CODE ZERO && APPEARANCE

[MYERS]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]If Ahab was once the name of a fisherman, he has failed to live up to his namesake. In a better world than this and even in this one, he avoided the water for it's bucking waves and raging tide. Its danger was elusive, a secret thing that only reared its head when the wind blew and you could watch it throw the boats on choppy curves; tactically unreadable, it was, and mindless in its violence. The meteor had been no different, a rock hurtling through the sky with no aim and no goal but nonetheless a killer when it struck the distant shore. Like the meteor and like the tide, any living creature could be caught at just the wrong moment and die at the hands of a mother who both nurtured and destroyed. Earth, it seemed, remained in constant flux.

To be caught on the ocean during a meteor strike is a death sentence in and of itself, but to survive it is beyond any miracle he's known - and he has had far, far too many miracles in his time. Bodies dot the shore in a way that suggests a warm summer eve, his crewmates soaking up the last rays of sun and playing in the shallow waves. But they are dead, and he is alive, leaving only the task of picking them up one by one and laying them in a careful row on the sand to keep headcount. So far he has found three dead among the wreckage. He covers their faces in wide jungle leaves and considers what their names could have been, if he'd ever known them.

A body shifts, moves. It drags itself up the beach and he decides, without hesitation, that this was a figure who did not belong. The dead were meant to stay that way.

It's easy to track someone who is lost: they wander in circles, trace the path of their own growing panic. Ahab recognizes, distantly, that this is wrong of him, but he also figures that their resources are better used on those who called the Typhoon their home. Any stranger lost in their territory, under his jurisdiction, was not one to be trusted. And this one, hungry, desperate and confused, could make easy pickings of anyone who knew not of his presence.

Ahab decides to make himself known when the hours stretch towards a dim evening; he's stalked his prey for long enough. The island is in pieces, clearly not meant to be tread for fear of upsetting the careful balance that kept rocks on the edge of eroded precipices and trees stooped low enough to brush the sand. As Hollow's Creek allows himself to break his cover and slip into the open air, Ahab falls back, drops into place close behind. It's only as he approaches the Tempest, the quarters of their leader and the highest of their ranks, that he lets out a snarl. He expected, like most other joiners, to find that they meant no harm - but such a direct approach reads to him as a threat. "...You're trespassing." A hollow, neutral expression gazes out at him through the highest of underbrush, shoulders squared like a bull considering whether or not to charge. "I'm going to need a good reason for that."