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the-kr8tor · 2 days

Text

...And The Deep Blue Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW gore, CW injury, CW guns.

A/N: it's the end.

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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 15 >>>

“Hello, little birdy.” Mathias cackles like there's a pebble stuck in his throat.

He roams his sickly yellowed eyes at your body, sending shivers down your spine with every glance. “Or should I say Viscountess?” He laughs again. “You wear that gown well,” his eyes flick behind you, “Eugene, my boy!” The man beside you stiffens up. “Come get your bride and sit with me.” He drums at the table. “The Food is comin’, I heard that the bride and groom usually don't get to eat after everything is said and done. We don't want you to starve, ain't that right, lieutenant?”

The eye patched man standing in the corner nods slowly. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back like an obedient dog waiting for his master.

“You're alive?” You say breathlessly, teeth gritted, knuckles clenching tight on the skirt of your dress. Pulse rapidly thrumming, sending alarm bells to ring in your ear.

“‘course I am! No one can kill the king's flame, not even the red hydra,” he spits the name out. “or even a real fuckin' hydra.” Chuckling, scars mar his neck and hands, the only visible ones under his navy blue officer's uniform. It's still red and angry, you can tell some parts of it hasn't healed yet. You plan to add more, whether it's by your bare hands or a piece of cutlery; you're prepared to hit him where it hurts.

Numerous medals are on display on his jacket, shining under the sunlight filtering through the closed curtains. “Can you believe it? I go out to hunt the red hydra and I get myself a pretty bird.” He continues annoyingly, voice crackling, a dry cough escaping his pale mouth.

Mathias notices you still standing in the doorway, his eyes are dull, like a hurricane that's about to devastate a whole town. Eugene notices and he reaches for your arm to sit you down. You flinch away from his touch, eyes trained on the man before you.

“I said sit down!” Mathias’ booming voice rings out in the dining hall, his fist slamming on the table, champagne flutes fall over like dominoes with a harsh crack. “Fuckin’ grab her, Eugene! Don't be such a fuckin’ cock and grab her!”

“Y-yes uncle.” Your ‘fiance’ tentatively guides you towards the chair by your elbow, you brush off his touch, angry eyes gazing at his cowardly face.

Sitting down on the right side of Mathias, you intentionally choose a chair as far away from him as possible. But before you could sit, he clicks his tongue, finger wagging in front of his scarred face.

“Not there, gorgeous.” He pats the seat closest to him. “Right here.”

“No,” you stand your ground, shaking from anger, or is it fear that climbs in your stomach and crawls upwards to your quickening heart?

You refuse to get near the monster as Eugene stares across from you with anxiety in his eyes.

“Sit. Down.” Mathias enunciated, “or Lieutenant Dubois here will make you sit down.” Said uniformed man grunts, hazel eye roaming across the table, gaze boring a hole in between your twitching eyes. The sheath of his cutlass is engraved with tally marks among the ornate laurels and lions. “You already know what he'll do to you, he's quite amazing with a sharp object.”

“I am too.” You clench your jaw, still refusing to sit.

To your surprise, Mathias grins, a sickeningly hideous smile, teeth bared, tongue lapping at the gold in place of the fangs, lips wrinkling, he chuckles softly as something passes by his yellowed eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just reminded me so much of your father.” He leans on the back of his chair, hands gesturing towards you. “I literally saw him instead of you! It's fuckin' crazy innit?” He shoves Eugene by the shoulder, the viscount flinches, wincing at the ache. “Y’know, I recognized you— wait, lieutenant! Grab her and make her sit down! This story deserves to be listened to properly.”

“No!” You try to run back to the hallway, but the man is too fast for you. With the heavy skirt and weak leg, you didn't have a chance against him. “Motherfucker—!” With his arms around your torso, you kick and flail about, Mathias gives him a look and the man headbutts you from behind.

The room spins as he carries you towards the chair. The ceiling swirls, ears flooding with your rushing blood. With your muddled hearing, you swear you heard Eugene defend you, and you swear you heard a slap right after.

With a heavy thunk, the door closes behind you, your exit closes behind you. The only remaining door is across you, it's currently closed but you're sure it's unlocked judging by the draft coming from it. Head still aching, vision warbling, the one eyed man stands in front of the only exit.

“Now where was I?” Mathias continues like nothing happened. You glare at him through the corner of your eyes, your skin feels like spikes from the goosebumps rising above. “Ah, yes! I recognized you on the ship, before a literal myth came eating my crew. By the way, what the fuck was that, huh? Fuckin' weird, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say weakly.

“Anywho, You looked a lot like your father but with your mother's beauty. I knew them, your father more so. Once upon a time he was my lieutenant, he was pretty good at it too. Too bad he had to disobey orders and marry above his station.”

“Why don't you ever shut up?” You lay your elbows on the table, arms flat, slyly covering the steak knife under your arm. “Are you a narcissist? Do you like hearing your own voice—?”

Mathias hurls a salad plate at your head. You dodge it in time before it shatters on the floor. You don't have time for this, you need to get to Hobie immediately, before it's too late. You have no plan, no weapons, but you'll be damned if you don't try. And you can still hear his screams echoing in your ears, as if he's already dead, as if he's already haunting you.

You need to try. Or it'll be your end too.

The monster before you clears his throat. “Don't be rude.” He points a finger at you.

You now notice how worse for wear he is, under the white paint and powdered wig lies injuries that haven't healed since the fight. You smell it, the herbs hastily smudged, and the rot in his flesh. It seeps into his bones, poisoning his body. You just wish it'll eat at him faster.

You're suddenly not afraid anymore.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. Your father, well, he fought a good fight on the Demeter. He stood his ground till the very end until a dozen or so bullets pierced his skin.”

The crescent in your palms gets deeper.

“He was smart though, smarter than you probably. You see, he rigged the ship to blow. He had the fuckin' balls to do it even though his entire family was inside. Ain't it funny—?” The double doors swing open.

The butler interrupts his speech, a handful of staff bring in an entire chicken at his plate. One pours him a glass of wine before he snatches the entire bottle and places it right next to his glass. Hot soup and meat pie is brought in also, the smell is appetizing but you place your hand over your plate wordlessly, telling them you're not hungry at the moment. How could you be when Mathias eats in front of you like he hasn't eaten in decades?

The tension is thicker than the cream placed in front of Eugene.

He munches loudly as he takes apart the roast. String of meat flies all over, the former white table cloth turns brown when he wipes his hands on it. Eugene spares you a look, eyes staring forlornly at his empty plate. His hand inching closer towards his goblet before deciding to just drink the ruby liquid.

You're on your own.

The wolves devour their fill whilst you plan your escape. Your mind screams for you to run, to run where no one can find you. The voice echoing in your ears is right at one thing, but you'll never hide anymore, not from Mathias, not from your past, not from anyone. You'd face it with fire in your veins just like your father had.

Mathias snorts, and you wish it was a choke. “He fought well, got a few of my men. How do you think the lieutenant here lost his eye?” He points at the stoic man using a half eaten chicken leg. “Your father was brilliant with a sword. A crack shot with a blunderbuss too. But, eh, it was all in vain. He shouldn't have messed with the crown and polite society.”

He continues to loudly eat, hands slick with oil, mouth full of meat. “You see, your mother was that fuckin' woman. Wealth, looks, title, she had it all. And the king wanted it too, greedy bastard he is.” There it is, the confession. But you still listen because you know something else will come after. “But your mum decided to run off and elope with the bastard son of an unpopular lord. The king was pissed off.”

Mathias laughs roughly. “But he got over it.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could hide it, the devil noticed.

“I knew you ain't as smart as your dear old dad.” He smiles, you can see the meat stuck in his golden teeth.

“He was the crowned prince,” Mathias rips open the chicken in half messily. “And he needed a wife from one of the big families.” He doused the meat in salt, “and the greedy fuck chose someone who didn't want him, just for the fun of it. Who could blame her, all he ever wanted was a brood of children to pass on his blood.” He takes a generous bite, teeth meeting flesh, the sound of his chewing makes you hasten your plan. “Thank fuck Frederick's father ain't as stupid as his son. That man sought out the opportunity when given to him and fuckin' took it. Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the fruit of his labour.”

Anger settles in your stomach, fury in your eyes and flesh, you want to damn him, and everyone involved. Especially her.

“It's her isn't it?” You say as you slither your hand towards the ceramic bowl. “The Queen, it was all her.”

Mathias smiles genuinely, “You finally got it, little bird!” He claps. “She's fuckin' brilliant, and so are her coffers. The pay,” he whistles out, “the pay was magnificent, still is by the way. I didn't even need to become an admiral for the money when I'm earning more than a fuckin’ duke.” Kicking Eugene under the table, he makes his godson choke on his drink. “See, I told you the little duchess here is just your type.”

His voice fuels your fury. Each vowel is grating in your ears, every wheezed breath he takes is a reminder that he still lives. A reminder that your knife isn't stuck in his throat.

“It ain't as bad as you think it is,” The navy man continues. “Married to my boy, you'd have a title, a home and a decent family. At least now you don't have mister Brown crawling all over you. He'd be dead by sundown, and I can't wait to see it.”

Mathias thinks his words would make you do something drastic that'll have his hands wrapped around your neck. But you've learned your lesson, so you bide your time, taking their attention away from your wandering hands.

“You're dying.” The heat from the bowl matches the fire in you. Your voice doesn't shake, nor your resolve. “Even with all the coin she gave you, you still can't save yourself. You are riddled with sepsis, I can smell it on you. A collapsed lung from the way you cough, and whatever the fuck disgusting shit you have in you. You are dying, rotting from the inside like how it's meant to be. And the world will be better off without you. They will forget you, first, your poor family, then your men, then the entire country. Even your bitch of a queen will forget you. Then the world. But Hobie will be remembered. His name will be etched in the annals of history while your name fades into obscurity.” You laugh humorlessly, teeth bared, eyes aflame. “And I can't wait to see it.”

He seethes in his seat, hand clenching around the cutlery. The devil doesn't show his anger bluntly this time, he hides it because you struck a nerve. With a grin, you promise to Hobie and to your parents that Mathias won't live to see the day end.

“Do you remember what I told you in the revenge?” You continue with a smile that sends shivers down the spine of everyone in the room. The quiet lieutenant remembers the day he lost his eye. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”

Through a clenched jaw, he coughs again, hiding his weakness from everyone in the room and how a drop of blood stains his pale lips. “I love it when women show me their claws. But I can't stay. I would love to see the ceremony and the festivities, but I can't miss the execution. That's why I came here earlier so I could pass on my blessings.” Mathias wipes his mouth clean harshly. “If you'd excuse me, I places to be—”

Before he could stand up, you quickly fling the bowl right on his painted face. The hot soup splashes on his skin, melting the white powder off his face. With his guttural scream, within a split second before his man could intervene, you take the steak knife and plunge it into his hand and into the table.

The screams he let out was music to your ears, holding the hilt of the weapon, you twist it before yanking it out of his flesh, tearing his hand in half, ripping the nerves and letting waterfalls of crimson into the white tablecloth. With a determined yell, you aim for his throat.

Mathias recovers a second before steel meets his skin, he backhands you with the same injured hand. The knife falls off your hand. Pain blooms on your face, and you go blind as your head hits the floor. His blood dirties your pristine white gown, splotches of red drenching the bodice.

Your left eye stings, cheek heated from the harsh slap. Despite your lungs gasping for air through your possible broken nose, you crawl over to Mathias. Your scorn drives you to grab his leg, pulling him down with a strong tug, he falls hard on his back, splitting the floorboards in half. Taking the crown off your head, you use the pointy end to stab his leg and his knee in quick succession. He yells and yells but you don't stop. The ichor from his wounds drenches your face and hands, you see red, and you see his untimely death in your blood soaked hands.

Climbing further up, you use the opportunity to aim at his groin. But a pair of arms stops you before you could hit your mark. Thrashing, slashing the hands around your shoulders, you mark the man with the same bloodied tiara.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Mathias stands up, limping, he unsheathes his lieutenant’s cutlass from his hip. With a stomp over your thigh, he pushes in the heel of his boot as you let out a cry. The steel is pointed at your heart, his eyes demand blood for blood. “I should've just killed you instead—”

A shot rings out, the bullet hits the blade, breaking it in half. Mathias flinches before he smiles at the one who shot him. There on the opposite doors, stands Miguel O’hara with his gun raised, barrel aimed at his former comrade. Lyla stands next to him, her own blunderbuss raised towards the man holding on to you.

“Let her go and there won't be any more bullets flying around.” Miguel's voice is steady, back straight, eyes flicking over to you writhing on the floor.

“You better listen, cyclops, O’hara here might hesitate but I won't. Let our girl go.” Lyla reassures you with a nod, and you bite your captor's hand.

You tear his flesh open with your teeth, ichor filling your mouth as he hisses in pain, dropping you unceremoniously on the floor.

Mathias looks at you with wide eyes, disbelief in his burned face. “I guess you learned a thing or two from your man.”

You spit out the chunk of flesh whilst your eyes never leave his. Crimson dripping off your lips like rain, teeth the same colour as the wine spilled on the table, you smile at him.

“Come near me and I'll show you what else he taught me.”

The man before you laughs genuinely, yet his eyes never leave yours, making sure you stay away from him. You're more than ready to close the gap. The cutlass is still trained on you, you're about to pounce when Miguel calls your name with urgency. As if he can read your mind.

“Your girl is fuckin' insane ain't she?” Mathias addresses Miguel, like how a family member speaks about a niece he hasn't seen in years. Proud, there's a sense of pride laced in his tone. “Just like her dear old parents, eh?”

“I'm warning you, Mathias.” Miguel keeps an eye out for the uniformed man behind you. “Take your captain, Alexander, before I put a bullet in his heart.”

Mathias scoffs, legs shaking from the wounds you caused. “Please, you'd shoot me? You didn't have the balls back then, why would you do it now?”

Miguel raises his gun higher, aiming for the man's head. “Because she wasn't there,” he cocks his head towards you, “you didn't have a weapon aimed directly at my goddaughter.” Eyebrows knitted together in anger, his hand doesn't shake, eyes glowing red in the sunlight. “Now let her go.”

Mathias posture sags, “fine, but only because I've got an event I cannot miss.” He nods at his godson. “Make sure you're married to her by the end of the day or there will be consequences.” He clicks his tongue, Eugene melts into his chair, face turned away from you and his godfather.

Mathias gives you one last look. “Happy marriage, birdy.”

“You're going to die today Mathias, one way or another I'll get my hands on you.” You flick your eyes towards the man clutching his hand. “Death is coming for you too,” you say nonchalantly. “I'll finish what my father started.”

They leave with their fronts turned to you, not even twisting around to show you their backs that are susceptible to your attack. Or in this case, your teeth.

Lyla appears next to you, helping you by the crook of your arm. Pain lingers on your leg and face. “Christ, he burst your fucking capillaries.”

Sure enough, you feel the sting in your eye, a throbbing pain that leaves you nauseous. Miguel, tentatively closes the distance, weathered hand carefully holding your chin. You wince, as he moves your face.

“Fuck, you need to see a doctor.” He says whilst you flinch away from his touch.

“I'm alright, I need a horse.” You begin to walk away, Miguel and Lyla follow close behind you. “And I need my fucking knife.” I need him back, your mind whispers to you. “I need to save him.”

“His execution is in two hours.” Eugene says meekly, and you stop in your tracks. “I heard the officers talk, they're not going to hang him for his crimes, the crown gave him the ax.”

With quick steps, you take Eugene by his collar, gripping tightly as you spill venom. Miguel tries to hold you back but you blindly kick his leg.

“Delay them.”

“I can't—”

“Do you want to be under his boot your entire life? If we marry I'll be crushed with you,” You stare determinedly at his scared eyes. “because that will happen if you don't help. You said you cared about me, then help me and all will be forgiven. Please, you're a viscount, you have the means to help.”

He sniffs, lips curled into a frown. “I'm sorry, I-I can't—”

You scoff, letting him go. “If I fail, Mathias lives and that means you'd be dead too.” Walking away, leaving him cowering in his seat, your small entourage follows.

“Where are you going?” Miguel matches your stride, walking next to you, he stares with concern. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To my room to pamper my nose.” With adrenaline coursing through you, his face flashes in your mind with every step. Save him, your mind yells, save him, save him, or it'll be the end for you too.

“Cousin?” Collette asks as you make your way towards the apartments where your chambers lie. She roams her worried eyes around your bloodied wedding gown, her hands that are clutching a bouquet of flowers shakes. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I stabbed Mathias and bit through a man's hand.” You say without stopping, she squeaks in place.

John stops in his tracks, “w-what the fuck happened?” The twins are both dressed to the nines, all fine fabrics and hair all made up. “Cousin!” He calls after you whilst you don't stop for anyone.

“Thanks for the hot tip, kids!” Lyla yells back to your cousins. “A bit of advice, tell the catering staff the wedding’s off!” She cackles. “Save me a macaroon though!”

“They called you?” You ask, your heeled feet ache but you press on. “Where were you Lyla?”

“I'm sorry, duchess, I overslept.” She shrugs. “But I'm here now ain't I? Also I got Miguel here so...”

“You should stop, Y/N.” Miguel says sternly. “You're hurt—”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You whirl around to face him. Anger flares up once again. “You should've shot him where he stood.” You poke his sturdy chest roughly. “He's the one who killed them, yet you let him get away!”

“I know, I— there are repercussions to killing someone. Especially if they're an officer.” He falters but he composes himself. “Revenge is not the answer—”

“He killed them, Miguel!” Your broken voice echoes out into the vast hallway. “Him and the queen are the reason why they're dead, and you let him get away so he could kill Hobie.”

“It was the queen? Not—”

“Yes, not the idiot king.” You turn around to continue your trek. You curse the large estate. “I have no idea why she did it, but I'm gonna get her too. But I won't live to see that day if I don't save him.” Your tone falters as you pass by your mother's portrait. “I need to save him, even if it's the last thing I do.”

“You won't succeed.” Miguel stands in front of you to stop you, and you roll your eyes, wanting to kick him in the groin. “He's a pirate, Y/N, he won't do the same for you.”

“He has, and he would. I need to try, I can't let him die.” You choke back a sob. Reality crashes around you. What would you do once you get there? Will you be able to save him on your own? You have no one, you have no idea where the crew is, and he's going to die. You can't live with yourself if you don't try.

“Y/N.” Miguel says your name like a reprimand.

“You said back in the carriage that I can leave whenever I want, all I needed to do was ask.” You chuckle without humour. “Here’s me asking, Miguel.”

“You'll die, Y/N, I can't lose you too.”

“And I can't lose him.” Tears gather in your eyes. “If no one will save him then who will? I have to go whether you like it or not.”

“The people will,” Lyla pipes up, she casually leans against the wall, checking her nails. “there have been…whispers since they announced his execution. If you go, I'm sure you won't be alone.”

You face the taller man again. “See, I have help—”

“Rumours aren't enough! Don't you get it? You're better off marrying Thompson at this point.” You blink in surprise. He backtracks. “I–I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I'd rather see you settled than dead.”

“You might not be as bad as Mathias, but you might as well be.” You brokenly say. Miguel's face falls at your words. “You claim to love my parents and me by extension, but you're complicit,” you spit out the word full of venom. “you're only helping them by not letting me go. I don't want to be settled, Miguel.” You shake your head. “It isn't love if you make me.”

Miguel visibly shatters in front of you. None of the composure he showed to Mathias is left in his body. He hasn't seen this much devotion since your parents. He hasn't seen this much love since he felt their presence. He hasn't felt this hurt since his daughter left this world.

“You had time to grieve for them, I didn't.” You push him out of the way, controlling your sob. “Please don't stop me, or I'll fight you like how I fought Mathias.” You open the doors to your chambers.

Miguel lingers outside as you and Lyla make your way inside the familiar room. The man that has your dagger sits in front of the vanity, the large man is currently trying on a spare tiara, and is wearing one of the ruby earrings.

“You can keep those,” Your sudden voice makes him jump away, large eyes staring at you with slight embarrassment. “I won't tell a soul, just take them, give me my dagger and get out of Hazelside.”

The cogs in his head move, swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “Can I keep the necklace too?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure,” You shrug, Lyla stifled a giggle.

Wordlessly, he shoves a ruby necklace in his pocket, then he unsheathes your dagger and places it on the vanity.

“We good, duchess?”

“Actually,” you have an idea. “You're a muscle for hire, correct?” You've noticed how he doesn't move like the other foot soldiers do, or the guards for Hazelside. His disheveled uniform solidifies your theory. The man nods proudly. “How would you like to take my entire jewelry box in exchange for you and your men's services?”

“That depends, what kind of work are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lyla adds to the conversation. “Murder of some pompous nobles and free a bunch of pirates. With a main focus on the red spider of course.”

“Kill the red spider too?” He asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“No!” You say quickly, “free him and kill anyone who stands in the way.” You mutter a curse under your breath. “I don't have time for this.”

The mercenary thinks once again, he seems to be weighing the pros and cons.

Stepping closer, you practically breathe down his neck. “I'll throw in my shoes and gowns too,” you raise a hand for him to shake. “As long as you'll be there before the execution starts, and you keep my uncle and aunt distracted, scare them is all. Just don't touch my cousins or the staff.”

The scarred man chuckles deeply. “An offer I cannot refuse, duchess.” He clasps your hand, shaking it once. “Creating chaos is our main specialty.”

“Yes and I saw a glimpse of that in the barn.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, eyes lit with tamped down anger. “You better hold your end of the bargain, or you'll have my dagger in your throat instead of my necklace.”

“‘course, my lady. My men will be there.” He leaves with a grin, shoving Miguel by his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Your godfather asks as you lift your skirt to rip the metal of your petticoat off using the dagger. He turns around, closing the doors to your chambers and shuts his eyes while still turned around.

“Our girl here just used her charisma to strike a bargain. Oh they grow up too fast.” Lyla dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear in her eye. “Don't forget to change your shoes, my lady.”

You stare at yourself in the vanity, blood coats the front of your gown, a smattering of crimson coats the lace, splashes of ichor paints the front of the bodice right next to the pretty embroidery. Your face isn't any better, the makeup the handmaidens painted you with is still there, but now it coincides with Mathias' drying blood. It drips down from your cheeks down to your neck, it hides the gold underneath the crimson. Your left eye shares the same shade, capillaries burst, spreading your blood into the whites of your eyes. The gloves meant to hide the callouses and fresh scars are sticking to your skin, drenched in ruby, drenched like the floors of the revenge.

You leave it on, a reminder of your goal.

“I haven't forgotten.” Tossing the heeled shoes away, you make your way towards where you hid your old friend.

The sight alone of the weathered leather shoes would make you weep but you don't have time for that. Lifting your skirts up, still wearing the ridiculous wedding gown that has become significantly lighter, you quickly run towards the unicorn tapestry.

Dagger in hand, you're surprised to hear Miguel's heavy strides following you inside the hidden tunnels. Once the sun greets you and the grass crunches under your feet, you beeline for the barn.

A stable boy jumps at the sudden intrusion, he stutters, moreso when he sees your blood drenched form.

“Can you saddle Bernard quickly?” You ask, and the poor boy almost has a heart attack. “Please? I'm a friend of Hobie and—”

“Oh, Hobie! You should've said it earlier then. You're her! He told me a whole lot about you." He smiles at you, already picking up the heavy saddle. "You know how to ride, My lady?"

“No need for that.” You wave away the title. “And yes, perks of running away for years, you learn how to run away in different ways.”

He chuckles, yet the nervousness is still palpable in his eyes. “I'm on it, your grace.”

Smiling softly, you don't correct him anymore. Turning around, you see no one accompanying you. “Lyla?”

“She went off to get her horse,” Miguel appears from behind the barn door. “I'm keeping a lookout.” He returns to his post, acting casual while leaning on the door.

“You don't have to be here if you don't want to, Miguel.” You walk behind him, the wooden doors are blocking you from his view and vice versa.

“I…pondered your words, Y/N, and you're right. I don't want to make you do something you clearly don't want. I won't make that same mistake again, it cost me years without you. It won't make me lose another day without you, even if it means saving a damn pirate.” He chuckles, and you take his hand from where you stood. You hear his breath hitch, “I'm sorry. I think your parents would hate me right now.”

“I don't know them very well but, I think they'll be proud of you. You found me, you brought me home. You were doing the best you can with good intentions.” You squeeze his rough hand, placing your forehead against the door where his shoulders would lie. “Thank you for letting me leave. I think it's best for you to move on, uncle. They'd want that for you.” You hear him sniff, squeezing your hand back.

“Yes, I think it's best.” He lets your hand go, “starting with this,” Placing something round in your hand, he closes your palm around it gently. “They��d want you to have it, something to keep close to you when you're at sea. It helped me back then, I'm sure it'll help you now.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Not yet, I'll follow you once I can. I'll keep your aunt and uncle here, making sure that they don't get their footmen to follow you. And I'll make sure the ruffians you hired won't go overboard and actually do what you asked them to.” Miguel tearfully chuckles, “just promise me you won't lose your humanity after you take your revenge.”

“I promise, I won't let it consume me.” You whisper your promise just for him.

Taking a peek at the object in your hand, your heart almost shatters at the familiarity of it. It's the same one your mother was clutching in her portrait. Opening the golden locket, you see a portrait of your mother on the left, and on the right, your father. They look younger in the painting, happier, more alive. They were right, you bear a resemblance to your father just as much as to your mother's features. You finally got a good look at them together, and your heart squeezes at the thought.

Sniffing, you look up at Miguel with gratitude, “tell my cousins ‘thank you,’ please.”

“I will. Keep the locket safe for when we meet again?”

“I will, I'll see you in the water, uncle.” He's the only person who's worthy of the title you've bestowed him. Lyla gallops her horse in the distance. “Now get out of here, or I'll end up not letting you go.” You tease, it has half truth in it. Your smile falters, "Tell my mother—"

“Come back and you can tell her yourself. She's still staying in the same town. I know she's waiting for you.” He finally turns around to face you. “Before you go,” shrugging off his coat, he hands it to you. “You'll get cold.”

You look at the fabric with tears in your eyes. Taking the blue coat, he helps you put it on. Sniffing, he turns you back around, rubbing the creases in the sleeves away.

“There, it's perfect but it's missing something.”

“Something blue, and now I've got something borrowed.” Joking, you smile at your godfather.

Miguel hands you a blunderbuss, it's an ordinary looking one, save for the purple leather handle that decorates it.

“It was your father's, he gave it to me when he named me your godfather.” He points at the silver barrel where three letters are etched on it crudely. “It's our first initials. He said that it gave him extra luck.”

“I—I can't take this.”

“Well, you've already taken my locket and coat, what harm falls on me if I gave you his gun? You're gonna need it wherever you're going.” Miguel shoves it in your hands, “just— save a bullet for Mathias and the queen.”

“That I can do.” You grin at him despite the pain in your chest.

“The party's here.” Lyla’ horse stops just outside, she exclaims with fanfare. “Ready to kill some motherfuckers?”

“Aye,” you nod with determination. The fire is blazing under your eyes, lightning in your fingertips, you wear the locket around your neck with pride.

For your parents that you've never met but came to love. For Miguel, for the crew and for all they've sacrificed for you. for Hobie, the love of your life. And for MJ.

—

You ride off on Bernard's back, flames in your chest, wind whipped cheeks, and hands clutching the reins tighter. Your father's blunderbuss weighs heavy on your hips, the smell of Mathias' drying blood stings in your nose. But the putrid smell keeps you awake, a reminder of your goal, a reminder of what truly matters— Hobie. Your love that is currently in shackles, hands bound tighter than the rope around his neck.

Lyla snaps you awake, her own horse huffing from the intense speed.

“Your eyes keep glossing over, duchess, keep ‘em clear for me, yeah?” She yells above the loud hoofbeats.

“I will, are you sure about your plan?”

“My guild consists of a bunch of sacks of shits that'll do anything for a quick coin.” You knit your eyebrows in worry. “But they're loyal to a fault, ‘sides, your captain used to be one of us, once upon a time.”

“What?” You spot the capital's sign, entering the city without stopping. There's a fork in the road as you ride towards the center of the city. The familiar smell of the sea fills you as you ride closer and closer to your destination.

“A story for another day, gorgeous.” She rides faster, her guns clinking against the saddle. “I'll ride ahead, gather as many as I can. Go to him, and disrupt the festivities.” Her voice fades as she hurries off.

Lyla heads towards the left whilst you ride on the right, trying to remember the directions she told you during the short ride.

Numerous buildings whizz by you as you ride faster and faster. Rickety stone buildings turn into elegant carved marble. The streets become smoother as you get closer to the palace. You heard the crowd before you saw them.

Bernard stops in his tracks, right at the edge of the thousands of people clambering to see the execution. He whines as you try to calm him down. Some of the common people are quiet, eyes straight towards the stage where a large man with a black hood stands. The scraping of the ax getting sharpened makes your heart stop.

The palace looms overhead, its golden terrace holds the royals, faces smug, wigs high as they look down at the crowd. Right next to them stands Mathias, hand hastily bandaged, still dripping in blood. His face contorts into pain as he clutches at his injury. You draw your father's gun out, resisting the urge to shoot at the man, but with how far you are, you know you'll miss.

Scanning the stage, you bite your tongue, preventing a pained whimper from getting out.

You've made it, and he has too.

Clad in a white undershirt with the sleeves too big for his frame, trousers too short for his legs, hands tied behind his back, face beaten. Hobie stands with his back straight despite all the red gashes under his thin shirt.

You whisper his name like he can hear you above the yells of the people. You're frozen, hands shaking, eyes unblinking at his form.

The uniformed men make him kneel, his knees slam harshly against wooden floors.

Hobie was never afraid of dying before, he avoided it a hundred times. Yet, his binded hands quiver, dull grey eyes scanning around the crowd, he tries to find familiar faces amidst all the strangers. Trying to find his crew, not for help, but the thought of dying in front of them fills him with sorrow. He doesn't see them, and he's glad. Moreso when he doesn't see your face, he doesn't want you to experience what he had seen before.

But there's a part of him that wants to see you for one last time before steel kisses his neck. He wants to feel your lips against his again, but for now, having the memory of it is enough. The pearl you gave him is cold against his chest, he wishes to hold it again.

Having you in his arms however brief is enough for him, he'll think of you when the blade strikes him down for the last time.

Even with his imminent death, he still finds the will to smile, the same smile you love so much. It's enough to snap you awake.

A navy officer yells above the crowd, scroll in hand, voice booming and commanding. “Here stands the notorious pirate Hobart Brown, he stands here waiting for his sentence. The crimes he has committed are atrocious enough that the crown has automatically given him the guilty verdict!” The people don't cheer, some even boo and hiss at the man. You inhale deeply, hand holding on to the reigns tighter, as you weave Bernard through the crowd. Surprisingly, they part for you.

“What say you, Hobart Brown?”

Hobie chuckles deeply, lips split and bloodied, he grins. “It's captain, actually!” His voice drives you to ride faster, gun raised. He twists around to look at the nobles in their high tower. “It's captain Hobie Brown, you fuckin' wankers!” Cackling, the officer kicks him down. He falls, gasping, neck landing harshly at the stone slab that still has remnants of its last guest.

Still, Hobie yells obscenities, “you haven't won! You might cut my head but two more will replace me! Just like how I replaced the emerald bastard from the south!” He tries to sit up but another man holds him down. “They'll be stronger and better than me! From my death, the people will gather at your gates and break your golden walls!”

The executioner raises his large ax, the sun bouncing off the metal.

Hobie quiets down at the glimmer of the ax shining in his eyes. Whispering the names of his loyal crew, then he softly calls for you like an acolyte prays for forgiveness.

The crowd parts for you like the sea parts for a sailing ship. Giddying up, hooves hitting loudly against stone, you aim.

It's the end, but it doesn't have to be.

“Hobie!” You scream as loud as you can before you shoot.

He blinks in surprise for a second, the man holding him down scampers away as a shot rings out. Now free, Hobie quickly moves away from the stone slab as your bullet hits the executioner's hood right in-between his eyes.

Gasping, the ax falls next to Hobie's head with a thud. The edge is embedded in the wood, missing his face just a few inches away. Eyes staring at the clear sky, he thinks he has died when your face suddenly appears in front of him.

“Scuttlebutt,” he softly says in disbelief.

“Hi, captain, I'm here to rescue you.” You smile at him, “hold on a minute.” Sitting up right, you shoot at the remaining officer. A body thuds, and you return to his side. “I've got you.” You say as you help him sit up, hands already untying his bonds.

Hobie looks at you like a sailor looks at the sea for the first time, with reverence, and awed by the sheer beauty. “You've got me.”

Ropes falling off his aching wrists, he moves to hold your face desperately. Without a second thought, he kisses you fervently. Life spreads back to him, fingertips electric as he holds your face close. Lips warm, you kiss back like it's just you and him. Hands instinctively sliding to his head, you pull away when you feel scruff under your palm.

“What did they do to your hair?!” You almost weep, hands roaming across his bare head. “Oh my god, they have to pay for this.”

Hobie laughs, still holding your face like holding on to a precious pearl. “It'll grow back.” Tears prick your eyes, mirroring his own. “I love you, you did good, scuttlebutt.”

“I did good?” You peck his chapped lips once more.

“Yeah, love.” He prevents you from looking at the military that has their weapons raised and their eyes targeting you and him. “You did very well—” tears escape his grey eyes when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

It's the end.

“I love you too,” you know it's the end. “I'll see you back at the revenge?”

“Save some of Finn's bread for me, yeah?” Hobie leans his forehead atop yours. “I'm sorry.” His voice falters.

“Don't be, I'm glad I fell in that net.” You hold on to him for dear life. Etching his warmth in your brain so you remember it until you're cold. “I'd run towards that dock all over again if I had the chance again.”

It's the end, and you hold him close.

As you embrace each other, as your love is displayed for all to see, your warmth radiates through the crowd. You burn together with him.

Fire consumes and burns but it also lights the way.

The silence wraps around the city center, then, someone yells, pushing off the officer who has his gun aimed at your head. The people follow, rioting against their oppressors.

You both stare below in disbelief, hand cradling your head, he shields your eyes from seeing the violence unfold. Just when bullets hit flesh, and knives slash at necks, an explosion booms above.

Hobie holds onto you tighter, battered arms wrapped around you protectively as debris and smoke fills the whole place. The building across the palace is in flames, and from the billowing ashes out comes a familiar face.

Gwen takes off her hood, feet precariously standing on the ledge, then another form comes out of the smoke, Miles takes his stance next to the first mate, handing her a long rope.

“Holy shit! It's them!” Hobie exclaims, letting you see them with your own eyes.

You grin as you spot them above, “it's them,” you say in shock. A second later, they jump off the building effortlessly, guns raised as they land on their feet right next to the stage.

“I'll cover you!” Miles yells above the chaos as more and more buildings around the palace erupt in a chorus of explosions.

Gwen clambers next to you, relief on her face, hugging the two of you. Embracing back, she leans away to stare at you and her captain.

“You fucking idiots! I'd slap you over the head if I didn't love you both.”

“We love you too, Gwendy.” Hobie smiles amidst the aches.

“What he said, Gwendy.” You beam at her with overwhelming love.

“Love you too, now we need to get you out of here.”

“I have a ship docked somewhere, it's called the osprey. Take it and—” You start but Hobie and Gwen interrupt.

“You make it sound like you're not comin’ with us.”

“Y/N,” Gwen warns as she helps you two on your feet.

“I’m coming with—” a gun goes off.

Blood splatters across your faces. Crimson blooms across Gwen's stomach.

“...oh” she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together, hand pressing on her belly. You catch Gwen in your arms as you feel the fear in you spread. She calls your name weakly.

Hobie stares at you with terrified eyes as he clutches the back of Gwen's head.

“No, no, don't speak—just… oh fuck!” You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a part of your gown to stuff it inside her wound. Ichor spills out of her like waterfalls. “I've got you!” She yells in pain and you simultaneously hear Miles scream.

Flicking your tear filled eyes over to Miles, he has his back on the ground, face contorted into pain whilst Mathias has his boot on his shooting hand. Miles still fights, kicking and scratching at the man's leg.

“This is what happens when you disrupt—” Red appears on his side as Hobie uses your fallen gun to shoot him where he has his foot crushing atop Miles’ hand. Mathias yelps in pain, a throaty sound escaping from his pale lips.

Hobie is filled with rage, embers flickering in him, turning into flames and then a blaze that burns his insides into ash.

Miles coughs as Mathias runs away towards the enormous church right next to the palace. He pushes away people, blood trailing behind him.

“Miles!” You yell, in your relief, he stands back up, weaving around people to clamber up the steps of the stage.

“I'm here!” He crawls over to Gwen, gently clutching her pale face. “Oh god no, please,” Miles looks at you. “Fix her, please.” Tears slide down his cheeks. “Please.”

You look towards Hobie, not knowing what to do, but said man is nowhere to be found. You briefly spot him running around the crowd, cutting down coppers swiftly with your father's gun and a stray cutlass, following after the man who has shot at his family.

Not again, you think, hands drenched once again in crimson. Not again, not again. You've failed once again.

Someone calls next to you, familiar hands holding yours.

“Tell us what to do.” Yuri thaws you out from your frozen state. Gwen gurgles, grip around your wrist weakening. James appears next to Yuri as you see in your peripheral the same mercenary and his men shooting at soldiers. Lyla cackles near them, adding her guild to the mix in the chaos. “Y/N,” Yuri calls again sternly. “We need you.”

With a sniff, you compose yourself, for Gwen. “Keep your hands on her wound, pack it with cloth then keep pushing.” Gwen groans, you look at her apologetically. “I know it hurts, I'm sorry but we need to do this. Let us do this.”

“I saw a doctor's clinic near here.” James pipes up, “if we take her there will you be able to save her?”

“Yes, we need to—”

Pavitr runs towards the group, guns raised, eyes full of rage once he sees Gwen. “No…” he says weakly. He fixes his composure, for Gwen. “James and I will cover you while the three of you carry Gwen.” He instructs, voice steady.

“No, no, no!” Gwen protests. “It hurts— I can't—”

“You can!” Miles beats you to it. “D’you remember what I told you when we realized Y/N and Hobie weren't behind us after we got attacked?” She nods weakly, lips bitten to stop her pained whimpers. “I meant it, Gwen. I meant all of it yet I haven't shown it because I'm a goddamn coward. Let me show you how much I love you, but I can't do that if you don't let us carry you. So please, let us carry you.”

Gwen smiles, icy eyes staring fondly at Miles. They have a wordless conversation, then Miles gives her a gentle peck on her forehead.

“As long as the d-doc here follows our captain.” She says.

“What—? No, you need me.” You shake your head.

“We already know what to do,” she winces, “you're the only person that can stop him, he'll die, Y/N. Meanwhile I've got a chance with them beside me. And he's all alone.”

You look at the others, they all nod and you blink in surprise. “But—”

“We have her, wifey.” Yuri smiles kindly at you. “This isn't our first bullet wound. Go and fetch our captain for us would ya?”

You have no time to think about it, so you choose what they instructed you to do. “Keep your hands on her and support her back—” your eyes find the familiar large man wearing your rubies. “Oi!” He pauses from crushing a soldier's arm. “Get a handful of your men and help them get to the doctor's!”

“Do I have to?” He asks, shrugging.

“Yes! I paid you!”

The man sighs then he gestures to a few of his people to climb up the stage. Before you let go of Gwen, you stare daggers at the men in the fake uniforms. “Keep all of them alive and I might just give you a piece of Hazelside.”

“Say no more, duchess, we got ‘em.”

“Gwen—” You take one last look over to her.

“Go, I don't plan on dying today.”

“You better. Meet us back at the ship.” You roam your eyes at the crew like it's the last time you would see them. With a nod towards Yuri, you slide your hands away quickly, Yuri replaces the space you left with her own.

Wordlessly you turn away from them. You fight yourself from looking back. Running away towards Hobie, you hope that it's not too late.

Weaving through the crowd, dodging bullets and swords, you keep your head down and keep your eyes forward at the grand church waiting ahead. The spires are tall and sharp, reminding you of the dragons that rose up from the sea and blocked out the moon. Gargoyles decorate the roofs, all stone and eyes large, mouths agape, unmoving.

You lift the skirt of your tattered gown, it might be covered in blood but the white colour of it is a stark contrast to the dark chaos surrounding you. It acts as a beacon to the people as they see you in their ranks, a noble in their eyes that bears gold and silver around her neck and sleeves. Someone who fought everyone just to get to her pirate captain, they find it in themselves to continue fighting. A few even helps you get to your destination by blocking any guards or soldiers from laying their hands on you.

Smoke in your lungs, steel clanging against steel. Blades slashing at limbs, people screaming in all directions, both with rank and without, they all end up in the same fate. You run through the blood soaked field.

Feet sprinting across the field, people are few and far in between once you get nearer and nearer towards the church. Hands on the large doors, you push the heavy oak to no avail. It's locked, the evidence of it is the rattling noise it makes as you shake it in desperation.

Hobie's in there, and you'd do anything to get to him.

You go around the structure to find a window that's big enough for you to slither into. But all the stained glass windows are too high up for you to reach even if you try to break one. Losing hope, you turn a corner towards the back. You finally breathe when you see a wooden door. Without wasting time, you push it open with your shoulder, shoving it, the rust covered hinges creak with your strength. And finally, it bursts open with one final push.

The sight alone made you stop in your tracks. Clutching your dagger, a finely dressed man lays dead in a pool of blood. A sword embedded in his back, a cracked crown sitting next to his bloodied head. The person standing over the king is none other than his own wife, her face isn't one of sadness but of sheer happiness as she grins at her husband's dead body. Blood dripping off her royal hands, she lifts her head to gaze upon you.

“Hello, little bird, you finally made it.” Caroline stands in front of the altar, the kaleidoscope of lights from the glass windows acts as her spotlight. Her gown is in rich velvet, furs covering her shoulder. And a large tiara on top of her intricate powdered wig.

“You killed him.” Gripping your dagger tighter, you stay away from the bloody queen.

“I did,” Caroline giggles, a sound that sends shivers through your spine. “You look marvelous in your wedding gown by the way. A shame that you didn't get married to that fine young man.” Her voice echoes around the large church, its ceilings are high and painted with saints. They look down at you, eyes lifeless. “Lieutenant.” She calls and the man answers, coming out of the shadows and into the pews. “Do me a favour and kill her for me.”

The disheveled man walks over to you, hand still decorated by your bite.

“Why don't you kill me yourself? Like how you killed your husband.” You address the woman, taunting her.

The queen raises a hand and the navy man stops immediately. She smiles and takes the sword out of her husband's body with ease, then she steps over his body without remorse.

“With pleasure.” She unclasps her cloak, the heavy cloth thuds against the marble. “If I couldn't kill your mother personally, I'd settle for killing you instead.”

“What the fuck—!” The queen arches her sword, thankfully you parry it with your dagger. You know you'll lose in the duel with your smaller weapon against hers and her swordsmanship. A yell echoes from above, a distinct scream from who you hope is from Mathias.

“I wasn't lying when I said you remind me of her!” She slashes, right foot pointed towards you, dodging the sharp edge, the heels of your feet hit a pew, then you fall backwards, back and elbows hitting the hardwood. “But she wasn't much of a fighter just like you!” Her eyes are ablaze as you scramble away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Your voice carries off around the church. “You said you were friends!”

Raising your dagger to shield your face when she tries to slash at your chest, she stands atop you, knee right next to your thigh, leg perching her up. Steel dangerously close to your face, wrists aching from her push, you take your free hand to grip the sharp edge of your dagger to combat her own strength. You feel the knife dig into your palm.

“Why?” The queen cackles, leaning her mad face close. “Because she's the reason why I'm here, she's the reason why that man has ruined me until I couldn't even recognize myself—!”

Lifting your legs, bending your knees, you kick her right in her chest. Making her lose her balance, face falling flat on the marble floors. You take the opportunity to crawl and stand up, sprinting away from her. As you bolt off towards the altar, and towards the door to the bell tower, the stairs are within your reach, but Caroline yanks you by your skirt. You fall off the steps of the altar, body and dagger sliding off the smooth marble.

Groaning, she points her weapon towards your neck, taking your mother's necklace by her blade. “Why did you kill them? For revenge?” You ask, vision blurring from the way your head hit the floor. Everything aches in you, but you continue to fight.

“No, for the satisfaction of them being dead.” She eyes the golden necklace and you glare at her. “She was meant to take the crown, not me. Instead she ignored her duty and ran off with a bastard, and I was forced to marry that fucking beast!” Her voice booms, the saints above look down at the chaos. “Forced to carry his children, children I never wanted but loved nonetheless. Children that I never saw grow up because they were taken from me the second they came out of me!” Her hand shakes around the sword.

You slyly inch your hand towards your dagger that's only a hair width away from your fingertips. You let her continue as the tears in her eyes fall on your bloodied face.

“I never wanted to be queen, all I've ever wanted was to see the world. Your mother took that away from me, and now her daughter is living my fucking dream! The second I knew you were alive I wanted to wring your fucking neck. To hurt you just like her choices had on me.” She twists her sword so the blunt edge is kissing your neck, torture, she's planning on sawing your head off with the blunt edge. “If she can't pay, I'd settle for making you hurt instead.”

“You want to kill me because of what happened decades ago? You're fucking mad if you think sins are passed from parent to child! I never knew them!” You fight back despite the blade near your neck. “Do you understand that you caused the same pain to me that the king has caused you? Whatever you want to call it, it's still revenge!” Caroline pushes the cutlass closer, so close that you can feel it in your throat, choking you. “You're blaming the wrong people for your misfortune, blame the people who used you, who said yes to his every whim, not the couple who only wanted to marry the one they love!”

“I’m the victim here—!”

“You are, but who points the sword towards the innocent?” She blinks, lips wobbling. “Look at you, Mathias told me you're brilliant, but you never thought this part through, haven't you? What do you think the nobles of the land will do to you the moment they hear of your regicide? Who will they blame? Me, who bears the mark of your cruelty? Or you, who has the king's blood on your golden hands?”

You distract her enough to finally reach the dagger, swiftly, you plunge it to the nearest part of her that you can manage, her thigh. She screams in agony, sword and crown clanging loudly on the floor. The once favoured queen clutches her wound that's gushing blood, seeping out of her velvet dress and spilling over the white marble.

Unexpectedly, she cries as she desperately wraps her skirt around the gushing wound. You clamber up to your feet, eyes flitting over the stoic man when Caroline calls for him to kill you where you stand. He doesn't move from his position near the confessionals.

“Are you gonna fight me too? An eye for an eye?” You ask, hands shaking while you bend down for your crimson drenched dagger.

“No, your father and I are even.” The simple words turn your eyes the same shade as the fluid pooling around the queen.

“You're just gonna stand there?” You ask while Caroline's wails echo around the expansive church.

“I'm waiting for you to leave so I can help her.” He seems to be unbothered. A scream rings out from above, louder than the woman's screams. Alarm bells trigger in your mind. “Sounds like someone needs your help.”

“Don't follow me,” you threaten, knife pointed at him as you slither towards the door. “Don't help your captain.”

“Alexander!” She screams for the lieutenant.

“You're right, he's already dead anyway, not my problem anymore.” His eye follows you, “Good luck, duchess.”

With one look towards the mysterious man, you get a glimpse of him crouching next to the woman, hands casually tamping down the rushing blood. Locking the door behind you, you run once again.

The winding spiral staircase seems to go up forever, hand clutching your dagger, you don't even feel the pain in your ankles anymore. Numbness flashes over you for a second, but you carry on. The walls get smaller and tighter as you go on, the stone scratches your hands, the small windows barely provide any light for you. The sounds of struggle get louder, so you speed off with the last of your strength.

Rushing, you make it to the top where Mathias has his hands wrapped around Hobie's neck, with no ounce of hesitation, you plunge your dagger in the devil's flesh, right in between his clavicle.

With a shriek, Mathias lets go of Hobie. Your captain gasps for air, clutching his neck. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, relief washing over you just from seeing him breathe.

“I have you!” Holding his face, you thank the stars that he holds you back with his warm hands.

Hobie utters your name softly, “You have a habit of savin’ me, eh, scuttlebutt?” He smiles at you even with his left eye swelling, even with his mouth full of ichor.

You grin, getting him back to his feet. “The others are waiting—!” A large hand picks you up, wrapping a thick arm around your waist, the other is holding your own weapon in his cracked knuckles. Your own blade is placed harshly against your throat.

A trickle of blood drips from your flesh, and Hobie has the same look back on the revenge. Terrified, the swirling greys of his eyes are mortified at the scene in front of him.

Mathias still lives despite the laceration on his neck, despite his life rushing off of him in waves. He stands precariously on the edge of the tower, his back against the sea, the waves lapping against the cliffs below. He holds you tight as a noose when the wind rushes from behind.

There's a bout of silence hanging in between, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat at your fearful face.

“Don't—” Hobie's voice is broken, pleading desperately. “Please,” Not again, not again. The words scream at him. Not her, never her. “Take me instead.”

Mathias gurgles a response. “Just like old times, eh?”

As the blade kisses your neck, you could only look at Hobie. The copper bell is hanging behind him, large and magnificent, and he stands there with his hand desperately reaching towards you, his gun holds no bullets, sword lay broken in half near his feet.

It's the end, but he declines for it to end, for your life to end at hands of the same man that ended his old love three years ago.

He thinks fate is cruel, he thinks the fates hate him. He thinks his life is a Greek tragedy that was waiting to be written for the fates’ entertainment. He refuses to give them the ending they wanted.

You know it's the end, but it doesn't have to be the end for him too.

There's no other option, no other hope but, "No more sacrifices." You whisper to him even though you know he couldn't hear you, at the same time, you whisper an apology to him.

Images of the past six months flashes in your mind. Images of the tavern you once called home, images of the ship you still call your home. Images of the people you've come to love, images of your island and the sand in between your toes, and the sun on your back. Images of Hobie smiling down at you, images of him holding you close as you cry in his arms.

Images of you learning to love him.

You love him and all his sharp edges, all his anger and all his warmth. You loved him, and that's all that matters in life. To love someone so wholeheartedly that it burrows into your bones and digs deep into your marrows, never letting go. You loved him, and he's worth it for what you're about to do. To be loved back is a gift that he graciously granted you, you intend to cherish it until your end.

You call his name like the softest of silk wrapped around your tongue. "Hobie," and you smile at him, letting your smile tell him that he wasn't born to be a knife, letting your smile tell him that you love him more than the moon loves the tides.

He whispers back your name, pleading with you, for he knows you more than he knows himself, and he knows what you're about to do.

With a loop of your foot around Mathias' ankle, you pull hard, then you let yourself fall backwards.

“Alis volat propriis” You softly say, prying the knife from Mathias’ hand.

And fly you did.

Fear encapsulates him as you fall, the same fear flows out of you like spring water as you plunge into the dark depths.

Hobie refuses to look, frozen on the spot, unblinking eyes still staring at the space you left. His heart feels like it's about to give out as he says your name over and over again like a mantra.

He's a knife meant to grieve.

Slowly, his feet move for him. Body stiff, he makes it to the ledge. Grief stricken eyes darting below, he lets out a guttural wail that carries on with the wind.

Clutching his broken heart, he falls to his knees. He keeps repeating your name as he stares at the bubbles rising up on the surface, the waves deliver seafoam on the beach below, and with it, hope still clings to him.

“No,” A sob breaks through when you don't emerge a second later. “...no, c'mon scuttlebutt, don't fuckin' leave me.”

Grief rolls over his skin like tiny pinpricks of sorrow puncturing his insides and into his scarred heart. Your face flashes in front of him, and the voice inside him asks, 'will it be bad if you follow?'

“Brown?” A familiar voice calls behind him, Hobie whirls around, grief evident on his face, Miguel already knows what happend. He shakes his bloody head profusely, “where's— where is she?”

Hobie doesn't answer, he turns back towards the sea. Agony filling his very being as he stares below.

“No!” Miguel follows Hobie's eyes. And then he screams for you. He searches for you under the waves.

Hobie lays his head on the wall of the bell tower. A minute, it's been a minute since you fell, yet no sign of a body has floated up. The sky is still calm, the sun still shines, yet, you don't resurface.

He blinks away when he sees fingers reaching amongst the waves. “Did you see that?” Praying, praying to any deity out there that is listening to him, he prays that his mind isn't playing a cruel joke on him.

“What?”

Hobie stands up, taking Miguel's face to turn it towards the waters. Something moves under the seafoam, someone moves under the seafoam.

His heart picks up speed, and he rushes down the stairs. Miguel follows close by, their feet thudding loudly on the stairs. They ignore the various pains in their body, what matters is you, and they intend to get to your side as quickly as possible.

They go through the broken door that Miguel kicked, and they run over a puddle of blood without a body. Sprinting outside, the sea breeze greets them. They don't stop for anyone or anything, even though the palace burns to the ground behind them, even though the heat from the melting golden gates sears their backs. They continue downward towards the path to the beach.

Hobie trips on a rock, Miguel helps him up swiftly.

From the tides, you rise once more.

Heaving from the swim, drenched and sore. You grin at the two men rushing towards you. Like the waves lapping at your feet, relief washes over them.

You raise your arms in time just before Hobie crashes his body to yours. His face finds safety in the crook of your neck. Arms holding you tight and comfortable, he breaths you in, taking a deep shuddering breath. You smell like the sea. He can't believe you're alive, can't believe that you're back in his arms.

“I lost the dagger,” you say against his cheek as you press cold kisses on his skin.

“I'll get you a new one.” Tears flow out of his eyes, he feels like he's dreaming, he feels like fate has finally granted him reprieve. “I’ll get you a hundred more, fuck that, a thousand more if you asked.”

“I just want one.” You chuckle.

“I'll get you one then.” Hobie peels himself off you, fingers roaming your face, the heel of his hand is placed atop your pulse, making sure he didn't fall off the tower himself. “You're alive.” He says breathlessly, “you fuckin' swam!”

“I had a good teacher.” You say as you hold him tenderly. “He's dead, it's over, Hobie.” Salty tears in your lashes, he pulls you in for another hug. Eyes closed, you savour the calmness with the sound of the rushing sea behind you, knowing that Mathias lays beneath its waves with your dagger embedded in his eye. “It's over, and I'm alright.”

Holding your hand towards Miguel who sits on his knees on the sand, eyes glowing with consolation. You flex your hand towards him so he could hold your hand. He stands up, taking it willingly, squeezing once like how he held your parents’ hands once upon a time.

Miguel nods proudly at you, gently pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, he gives you and Hobie space. You mouth a thank you towards the man.

—

“Shit!” James exclaims, jumping up and down on the docks. “Look at her! She's magnificent!”

“Spell ‘magnificent’, James.” Yuri taunts.

“Don't ruin this for me!” He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear like a child in a sugar shop. “You're actually giving us this ship?”

“Mm-hmm—” before you could finish nodding, James sprints off towards the fine ship. Yuri winks at you before she follows behind James.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the waters in pink and orange light. James isn't wrong, the ship is magnificent. It's bigger than the black hellion, much bigger. Two crow's nests sit at the highest point of the masts. The body is well maintained, oak still shining in the late afternoon sun. Silver violets and hazelnuts decorate the sides, a reminder of what could've been.

Looking at your new home, you shift your gaze to Hobie, knowing wherever he is, as long as you're with him, you're home.

Your tired eyes flick over the figurehead of an osprey with its wings outstretched around the head of the ship. Hobie taps your head with his own gently.

“It needs some work done.”

You chuckle as you fix your hold on him. Still in your wedding gown, skin still smelling like the sea, you move impossibly closer to him. You're both winded, but Hobie has sustained more injuries than you and needed more help in standing up straight. “Do you think we should change the name?”

“Love,” he turns his head towards you, his smile almost makes you kiss him right there and then. “I think I've got a few ideas, for now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“Alright— wait, where's Gwen?”

“Here, worry much, landlubber?” She asks on her stretcher. Miles, Pavitr and an unknown blond man carry her.

“Well you were shot, Gwendy, I think I have every right to be worried.”

“I'm fine now, can't even feel a thing!” She smiles and you recognize her state.

“I think that's the medication talking.” You eye the stranger, “and who might you be?”

“Oi,” Hobie points at the man. “You better not cause any trouble Stacy.”

You lightly gasp, finally noticing the resemblance.

“Not planning on causing any, captain.” Gwen's father smiles and gives you a curt nod.

“Can we hurry the chit chat?” Miles groans.

“You telling me I'm too heavy, Morales?” Gwen teases but the fatigue must've taken a toll on Miles as he takes it seriously.

“W-what? Of course not!”

“You calling my daughter heavy?” Her father jokes back. They're father and daughter alright.

“No! Let's just get on the ship.” Miles pouts, you send him a smile, wordlessly giving him your thanks. He shakes his head, hiding his grin in reply.

“Pav!” You call after Pavitr, “tea later?”

He beams at you, happiness almost blinding you. “Hell yeah!” Jaunting happily, he practically skips off, to Gwen's protest, who still lays on the gurney, shakes from his little dance.

Miguel taps your shoulder, Hobie lets you go so you could hug the man.

“Room for one more?” He asks while patting your back.

Leaning away, your eyes widen, smile widening. “What!”

“I meant for Lyla, kid.” Miguel laughs, smile lines appearing.

“Oh, you're not coming with us?” Disappointment is evident in your voice.

“No, sorry. Maybe one day. I've got unfinished business” He holds your shoulders, “you better take care or I'll chase you again.”

“Oh god, don't say that!” You giggle whilst he mirrors your smile. “If you're not coming, then you can have this back.” Taking off the locket, you place it in his rough palms. “A reminder of them,” you close his fingers around the gold. “Besides, I already have his gun. You deserve something of theirs too.”

The sun shines in his eyes. “This was Gabriella’s, she gifted it to your mother when she got sick. It's a family heirloom.”

“She was Gabriella's godmother, wasn't she?”

“Yes, and your father was her godfather.”

You tap his hand. “It's back in the right hands then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel sniffs, neck craning towards Hobie who sits on a crate. “And you,” Hobie dramatically points at himself. “Take care of my goddaughter, or I'll come after you again.”

Hobie, smirks, “aye, aye, admiral.” He mocks a salute.

Miguel shoots you a look, “you sure about that one?”

You gaze at Hobie, your Hobie. “I'm sure.” He winks at you and you wink back.

“God, I gotta let you go before I get sick.” You chortle as Miguel hugs you one last time. Pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, he nods once, staring at your face, seeing his friends’ faces in yours, saying goodbye to the three of you. “Be good, I'll see you in the sea.”

“Looking forward to it, uncle. Don't get caught by the coppers.” He lets you go with a laugh, unhitching his horse and then getting on, he rides off.

Lyla suddenly appears from the dust with a big grin on her face, she carries suitcases upon suitcases in her arms. “Where to, captain?” She asks you.

“Not the captain, he is.” You gesture towards Hobie who doesn't even correct Lyla. He just waves at her with a small shrug.

“I thought whoever owned the boat was the captain, anyway! Off to adventure!” She cackles into the sunset, feet thudding loudly as she hurls all her luggage on the ship. You vaguely hear someone yell ‘who the fuck are you?!’

You ignore it for now, how could you not when Hobie stares at you so sweetly that you prefer this than chocolate?

“She's not wrong y’know.” He says whilst you saunter towards him. Stretching his legs, he gives you space to stand in between them.

“Are you planning on giving me your title, captain?” You tease, sliding your hands up and down his arms. His own is wrapped around your middle, staring up at you with endearment.

“You're already a captain,” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. He sighs, so full of love for the woman in his arms. “of my heart—”

“I knew you would say that!” You laugh, feeling like the weight off your shoulders has finally turned into dust. And he feels like the fish bone stuck in his throat is finally gone.

Hobie smiles softly at you, heart shaped grey eyes full of life. “Are you sure about this? Stayin’ I mean.”

You squeeze the back of his neck, already missing how his hair would tickle your palms. But you love him even with his scruffy head. He looks handsome with or without it, you'll never tell him or his ego would implode. At least now you get the pleasure of seeing it grow, you can't help but press a sickeningly sweet kiss atop his head.

The sound of the anchors getting lifted up fills your ears so you lean closer for him to hear your words better.

“I'll stay as long as you want me too.”

“Forever then?”

“Forever.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Until I'm cold, you can't escape me.”

Hobie has a lopsided smile on his lips, grey eyes aglow with affection. “You're still in your white dress,” you raise an eyebrow. “Y’know what that means—” Lifting you up like a bride, he carries you towards the ship as you yelp and giggle in his arms. “Off to our honeymoon then!”

As the sun sets, you set off to new beginnings. You've found where you belong, you've finally found home.

A/N: And it's done!! Thank you all so much for reading, interacting and genuinely showing your support whether it's by making fanart or sending your thoughts, I'm forever grateful for all of them!! Love you ❤️

Already missing the crew? They'll be back for Between the Devil and the Sea Book 2!! You can check out my ☕ page for a lil sneak peek!

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spinchip · 5 months

Text

BEEN THERE ONCE BEFORE AND I WISH THAT I NEVER DIED

Pairings: none Word count: 6500 Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and death. Gore, murder, Ear trauma and limb loss tw

Summary: Zane would do anything to keep the ninja safe.

There is a pot of tea between you, sitting in Master Wu's private garden right outside the door to his room, and it’s some sort of oolong blend with a sweet smelling screen hanging over it. Osmanthus flowers float in your cup and you trace their pattern, watching them shift idly in what little breeze this summer day has brought you. The tea is too bitter despite the honey you’d added, over-steeped and thick on your tongue.

There is a sword on his lap, a sleek red sheath and neatly wrapped handles. There are no adornments on this blade, it is plain and unassuming, a tool for its master and whatever that may entail. Master Wu had asked you out here, months after the desperate fight for Ninjago at the corridor of elders (even longer after you had been torn apart by a power that was never yours to hold,) and the rattlesnake smile he’d offered as he’d led you out vanished the moment you were hidden from prying eyes. He makes your tea silently, and he burns it.

He looks at you in a way that makes you bristle, with eyes that no longer see you as human. Your silver skin itches, your tea tastes like ash.

“Do you know what a ninja is, historically?” He asks you finally, his voice quiet but clear over the space between you.

You do not, but you could look it up in an instant. You don’t do that either. He does not expect you to answer.

“They were said to be assassins. Hired blades sent to the house of the lands lord to slaughter them- the last recorded deaths by these assassins was years and years ago, but that was not the end of the era of the ninja. They snuck between the shadows, they pulled their hidden weapons, and they eliminated their targets cleanly and efficiently.” He waits, gauging your reaction. You can feel his eyes sit heavy on where your hands are deceptively calm around your tea cup, assessing, searching for something like he had that day he’d first laid eyes upon you in the frozen pond.

A phantom of a red flashes across your HUD that screams DANGER- and despite how there is no real warning clawing its way across your eyes, you know you should be afraid anyway. Tread carefully, you are in dangerous territory. Do not react. Control.

“Is this a history lesson?”

“Perhaps.” Master Wu murmurs, finding something in your expression with those dark eyes.

“The best way to defeat my enemy is to make him my friend.” You can’t help but say, a parrot of his own words, your eyes calculating.

“And if your kindness is rejected?” He does not skip a beat.

You hesitate, the clink of your cup as you set it down on the table too loud on your ears.

“You are no longer a child, Zane. Your innocence died with the Overlord. The others still have that innocence.” You jerk, the reminder of your death bruising on your soul, but he doesn't handle you with kid gloves, “You’ve killed once, to protect them.” Sensei Wu does not touch his tea, and there is a rising sickness in your stomach, “Can you do it again?”

He draws the blade and it’s blood red, holding it out to you, handle first.

To protect them?

His eyes are dark and there’s a danger there, but he has always been kind to you. Like a father when yours had vanished, warm smiles and encouraging words flashing across your eyes. Visions of fire and blood and death color your head along with it, superimposed on top of your friends and family. You’d do anything to protect the people you love, wouldn’t you?

The sword is a healthy weight in your palm.

---

Police tape surrounds a dilapidated old building, great yellow swathes of it wrapped down the sidewalk into the street and officers at each corner standing vigil over the body slumped half in the gutter and covered by a sheet. News vans line the street waiting for the opportunity to film once the coroner has packed away the gore and it’s mostly family-friendly for the afternoon broadcast. Flood lights and lamps are set up around the premise, little yellow evidence markers salting the earth down the doors of the warehouse and up to the body. Apparently deceptively unassuming, the Mechanics home base is filled to the brim with his lackeys and stolen tech- or, it was.

“I guess the Mechanic got tangled up with the wrong guy.” Kai says breathlessly, spooked as the camera pans over the overflowing body bags being loaded into the coroner's van.

The Commissioner taps the remote to his VCR on his leg anxiously, “You heard on the news already, i’m sure, but we suspect the unsub used a long blade of some kind,” He’s visibly shaken, “A sword, perhaps- the evidence was very…” he makes a slashing motion from his throat, miming blood striping the wall behind him.

A blood spattered window, the killing so brutal a heavy streak of gore laced up the glass, is still visible to the probing crime scene photographer.

The graying man slides a manila folder thick with printed pictures across the table and Jay pointedly pushes it away from himself, looking queasy. You reach out and pick it up with hands that seem to float endlessly away from your body, but you’ve felt like this since stumbling home two nights ago when the moon was full and no one else was awake. You don’t hesitate to open it, staring down at the first photo with mild surprise.

Cole jerks away before steeling himself and glancing back over. The picture shouldn’t surprise you, but it does anyway. It looks so messy. The body in the street can barely be recognized in the photo, too mutilated- the only identifying feature being the mechanical hand resistant to the blades of a sword. The mechanic had been reduced to mince meat, blood seeping up through shredded flesh and broken bones. Blood flows in a river down the stairs of the warehouse, down onto the sidewalk, flowing into the gutters.

“This seems… motivated.” Lloyd grimaces at the image but doesn’t look away.

“That’s certainly one word for it,” The commissioner huffs, “We’ve been calling it ‘unhinged.’”

You flip to the next image. Bodies piled on top of each other, strewn across the room, throats slit and bellies gutted and in one particularly horrific scene brain matter and skull fragments rendering a man unrecognizable.

Your memories of that night are fuzzy and nebulous.

Nya takes one of the photos, “Who would do something like this?”

“We were hoping you knew,” A beat- the man sighs, “The mechanic, he’s hard to keep tabs on. We didn’t really know who his enemies were other than those present, and you all had the most contact with him, but it’s too much to hope you have a lead for us, huh?”

He blows out an explosive breath, “Tell me, does the attack itself look familiar in any way? Anyone who comes to mind who has the capability to do something like that?”

You shake your head, blue boring holes into the eyes of a henchman who died trying to hold his intestines inside his gut, “No,” Your voice doesn't waver, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

---

Wu touches your shoulder firm and bruising but your skin cant purple under his nails anymore, “It gets easier.”

---

You stand in the threshold of the jail cell, the body in the room covered by a sheet. You had wondered if that really happened, bodies covered up by the police like in television dramas- this is the second time you’ve seen it. It won’t be the last. It’s interesting to know how fiction gets it right, sometimes. Kai distinctly can’t look, turned away, but you haven't been squeamish in a long time. You crouch low, reaching for the edge of the blanket to see, and Nya makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat when you lift the sheet to look.

This death is far more refined than the massacre you’d investigated this month- A clean cut across his throat, blood coating his sleep shirt and dried to the corners of his mouth. Droplets of red sprinkle his face where he’d tried to breathe through the ruined hole of his throat, coughing a plume of blood into the air that rained down on him as he died. His skin is waxy and his eyes glazed and clouded, he’s been dead for hours- but you knew that already.

Nya coughs, “Can you cover him up, please?”

You oblige, “I was trying to see what Information I could gather.” the sheet falls back over his face, hiding him away. There’s no reason to cover him up, the other inmates are locked in their cells until the investigation finishes and the body is removed. Privacy is a moot point, but maybe it’s about respect.

Lloyd turns away from where he’s shifting through the inmates belongings, “Well, anything?”

“He was killed hours ago. He’s been dead for a long while.” How much to say? “The murder weapon was a blade.”

“Same as the Mechanic.” Jay says from where he’s outside the cell and out of line of sight, the dead body and blood making him sick, “Did Fugi-Dove and him have any connections?”

“Not that we know of.” Nya frowns, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to convince everyone she’s unaffected by this, “Only us. It just seems so weird- He’s a small fry compared to the mechanic, why kill him? He’s harmless!”

“He broke Jay's elbow last week,” You remind her, “He was not harmless. Perhaps he had more secrets than we thought.”

“Who found him?” Cole murmurs, carefully keeping away from touching the crime scene.

“Eight AM guard round,” You answer him, standing up, “The four AM patrol missed him. Both officers were interrogated, but nothing came of it. It doesn’t appear to have been an inside job.”

“The culprit snuck into kryptarium prison, killed a man, and snuck out with none the wiser?” Nya snorts, “This place has gone to the dogs.”

Jay taps his foot impatiently and it echoes down the hallway, “Well, it’s not like Warden Noble runs a very tight ship around here, despite what he wants you to think. How many escaped convicts do we deal with on a weekly basis?”

“So what do we do about this?” Kai asks, frowning at the lump on the ground.

Fugi-dove was half slumped off his bed, his back flush to the ground and his legs still thrown over his bed and tangled up in his bedsheets. He’d been awake when he was attacked, his cheeks bitten to hell as if he’d attempted to scream through a hand sealed over his mouth that only let go once his vocal cords had been slashed through, and in his desperate attempt to stop from bleeding out or drowning in his own blood he’d thrashed himself right to the floor.

“We’ll look at the tapes and see what we can find.” Lloyd answers casually. Darkleys prepared him for death and gore, it didn’t bother him like it should.

“I thought officer Pey told us we were in a blind spot,” Cole points out, stepping out of the cell followed by Lloyd.

“Warden Noble used to be the principle of Darkleys,” the green ninja waits for you to join them on the other side of the cell. You feel cold all over, “And if there’s one thing I'm certain of, the man has eyes everywhere.”

“Does he?” You ask, fingers going numb.

Lloyd nods and locks the cell door behind you, “There will be tapes. He should be here any minute now, Officer Pey says he comes in at 10:00 on Saturdays.”

As if on cue, the Warden appears in a frenzy, tearing into the hallway and bee lining for the cell. He grimaces at the covered up body, “I leave Pey in charge for one night…” He sighs, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes, “Great.”

“Good morning, Warden.” Jay greets cheerfully.

“Says who?” The man replies darkly, “The media is gonna tear me a new one. This is going to lower our reputation even more.”

“Let us help you put the culprit behind these bars,” Lloyd offers, stepping forward with green ninja grace.

“I don’t think that’d do any good, he already got out once.” Kai mutters.

The warden graciously ignored Kai’s comment, “I haven't even had coffee yet.” He complains, running a rough hand over his mouth as he glares at the body.

“You had hidden cameras?” Lloyd pushes and the Warden nods, motioning to an inconspicuous looking fire alarm.

“It’s fake,” He tells him.

You walk towards it. A strange sense of doom washes over you, numbness following it. A camera. Evidence. How clearly would they be able to see the killer's face?

“Let me be of assistance,” You offer, casually making it to the alarm first. The moment you manage to open the glorified nanny cam and your fingers close around the USB, you focus a concentrated pulse of electromagnetic energy and wipe it clean. Anything saved to the storage space will have been obliterated, gone, corrupted and unsalvageable. You can feel your hands again.

“How could this have happened?” The warden asks, clicking through the empty USB over and over looking for footage that no longer exists.

Lloyd glances at you, but there’s no suspicion, “Was there anything weird about the camera? Had it been tampered with?”

You touch your chin and try not to let your hands shake, “No, but it was not a very complex mechanism. It could easily have been opened by someone familiar with this type of surveillance.”

“Someone from Darkleys?” Nya suggests.

Lloyd hums in thought, “I don’t know. It’s worth looking into.”

“When did we become detectives?” Jay complains, “Can’t you guys just call us when you need us to spinjitzu this guy?”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Jay pulls a face at that, “I’m a ninja! I shouldn’t have to put up with all this- this blood!”

“Do you know what a ninja is, historically?” you murmur.

No one hears you.

---

There are four more deaths the following month, both somewhat well-known villains with a penchant for collateral damage. The same slashing wounds as the last. Lloyd is the only person in the group who doesn’t look affected by the barrage of gore he’s being subjected to- other than you, of course. He’s reading over the newest police report that’d come their way with a hum, “He’s getting bolder.” He concludes, flipping through the crime scene pictures at the end.

“Bolder?” Cole questions, “It seems to me like he’s winding down. His first kill was the Mechanic and everyone working under him- 16 deaths on that one alone. Now he’s down to one.”

“The Mechanic was messy,” he examines the pictures, noting just how clean the newest death was. Not a drop of blood out of place other than the pool growing under the body, “He was surprised by all the people- he never intended to kill anyone other than their leader, that’s why that kill was so disorganized. It’s why the mechanic was nearly able to escape, before he caught him in the street. The bank barely needed to mop the floor for this one. He’s refined his skill.”

“He left Reflectras sidekick unharmed.” Kai pointed out, “What’s different between then and now?”

Lloyd flipped a picture his way- it’s a still from a grainy security camera. Reflectra is already dead in the photo, her blood turned black on the monochromatic footage. The teen girl she’d been toting around with her was cowering under the teller counter, and standing just outside the blood was a figure dressed in all black. From the girl's testimony, the gray toned lion's mask he wore was red and gold in person, lips drawn back in a snarl that showed off fangs, a thick head of coarse blonde hair coming out of the mask to hide any other possible identifying features.

“He is wearing a mask.” You say, peering down at the picture.

“He’s hiding his face.” Lloyd clarifies before banging out a few words into the computer's search engine, pulling up a street festival that happened two weeks ago and swiveling the computer screen around so everyone could see it, “And it's a new purchase.”

Staring back at them was a picture of downtown Ninjago filled with people, food stalls and other vendors lining the sidewalks as people milled about. Half the people walking the street were wearing the same exact lion mask as their killer, now in vivid technicolor. You could see the stalls selling them- masks lined wall to wall. It seemed everyone was buying them. It wouldn't have looked out of place at all for the murderer to buy it for himself and squirrel it away for his late night acts.

“He killed the Mechanics goons because they saw his face. He doesn’t want witnesses.” Nya connects, “Aimi was only spared because he has a way to kill anonymously.”

“And with a virtually untraceable origin. That mask is everywhere, now.” Jay continued with a frown.

“It’s not a total dead end. We can still talk to the stall owners, maybe see if they noticed anyone strange buying from them.” He navigates to the festival's website, opening up the vendor list.

There are twelve souvenir stalls in total, and five of them are solely dedicated to masks.

You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat, “Saori Sato. I recognize that name. I believe I taught her son when we were working at the school.” You comment, “I have a rapport with her, I should be able to get her to speak with me easily.”

Lloyd accepts your lie with a nod, “The rest of us will work on the others, then. Hopefully we’ll have some luck.”

You don’t go to see Saori Sato. You sit on the rooftop of her apartment complex and meditate. You try to meditate. There’s a peace that’s absent in you, now, that doesn’t let your mind slip into calm like it used to be able to. There’s always a buzzing under your skin, in your wires.

You brought your sword, the one with the red blade.

You sharpen it until your mind stops racing. It’s like a razor blade now, and you imagine the sting it would cause as you run your metal fingers up the sharp side. You can perfectly imagine how blood would drip down it, now. You go home.

Everyone comes up empty, of course, because Saori Sato sold that mask, and you didn’t speak to her.

---

“You seem unphased with the murders.” You say to Lloyd, after the others have gone to bed and it’s just the two of you up, pouring over the case files. When Lloyd goes to bed, so will you.

He shrugs and sips at his coffee- filled to the brim with cream and sugar, “Darkleys wasn’t just about ruling the world in the big picture. They taught us the small stuff too, including desensitizing us to death.”

There’s nothing to say to that, so you don’t respond. You go back to looking over the papers again, pretending to search for an angle they hadn’t considered yet.

“You want to know something funny?” He says with a little laugh, staring down at the Mechanics' torn up body.

“What is it?” You ask.

A darkness settles over the room, thick and viscous. It seems to flood your mouth and fill your chest. Lloyd looks at you with bright eyes that pin you in place, “I checked your roster. I went through all the kids you taught at the school- and I didn’t find any Satos in the class.” he says with a lopsided smile, eyes burning your skin, assessing, searching for something, “Isn’t that weird?”

Your coolant has turned to ice in your limbs and your body feels numb, “Not at all,” You say cooly, “Sato is her maiden name. Her son has his fathers last name, Maeda.”

He finds something in your expression and- his shoulder slump, “Oh,” He says, blinking. “FSM, i’m sorry- I just-”

“It is alright, Lloyd.” You say graciously, “This has been stressful for us all, and you haven't been sleeping. Perhaps you should get some rest.” rising from your chair, you go to his side and help him to his feet. He allows you to walk him back to his room.

“Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”

“That sounds good.” Lloyd allows with an exhausted yawn. He disappears into his room.

---

Everything hurts.

Your eyes are blurred and blocked by another pop up- WARNING! WARNING! DAMAGE- you dismiss the banner as quickly as it arrives, but that doesn’t stop you from miscounting a step and slamming into the stone staircase, all your weight cracking down on the pointed edges. You scramble to hold onto the steps with your working arm before you can go tumbling back down to the bottom, taking a few breaths that you don’t need to take to help center yourself.

Clambering back to your feet, you check you haven't splattered coolant or oil on the stairwell before you continue up. Clean.

Reaching the monastery, you avoid the main gate. Instead, you shimmy up the courtyard wall and slink silently across the roof until you’re standing above your room. It’s easier with two hands, but you manage to swing yourself off the roof by the tiles and onto the window ledge, barely finessing your way inside without causing a commotion or accidentally falling off the cliff face. You don’t collapse no matter how badly you want to.

First things first- you pry up the loose floorboard under your nightstand and stuff the sword and mask inside, sliding the stand on top of the hiding place. You strip the bloody clothes off and grit your teeth as you peel it away from the mess of your left arm, refusing to scream. Not even allowing a whimper. You’ve had worse- this- this is nothing. Loose pants, loose shirt- long sleeve, of course, just in case anyone was up late getting a glass of water.

It’s late enough that even Jay should be asleep, and the empty garage confirms it.

It takes you two hours to knit the delicate machinery in your arm back together, and another hour fitting a new plate cover so nothing would seem amiss. You take the ravaged pieces of your arm up stairs and pack it under your nightstand too, so there’s no chance of evidence possibly being found.

You collapse now, face first on the bed, and not three hours after that you’re shaken awake.

Nya looks grim, “There’s been another murder.”

In your exhausted, near delirious state, you barely manage to catch yourself before you say I Know.

---

It’s cold this time of year, and it shows. The others are bundled up against the incoming chill of the season, coats and scarves worn on top of their ninja suits. You’re wearing a sweater too, but there’s a cold in you that will never be warm. You’re all behind Laughys Karaoke bar deep in the alley while the police guard the mouth of it, refusing to let reporters or curious civilians get a look.

There’s a detective with you, hanging back and allowing you all to examine the scene.

“Who is this guy?” Cole eventually asks, resisting the urge to nudge his face into view.

The detective steps forward, “His name is Killow. Ninjago PD have had their eye on him for a while- he’s been arrested for petty crimes in the past, but from the intel they’d begun to gather he’d joined an up and coming gang and had climbed pretty high in the ranks. They called him the Big Man.”

‘Big” was an understatement. The man was a brick house, every muscle worked until it bulged. It seems his gym habits had helped a little, even if the end result was still the same.

Lloyd examines his throat, “The first cut didn’t go deep enough.” He comments. There's blood splattered all over the alley, obvious signs of a struggle. Trash was everywhere, torn open bags and the big blue dumpster was dented from Killow slamming the assailant into the metal, more chipped bricks and dented cans revealed just how close Killow had come to walking away from this attempt on his life.

That same dumpster with the largest dent was where Killow had dug his fingers into the murderer's arm and torn through it, spraying metal and wiring across the ground with barely a flick of his wrist. No one knew that but you, and you didn’t share it. The area had been scrupulously cleaned.

“He got him.” Kai commented, “He hurt him pretty bad.”

“How do you know that?” Nya questioned.

Kai gestures to his hands, “Look at his nails. He scratched him, and no one is walking away from that unscathed.” Killows nails were broken and bleeding, torn and snapped off nearly at the cuticle with how hard he’d fought.

“It didn’t help him enough,” Lloyd sighs, standing up, “The second cut was vertical, sliced right through the artery from cheek to chest. He bled out."

“Poor guy.” Jay commented, slowly getting used to the sight of death as he frowned down at the man.

They didn’t know who he was, or what gang he was in- if they did, they’d understand why he had to be put down. The Sons of Garmadon was new and already it was strong, the ranks thick with people who didn’t care about harming others if it furthered their own goals. They were excellent at keeping a low profile while they gained power. It doesn’t escape your notice that the detective avoided naming the gang he was part of. Killow was a bigger cog in that machine, but he wasn’t the only leader the gang members looked to. Your research and surveillance had revealed three of the four ringleaders to you- Killow, Ultraviolet, and, a man you had never seen but had heard referenced several times, Mr. E. They reported to the highest ranking member of the gang, the Quiet One. All you knew about her was that she was a woman.

You stare down at his body and feel no sympathy.

---

“Is there a reason you don’t want me in your head?” Pixal asks bluntly one day, once you’ve gone to visit her at Borg Tower.

Once you’d gotten back to Ninjago City proper, you’d dropped her off with her father with every intention of picking her up later. She’d offered to stick around in your mind for a while, and you’d been happy at the idea- but then Master Wu gave you that sword, and things got more complicated. She hadn’t brought it up for the past few months, but each time you left her without a hint of bringing her along, she had certainly noticed. Now it was her breaking point. She stopped you in the doorway with her words, on your way out.

Your heart had turned numb the moment you took the sword from Wu. In another life, you could have loved her like she deserved.

“My feelings for you…” You turn back to the room, to the screen she's projected her image to so she can look you in the eyes, “…Have changed.” you finish hollowly.

She blinks. She’s perfectly still, “I see.”

“Thank you.” You say softly, “For everything.”

There’s a pause as she studies you, “Is this the end? Will you no longer come to see me?”

The part of you that wants her in your life twinges in pain, the first emotion you’d felt in days, “I believe that is for the best.”

You won’t take her down this path with you.

“Goodbye, Pixal.”

“I will respect your wishes,” She folds her hands in front of her, the perfect picture of poise, “Goodbye, Zane.”

---

Humans are so fragile. Ultraviolet liked to pretend she was tough, like she could take hits others couldn’t- but when it came down to it, her throat sliced just as easily as any others. Her hands were coated in her own blood from where she’s grabbed at her throat, but it was too late, and the slice was too technically perfect. Her knees had hit the ground first and she’d tried to twist, searching for something, eyes wild and mouth gurgling with words that couldn’t form around the blood in her mouth. She fell sideways, skin turning even paler than it already was, and then everything had stopped. The sprinkling rain washed the blood off her lips and diluted the river flowing from her neck. She almost looked like she was sleeping.

You stand over her motionlessly.

“Hey!” A voice cracks across the cool night air, and you turn to the side. You’re on the sidewalk in front of a motorcycle store that Ultraviolet had been intending on robbing, in plain sight. Across the street, up the road, is Nya. She’s not dressed in her ninja suit and her hair is down loose, the wet jeans and soaked hair hindering her sprint as she tears down the road to get to you.

You’re moving before you can think, clambering up the front of the store and up to the roof in record time, purposefully doing something that would be nearly impossible in skinny jeans to deter her. You don’t hesitate to race across the roof and leap to the next, jumping down the fire escape to the next alley and slipping through a thin corridor between two buildings. The sounds of the chase fade to nothing as you outpace her, weaving through back alleys and neighborhoods you’d become intimately familiar with that she didn’t know. After ten more minutes of running, you spin around and head straight for the monastery.

Nya wasn’t expecting to see you, or be witness to the next murder- it was raining- she wouldn't have her phone. That’s your only salvation. She didn’t have her phone.

You take all the shortcuts you know, running until your screen flashes with warnings. You recover from any stumbles in a millisecond. You get home in record time, basically throwing yourself into your room and ripping the mask off. Flinging your mask and sword into your closet and stripping off your wet turtleneck, you close the closet door and dive into bed. The blankets get yanked up to your shoulder and you close your eyes, feigning sleep, and wait.

Android stamina will always outpace humans. You beat Nya home.

She shouts for you all the moment she's through the door, throwing open your doors in her haste to get you up and mobilize after the murderer. She opens your door to you sitting up in bed, clearly woken up from sleep and giving her an openly bewildered expression.

You jump out of bed and throw on your ninja suit, joining the others on the porch as you all gear up.

---

You don’t find the murderer. No one else does either.

Kai looks at you, once you’re all home and exhausted after the all night search. Everyone is soaked and ready to go to bed, dispersing with low spirits and tired eyes. Kai stands in the entryway, dripping wet, and he really looks at you.

You give him a questioning eyebrow raise.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He says finally, “I won’t judge you.”

“…I know.”

He stares at you, eyes smoldering. He’s in pain. “There’s blood on your collar.” He says finally.

You look down at it- it’s barely noticeable. There must have been a few droplets on your chin that ran down with the water. If you’d been wearing black, he wouldn’t have been able to tell. Your ninja suit is white.

“It’s oil.” You say softly, the patch is just old and watered down enough that you could pass it off for brown.

“Okay.” Kai says. He looks like he’s going to cry.

He looks like he’s afraid of you.

---

Mr.E vanishes after Ultraviolets assassination. You look for him during SoG meetings and you keep an ear out, but he’s nowhere to be seen or heard. The gang is falling apart, half the newer members jumping ship- chances are Mr.E saw the writing on the wall and got out before his neck was next. You could respect that. You might even thank him for it, because if he hadn’t abandoned his post there’s a chance you would have never found out who the quiet one was.

There’s three totally unqualified people at this meeting so far, the members that had ranked directly below the previous three. Their skills were lacking, but their loyalty was rock solid. That was the Quiet Ones main priority after Mr.E’s Irish goodbye. The three were clearly nervous even though they were trying to appear tough- the taller girl even attempting to do tricks with her butterfly knife to appear cool and intimidating. It might have worked if she didn’t drop the blade every other trick.

A door opens and shuts in the silence, the black night outside offering no clue to the newcomers identity. She doesn’t leave them in suspense, though, striding into the light with a stormy expression. She starts talking immediately, taking their names and offering her own.

“You may call me the Quiet One.” She instructs them.

“You’re really the quiet one?” The man says, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yes. Is there an issue?”

“None at all, ma’am.” He responds gruffly, dipping his head.

That’s all the confirmation you need. You slide to the edge of the exposed beam you’re sitting on, swinging down by your arms before you drop straight into the middle of the group. Your feet slam onto the table and the things tilts- you hadn’t anticipated it, so you end up going left instead of right. Instead of the single clean kill you came here for, you’re thrown into butterfly knife girl and the scene becomes a lot more grisly. Your stumble gave them time to process your intentions- you relied on surprise. Now this would get messy.

Knife girl stabs you in the chest. Her knife gets stuck. While she’s trying to rip it out of your skin, you sever her hands at the wrist. She screams and doesn’t stop.

The bigger male lunges for your throat and you hold your sword up so it plunges straight through his chest, his own momentum forcing it through muscle and the delicate capillaries in his lungs. That doesn’t stop him and his hands are on your throat- it doesn't do anything, of course, because you don't need to breathe. He keeps squeezing, and your neck strains. He could pop your head off if he tried. Your sword is buried in his chest and you can’t back up enough to get the space to pull it out.

You reach up and fumble for the butterfly knife, ripping it out of your chest and whipping it around to slam it directly into his ear. He howls in pain, releasing your neck to scrabble at his head before you use the knife to slice him from ear to collarbone. He collapses and the sword slides out of his body.

Knife girl has gone silent, bleeding to death from the ruined arteries in her wrists.

The other woman throws something the moment her shot is clear and on reflex you catch it. It’s a throwing knife and dangling from the handle-

You dart it back at her before you can finish understanding the word bomb. She’s not expecting such fast reflexes, so she’s not prepared for the knife to bury itself in her chest.

Then it explodes.

You spin around, preparing for the Quiet One to attack you next-

The door is open, and she’s gone.

The worst part about all of this is that you didn’t recognize her. Running her face through your facial recognition software came up empty too- so did cross checking any and every news outlet, hoping to see her face maybe in the back of a crowd. Nothing.

That could have been your only chance.

---

“I have been in your shoes before, I know this is hard. You must be prepared to do everything to protect them.” Master Wu had said after you had vomited up your dinner the night of the Mechanics murder, “This path will cost you everything.”

“Everything?” You questioned, staring down at the toilet bowl.

“But they will be safe.” He reassures you, gripping your shoulder tightly.

---

You don’t let the two parts of your life overlap. You don’t. The nights you go out, you are a serial killer. The next morning you are Zane, elemental master of ice, the titanium ninja. Zane is not tainted by all the blood and death and gore. Zane is not a murderer. You don’t ever use your sword as Zane, and you never use your shurikens as the serial killer. Everything would fall apart if you couldn’t keep them separate.

As you stand in the palace and the emperor introduces his daughter, your hands twitch for your sword the moment she opens her mouth. The face paint. You weren't able to discover her identity because of the face paint. Caked on so thick that her bare face looked like a completely different woman-

The emperor's daughter Harumi, and the Quiet One. Two parts of her life that aren't supposed to overlap.

“-Zane: The cold and calculating android.” She names you sweetly, voice honey thick. There’s a manic, wild edge to her eyes that the face paint can’t hide.

It makes sense. Her three most trusted advisors were murdered or abandoned her, and their replacements were slaughtered immediately after. The Sons of Garmadon had begun to collapse, fractioning off into smaller gangs with their own leaders. The main faction still had a substantial number of die-hard loyalists who were growing more and more extreme by the day. Robbery, assault, murder- they were wreaking havoc on Ninjago. They even managed to steal the Oni Mask of Vengeance. Now, her eyes slid over to Lloyd and locked onto him. She slipped a new mask on, one that was shy and flirtatious. The Quiet One wanted Lloyd wrapped around her finger.

But Harumi and the Quiet One weren’t supposed to exist at the same time.

Neither were Zane and the serial killer.

Inevitably, though, two worlds will always collide. Maybe the two parts of her and you were never supposed to live separate forever. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken that sword from Wu. Maybe you should have brought it with you so that Zane didn’t have to use his shuriken.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” You say clearly into the cold, cold room. Or maybe you’re the cold one, “I will not let it pass me by.”

There’s blood on your shuriken.

You collect your mask and your sword from underneath the floorboards in your bedroom and run.

They’re safe. They’ll always be safe.