Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Pirates of the Chemical Romance
Far away, a different captain watched their ship through a small telescope, flicking a piece of curly hair out of his eye. He smirked slightly upon sighting the black sails.
"It is them again," he said, unable to keep the mild tang of an accent out of his voice. A man with striking blue eyes and sand-colored hair approached him, studying the horizon for anything out of the ordinary. With a small nod, he acknowledged the small speck obstructing the moonlight's path.
"How long before we reach them?" he asked, glancing at the captain out of the corner of his eye. The other man shook his head, curly ochre hair following every motion. He folded the telescope and turned, staring directly into the blond man's eyes.
"A few hours, if the wind is with us. But it seems weak for the moment, so I'd say not until sunrise."
"Should we prepare a greeting for them?" the blond man asked, letting a smirk play across his face. "I know how important hospitality is to you." The captain smirked as well.
"What kind of guests would we be if we didn't?"
-
A golden ray of sunlight broke through the darkness, creeping across the dust-coated floor without disturbing anything in the cluttered room. It soon came to rest on an empty glass bottle. It gleamed on the object for several minutes before moving on, traveling up the arm of the person holding it. He stirred slightly upon feeling its heat, but did not wake from his alcohol-induced slumber.
The door flew open suddenly, and a man entered, holding a bucket of water leftover from hours of cleaning the deck. He sighed in exasperation upon seeing Frank passed out against the wall, and immediately doused him. Frank spit the salty water out of his mouth. His eyes began to burn, and he cried out in pain.
"What the hell was that for?" he asked, brushing the water out of his eyes with one arm.
"Cap'n says yer needed," the man said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest idea in the world. He turned and left the room. Frank cursed to himself and slowly creaked to his feet, managing to gain a precarious balance. As soon as he tried to take a step, though, he stumbled forward and hit his head on a table, falling to the ground.
"Ow..."
He finally managed to pull himself to his hands and knees, feeling a headache coming on. He was on the verge of fainting when the captain entered.
"Frank, what happened?" the pale-haired man asked suddenly. His gaze traveled across the room, pausing on the empty bottle, and he quickly discerned his friend's misfortune. He sighed and helped Frank stand up, escorting him onto the ship's deck. The dark-haired man took a deep breath of the fresh air.
"That's better," he said sleepily.
"Wake up, Frank. Toro will be here soon." Frank's eyes were instantly open. "I thought so. Ready the cannons below deck. We need to be on our guard," said the captain, standing near the edge of the deck. He had to be ready to greet their guests. Frank shook his head a few times in an attempt to clear the haze from his mind, but it only made him dizzy.
"You heard the captain! Ready the cannons!" he shouted to the crew, trying to steady himself before taking his temporary place at the ship's helm. The men hurried to obey his orders. A drunken Frank could be just as short-tempered as their captain.
-
The black-sailed ship came to a halt just a few inches from its counterpart. The pale-haired man gave a single nod to Frank, commending him for his navigational skills. The captain turned his attention to the two men about to board his ship.
"Toro." He let the word hang in the air, rolling his tongue on the 'r' for emphasis. "The Spanish word for a bull. A fitting name." The man in question smirked accordingly.
"Scourge. French or English, dictating a form of punishment. And equally fitting." The pale-haired captain nodded, trying to hide a smirk. It had been some time since he had heard his own name. Most were afraid to hear it.
"To what do I owe the honor? It is not often I meet others in these waters...especially not one with a crimson-sailed ship." The curly-haired man crossed the small spanse of open sea and air between the ships in a single stride. His second-in-command followed suit.
"The Spanish government is after me yet again. A mishap in their favorite coastal city. I seek a place of refuge until things...quiet down, so to speak."
"We have this in common," said the other captain, moving one hand in a small wave as if motioning to the ship before him. "Attacked the British royal family's mansion. Stole a few things, set a few fires - the usual."
The ochre-haired man smirked upon hearing his words, but it quickly turned to a frown.
"Where is Frank? Surely you have not left him behind somewhere." As if on cue, Frank stumbled from his place at the helm and stood by his captain, still hardly able to maintain his balance. Toro frowned, and his second-in-command looked more than a little disgusted with his counterpart's actions.
"You've been at the rum again, haven't you?" the blond, blue-eyed man asked Frank. He nodded and held his head, feeling dizzy. His captain placed a hand on his shoulder in the hopes of helping to steady him. The blond man shook his head sadly.
"Might I ask where you are headed?" Toro asked of the pale-haired man.
"We've no particular destination in mind. As you yourself said, somewhere safe." He knew better than to tell where he was going, else he have half the Spanish fleet after him. Toro had many friends left over from his days in that country's navy, ones that were willing to help for the right price. And in their chosen profession, there was no shortage of money.
"I almost forgot something," the Spanish man said suddenly. "I have a few gifts for you." Several members of Toro's crew brought forth unlabeled crates and set them on the black-sailed ship's deck. "There really is no rum like that of /España/."
"You've brought guilt upon me, Toro, as I'm sorry to say I have nothing for you," the pale-haired captain said, all the while remembering the fact that they were ready to bring the other ship down on a moment's notice. Toro smirked.
"It is a gift, Scourge. A gift is...unexpected...unearned..." He let his words hang in the air, locking eyes with the other captain. "One might even say it is undeserved." The pale-haired man narrowed his eyes. Toro was up to something.
"I say we take it," said Frank, hoping to return to the blissful world of drunkenness. His counterpart sighed again.
"Very well then, Toro. We will accept it," said the pale-haired captain, motioning to several members of his crew. They began to take it below deck.
"Sir!" called a man from the crow's nest. Both captains looked toward him. "There's a ship in the distance!"
"What colors does she fly?" the pale-haired captain called back. The man looked through the telescope he held, studying the ship for a few seconds.
"British!"
"Ah, I should have known they would come for me eventually," the pale-haired captain said to his counterpart, shaking his head sadly. "Looks like we'll have to be on our way."
"What, you're not going to stay and fight?" the other man asked incredulously. "I thought you had more of a spine than that, Scourge."
The other captain drew his sword in one swift move, holding under the man's chin threateningly.
"I do. I also have sense enough to know when the battle is needless. You would do well to learn the same, Toro, lest your blood be spilled unnecessarily." The ochre-haired man drew a pistol and aimed it at the pale-haired man's forehead. His respective crew yelled and drew their swords, ready to slit Toro's throat if necessary, but their captain stayed them with a single motion of his hand.
"What, we're not going to settle this the old-fashioned way?" he asked incredulously, mimicking Toro's earlier words. "I thought you had more of a spine than that, Toro."
Anger flashed in the Spanish captain's eyes, but he reluctantly lowered the pistol and returned it to its place on his belt. The pale-haired man nodded.
"I thought so. Now, if you'll be so kind as to get off my ship, we can depart." Toro and the blond man turned and stepped aboard their own ship. The ochre-haired man turned back almost immediately with a glare on his face.
"This is not over, Scourge."
The pale-haired man merely waved him away and watched as the Spanish ship floated into the distance. "It's never over, Toro," he muttered to himself. "It has not even begun." He turned his attention to the ship approaching them from the east, allowing a small smirk to grace his features and alight in his eyes. Perhaps he would stay after all. He hadn't seen a real fight in a long time.
The British navy against a ship full of half-drunken pirates under his command. It was going to be close.
"It is them again," he said, unable to keep the mild tang of an accent out of his voice. A man with striking blue eyes and sand-colored hair approached him, studying the horizon for anything out of the ordinary. With a small nod, he acknowledged the small speck obstructing the moonlight's path.
"How long before we reach them?" he asked, glancing at the captain out of the corner of his eye. The other man shook his head, curly ochre hair following every motion. He folded the telescope and turned, staring directly into the blond man's eyes.
"A few hours, if the wind is with us. But it seems weak for the moment, so I'd say not until sunrise."
"Should we prepare a greeting for them?" the blond man asked, letting a smirk play across his face. "I know how important hospitality is to you." The captain smirked as well.
"What kind of guests would we be if we didn't?"
-
A golden ray of sunlight broke through the darkness, creeping across the dust-coated floor without disturbing anything in the cluttered room. It soon came to rest on an empty glass bottle. It gleamed on the object for several minutes before moving on, traveling up the arm of the person holding it. He stirred slightly upon feeling its heat, but did not wake from his alcohol-induced slumber.
The door flew open suddenly, and a man entered, holding a bucket of water leftover from hours of cleaning the deck. He sighed in exasperation upon seeing Frank passed out against the wall, and immediately doused him. Frank spit the salty water out of his mouth. His eyes began to burn, and he cried out in pain.
"What the hell was that for?" he asked, brushing the water out of his eyes with one arm.
"Cap'n says yer needed," the man said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest idea in the world. He turned and left the room. Frank cursed to himself and slowly creaked to his feet, managing to gain a precarious balance. As soon as he tried to take a step, though, he stumbled forward and hit his head on a table, falling to the ground.
"Ow..."
He finally managed to pull himself to his hands and knees, feeling a headache coming on. He was on the verge of fainting when the captain entered.
"Frank, what happened?" the pale-haired man asked suddenly. His gaze traveled across the room, pausing on the empty bottle, and he quickly discerned his friend's misfortune. He sighed and helped Frank stand up, escorting him onto the ship's deck. The dark-haired man took a deep breath of the fresh air.
"That's better," he said sleepily.
"Wake up, Frank. Toro will be here soon." Frank's eyes were instantly open. "I thought so. Ready the cannons below deck. We need to be on our guard," said the captain, standing near the edge of the deck. He had to be ready to greet their guests. Frank shook his head a few times in an attempt to clear the haze from his mind, but it only made him dizzy.
"You heard the captain! Ready the cannons!" he shouted to the crew, trying to steady himself before taking his temporary place at the ship's helm. The men hurried to obey his orders. A drunken Frank could be just as short-tempered as their captain.
-
The black-sailed ship came to a halt just a few inches from its counterpart. The pale-haired man gave a single nod to Frank, commending him for his navigational skills. The captain turned his attention to the two men about to board his ship.
"Toro." He let the word hang in the air, rolling his tongue on the 'r' for emphasis. "The Spanish word for a bull. A fitting name." The man in question smirked accordingly.
"Scourge. French or English, dictating a form of punishment. And equally fitting." The pale-haired captain nodded, trying to hide a smirk. It had been some time since he had heard his own name. Most were afraid to hear it.
"To what do I owe the honor? It is not often I meet others in these waters...especially not one with a crimson-sailed ship." The curly-haired man crossed the small spanse of open sea and air between the ships in a single stride. His second-in-command followed suit.
"The Spanish government is after me yet again. A mishap in their favorite coastal city. I seek a place of refuge until things...quiet down, so to speak."
"We have this in common," said the other captain, moving one hand in a small wave as if motioning to the ship before him. "Attacked the British royal family's mansion. Stole a few things, set a few fires - the usual."
The ochre-haired man smirked upon hearing his words, but it quickly turned to a frown.
"Where is Frank? Surely you have not left him behind somewhere." As if on cue, Frank stumbled from his place at the helm and stood by his captain, still hardly able to maintain his balance. Toro frowned, and his second-in-command looked more than a little disgusted with his counterpart's actions.
"You've been at the rum again, haven't you?" the blond, blue-eyed man asked Frank. He nodded and held his head, feeling dizzy. His captain placed a hand on his shoulder in the hopes of helping to steady him. The blond man shook his head sadly.
"Might I ask where you are headed?" Toro asked of the pale-haired man.
"We've no particular destination in mind. As you yourself said, somewhere safe." He knew better than to tell where he was going, else he have half the Spanish fleet after him. Toro had many friends left over from his days in that country's navy, ones that were willing to help for the right price. And in their chosen profession, there was no shortage of money.
"I almost forgot something," the Spanish man said suddenly. "I have a few gifts for you." Several members of Toro's crew brought forth unlabeled crates and set them on the black-sailed ship's deck. "There really is no rum like that of /España/."
"You've brought guilt upon me, Toro, as I'm sorry to say I have nothing for you," the pale-haired captain said, all the while remembering the fact that they were ready to bring the other ship down on a moment's notice. Toro smirked.
"It is a gift, Scourge. A gift is...unexpected...unearned..." He let his words hang in the air, locking eyes with the other captain. "One might even say it is undeserved." The pale-haired man narrowed his eyes. Toro was up to something.
"I say we take it," said Frank, hoping to return to the blissful world of drunkenness. His counterpart sighed again.
"Very well then, Toro. We will accept it," said the pale-haired captain, motioning to several members of his crew. They began to take it below deck.
"Sir!" called a man from the crow's nest. Both captains looked toward him. "There's a ship in the distance!"
"What colors does she fly?" the pale-haired captain called back. The man looked through the telescope he held, studying the ship for a few seconds.
"British!"
"Ah, I should have known they would come for me eventually," the pale-haired captain said to his counterpart, shaking his head sadly. "Looks like we'll have to be on our way."
"What, you're not going to stay and fight?" the other man asked incredulously. "I thought you had more of a spine than that, Scourge."
The other captain drew his sword in one swift move, holding under the man's chin threateningly.
"I do. I also have sense enough to know when the battle is needless. You would do well to learn the same, Toro, lest your blood be spilled unnecessarily." The ochre-haired man drew a pistol and aimed it at the pale-haired man's forehead. His respective crew yelled and drew their swords, ready to slit Toro's throat if necessary, but their captain stayed them with a single motion of his hand.
"What, we're not going to settle this the old-fashioned way?" he asked incredulously, mimicking Toro's earlier words. "I thought you had more of a spine than that, Toro."
Anger flashed in the Spanish captain's eyes, but he reluctantly lowered the pistol and returned it to its place on his belt. The pale-haired man nodded.
"I thought so. Now, if you'll be so kind as to get off my ship, we can depart." Toro and the blond man turned and stepped aboard their own ship. The ochre-haired man turned back almost immediately with a glare on his face.
"This is not over, Scourge."
The pale-haired man merely waved him away and watched as the Spanish ship floated into the distance. "It's never over, Toro," he muttered to himself. "It has not even begun." He turned his attention to the ship approaching them from the east, allowing a small smirk to grace his features and alight in his eyes. Perhaps he would stay after all. He hadn't seen a real fight in a long time.
The British navy against a ship full of half-drunken pirates under his command. It was going to be close.
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