I tried to mix in a little suspense with this one, although I'm not sure how it'll be blowing over with you all. Either way, need to experiment, aye?
Here you are, mates! I present to you all:
Within the Night
It didn't take Delmaria long to prepare for the evening. Before him on the wooden table, located in the middle of the little corridor he had furbished in to a small planning area, he laid out everything he might need. He was cloaked completely in black, linen clothing - tight, moveable pants, light, buckled boots, a flimsy, airy long sleeved shirt, and a small black bandana. He tucked in a few daggers in to his belt, along with a bag of firecrackers, for reasons unknown even to him. A map of the fort that was sealed in with the Admiral's envelope was tucked in to his right boot, full with details on the patrol routes of the soldiers.
He had spent the past two days laying low in the empty building, syncing together each and every aspect and detail of his plan. The crew spent their time around the town, perhaps stealing a few odds and ends, despite their captain strictly telling them to not draw any attention whatsoever to them. The only people who stayed in the house regularly were Buck, who was receiving delayed kick-backs from the medicine Grace had given him to heal his wounds back on the Cove, and Grace, who was responsible for healing him.
Finally, earlier this morning, the crew was spread through the gathering crowd, watching Lord Ambrose Royals being escorted by his convoy of guards from the deck, up through the town, in to the higher areas of the island, which was blocked off from the public. As he passed, random people in the crowd booed and threw rotten fruits and vegetables at him, jeering out against his actions on Port Royal. Delmaria was all the way in the back of the crowd, and although he could barely see his son, he knew that something was different about him. Whether it was a vibe of confidence, or depression, Delmaria couldn't tell.
As he checked all of his things a final time, and quietly made his way to the door, to undisturb the crew sleeping in the rooms upstairs, he was caught off guard by, of all people, Deadpool. He was standing at the top of the stairs, in his night clothing. He stared at Delmaria, who had his hand gripped around the door knob faintly, looking at him. "Captain, I know he's your son," Dead said shaking, "But I want you to kill him slowly and painfully, like they did my father."
1
Delmaria walked swiftly through the town, hugging along the buildings to his left, towards the two pathways one on top of the other that ran up across the side of the fort. He walked over to the pillar all the way at the end, closest to the fort, and looked around quickly to see if anybody watched him. When he saw he was along, he passed the corner of the store that nearly hugged him, in to a little space in between the column, and the wall of the store. He put his feet on the wall, and his hands on the pillar, and used the counteracting pressure to scale himself up, to the lower of the two walkways. When a nearby tree began to reach over, Darkskull slowly slung himself on to it, easing his way up on to the thick branch. His height was just enough to allow his arms to reach the edge, and jumped up to grab it. He scrapped his feet on the wall to help him, and watched silently as the guard passed by. As the guard went on to his left, marching towards his goal, he instantly sprung up on to the path, and wielded one of his daggers. He ran up behind the guard, grabbed the back of his head, and slit his throat from the front, tossing his body off the cliff to the right, to the deep waters stories upon stories below.
He went across the rest of the passage to a little tunnel that led to a small courtyard, with a stone staircase leading up to the next level. A guard lazily stood at the top, letting his eyes wander around him. Darkskull got as close as possible before being detected, and then flicked his dagger at the guard, piercing him in the pelvis. He toppled over head first down the stairs, the pirate letting his lifeless body pass him. He dragged the body in to an empty barrel, and tucked him in before putting the top on. "Sweet dreams, mate."
The stairs led him up to the top of the square courtyard, where he followed up a little hill, then turning around a bend to continue it. A single guard stood in his way, but he quickly grabbed him by his collar, pick him off his feet, and tossed him violently behind him, rolling him uncontrollably down the hill. When the finally reached the top of that incline, he faced the top fort of the fortress, beckoning him like the crown of Mount Olympus.
2
Ambrose delicately poised himself, back straight, head up, as he dunked the bag lightly in to his tea cup. He easily let it down, to let it rest. The heavy, red outfit he was wearing was, for the most part, ridiculous. A tall, overpowering hat ran from the front of his face to the back like a white, blazing mohawk, dressed in gold and red embellishments and fabrics. He coat was thick, blood red, with golden lines running across from button to button to create a regal affect. The rest of his fancy, tuxedo-like clothing was hidden under the coat, except for his lavish pants and boots, and the white gloves over his hands - or, hand. The damaged one was still wrapped.
The small, gothic styled room was a greatly dramatic, almost church-like office space, with a small window in the stone wall behind the desk that let in a small midnight breeze. Two Navy guards shifted back and forth over by the wooden doors, sighing in a tired and hopeless manner.
"I assure you, Mr. Mercer, by the time my reconstruction project is complete, The Company will have it's very own head office in the new and improved Fort Charles." Ambrose assured as his hands went on to the table.
Mercer, who sat on the opposite side, erect yet slightly bent forward, his usual stern gaze staring down at the Lord like the barrel of a gun. There were a few smoke spots on his cheek, but he brushed them off so not to draw attention. "That's not exactly the point. Your dues are long over your time limit, Mr. Royals. You exactly expect Lord Beckett to continue waiting, buying over favors for you, while you pass over project and project alike? And I ensure you, he grows more impatient than me."
"Trust me, Mr. Mercer. These will produce, over time, serious resul-"
"You can't just play the 'Son of a Pirate' card every time trouble pops up. The Company paid good money to cover up your past, but all you seem to focus on is your past. Do you really think things will go well if you prove common speculation?"
Ambrose had enough. He stood up, taking off his hat and throwing it on to the table. e undid his bowtie as he walked towards the door. "I’ve had enough prosecution for one day. Good night, Mr. Mercer!" The two guards opened the double doors, and he strutted out in to the cool night.
He paced to his right, down the long, stone walkway that ran at the top of the wall of the highest fort of Kingshead. He looked out over the edge - from his vantage point, high in the sky, the marching grounds far below looked like a blur in the night. The ocean was limitless in his view, him being able to make out the shadow of a nearby wild island, and off in the distance, the Spanish island.
He let the cool winds hit him as he neared the end of the West wall, now approaching the North. He was coming upon it soon, when he stopped in his tracks.
3
"Move and I kill you." Delmaria threatened as he pointed the dagger in to Ambrose's throat from behind. He shook him a little, then gripped his head with his hand, and threw him over, on to his back. The pirate stood where he was, brandishing his pistol menacingly.
"Get away from me, you bru-" before he could finish the sentence, Delmaria threw the dagger with the flick of his wrist and nailed the dignitary in the left thigh, send him in a shock of pain. The pirate walked over and commandingly pulled it out, side winding it far, over the Northern wall, in to the night and down to the oceans, right as he pulled out another. He stood up, and stamped on the cut.
"If you don't want to be considered my son, then you won't be treated us such." Delmaria grunted as he kicked Ambrose in the chest, then picking him up by his shirt, and tossing him over to the North wall. Ambrose caught himself, throwing his left arm on to it, supporting him as he bent over on his wounded leg, facing Delmaria. The pirate just stood there, viciously. "Now, I'll ask you, what is your name?"
After taking a deep gas on breath, the Lord pushed out "Ambrose Royals, governor of-"
"Wrong answer!" Darkskull shouted, flicking his new dagger so that it grazed through the air tauntingly, only a few decameters from his face. "I'll ask AGAIN, what is your name!?", almost yelling as he stepped forward tauntingly.
He heaved in pain and terror, finally, almost begging, "D-d-d-Delpadros... Delpadros Darkskull! Delpadros Darkskull...." he repeated, terrified.
Delmaria instantly put away his dagger, taking another step forward. "Good. Maybe now we can talk, hm?" He wiped his hand over his face, pulling his bandana off and rubbing it over his face. "Well, Delpadros, you really are a piece of work. Dedicating you life's work to killing your father, just because you couldn't succeed at doing it yourself."
Delpadros struggled to stand up without using the wall, his wide stance wobbling under pain and pressure. His face was glaring, a few strands of hair falling in to his face. "All I've ever wanted was you out of my life, but you can't seem to get the hint. I've been forced to take matters in to my own hands."
"Ah, but I'm your father. It's my job to watch over everything you do, no matter how far you try to push me away. And I can't do that if I'm dead, can I?"
"I don't.. need YOU. Do you ever think that if I as a child had to live without a father, that I can support myself without a f-"
"My father is DEAD!" Delmaria stepped forward in rage, almost like he was about to pounce. Delpadros fell backward, sitting with his back to the wall. "When I was younger, I never had a father. He went from place to place, because he was a PIRATE. The only time I ever got to see him was once in a blue moon when I was younger, and by the time I was an adult, do you realize when was the first time I saw him? He was in my arms, bleeding to death! I never even knew him. But do you know what?
"I still loved the man. I didn't care that he was never there for me. I loved him because I was his blood, and THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH FOR YOU!" Delmaria shouted, almost shaking.
The two just stared there, silently, for a few minutes. Their throats calmed, their eyes retracted, their breathing slowed. Delpadros steadily returned his attention to his leg wound, but he was still distracted, almost. Finally, Delmaria spoke:
"Join me." He instructed affirming, looking confidently at Delpadros.
"What...?" The son asked, trying to understand if he heard that right.
"Think of it, Delpadros. Think of what we could do.. together. You'll be free again."
Delpadros slinked back, letting his eyes wander off. He thought heavily, concentrating all of his thought on the subject. Delmaria just stood firm, watching his son contemplate the one thing that may revive their bond. His heart raced in anticipation. As Delpadros took a final sigh and prepared to speak, and click.
"Step aside, Mr. Darkskull." Delmaria turned to the barrel of a pistol staring straight at him, held at the handle by none other than Mercer himself, yet again. His attention was not focused on the pirate, however - moreover, on the lord.
Delpadros stared wide-eyed, kicking his legs to push his back on to the wall. He looked at Delmaria, who was slightly off to the side, so that the assassin had aim, but was still right by Delmaria. He looked to Mercer, then his son. And in his eyes, he saw fear.
"Your dues are much too much to burden, Mr. Royals. Mr. Darkskull, please, do yourself a favor and walk away. I will just be easing your load. I promise, it'll be quick." Mercer nodded, motioning his free hand to send Delmaria off.
Darkskull watched himself. He remember, his son will forever be his son - but he came here not to mend battle scars. Slowly, he shifted over to his son, nearing to the side so that he may round the corner. As he neared, Delpadros's heart sank. He looked at his father, not saddened, but ashamed. He felt that the one hope that could liberate him, that sat far back in his heart, was gone. Yet as he gave a finally look, he saw only one thing - a flash of hope, in a wink of an eye.
As he hit the corner, Delmaria spun instantly, wielding his pistol and instantly shooting it at Mercer. In a stroke of luck, the bullet graced through the air, and made impact - squarely in the forehead.
As the blood ran down, Delmaria rushed over to the body, appropriately dressed in black. He went to his knee and looked it over, unraveling the pistol from its hand and tossing it over his should. He glazed his eyes, quietly, looking over his results. He took his hand and ran them in to Mercer's coat, pulling out that long, embodied, eccentrically lavish set of knives, wrapped in a small cloth. He nodded in solemn approval, put them in his weapon belt, and turned back, to face another gun.
His son, whom he saved only moments ago, had Mercer's pistol, now pointing it at his savior. His face was red with shaking anger, grunting as his hand wrapped around the gun. Yet it was blanketed lightly in regret, as he whimpered, "I'm so sorry."
He gripped at the trigger, but immediately dropped the gun before it fired. Off from the right, along the North wall, an empty rum bottle was throttled through the air, crashing and smashing on Delpadros's head. He went in to a shocked daze, before slinking off in to sleep. Delmaria looked over to John, standing there swaggeringly.
"You’re welcome, Captain." He chuckled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure how I can really respond to this chapter... so I'll leave that up to you all!
Also, just a note. The next chapter involves a new character entering the story, so, for just this once, I'll open a call for anybody that wants to nominate their pirate for inclusion. Just post below, or PM me, if you want to apply.
Be sure to comment and review, mates! Thanks for reading!
