Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Pirates of the Chemical Romance
Frank closed his eyes against the force of the wind. The soft breezes from the previous night had grown into full-blown gales by morning; he was thankful they had already tied up the sails hours earlier. His eyes were beginning to tear up from the cold, sharp gusts of air.
His arms quavered as he turned the ship against the wind, gritting his teeth as he opened his eyes. 'It's not much further,' he thought to himself. 'Just one more hour of this torture and we should be there.'
The wind whipped around and blew his hair into his face, making him even more frustrated. He couldn't brush it behind his ears or the ship would be turned backwards in an instant. Some ocean spray blew into his eyes, clearing his vision for a moment. 'Just one more hour.'
The ship finally reached its destination, much to Frank's relief. He entered the bar trying to look as nondescript as possible. It was easier for him than their captain; his hair was less conspicuous. He immediately saw his target in the far corner of the room and walked over to it.
"Toro," he said quietly. The man in question glared at him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked darkly. Frank lowered his gaze to the ground.
"I need your help." He carefully explained the situation, leaving out the relationship between the British captain and Scourge. Only the necessary information. The curly-haired man considered his request carefully, folding his hands in thought.
"And what makes you think I'm going to help you?" he asked plainly. Frank sighed.
"Because we can't get him back alone." He knew the Spanish captain could control half of his country's navy if he wanted to. Instead the man shook his head.
"I would help you if the threat of war was not so imminent. But as I'm sure you know, England and France are allies, and Spain is the enemy of both. I don't want to be responsible for a war that brings my country to its demise." Frank gritted his teeth to hold back a retort. There was nothing wrong with France. "However I do know someone who may be able to help you," he added whispering something in Spanish to the blond-haired man that was Frank's counterpart. The man nodded and left, returning a few moments later. Frank's eyes widened.
"Jamia?" he asked. The woman nodded.
"Nice to see you," she said in fluid French. Frank smirked. He hadn't heard the language for some time. "I'm told you need my help with something."
"I'll leave you two alone," said the Spanish captain, rolling his eyes. Jamia let out a small laugh and took his place.
"I do need your help," said Frank. Again he explained the situation, telling her the entire story. She would likely find out on her own if he didn't tell her.
"I will help you," she said decidedly, "if you agree to my terms." Frank sighed, knowing what was coming next.
"How much gold?" he asked tentatively. Jamia told him, and his eyes widened.
"Done," he said without hesitation. Jamia's mouth curled into a smile. Frank's heart nearly melted at the sight. "I know that look," he said, studying her face. "You've already got a plan in mind."
She just smiled wider.
"You know me too well."
-
The pale-haired man stared at the floor of the jail cell, noting the layers of grime and grease coating it. His eyes traveled up the wall and came to rest on the four elongated bars of light near the top of the cell. He sighed again. He could smell the ocean breezes wafting through the air, taunting him.
Not taunting him nearly as much as the man standing just outside his cell, however. They locked eyes for a brief moment before he allowed his eyes to continue their path: floor, wall, moonlight, repeat.
"You should know that I can't get you out of this," said Michael from his place outside the cell. The pale-haired man locked eyes with him.
"Why would I want you to?" he asked plainly. Michael inhaled sharply at his words. "I know what I've done. I don't expect you to get me out of it." 'But I do expect Frank to come up with something,' he thought to himself.
"You're just as stubborn as you used to be," said Michael, shaking his head and cracking a smile. The pirate rolled his eyes.
"Do we have to go over this again?" he asked in exasperation. He froze when he caught Michael smirking at him and shot a glare at the younger man. "I wish you would stop acting like my little brother."
"How else am I supposed to act?" Michael asked him innocently.
"Like a soldier in the British army. You're supposed to hate me. I'm a pirate."
"You're also my brother, whether you acknowledge it or not," Michael said quietly, voice becoming serious. "I don't want to let you do this."
"Stop the sympathy act, Michael," the pale-haired man said flatly. "Don't even pretend you understand what it's like to be me. We're from two different worlds entirely. You're on one side and I'm on the other. That's how it's always been and how it always will be." Michael sighed sadly.
"There's got to be some way to convince you-" He was cut off by the sound of the door opening. He was about to speak when a black-haired girl walked in and kissed him.
His arms quavered as he turned the ship against the wind, gritting his teeth as he opened his eyes. 'It's not much further,' he thought to himself. 'Just one more hour of this torture and we should be there.'
The wind whipped around and blew his hair into his face, making him even more frustrated. He couldn't brush it behind his ears or the ship would be turned backwards in an instant. Some ocean spray blew into his eyes, clearing his vision for a moment. 'Just one more hour.'
The ship finally reached its destination, much to Frank's relief. He entered the bar trying to look as nondescript as possible. It was easier for him than their captain; his hair was less conspicuous. He immediately saw his target in the far corner of the room and walked over to it.
"Toro," he said quietly. The man in question glared at him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked darkly. Frank lowered his gaze to the ground.
"I need your help." He carefully explained the situation, leaving out the relationship between the British captain and Scourge. Only the necessary information. The curly-haired man considered his request carefully, folding his hands in thought.
"And what makes you think I'm going to help you?" he asked plainly. Frank sighed.
"Because we can't get him back alone." He knew the Spanish captain could control half of his country's navy if he wanted to. Instead the man shook his head.
"I would help you if the threat of war was not so imminent. But as I'm sure you know, England and France are allies, and Spain is the enemy of both. I don't want to be responsible for a war that brings my country to its demise." Frank gritted his teeth to hold back a retort. There was nothing wrong with France. "However I do know someone who may be able to help you," he added whispering something in Spanish to the blond-haired man that was Frank's counterpart. The man nodded and left, returning a few moments later. Frank's eyes widened.
"Jamia?" he asked. The woman nodded.
"Nice to see you," she said in fluid French. Frank smirked. He hadn't heard the language for some time. "I'm told you need my help with something."
"I'll leave you two alone," said the Spanish captain, rolling his eyes. Jamia let out a small laugh and took his place.
"I do need your help," said Frank. Again he explained the situation, telling her the entire story. She would likely find out on her own if he didn't tell her.
"I will help you," she said decidedly, "if you agree to my terms." Frank sighed, knowing what was coming next.
"How much gold?" he asked tentatively. Jamia told him, and his eyes widened.
"Done," he said without hesitation. Jamia's mouth curled into a smile. Frank's heart nearly melted at the sight. "I know that look," he said, studying her face. "You've already got a plan in mind."
She just smiled wider.
"You know me too well."
-
The pale-haired man stared at the floor of the jail cell, noting the layers of grime and grease coating it. His eyes traveled up the wall and came to rest on the four elongated bars of light near the top of the cell. He sighed again. He could smell the ocean breezes wafting through the air, taunting him.
Not taunting him nearly as much as the man standing just outside his cell, however. They locked eyes for a brief moment before he allowed his eyes to continue their path: floor, wall, moonlight, repeat.
"You should know that I can't get you out of this," said Michael from his place outside the cell. The pale-haired man locked eyes with him.
"Why would I want you to?" he asked plainly. Michael inhaled sharply at his words. "I know what I've done. I don't expect you to get me out of it." 'But I do expect Frank to come up with something,' he thought to himself.
"You're just as stubborn as you used to be," said Michael, shaking his head and cracking a smile. The pirate rolled his eyes.
"Do we have to go over this again?" he asked in exasperation. He froze when he caught Michael smirking at him and shot a glare at the younger man. "I wish you would stop acting like my little brother."
"How else am I supposed to act?" Michael asked him innocently.
"Like a soldier in the British army. You're supposed to hate me. I'm a pirate."
"You're also my brother, whether you acknowledge it or not," Michael said quietly, voice becoming serious. "I don't want to let you do this."
"Stop the sympathy act, Michael," the pale-haired man said flatly. "Don't even pretend you understand what it's like to be me. We're from two different worlds entirely. You're on one side and I'm on the other. That's how it's always been and how it always will be." Michael sighed sadly.
"There's got to be some way to convince you-" He was cut off by the sound of the door opening. He was about to speak when a black-haired girl walked in and kissed him.
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