stop; for god, man, or beast. The Avatar of Cyttorak's next step is taken and with a millisecond's worth of greater ease. The process has begun.

Kiana has posed:
The Polynesian girl rises out of the swirling pattern of water that has marked her return each time. Before she was alert and full of energy and confidence that was reassuring to the sailors. But if they saw now the way her eyelids droop, or the look of physical exhaustion on her face, they might have had a little less faith in her ability to save them.

Kiana sinks beneath the water, but hovering there near the surface. She looks down, remembering the figure she thought was man-shaped that she saw sinking into the ocean's depths. "I hope I find you soon," she says to herself, the water not seeming to inhibit her ability to talk. She forces her muscles to stretch, feeling them ache from the strain of teleporting so much.

Down below, Juggernaut's cloud of ocean bottom he's stirring up helps Kiana to spot him, the ocean depths no harder for her eyes to pierce than a cloudy day is for the shorebound. Despite the pressure, and the temperatures dropping to a few degrees above freezing, she descends, ever downward. Until Juggernaut might sense a form in front of him in the dark.

"I've come to save you," a female voice says, the sound attenuated by the water, yet the words clear enough they are easy to discern. "I... I'm tired, from moving the others to shore, but I'll... oh. Oh my. You... you're huge," the voice says.

Kiana's heart nearly falls at seeing the man's immense size. Moving two or three sailors at once was tiring. This would be like moving three or four times as many at once! Just the one man!

Still, she moves nearer to him. Once she feels confident he's going to accept her touch, she moves up to gently take hold of his arm. And the water swirls about their feet and they sink down into it like it was a portal to another place.

They rise up out of the water and then Juggernaut's feet sink back in to his thighs. There is shore nearby, a tiny stretch of sand that gives way to rocks, with jungle vegetation visible beyond that. His rescuer becomes clearer now he can see. A tanned girl wearing a blue bikini. Before she even gets her feet under her, her eyelids flutter closed and she falls into the water, floating facedown.

Cain Marko has posed:
The voice in the dark is enough to startle just about anyone; but the Juggernaut isn't just anyone. He begins to move a lone arm, looking to reflexively snap out and snatch whatever - wherever - that voice may be. Fortunately for the voice the pressure blunts a great deal of the speed which the Juggernaut may normally be able to grasp a nearby threat - or victim. The words seem to slow him even more than the pressure. It generates some degree of hesitancy in him. It's that hesitation that allows for the voice in the dark to slip forward and be known. Though in the muddy darkness much of the humanoid form is still obscured to the eyes of the Juggernaut? At least he can tell that it is humanoid. Not some educated shark looking to lure him into a false sense of security. Jokes on the shark, however. He is the Juggernaut.

The arms that wrap about his own within the ocean depths seems to bring a flicker of comfort; likely brought on by the likelihood of time saved from a long, long walk.

The surge of water seems to leave the Juggernaut's head spinning and the crimson-wrapped behemoth may feel as though is pitched, rolled, and batted by the sea's waves against a particularly violent shoreline; yet he never truly moves. Nothing moves the Juggernaut without the Juggernaut's fucking say-so.

The rise from the water and then the sudden drop back into it as the sea's grasp reaches up to his thighs earns a bewildered glance around himself. Sunlight - overcast as it may be - in all its glorious radiance. Land, rocks, sand, jungles. It's all a sight to behold for one who had spent untold seconds? Minutes? Hours? On the ocean floor.

"Hey," he begins while turning to regard his rescuer with some other gruffly spoken words on his lips. They die in his throat before ever being spoken. The flutter of eyelids out of the tanned babe in the bikini and her suddenly plummet, facedown into the water results in a sound of grumbled annoyance out of the Juggernaut.

Where she floats the Juggernaut steps, reaching out with one titanic hand to scoop her from the water like one might collect a discard pool toy. He begins to move, still holding her across her midsection within the wrap of a single hand. Like some giant ape abducted from an island may carry a damsel in distress, the Juggernaut carries the bikini clad mermaid. A rescuer becomes the rescued and the rescued becomes the rescuer. The Juggernaut moves forward, stepping through the waves like one might step through a puddle. The goal is dry land and already his cold blue eyes are focused upon the jungle beyond the stretch of rock and sand. Already Cain Marko is remembering things taught and learned decades ago.

Kiana has posed:
Offshore, black oily smoke is rising into the air at the far edge of the horizon. Liking the site that the ship sank, and indicating this was the nearest stretch of shore.

Though there are no signs of Roger the executive, nor any of the sailors. Nothing for the eye to see but gulls drifting in the wind above the narrow beach, and the swaying of the jungle trees and bushes as the wind is gradually picking up.

The wind is a harbinger. Even beyond the dark mass of smoke on the horizon, the storm clouds can be seen. Grey at the edges, and progressively darker further in. With little flashes of light that portend lightning in Juggernaut's future.

Of the girl there is no movement as she dangles from his oversized hand. An exotic, island version of Fae Wray to his Kong as he takes stock of the situation. The jungle could provide materials for shelter, and possibly food, as could the ocean, for one able to gleam them from the surroundings.

Cain Marko has posed:
Sand is made wet by the heavy tread of the Juggernaut and his cargo. The girl in the bikini cradled with care within one cupped hand as he marches onto land from the sea. The smoke and fire in the distance only serving to mark the site of the battle between Green Goblin and Juggernaut. One which the Juggernaut will surely claim to have won for years to come.

The island girl is carefully placed onto the sand further inland, likely more for the work to come than her own safe keeping. Maybe it's the simple fact of a favored owed that prevents the behemoth Avatar of Cyttorak from unceremoniously dropping her onto the sand. Instead he places her with care upon stooping low.

It's the jungle that his attention travels next. He marches forward in the crimson sheathed form of the Juggernaut; prepared to fuck some shit up, whether it be nature or beast. The sound of splintering wood can be heard within the depths of the jungle, along with the occasional sound of a titanic stomp that seems to tremble the ground, and from time to time even a triumphant bellow of, "AH HAA!!" that seems to quiver the air itself.

Over time the shelter begins to take shape from splintered and fractured logs. In truth many of those logs amount to nearly whole trees, casually splintered into massive logs or just as readily uprooted in their entirely. The shelter begins to take shape and the Juggernaut is both to blame for the devastation to the local ecology, but also to be praised for his ingenuity. At least that is what Cain Marko will surely insist upon if questioned about his path of destruction through the jungle at any point in the future.

As the sun begins to fade, the shore camp of whole logs fashioned into a functional shelter becomes the de fact seaside mansion of the unconscious rescuer of Cain Marko. In the fading light and ever increasing winds a bright flash of crimson soon allows for Cain Marko to bow his head, stepping carefully into and beneath the shelter. The bulk of the shelter's protection and stability focused to the west; it's fully intended to bear the brunt of the oncoming storm.

Throughout his work over the afternoon and into the evening, a mat of discard fern leaves was assembled with the use of vines to keep it all held together. It was Marko's hands that fashioned the wild's bed and it was Cain that had moved his rescuer onto it.

Now he kneels down at her side, giving her a nudge in yet another bid to awaken her. A few fruits have been collected and sat beside her and the fern leaf bed, resting atop the churned sand. "Hey, you," he remarks gruffly as a heavy, thick hand comes to rest upon her shoulder and yet another nudge given to her considerably smaller frame.

Kiana has posed:
A leopard crouched on a tree branch, ready to pounce, but eyeing the massive crimson form beneath it. The entire jungle seemed to shake as a massive fist shattered a tree trunk, felling it to provide a log for the dwelling.

The leopard quietly slunk away. There's a new king of the jungle, and the other predators are quick to learn to give him space.

By the time that Cain is moving inside the sturdy little shelter, fat drops are rain are starting to plunk down audibly. Thudding on the sand, plopping on the water, and making more of a staccato sound on the leaves above in the jungle canopy.

The young woman is exceedingly slender through the torso and legs. Sleek as if perfect for slipping through the water with little resistance. Her shoulders and arms are toned if not exactly muscular. The bathing suit seems made of an unusual fabric. Soft, but whose appearance seems modeled as if on the colorful scales of fish.

She's not stirred since Cain carried her out of the water, but as he gently nudges her, the girl's eyelids flutter briefly before opening. She looks up at him, eyes darting about the darker inside of the shelter, visibly trying to make sense of her surroundings as her brain is still trying to clear the fog that had it.

Cain Marko has posed:
Even without the armor of the infamous Juggernaut or the towering height of the Avatar of Cyttorak; Cain Marko is still an exceptionally large human being. In the failing light of oncoming night the man's red hair stands out in sharp relief to the growing gloom. His voice though cuts easily through the patter of fat raindrops beginning to steadily hammer the shelter's leafy canopy. "You're safe," he grates out with a voice so deep as to nearly be unsettling. Though a wicked smile does place across the face of the brutish man as he lifts his hand away from the startled girl and continues, "you saved me and I'm returning that favor."

The explanation is kept simple for the moment. Cain does not rise from where his impressive form kneels upon a single knee in the sand. He watches as Kiana begins to work at making sense of her surroundings and he seems to acknowledge that confusion with a glance around for himself, "We've got shelter and a storm rolling in. I've got you some food," he says with a thick finger that points toward the fruits - melons, bananas, and guava mostly.

He then falls into silence and his watchful blue eyes seem to pierce through the gloom, staring down upon the slight frame of the Southern Pacific Island girl as he seems to visually consider her condition. He does not speak further, but instead keeps himself quiet that she may ask the questions undoubtedly roiling within her addled mind.

Kiana has posed:
The explanation and soft assurance that she's safe seem to be accepted, perhaps more readily than someone worldly might think completely wise. Whatever amount of alarm was in her bewildered look fades away and she more calmly takes stock of her surroundings.

The shelter and the food get brief looks, though the latter makes her stomach rumble. For the moment though Kiana focuses her attention on the man. The immense, immense man. Did we mention, immense? She swallows, looking up into the man's blue eyes and his patient way with her as he looks her over.

Slowly the girl moves to sit up. Though her torso only makes it to about a forty-five degree angle before a soft groan is given and she lets herself sink back to the makeshift bed. "I feel like a whale ran me over," she murmurs. Her eyes study Cain's face. "There was a shipwreck. The ocean was burning?" she asks as her mind is clearing and the memories coming back to her. "There was someone on the bottom, who the man said couldn't drown. He... I thought he was bigger than you, even," she says hesitantly.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Ran over by a whale? That happen often?" arrives the uncertain question from Cain. He leaves time for it to be answer in all its bald-faced sincerity and no doubt seriousness.

The question of the rescued man results in a glance away, toward the broad open-faced entrance on the eastern side of the shelter. There wasn't really time to make a door frame and door, after all.

Absently Cain collects one of the melons and his thick fingers give it a little kneading, testing the readiness of it. A slightly press of his thumb right... there... and the melon splits, a small portion of it turning to veritable mush beneath the immense pressure which Cain Marko's heavy hands may bring to bear.

A half of the melon is offered out, still dripping with juices that patter their way across the sand and even onto the girl as the offering hovers above her reclined position upon the leafy mat.

"You saved me," he explains with an unyielding and unwavering voice. Though he does not directly clarify that he was in fact the man at the bottom of the sea. All things in time, surely. "You brought us here," he explains quite succinctly, "and then I took care of the rest. What's your name and how did you find us?"

For only a moment there is a pregnant silence, which is broken by a final question that follows the others after the brief intrusion of the suddenly heavy rainfall and howl of wind that rushes in from the west, "You work with the Goblin?"

Kiana has posed:
The question draws a slightly perplexed look from the girl, though it had been her phrase. "I... I don't think so. Figure of speech I guess," she replies to him. Now that she's back lying again the look of pain she had gotten on trying to rise has faded, though she visibly looks worn down just the same.

The girl watches as Cain so easily pulls the melon apart. Her stomach had already been growling before the rescue, and after the exertion, the sight of food brings it to life. "I think my stomach is going to turn me inside out without this. Thank you," she says, giving Cain a soft, grateful smile. If some of the melon juices splash upon her deeply tanned bare skin the girl doesn't seem to mind. Bringing the melon to her face to take a bite that bring a sigh as she chews it and swallows, the first step towards sating her hungry belly.

"I'm Kiana," she offers to the man quietly. "I don't really know how exactly, but I can tell sometimes when people are in trouble at sea," she tells him. Kiana takes another bite, her eyes studying the powerfully built man overtop of the half-melon. She wipes some of the juice where it dribbled on her chin. "I don't think so. What's the Goblin?" she asks, her eyes seeming to reinforce the feeling the girl is naive and unknowing on the subject.

Cain Marko has posed:
A figure of speech, perhaps. That answer seems to draw an understanding grunt from Cain, though he does not vocalize his understanding beyond that simple hrmm of sound that rumbles within his throat and chest. He nods his approval when the half-melon is claimed by Kiana's hands. While she looks to sate her hunger, so too does Cain. He'd already consumed a considerably numbers of calories while working in the jungle and the wreck left behind in the natural world is surely enough to act as evidence of that.

The explanation behind his rescue is given even greater consideration, though it does seem to bring a smile to his face. Which only serves to grow at the girl's answer pertaining to the Goblin, "The Goblin's an asshole and if I get my hands on him in the future, it ain't gonna be pretty," Cain answers with obvious gruffness and delight at the idea of pulling the Goblin apart.

The fate of the Goblin is a matter for later. Here, now, there are former rescuers and rescued, now acting as survivors. He takes another bite from the meat of his melon, leaving behind a massive valley in the fruit's innards. He chews loudly, wetly, and seems to ponder matters for a moment while his blue eyes turn toward the storm only beginning to rage outdoors.

"Eat everything you need," he says without looking back to Kiana quite yet, "and if we need more, I'll go out and get it. Don't worry about me," he says with an unflappable, unyielding smile. "Call me Cain. Or Mr. Marko. It was getting awfully dark down there, Kiana, and you helped me along. Now I'll repay the favor."

And finally the admission is given.

Kiana has posed:
The exotic island girl gives a tiny nod and repeats. "The Goblin is an asshole," she says, as if that is being filed away in her head. "He had something to do with the ship's fate?" she asks Cain quietly.

Kiana continues to eat. She's not exactly uncouth about it, but neither does she eat daintily, nor seem self-conscious if she gets melon juice on her chin in front of the man. "I'm remembering more of it now. I got the sailors to Genosha," she tells him, naming the island nation in the Indian Ocean north of Madagascar, on the other side of Africa from where they are. An island known for half its population being mutants. Though four years ago it was razed by a trio of skyscraper-sized Wild Sentinels sent by Brainiac.

"I think... I think this was the nearest coast," she says, glancing around the shelter, and towards the jungle visible to the east. The rain can be seen to fall out there, Kiana taking another bite as she watches.

There's a crack of thunder that makes the girl start where she lies there on the bed, eyes going wide. It was close, within a mile, enough they can feel the boom of it in their chests.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Exactly," Cain answers with a wicked smile at Kiana's understanding of who precisely the Goblin is. There's something to be said that Juggernaut does not lump himself into the same category, but it's rare for many to exercise any form of self-reflection. Let alone when it's immensely critical of themselves. The question of the ship's fate earns a nod, ponderous and yet carrying grave weight within its solemnity, "Yeah he did. He sank the ship because he was trying to kill a man. A man I was paid to protect. Roger Brinkley," Cain explains. The name is spoken and then it's the description that follows, "about this tall," he says from his kneeling position, easily reaching a hand up to illustrate the height of Brinkley before he goes on to describe his features in greater detail. "Did you find him? Is he in Genosha too?"

The questions linger and ample time is given to answer.

The question of coasts results in a chuckle, rough and thunderous as the sounds erupting within a mile of their shelter, "It is, we didn't get far from the battle. Nearest coast, far as I can tell. Either way you got us out of there. That what's important."

The praise is delivered and again Cain buries his face into the melon, chomping hungrily and without much in way of table manners. They're stranded on a beach on the western side of Africa, amidst a potentially terrifying storm. A little juice on his face is the least of Cain Marko's worries. The thunder that resonates even within his own chest results in a westward glance, then a look back to Kiana as Marko's mouth twists with a grim smile, "We'll be okay here."

Kiana has posed:
The girl's pretty brown eyes show concern as they dart to look upwards after that crash of thunder, and the burst of light that was bright enough to expose the seams between the logs. She looks back down slowly, and gives a nod at Cain's proclamation they'll be ok, it seeming to have been the right thing to say to the girl who doesn't seem to like lightning storms.

The fall of the rain intensifies, a muted roar that is a backdrop to the conversation. "So you are a good person, protecting him," Kiana deduces from the description. "Yes, he didn't give me his name, but I think am sure who he was. Another man, they were both dressed in suits, different than the sailors, called him his boss?" she says. "I took them to Genosha. He asked which way to the city, and then he and the other man walked off." Kiana hesitates a moment, before finishing in a gentle tone as if worried Cain might find the words upsetting, "After telling me to go save the oaf at the bottom of the ocean."

She takes another bite of her melon, eating it steadily. She still looks near to exhausted, but there is no doubt it is helping.

Cain Marko has posed:
It may be foolish to simply take Cain Marko at his word when it comes to safety, but there is the psychological factor of seeing another unconcerned with potentially treacherous conditions. The Juggernaut can withstand anything - or so he claims - so a particularly intense storm is of little consequence to him. From that lack of concern, then reassurance can be delivered to others. Even when it's unspoken.

The rain may intensify, but now Cain seems all the more interested in what Kiana has to share. The talk of the two men in suits, the directions to the city from Genosha's own coast, and even the instruction to save the 'oaf' at the bottom of the sea. The last portion earns laughter from the Juggernaut, though it hardly sounds like a pleasant thing. The noise fills the space which Cain and Kiana occupy, threatening to rival the rumble of thunder that grows more and more distant with each passing moment. "Damn straight he sent you back for me, I'd hate to run into him after he's not got me on contract," Cain says aloud, more for his own benefit than Kiana's.

Then comes the explanation, his own melon cradled like a softball within his broad palm, "I was hired to protect one of the men in the suit. Goblin was looking to kill him. I scared the Goblin off, saved the asshole in the suit, and now I'm getting paid. Some of that's going your way though. You earned it by helping me out," Cain explains in rumbling, gruff words.

The explanation is given and now Cain too turns back to his melon, indulging in the silence that grows to further consume his melon. Only two large bites later and the husk of it is tossed from within the shelter, into the driving rain and sand beyond.

Kiana has posed:
Clearly the younger woman is hungry from the way she focuses much of her attention on the melon. Though repeated blasts of thunder have a way of pulling her soft brown eyes up to peer as if she could see through the shelter at the turbulent storm clouds overhead.

"Why did he want to kill the man?" Kiana inquires softly between bites. She pauses long enough to wipe some melon juice from her chin and around her mouth.

The mention of Cain paying her some of his fee catches Kiana by surprise from the looks of it. "I don't have much need for money," she tells him. "I bring Old Ned pearls and shells that he uses in his jewelry. He gives me money for them that I can use in the city. But I've only gone there twice and I didn't need to use any, either time," she explains.

Though Kiana doesn't seem simple in terms of mental faculty so far, her outlook on life definitely comes across as not exactly worldly. "So is that what you do then, you help people?" she says. Her eyes shine a little bit across the tiny shelter to the large man as if Kiana finds that thought pleasing.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Something about a deal gone wrong. You mess with someone's business, it tends to get emotional real fast," the Juggernaut answers and it's likely from a place of both experience and authority. Do not fuck with the Juggernaut's business. The discarded husk is given a moment of consideration as the lightning illuminates the chomped and battered thing as it rests upon the sand. It's done. It's over. The thought turns his attention back to Kiana and he fixes her with an appraising blue-eyed stare. He grunts, his head tilting aside before he comments, "Reckon I may want to meet Old Ned sometime, make sure he's being fair with you. Least I can do for the assist," Cain grunts out with a malicious smile at the prospect of discovering Old Ned was scamming the Juggernaut's rescuer.

"I help people," Cain answers with a knowing smile that seems to reach up to his eyes. "They tell me what they need, I tell them what I want in return, and then I make it happen. It's simple enough business and it's a good business for me. People like what I can bring to the table," Cain explains at length. Finally he settles down. He shifts form his one kneed kneeling position and the massive man settles onto his ass with a low groan of the day's exertions finally erupting from him. He exhales a long sigh before he grumbles, a massive paw scratching at the back of his neck, "I'd fucking kill for a keg right now."

Kiana has posed:
Kiana is a little slower on her melon, what with the size of Cain's bites compared to her own. But not slower by a lot. She lets out a contented sigh near the end of it, going back in to try to get any last bits of the sweet melon pulp away from the rind.

She sets the melon rind aside and then takes stock again. "I haven't moved that many people, that far, in such a short time before," she says, a hand going to her head. "I... I don't think I could move us again, not yet. If I can rest up for awhile I can take you where I took the others. I have a surf shack I found on the beach that, I guess whoever had lived there was gone, after what happened to the island. So I have been staying there," she tells Cain.

As he settles down, she watches Cain trying to get into a comfortable position in the shelter. Which admittedly probably isn't a Taj Mahal, or quite suited for him to have a lot of elbow room, even if far better than anything Kiana could have made.

She scoots over, though it takes a little visible effort to move herself that far. "There's room you can lie here," she says, though the matt he made to cover the ground might not be big enough for him even if she wasn't taking up half of it. "I like that you help people. It feels right, when I can help people whose boats have sank or turned over," she says quietly, and smiling on her own a shy, soft smile.

Cain Marko has posed:
Cain's knees shift upward and his thick arms come to rest across his knees, folding atop one another as he attempts to make himself small out of necessity. He watches while Kiana continues to eat, nodding his approval when she does finally finish.

Again his attention turns to the outdoors, now made dark by the coming of dusk and the storm clouds blotting out any hope for sunlight. He watches and listens for a time, but does inevitably return his focus to Kiana while she explains her own capabilities and ultimately: limitations. He gives a quiet chuckle then, even as he extends an immense mitt of a hand toward Kiana, as though to offer it for a friendly shake, "Then I'll count myself lucky you had enough juice in you still to get me out of there. I hear the storm's always worse below the surface," he says with a nod toward the out of sight sea to the west, "I wouldn't want to still be walking in that then."

Whether his hand is taken for a friendly shaking or not, Cain's attention shifts to the span of sand that constitutes the broad and squat shelter's floor. A grunt is given and he shifts, turning himself on his backside that he may lay back onto the sand. He doesn't even attempt to make use of the leafy mat. From his back he continues on with their discussion and Marko's eyes remain ahead, staring up at the leafy canopy of the shelter and internally hoping that it holds through the night. "I help people alright," he confirms with a little smirk that's likely lost in the darkness, "they need something and I help them. Then they pay me. I suppose you know what that's like though," Cain remarks with a sideward glance into the darkness of the stormy coastline, "you help Old Ned and he pays you too, right?"

Kiana has posed:
Kiana seems familiar enough with handshakes to set her own in his hand. Her fingers and palm are warm and soft. Really soft. Like someone who never worked a hard day in their life, levels of soft. Or maybe it's just really, really good hydration.

As Cain lies down and relaxes, Kiana rolls slowly over onto her side so that she's facing him. One arm moves to serve as a pillow for her head, bent at the elbow beneath her. "I actually would rather be below during a storm. It does get a little more turbulent," she says, and then jumps as a lightning bolt crackles nearby. "But you don't have to worry about that," she says. "Unless you're right up at the surface. Which I wouldn't be unless I had a reason to." Like saving people, she doesn't say.

The girl's eyes study the large man as he lies beside her. "I do help him, though I'd do it even if he didn't give me the money," she says. "He says he makes more with me helping so it's only fair. He's very nice. He and Joshua and Rafael helped me when Rafael found me on the beach," she explains, almost as if to her the world is small enough that these are people Cain Marko might somehow know.

"So, where do you live? Do you spend all of your time on ships? Or do you live in a city somewhere?" the girl asks quietly, eyes fixed on the man.

Cain Marko has posed:
While Kiana shifts and adjusts her position so that she may look to Cain; Cain meanwhile looks upward. Laid upon his back with his large hands draped and stacked across his midsection, he rests with his head in the sand and his eyes heavenward. He nods his understanding the turbulence beneath the sea's surface, but he wisely does not delve into a debate on the subject of where he - or she - would rather be during such a storm as the one they presently find themselves immersed.

Though when she begins to speak of Old Ned, Joshua, and Rafael? Cain's blue eyes shift, as though searching the leaf ceiling for some clue as to the greater identities of these individuals. After only two or three seconds does Cain chuckle, answering with a slight shake of his head before he offers some explanation, "There's a lot of Joshua's and Rafael's in the world. Can't say I know yours, but that's okay". Cain explains gently. Well, as gently as the Juggernaut is capable. The broad grin that he wears looks a touch teasing, but for the most part it's amusement that he wears prominently upon his face.

The question of his own home or, at the very least, dwelling results in Cain's head shifting. Atop his broad neck his head turns, displacing the sand beneath it by shifting it aside with the turn of his red-haired head. He considers Kiana and the question for a moment, as though providing it all the thoughtful consideration that the answer surely demands, "I move around a lot. Whether because that's what I want to do or because I need to. Sometimes my helping people means I have to go to them". It's likely to illustrate that fact that one hand rises from its place draped across his abdomen as he gestures to the world around them, "That's why I'm here. I was keeping that man safe and we had to travel through here. I'm usually from the other side of the ocean; the United States," he explains with ease. It's obvious that as the storm carries on and the rain falls, it creates a soothing sound for the behemoth of a man. The torrential downpour, crash of thunder, and howl of winds seems to gradually relax him.

Kiana has posed:
"The United States," Kiana repeats. "That's where New York and Gotham are, right?" she asks him. "Joshua is from there, and someone else that I met as well," the island girl tells Cain.

Drips of water are starting to make it through the shelter. The kind of thing a bit more time could deal with easily. As a few more thick drops gather above Cain and being to fall towards his face, they suddenly veer to the side and miss him, falling on the ground near the wall of the shelter.

Kiana's hand is slightly raised, her fingers having gestured off to the side in the direction the drops flew. Afterwards, the water just runs down the outside of the shelter, not coming through anymore. At least while she's awake.

"I'd like to see it sometime. I heard it is cold and kind of bleak. But that it has a beauty to it too," the girl says in a little bit of a dreamy voice.

Cain Marko has posed:
"New York, Gotham, Chicago, a lot of places," Cain answers with a stern nod of his head. As stern as a man with his head half-buried in the sand can manage, anyway. The water above seems to be of concern, even if only mildly so. A nuisance, really. As it begins to pool and the obvious becomes clear, Cain's expression becomes a scowl. He seems entirely the sort who would rather brace for impact as the water begins to fall than ever contemplate the idea of simply shifting his head to the side.

Those droplets of water are flung aside however and the stream begins to travel down the interior of the ceiling, only to pool near the foot of the shelter's wall. This results in a low sound of mingled disbelief and appreciation, "Huh," carried into the air by a slight shift of his head which was likely intended to be a nod.

Kiana's raised hand is given a moment of consideration and then another quiet sound of contemplation, "Huh," he repeats with another little nod. "That's pretty impressive."

The question of cold and bleakness earns a laugh, his head shaking slightly, "Right now it is. It's winter," he explains. Again his hands move to rest at across his midsection while he carries on with the conversation with his savior, "in the spring it'll be cool and rainy, probably. The summer'll be hot and humid," he says with a slight shrug.

Everything seems to culminate in Creed shifting slightly and rising up in order to prop himself upon an elbow, his blue eyes settling upon Kiana in the darkness, "Besides here and Genosha, where have you been, Kiana?"

Kiana has posed:
As Cain remarks that her control of the water is impressive, it brings a shy, pleased smile to Kiana's face. She curls up her legs into herself a little more, head resting on her folded arm as she looks over at the massive red-haired man.

"I don't remember much before they found me on the beach. Back in December," she tells Cain, giving a tiny shake of her head as if at her inability to remember. "I've been to Hammer Bay. And I saved someone near an island city that he said was Gotham," Kiana tells him. "And I've swum about a lot, but mostly in the ocean around Genosha," she admits.

"I want to go and see the other places that I hear people talk about. And I talk to Joshua on the phone sometimes," she tells Cain. "It's let me speak to him when he's very far away," Kiana says as if a phone is something that she thinks might need to be explained. "Hammer Bay is very confusing though. It sounds like the other places people have told me about would be even more so."

Cain Marko has posed:
"It's a big world out there," Cain answers back at Kiana's own commentary regarding the places she's visited. Though it's the admission of lacking memory before December of all times that causes Cain's head to tilt and his expression to screw up into something bordering on confusion or disbelief. "You washed up on Genosha in December," he begins as though beginning to work his way through the steps and questions of such a stated fact, "you've began selling pearls to a man, who is helped by a pair of other men".

Cain's gaze rises up from Kiana and his brow furrows for a moment. "The world is a confusing place," he confirms with a simple nod and his attention drifts back to reside upon Kiana while the pair shelter beneath their makeshift abode. "You have a phone though. Is it your phone? Or is it Old Ned's phone?" The questions just don't seem to stop coming and each one seems to leave Mr. Marko more confused that the last.

Kiana has posed:
Kiana gives a nod at Cain's restating of her history, though offers a few soft amendments, or at least details. "Ned and Rafael live at the crossroads. Ned makes jewelry and has a stand where he sells it. But sometimes he takes it into Hammer Bay and sells it to a shop there," she tells him. "Rafael, he's younger. From South America before he and his mother came to Genosha, hoping to find good work. She's working at the diner by the crossroads. And Rafael.." she says, Kiana pausing. "I don't know, he likes to go to the beach," she muses quietly before adding, "He likes to hang around with me a lot," she adds in a tone that suggests complete innocence about what might motivate the teenager to do that.

"Joshua, he was so kind," she says, giving a soft sigh. "I was badly hurt when they found me. And he's able to heal people. He lives in the United States, but came to Genosha to work in the hospital and help people as they rebuild. He was only around for a week or two though before he had to leave and go back home," Kiana tells Cain in her straightforward way of speaking.

She gives a little shake of her head then. "I don't have a phone. I have to go use someone else's. They have one at the diner and I give Martha money for it. Because the United States is so far away it costs extra money to call there. Or sometimes Ned will let me use his," she confirms.

Cain Marko has posed:
For a time Cain lays in silence. His own silence. The world itself seems to generate plenty of sound and Kiana in her own space within their shelter offers her own, filling in the blanks of explanation. Another nod is given, though this one is much more abbreviated as Cain's hand rubs at his belly. Likely on account of the long, low persistent rumble that it gives off. Which he seems otherwise content to ignore for the time being.

"I get what you mean," Cain finally answers, his voice as rough and gruff as ever, "you've got friends. A community". It's not so much a grimace that follows his words, but a mild scowl masquerading as consideration.

If nothing else Cain's keeping Kiana talking and that's at least offering some distraction from the storm raging beyond the walls of their rather limited shelter. Without a fire the storm's chill does begin to creep across the beach and for his part, Cain seems capable of ignoring it. He lets out a breath and his jaw sets, clearly growing aggravated by being stuck in western Africa. A slight shake of his head seems to discard his thoughts and soon Marko's attention turns back to regard Kiana. The blue of his eyes is largely last in the dark and if it weren't for his paler frame, he'd likely blend into the storm's abyss with ease. Instead he seems to cut a massive pale outline in the dark as the pair continue chatting their way through the piss poor weather, "Do the people you help ever pay you? Those you rescue, I mean."

Kiana has posed:
As the cooler night comes on, the bikini-clad young woman's limbs end up held a little closer. Legs pulled up, and the arm that isn't cradling her head ends up held against her slender torso where it's heat will be felt.

"No, I don't think they've ever paid me," she says with a tiny shake of her head. "Mostly I have just dropped them off somewhere they could be helped. Like with your friends from the boat," she tells Cain. "I don't usually stay around very long though. Maybe they would have wanted to if I had?" she asks in an unsure voice, not seeming to know if that would be the case or not.

"But I haven't really found a use for money much. It does let you rent a bicycle. Which was nice. But I don't think it cost very much. Or, renting a surfboard. Though I found two in the shack that I use, so I haven't needed to do that," the young woman tells Cain.

Kiana pulls her legs in against her a little more, huddling them in against herself as she lies on the woven mat. "You're very large. I don't think I've ever seen someone so large and muscular as you. You must be very in demand from people who need your help," the girl says, eyes drifting down to Cain's musculature for a moment.

Cain Marko has posed:
The discomfort evident within Kiana's positioning seems to go ignored by Cain or, possibly more likely, unseen. He continues to peer into the dark of night and his hands remain in their place across his midsection. He lays in silence, listening to Kiana's answer regarding being paid. By the end of her explanation and the benefits of having cheaper living, Cain's answer is swift and direct, "Always get paid, Kiana. Especially if they would've died. You owe yourself that". The mercenary criminal explains gruffly.

"Imagine if you could buy your own bike and didn't need to pay to rent one each time," he explains with a slight shrug and the coarse sound of sand against flesh can be heard with the movement, "you could buy a bigger shack, have your own phone," he carries on before his points culminate in a simply spoken, "always get paid. Charity's fine sometimes, but you should get paid for your work."

He allows the subject to fall aside for the moment. A chuckle sounding off within the makeshift dwelling, still thankfully standing strong against the storm that rages outside. He glances down himself, though much of the details pertaining his physical presence are lost within the darkness of a stormy night. "Yeah, I'm big," Cain confirms with a knocking smile, "and I help a lot of people. Especially those with the money to get my help. If there's five people that need my help? I can't help all of them at once. So I help the one that has the most to offer," he explains business principles to his present companion. Though he does at least offer some further insight to his size, "You already know my secret though - I get bigger. Can you keep that quiet though? Not tell others about it, Kiana?"

Kiana has posed:
As she's asked to keep the secret, Kiana's eyes widen a little bit and she quickly gives a nod that seems eager to make Cain feel at ease with her knowing. "I won't tell anyone," she says earnestly. "If you want I don't have to tell anyone about the boat at all. There's not many I would tell anyway. Ned and Rafael. But I won't, promise," she tells Cain quietly.

She lies silent for a little bit, listening to the rain fall. The water continues to flow down the inside of the shelter instead of dripping on them. "I know people sometimes don't treat you well, if you're different. I don't think I've had anyone do that to me. But Rafael told me what it is like for mutants outside of Genosha."

Kiana falls quiet again, eyes kind of searching the dark, though really she's searching her thoughts. "I suppose maybe it's one reason I haven't gone exploring other places much. Maybe people won't like me if I did," she says softly.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Good," Cain answers on the subject of secrets kept. "Good," he repeats again with a faint nod of his head to accompany that echoing remark. Outside the wind and rain batters the makeshift shelter and that same shelter does hold against the onslaught of nature's fury and wrath. Thankfully. The cold that blows in from the sea is noticeable though. While it does not affect Cain himself, it's obvious that it does have some effect on his rescuer. Amid the howls and rushes of wind, Cain's own sigh joins the sound. In the darkness his expression twists slightly, souring somewhat as he eases himself up and into a midway sitting position. An elbow juts out and he uses it to prop himself up as he speaks, "You're right. Mutants it got it rough, but thems that can pass for regular old humans? They got it easier than them that can't". The gruff mercenary answers.

He finally settles onto his side and in the darkness he comments, "The world's a big place with a lot of people in it. There's nowhere you can go that isn't going to have someone that doesn't like you. That's just life and you gotta learn to deal with it."

He settles onto his side and one arm stretches out from beneath his head, acting as a pillow but also preventing his laying upon it outright. The other rests across his side. In the darkness of the night and storm, Cain's behemoth frame goes still and his breathing evens out. After a few moments it's clear that the big man's drifted off.