HUD: Ooooh, another distraction. This one, however, is chaptered. Yaaaay. Enjoy!
To ride the seas to all corners of the map had always been an aspiration - to see all curves of water and cliff, to marvel at the surprising wildlife of a world so new, to see the culture of fascinating people Anthony Stark had only heard of from his father. Now, he had his chance.
The easiest way to get to London from Italy was by ship, and because of Anthony's name and pardon he was able to acquire free passage aboard HMS Cavalier, a beautiful brig painted canary in its prime that had since faded to pale yellow due to a combination of the sun's unrelenting gaze and salt water. Still, the dark red it was trimmed in and the bright Union Jack had not seen the touch of time, and the Captain proudly professed to Anthony that upon reaching Britain's shores, he would see to it to bestow her to her former glory.
Due to his name and pardon, Anthony was allowed a private room for himself, a floor up from where the crew slept and gambled, placing him nearest the galley. The chef, a bulky man not at all unlike a pig in countenance but the second kindest man Anthony had met since his voyage began, always managed to slip him an extra portion of bread. He even scraped off the disgusting film that accumulated over the nightly stew before serving him.
"These old sea dogs, 'ey don't care so long as their bellies an' grogs be full." Anthony would laugh, quickly picking up on the speech men at sea used. When night would fall and the watch would change, Anthony would speak to the chef about his life. The chef, Bill, was gruff but eager to hear him speak, his beady black eyes widening in wonder as Anthony shared his tales.
Anthony told him of his father, the owner of a Caribbean sugar cane plantation that put his entire family at the top of aristocracy in Rome. Anthony had inherited the plantation after his death but never traveled there; he confessed the ideal of pressing unwilling parties into slavery sickened him.
Bill smiled. "That's wot makes ye a good man, young An'tony." Anthony, despite his eighteen years, grinned back and felt his cheeks heat.
"Why Bill, we have only just met!" He said, his Italian accent light; all those British women his mother had hired to care for him saw to it that he sounded as regal as possible. The chef tossed back his fat head and laughed, the sound rich and jiggling his round belly.
"Aye! An' I be grateful."
Anthony enjoyed his nightly talks with Bill, something he very much looked forward to as the journey seemed to lengthen. During the day, he found himself on the deck, watching the men control the sails as the strong gusts they fought against tousled Anthony's hair and tunic. Any spare moment they had, Anthony would immediately begin to question them.
Jack Russ, the first mate and quartermaster, didn't seem to mind his scrutiny. In fact, he had taken quite a shine to the young traveler. "Master Stark!"
Anthony paused, looking up from where he had been watching a man retie a loose knot holding the main sail. He waved him over, and after a brief grin and nod to the working man, Anthony bounded up the stairs to where Jack stood tall behind the wheel.
"You have interest in the workings of a ship?" He asked, his voice raised just to be heard over a sudden rush of wind.
"Aye!" Anthony answered, making Jack grin. He was a handsome man, tanned from his years on the sea with sun bleached hair pulled back into a tight knot at the base of his neck. Anthony quietly admired him, knowing that his sister would find this man dashing (that of which they would agree). Jack also was amongst the youngest of the crew, having spent a vast majority of his adolescence amongst shipyards and crewmen before joining the Navy. Were Anthony to guess, he might suggest Jack to be closer to his age than his sister's.
"Well, perhaps you'd enjoy a tutorial?" He offered, his voice light and teasing. When Anthony had received pardon and passage from His Royal Majesty aboard one of his ships, he immediately set out to the docks nearest Rome. There he found Jack Russ, sitting with several of his crew in a complete British redcoat. Anthony rambled on and on about his plans, nearly driving the poor sailor mad, before shakily handing out his pardon and watching the first smile he had seen on Jack's face bloom.
Since their first meeting, Jack knew of Anthony's insatiable curiosity, knowing first hand the nature of this trip and the young man's true profession. An inventor through-and-through.
"I assume no less," the quartermaster said, winking at Anthony. Anthony hoped his grin would be wide enough to hide his blush.
Jack proceeded to explain the rulings of the ship to him; first he explained her size, a brig, was a decent middle in the British Navy. They carried the optimal weight of cargo and crew as not to be weighed down too much to still have decent speed. He explained cannon placement and swivel guns and chain shot; this Anthony found the most interesting.
"Why should we carry such weaponry, Mr. Russ?" He asked. Jack smiled as he slid a large hand across the wheel. Anthony watched in fascination as the crew moved, feeling the shift of the ship, and falling into place to turn the sails and capture the optimal wind.
"Dear Anthony," Jack began, his tone still light even as the ship turned and pitched with the large wave he had been turning them into. "For every Good there is Evil. In this case, HMS Cavalier is the Good, depending on who is being questioned."
Anthony furrowed his brow. "I do not understand."
Jack waved his hand, signaling a crew member some feet behind them to come up. The man took the wheel and Jack stepped down from his station to wrap an arm around Anthony's shoulders. Jack's high cheekbones were parallel to Anthony's forehead, making the shorter feel oddly protected. He guided them to the railing of the ship, dropping his embrace to lean both elbows across the rails. Anthony remained standing.
"Young master," Jack began, turning fully towards Anthony while still keeping a hand on the rail. "Have you noticed anything...peculiar about my men?"
Anthony had. One of the most glaring factors was the state of dress. Nearly every man on the ship, including Bill the chef, dressed in no shoes or uniform of any kind - only Jack and the Captain stood in the trimming of the Royal Navy. Anthony, not wanting to over step, never asked.
"Only you and the Captain dress like you've any sense," he answered; his bluntness drew a loud bark of laughter from Jack.
"Quite astute of you," Jack said, looking out across the sea again. "I would expect no less from a blossoming inventor. What else?"
Anthony ignored the faint flip his belly gave at the praise. "They carry a small armoury at all times."
Jack nodded, dropping his palm to Anthony's shoulder. "Aye, Anthony. These men sail under a pardon by the King himself, offered by the Captain and I. We are privateers, hunters of pirates. This firepower is required to take those scoundrels down."
Anthony was suddenly very, very grateful that his sister was sailing after him. "Should I have chosen another ship?"
"Mayhaps," Jack answered, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a toothy grin. Despite being at sea, Jack took very good care of himself. It didn't take a genius like Anthony to understand the dangers of sickness at sea. "But it is too late now, and you came to me. Rest assured, Anthony - " he leaned close, his breath ghosting Anthony's ear and bringing with it the smell of tobacco; " - the Cavalier has never lost a crew member in all our years of sailing. That same courtesy extends to you."
Anthony tried to remember that promise now, as he was forced down to his knees with a wide-barreled pistol pressed to the back of his skull. He growled when rough hands pushed his chest to the deck of the ship, his cheek searing in pain from his open wound dragging against splintered wood. Seconds later he was hauled back to his knees by that very same hand burying into his hair.
"Open yer eyes, git!" Anthony bared his teeth, the action causing more blood to trickle from the gash across his cheek. The barrel of the gun moved from the back of his head to his jaw, the wetness on the piece causing his eyes to open in surprise. Blood.
All across the once beautiful deck of the Cavalier were bodies. Anthony recognized more than most, even with their mangled limbs twisted at odd angles. Several still had their eyes open, vacant looks of surprise stretched across visages too pained for Anthony to look away. One he recognized immediately - Bill, the kind chef, had gone down after two saber stabs tore his stomach open and spilled all of its contents across the slick deck. His eyes stared back at Anthony, and all he could do was pray to the god Bill believed in that he would see his wife again. Her death prompted him to sail aboard the Cavalier ten years ago, back when Anthony was dealing with the death of his own parents. Anthony screwed his eyes shut to fight back the tears he felt blooming - Bill had taken those stabs for him. To protect him.
Not even a day after Anthony's talk with Jack, the man in the crow's nest spotted a ship heading directly for them. Anthony, feeling like a damn king himself, had begged Jack to allow him to take the wheel for only a moment, a minute at longest. Jack, for whatever reason had agreed, now standing a foot of so behind Anthony as the shorter of the pair held the heart of the Cavalier with surprising finesse.
Jack didn't seem to have much care for personal space having shared a ship with nearly seventy men since he was Anthony's age; he kept his hands over Anthony's own, directing him to feel the shifts in the ocean and training him to balance effectively. Anthony was glad for his darkening skin from the weeks as sea - when Jack dropped his hat onto his head and wrapped calloused fingers around his own, he thought for sure his face put out enough heat to rival the sun.
Jack muttered tips and direction into his ear, the grin on the older man's face very evident in his tone. His breath along Anthony's cheek was distracting, but he kept his eyes focused on the curved bow of the ship and the warmth of Jack's hands.
When the call from above happened, Anthony yelped with surprise as Jack's strong arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him away from the wheel; his back hit Jack's chest and then he was passed off, the feeling too fleet to enjoy.
"Jack? What's - ?" Before the question could leave his mouth, loud cracks like thunder could be heard coming from starboard. Jack looked pass Anthony, over his shoulder, his eyes widening.
"BRACE!" He bellowed; the crew member Anthony had been passed to pushed him onto the deck, taking the wind from his lungs. The man climbed over his frame, covering his head and Jack's hat with his arms.
It seemed like the entire world slowed as the first cannon hit - the Cavalier lurched to the left; Jack kept his hands on the wheel as he crouched, now turning hard to the right to keep her from toppling over. Anthony, pressed to the deck, could feel shudders through the entire ship from the hit.
"Jack we've been hit!" He called, scrambling from under his human shield closer to the quartermaster. Jack stared beyond him again when Anthony kneeled beside him. "What by?"
Anthony felt dread pool in his gut at the hard look on Jack's face. "Pirates."
A quick gulp and glance over his shoulder showed Anthony what he had been dreading. A large ship, the same size as the Cavalier, drew closer and closer by the second. It was a deep chestnut colour trimmed in emerald; had Anthony not been terrified, he could have appreciated the palette. What was worse still was the large black flag whipping in the wind atop the main mast. The closer it came, the clearer Anthony could see it; black with a large white skull, edges torn and tattered.
Pirates.
"Get Master Stark to the Captain!" Jack bellowed, hauling Anthony to his feet. The man that had shielded him before came back to his side, wrapping a hand around his bicep. "Grab Bill as well; we must protect him at all cost. Connors, head to the armoury - "
Anthony struggled against the man pulling him along, fighting to get back to Jack. A well placed elbow and an apology freed Anthony to sprint back up the stairs.
Jack was tying two cutlass sheaths around his waist and barking orders when Anthony caught his attention. The anger there startled him, but his characteristic stubbornness prevented him from fleeing.
"Anthony, get to the Captain's quarters," Jack growled, stepping swiftly towards him.
"What about you, Jack?" He snapped back. "You can't expect me to stand around and watch you die, idiota."
His tone caused Jack to blink, then grin. "You Italian is showing, Master Stark."
Anthony fought down his blush. "So? You still can't expect - "
"I expect nothing but your safety," Jack said, crossing over to Anthony. He swatted at the large black and white feather sporting from his own hat that Anthony still wore. "I do not intent to lose anyone today, least of all you." He snatched his hat back and dropped it over his blond hair. "Grab a sword along the way - you may need it."
Anthony hoped that he wouldn't but did as he was told, looking once more back at Jack as he took the wheel again and snapped orders for the cannons to be readied. He didn't have his uniform coat on, but even just the simple white laced tunic and black pants couldn't take away from his regal stature. Anthony just hoped it wouldn't be last time he could see it.
When the firing of cannons stopped and the entire world outside of the Captain's quarters grew silent, Anthony clutched his borrowed sword tighter. The entire ship shuddered as the sounds of hooks sinking into her wood could be heard - they were being boarded. He shared a glance with the Captain and Bill before all hell broke loose.
The door was snatched open and the Captain felled immediately by a well-placed gunshot between his eyes, dusting the back of the cabin bright red. Anthony didn't have a chance to mourn - pirates began to charge him, cutlasses raised and voices screeching. Bill launched into action, slashing and dodging with a swiftness that Anthony didn't believe of a man of his size. Screams and shouts from the deck could be heard clearly as the doors remained open; one man slipped by Bill and headed straight for Anthony, his sword held high and his teeth wildly barred. Anthony took a deep breath and drew his sword - all those fencing classes had better pay off.
It was a hard fight, his first ever against someone trying to kill him. Those odds can change a man, even one as young as he - he fought tooth and nail and managed to land his killing blow, but not before poor judgement left him with a slash across his left cheek, just under his eye.
Bill's anguished bellow reached his ears just as his opponent collapsed, and he looked up in time to see the man fall. His eyes were screwed shut as the pain seared through him, Anthony the only witness to his brutal demise. The young man stood, traumatized, as one of his dearest friends collapsed to his knees, attempting to keep pieces of himself where they belonged, allowing two more pirates to enter the small fortress they had fastened and bring Anthony to his knees. Now, out on the deck and staring back across and where Bill now laid, he felt the contents of his stomach, the last meal Bill will ever make, attempt a vacate.
In only a matter of minutes, his entire world was turned upside down. He kneeled before pirates, the remainder of his living friends in a much similar state but far worse for wear. Anthony looked around as far as his eyes would go, looking for Jack - he wasn't amongst the kneeling living, causing another churn of the limited contents of his stomach.
The pirate holding him hostage tugged at his hair again. "Oi! Dis one is young."
"D'ya think he's the one Cap'n is lookin' fer?" Another called from across the way. He held Connors, the man Jack had sent to gather his weapons. If he was alive, fighting beside Jack, then perhaps -
"Get your fucking hands off of him!" Anthony strained his neck to see Lieutenant Jack Russ being lead down the stairs from above the Captain's quarters. His eyes dropped to Anthony and most likely the bleeding cut under his eye, renewing his cursing. Jack looked far better than the rest - it appeared all the blood over his white tunic wasn't his own, his once proud feathered hat drenched crimson. Anthony couldn't help but be relieved, even though he knew they most likely wouldn't live.
Jack was pushed to kneel beside Connors, almost directly across from Anthony. "Release him, you scurvy-ridden knave!"
"Givin' how much this one is bellowin', I'll bet me own ration o' rum that ye be right, Gibbs!" The man holding Jack answered, causing the entire pirate crew to laugh. Gibbs, the man holding Anthony, pulled his head back further; he could just make out Jack struggling out of his range of view.
"Aye, you Italian, boy?"
Anthony drew up as much bravado as he could and spit into the demon's face. The pirates laughed again, the sound disgusting and boisterous, as Gibbs slowly wiped his cheek on his shoulder. "Awright, then."
Gibbs pushed Anthony back to the deck of the ship again, making him hiss. He could hear Jack and now Connors demanding they let up on him, he's just a boy. The desperation in Jack's voice didn't help Anthony's sinking suspicions that no one was getting out alive.
Suddenly the entire ship went silent; a single pair of footsteps could be heard, and the foot on Anthony's back relented as he was hauled back to his feet. Every pirate was looking to starboard, where their ship was, as a tall man stepped down onto the Cavalier. He wore a long black cloak that billowed around his ankles, hiding the perch of two cutlasses but not shielding the four pistols laced to his chest. He was pale, oddly so for being a pirate, clean shaven with long, straight black hair. His gaze shifted from pirate to privateer alike, cataloging what he saw and the state of each man. His chin rose higher as he came closer to Anthony and the centre of the deck.
"Where is the captain of this vessel?" He asked, his voice a low murmur amongst the remaining chaos surrounding him.
"Dead, Cap'n," the man holding Jack called. "Here be the quar'er master."
The pirate captain hummed, his arms folded behind his back as he took long strides towards Jack. Anthony immediately tensed when he stopped before him, his back to Anthony. His hat was decorated to match his ship - dark feathers and emeralds and golden threads hung from the back, trailing over his own long hair.
"What is your name, first mate?" He asked.
Jack didn't answer; the captain sighed, as if put out by the lack of response. "I shall ask kindly just once more - your name?"
Jack still didn't answer. The pirate shrugged, and as quick as lightning, drew a pistol from his chest and shot out to his right. One of Jack's crew fell across the deck, surprising a yelp from Anthony; the man convulsed, the shot having hit his neck and exited in a red spray across the other crew member beside him.
"Lieutenant Jack Russ of His Royal Navy, first mate of HMS Cavalier," Jack answered, his voice carrying. "Privateer by pardon of the King himself to bring arseholes like yourself to reason."
The pirates laughed loudly at his announcement, but was silenced by only a hand from their captain. "Jack Russ, you say? I do believe you brought down Endeavor, did you not?"
"Aye, with every bloody pirate sent to meet Davy Jones by my blade," Jack spat. The captain nodded, unperturbed by Jack's answer.
"Even facing such odds your fire does not quench," the captain said, his tone verging on mock awe. "Now, I do believe you are holding something that I want. I suggest you share with the crew before each and every one of yours meets Davy Jones as well."
Jack didn't answer, even when the pirate holding him pressed a gun to the back of his head. Anthony's heart rate increased; he remembered Jack's words, "Protect Master Stark at all cost!" No, he wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth Jack's life.
The pirate cracked his pistol across Jack's cheek. "Speak, fool, or yer tongue will be loosened by knife."
When the second hit came, Anthony couldn't take it anymore. "Stop!"
He suddenly had every person's attention on the ship. Even the captain turned, and Anthony could see the bright emerald of his eyes. "Cap'n, I think this here be yer prize, sir."
The captain's eyes widened a fraction, ignoring Jack's struggling as he stepped towards Anthony. His eyes were bright against his pale skin, a slight smirk lighting his lips. "I do believe you are correct, Mr. Gibbs."
The man holding Anthony seemed to swell with the praise. The pirate captain stopped directly in front of him and looked down. "What is your name?"
Anthony mirrored Jack, his lips pressed tight. The captain rolled his eyes. "Oh, have some sense, lad. I am not afraid to take what I want." In emphasis, he pulled out another pistol and pointed it directly behind him at Jack. "Answer me, or I shall make sure your watch his head fly off."
Jack's eyes said No, I'll be fine, keep your mouth shut. But he knew, having spent three weeks with Anthony, that silence was a genuine issue for the young genius, which is why he wasn't at all surprised when he opened his mouth.
"Tony," he said. The captain put his pistol away and stared down at him.
"Where are you from, Tony? You are obviously not one of these glorified privateers."
He thought of Bill, lying across from him, and what little he knew of his life. "London. I am borrowing passage back from a two year long trip."
Those emerald eyes seemed to glare through him, turning from bright to dark. "What a terrible liar." Before Anthony could even say anything, the captain turned his attention to Gibbs. "Mr. Gibbs - see to it that we locate young Tony's things and set him amongst the finest aboard Sleipnir. We have much to discuss."
Anthony was wrestled to his feet and pushed after the captain, now heading towards the plank that he had crossed with. He struggled as much as he could, digging his heels into the deck in hopes to stop his advancement.
Jack, now behind him, thrashed against the man holding him captive. "Unhand him, pirate! He's an innocent boy, boarding my ship to see his mother! Your quarrel is with me!"
The captain paused and turned back to face Jack. "You are absolutely correct, Mr. Russ. I do apologize." He crossed swiftly back to the kneeling man, causing Anthony to bodily force his escort to stop. With a quickness to rival that of his gunshot before, the pirate produced a knife and slashed it across Jack's face, his hat flying from his head.
Jack fell back to his knees, his hands freed as he covered his face. Anthony took his chance - he stomped Gibbs' foot and ran to Jack, not at all ashamed to have shoved the pirate captain out of his way.
Blood pooled in Jack's hands, not seemingly able to register Anthony's hands on his shoulders. "Jack, Jack look at me, please."
The man shuddered but looked up, his left hand holding the side of his face. Blood streaming from between his fingers, he stared unfocused at Anthony for just a second. "Anthony," he said, his voice low. Gibbs was scrambling behind him, heading directly for him. "Take my name; whatever you do, they cannot know who you are. Protect yourself."
"What about you, Jack?" He asked, his hand attempting to push Jack's back from his face. The pressure was needed - his slight prodding made the blood flow again. "Your eye - "
"Fine, all fine," he ground out. "I'll live as long as I know you'll be safe. Promise me you'll protect yourself from these fucks. Don't trust a drop of them."
"I promise," Anthony whispered. Gibbs grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. He elbowed him again in the gut, hearing the man's wind leave him. He wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders tightly. "Don't die, idiota."
Jack's lips cracked a smile against his cheek, his usual tobacco scented breath turning copper. "I couldn't see you again if I did, Master."
Anthony held tighter, even as Gibbs grabbed him again. Jack, using his hand still freed from his pirate captor, landed a square punch to Gibb's jaw to prompt the man to release him again. He wrapped his arm around Anthony's shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, his lips chapped and bloody. "Be strong."
This time, Gibbs had help hauling him away. Jack's captor decided it wasn't so much fun to watch Gibbs get punched when his captain was now involved in dragging the two apart. Anthony tried to keep his eyes on Jack as best as he could, but once his feet were off the Cavalier, his vision was obscured.
The last he saw of Jack was the man wrestling with his captor, even with blood streaming down the left side of his face and matting his hair to his neck. He was tough, battle hardened by years at sea fighting pirates for the good of all, but even he had a breaking point. A well-placed hit by the hilt of the pirate's pistol left the proud man sprawled out across the deck of what was now his ship.
A/N: Oh no! Young Anthony just got kidnapped by a random pirate! Whatever will happen to our poor inventor? What has become of Jack, the dashing privateer out cold while Anthony is lead away? Who could this strange pirate be, and what does he want with Anthony? Stay tuned! (And tell me what you thought!)