Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Pirates of the Chemical Romance
The pale-haired man kept his eyes locked with Michael's, refusing to acknowledge the carnage around them. Blood and bodies seemed to be flying everywhere, as if to recreate the scene of their attack on those three ships so long ago.
They traded attacks and sword swipes, neither one holding back. Both were equally surprised. Years of training had helped each one, but they were complete opposites. One had spent countless hours practicing; the other had spent the same amount of time protecting his own life.
Michael sidestepped again and heard the sound of metal clashing with wood. He watched as the pale-haired man quickly vaulted over the sword and ripped it out of the wood, grimacing at the splinters now reaching for the sky. The blades clashed once again, throwing him back with more force than he expected, but he quickly recovered and entered the fray again.
The pale-haired man felt a flicker of nervousness at Michael's level of skill, but refused to let it show on his face, though he knew it would be clear in his eyes. If there was one thing he had learned from his years at sea, it was to never show weakness. Even when he had nothing left to lose, he had to act like he had everything. It was the same tactic he used in gambling that often helped him win.
"You're better than I expected," said Michael, again slicing the air with the sword. "Unrefined, though," he added with a smirk. The pirate's eyes remained cold and biting. His only response was a sword slash that nearly took off Michael's right ear. He began attacking in a whirlwind, making the younger man back up several steps and onto the stairs leading to the upper deck. He nearly lost his footing, but managed to keep it.
Frank planted his feet on the wood of the British ship's upper deck as best he could, trying to defend himself against the two soldiers advancing on him. He had managed to hold them off thus far, but it was becoming difficult. The pale-haired man watched out of the corner of his eye as a flash of red appeared, and a dark blur dropped from the wood to the water.
"Frank!" he shouted, finally looking away from the younger man to see if his friend had survived. He paused, and in that moment felt a flash of pain in one arm. He cried out and fell to his knees in agony, doubled over and clutching his injured arm as blood poured from it. A cold blade appeared under his chin, and he tilted his head back to see who it belonged to.
Michael stared into his hazel eyes for one second, reading every emotion, before sheathing the sword. He knelt to the pale-haired man's side and tried to stop the bleeding, but received a quick punch to the face that sent him sprawling. He looked at the other man with wide-eyed shock.
"Never trust a pirate," the pale-haired man muttered before consciousness slipped away from him. Michael quickly formulated a plan and called over two soldiers that had made short work of one less fortunate pirate. He would need all the help he could get.
-
"Almost there, Frank!" called one of the pirates from the ship's deck. Frank wasn't sure how much more he could take. He had spent more time in the frigid water than he really cared for. He hadn't been injured, but the choppy waves had thrown him around like a rag doll, almost smashing him into the ship a few times. It was difficult enough to stay above the surface of the water without being hurt.
He winced as the rope roughly grazed his skin, but said nothing as he pulled himself back up to the ship. The almost numb fingers of his right hand finally reached solid wood a few moments later, and after hauling himself back onto the deck, he collapsed in a heap from exhaustion, breathing heavily and still spitting up water. He lay there until he could breathe normally again and finally got to his knees. He didn't trust his ability to stand just yet.
"How many?" he asked quietly, averting his gaze from the many pools of scarlet laid out before him.
"Ten," someone answered.
"And the captain?"
There was no immediate reply, only a few quiet murmurs. Frank pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the mast for support.
"If I'm not mistaken, I just asked where your captain is," he said in a tone of warning. "If someone doesn't tell me soon-"
"They took him away on the other ship," said one man. Frank closed his eyes for a few moments, blinking away the salt, before speaking again.
"If there are still men enough to crew this ship, then we leave immediately," he said with determination, though his voice quaked. "We're going to get our captain back."
They traded attacks and sword swipes, neither one holding back. Both were equally surprised. Years of training had helped each one, but they were complete opposites. One had spent countless hours practicing; the other had spent the same amount of time protecting his own life.
Michael sidestepped again and heard the sound of metal clashing with wood. He watched as the pale-haired man quickly vaulted over the sword and ripped it out of the wood, grimacing at the splinters now reaching for the sky. The blades clashed once again, throwing him back with more force than he expected, but he quickly recovered and entered the fray again.
The pale-haired man felt a flicker of nervousness at Michael's level of skill, but refused to let it show on his face, though he knew it would be clear in his eyes. If there was one thing he had learned from his years at sea, it was to never show weakness. Even when he had nothing left to lose, he had to act like he had everything. It was the same tactic he used in gambling that often helped him win.
"You're better than I expected," said Michael, again slicing the air with the sword. "Unrefined, though," he added with a smirk. The pirate's eyes remained cold and biting. His only response was a sword slash that nearly took off Michael's right ear. He began attacking in a whirlwind, making the younger man back up several steps and onto the stairs leading to the upper deck. He nearly lost his footing, but managed to keep it.
Frank planted his feet on the wood of the British ship's upper deck as best he could, trying to defend himself against the two soldiers advancing on him. He had managed to hold them off thus far, but it was becoming difficult. The pale-haired man watched out of the corner of his eye as a flash of red appeared, and a dark blur dropped from the wood to the water.
"Frank!" he shouted, finally looking away from the younger man to see if his friend had survived. He paused, and in that moment felt a flash of pain in one arm. He cried out and fell to his knees in agony, doubled over and clutching his injured arm as blood poured from it. A cold blade appeared under his chin, and he tilted his head back to see who it belonged to.
Michael stared into his hazel eyes for one second, reading every emotion, before sheathing the sword. He knelt to the pale-haired man's side and tried to stop the bleeding, but received a quick punch to the face that sent him sprawling. He looked at the other man with wide-eyed shock.
"Never trust a pirate," the pale-haired man muttered before consciousness slipped away from him. Michael quickly formulated a plan and called over two soldiers that had made short work of one less fortunate pirate. He would need all the help he could get.
-
"Almost there, Frank!" called one of the pirates from the ship's deck. Frank wasn't sure how much more he could take. He had spent more time in the frigid water than he really cared for. He hadn't been injured, but the choppy waves had thrown him around like a rag doll, almost smashing him into the ship a few times. It was difficult enough to stay above the surface of the water without being hurt.
He winced as the rope roughly grazed his skin, but said nothing as he pulled himself back up to the ship. The almost numb fingers of his right hand finally reached solid wood a few moments later, and after hauling himself back onto the deck, he collapsed in a heap from exhaustion, breathing heavily and still spitting up water. He lay there until he could breathe normally again and finally got to his knees. He didn't trust his ability to stand just yet.
"How many?" he asked quietly, averting his gaze from the many pools of scarlet laid out before him.
"Ten," someone answered.
"And the captain?"
There was no immediate reply, only a few quiet murmurs. Frank pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the mast for support.
"If I'm not mistaken, I just asked where your captain is," he said in a tone of warning. "If someone doesn't tell me soon-"
"They took him away on the other ship," said one man. Frank closed his eyes for a few moments, blinking away the salt, before speaking again.
"If there are still men enough to crew this ship, then we leave immediately," he said with determination, though his voice quaked. "We're going to get our captain back."
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