Prologue;
(noun) – an event or act that leads to another.
It was the sound of cannon fire that drew a pair of eyes towards the ship as it surged determinedly through the waves, a fleet of marine vessels in pursuit. Shouts filled the air, each vying for attention. But it was the sound of laughter that came from the brig sloop in the lead, one that had the mark of piracy emblazoned on its sails, that caused the stranger to pass a careful, yet assessing gaze over it.
From this vantage point, one could count nine figures aboard the ship. Despite the illusion of chaos, there was a great deal of effectiveness in their strategy for evasion. Subtle movements of teamwork that suggested a crew who were seemingly going through the motions – apparently this wasn't their first encounter with marines.
But the stranger's attention was not entirely focused on the action of cannonballs exploding (typical), being diced (impressive), or repelled (how did that work?), while the Marines continued with what was a futile attempt at attack.
Still there was laughter, yet the unknown spectator heard more in the noise.
Loneliness, despair, anger. Pain.
And something else, something not easily recognisable – not yet. Faint, but there regardless. It lay nestled amongst scattered fragments.
"…never again…"
"…death…"
"…help me..."
"…I'm alone…"
"…dead weight…"
"…want to die…"
"…go through hell…"
"…is worthless…"
"…weak…"
A small smile graced the lips of the stranger as the pirate ship suddenly took off into the skies, escaping the clutches of the Navy.
"Finally."
The word uttered while soft, held weight. A hidden meaning laced beneath simplicity that suggested the unknown figure wasn't speaking in relation to the foiling of the marines' chase but something else entirely. Indeed, the Navy was of little consequence at this point. What mattered was the crew that sailed under the Jolly Roger with a straw hat.
Finally.