Arthur sneered; of course that French bastard would attack, though he had done it sooner than he had expected. It just would have been better if he had more space instead of being surrounded by his enemies, though he could see the damage that they were taking and he knew that it was more than they had anticipated. If he was going down, he wasn't going down without a fight; what idiot would think of such a preposterous idea? His head turned when he saw a rope snap in the air. He saw his own crew board the other ship but as he did he felt the press of metal on his neck. "So eager, Carriedo?"

The Spanish captain jeered, pushing his blade harder into Arthur's neck.

The English captain raised an eyebrow then he grinned though it looked like more of a cut in his face, "Why so soon do you attack? What is the point of it when there isn't any fun." Arthur swung his sword hard, knocking off the hold of Antonio's weapon.

The other just chuckled, normally on a different situation, in a different time; that laugh would have been on a cheerful day and would have brought on happiness. But that wasn't really what was happening in the lightening streaked sky which grumbled every few seconds or so.

"Who said there wasn't going to be any fun, Kirkland?" He struck out, though Arthur met the blade easily. "I will be having much fun as I skewer you repeatedly."

Arthur frowned, not at the threat; but because there were much better ways to have fun then to skewer someone repeatedly. That only got boring, it was much better to hear people scream, "Three on one, isn't that a bit unfair?" Arthur laughed, his tone already making obvious the sarcasm.

"You're one to talk; we are pirates are we not?"

Arthur glanced behind him, sighing when he felt another blade on his back, seeing the familiar blazing white hair. "Good day, Gilbert."

"Guten Tag, Arthur." The Black Eagle grinned, his teeth glowing, making him look like a beast.

"Well this is certainly interesting, when is Francis coming?" He asked, his tone betraying the situation he was in.

"Soon." They both answered. Kirkland tapping his boots impatiently on the wooden deck, then he disappeared. The Spanish and Prussian pirate stood shocked, eyes widened when the pirate they had been threatening was no longer in front of them. But instead of air they felt a heavy impact on their backs, before they saw a shadow pass through their glimpses as they scrambled off the floor. A wicked smirk on Arthur's face as he ran through his ship and onto the bundle of ropes holding the sails and masts in place, hand clutching the itchy rope. He cackled, the dark sound echoing on the sea and with the thunder. "Is that all? I thought this was going to be a challenge, if you're only going to stand their gawking, I might as well just kill you now."

"Bastardo." Antonio murmured but his face was alive with a smirk, Gilbert raising an eyebrow but familiar grin still in place. They both launched themselves at the pirate. Leaping to strike at the heart of the devil.

"That's more like it." Arthur's voice was an incomprehensible growl before he swung off his ship and onto the Beilschmidt's vessel, his boots clacked as he pounded off into the unfamiliar but familiar territory of the Prussian Black Eagle. He slashed at the door blocking him from the levels under the main deck, the pieces of wood clattering before he ran inside. Gilbert following seconds after, the Spaniard taking a different entrance to block off Arthur.

Gilbert paced around the memorized territory of his ship. How arrogant was the English Devil in thinking that he could enter his ship and survive, this was his territory? He looked into the different crevices, no longer running but instead walking patiently. If the rat wanted to be eaten then fine by him. The ship was musty around here, the wind was blowing in; making his surroundings feel ghostly and quiet though they weren't. He knew that Arthur Kirkland could sneak around and hide in shadows but not here, here it was different. He stabbed at a shadow to his right, behind a beam of wood. His sword came into contact with the body of a human. But as the lightening flashed, he knew that he had stabbed one of his crew. But there was no sound or strangle from the body and Gilbert just accepted that he was already dead and put here.

"You're taunting me Kirkland." He growled out, "Is that wise in this environment?" Gilbert blinked, stabbing his sword once again into a shadowy crevice, hitting wood this time, though there was a face next to the sword.

"Who knows?" Arthur stated, looking at the bloody sword that could have easily penetrated his skull, before glancing back at Gilbert and kicking him in the stomach. Beilschmidt anticipated this and had taken a few steps back. Arthur charged with his blade pointed at him. The clash of metal on metal rung in the enclosed room. It repeated again and again when their blades met in defence and attack. Arthur bringing his blade to defend himself from the strike coming from above, aiming another kick at the Prussian's stomach; this time it made impact and shoved Gilbert into one of the vertical beams. Arthur ran off again and Gilbert chasing when he had recovered himself, "Blasted coward!"

"You're one to talk, Beilschmidt!" Kirkland called out in venomous glee, disappearing into the shadows. The glint of his bloody sword the last thing for the Prussian to glimpse before he entered the darkness himself, growling in aggravation. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, he was always quite good in the dark; of course being awesome like that had its drawbacks but he could deal with being called devil spawn or scum. It was something to do with his red eyes. Gilbert halted when he reached a familiar room, all the lights snuffed out.

"Came to the nest of the Black Eagle, have you?" Gilbert paced around in his cabin; the Devil was really arrogant if he was going to fight on his enemy's terms so easily. The Prussian took out his gun, pointing it straight ahead of him, before he swung it to his right; the shot rang loudly in the dead silence. But there wasn't even a stir of movement or the sound of death. Maybe he wasn't in the room after all. Gilbert quickly dismissed that thought, that was only what Kirkland wanted him to assume. Of course he was in the cabin, he had heard a murmur from that corner and shot in that direction but it looked like he hadn't killed him yet. Wait…did they ask to keep Kirkland alive or not? He mentally shrugged the ransom was dead or alive, it was just the choice to torture him or not. Gilbert held his gun loosely in his hand, he would look through every corner of his cabin and he could do it even in the inky blackness that consumed the room, with the occasional flash of lightening that illuminated the insides of the ship for a second of a second.

One such flash revealed the details of the captain's room in a glare of white before fading, giving the Prussian's back a good view of a sinister grin, the white teeth positioned a few centimetres from the bullet hole in the wall. Gilbert blinked a few times, feeling the stare of someone but when he turned around to face the shadows there was nothing, he frowned. He was sure there was something there. He cocked his gun again, tilting his head; he pressed the trigger, shooting several bullets into the wall before him, the chorus of small explosions mingling with the sound of thunder. A strike of lightening showing him a coat pockmarked with holes, thought there was the absence of a body.

"Oh shit." Gilbert ducked. Seeing the glimmer of metal slash at where his head was a few seconds ago.

"Lucky bastard." Arthur growled, his loose shirt glowing oddly in the storm, a stream of red decorating one sleeve where a bullet had grazed him.

The pirate moved instantly, charging forward to get retrieve his coat and hat, he rather like them, though the bullet holes were a shame. Before he disappeared out the only exit.

"I am not chasing after him again; Antonio can go handle that rat." Gilbert sighed, sitting on his desk. Yes he was meant to be an unrelenting force on the seas but when it didn't exactly impact him; he didn't really care, though the battle was always enjoyable.

"Wait, if Kirkland is busy trying to escape with his life and Antonio is busy trying to end his life and Francis is just waiting for the right moment to strike. Then they're all busy and no one would care if I started to sneak around." He grinned, a heinous plot forming in the confounds of his mind, "Especially around in Arthur's ship, who knows what secrets are hidden in that cursed vessel." Gilbert stood up, a new bounce in his step; sheathing his sword he beamed evilly while making his way out of his ship.

Arthur slowed down to a walk, to his surprise and suspicion the Prussian hadn't followed after him; he suspected the other was up to something but he had things to deal with right now. He put on his cloak, frowning at the bullet holes in the expensive fabric. He had to steal another one soon or maybe get one from the Empire, they would give anything for his services to the crown. They couldn't afford to lose such a powerful asset to their quest to colonise the world. He shoved his hat back on his head, it had faced many bullet holes already and frankly he wouldn't be surprised if it just fell apart soon but oddly it still held firm.

"Now, it looks like there isn't anything interesting on this ship."

Arthur took a moment to look around his surroundings, he would be able to return to the surface through the left, then up; if he remembered correctly; Carriedo's ship was right next to the Beilschmidt's. Maybe he should torment that Spaniard a bit more.

He ran out to the deck, the ship pelted by raindrops; the deck soaking in inch deep water. Arthur pounded, his feet drenched from the rainwater. His hair had become plastered to his face from the rain, the numbness from the constant pouring of the heavens had started to dwell in his body, helping him deal with the cold icy wetness. He dodged through the masses of people fighting on the decks; mainly the trio's crew against his but he had his agents, not that any of those other pirates knew.

The captain leaped on to the edge of the boat where all the ropes were holding down the strained sails. He really needed another method to travel through ships in battles but leaping wasn't a good idea; the sea could kill more than any nation or war. He wrapped his hand around the rope. He slashed his weapon at the onslaught of his enemy's crew who had noticed him in his path to Antonio's ship, feeling the impact of flesh but these were small fry. He cut down on the knot that as keeping the rope taunt, feeling the pull that lifted him into the air; a dull throb in his arm. The wind scratched at his face and the raindrops collided with his narrowed eyes as he tried to keep an eye to where he was going. His grip on the rose loosened when he saw the cluttered deck of Antonio's ship, letting go completely as he hardened himself for the impact.

"Dammit! It doesn't usually hurt that much!" He muttered darkly as he attempted to not fall over, keeping himself still in case a twinge of movement disturbed his already frail centre of gravity. "Now where the fuck is the-" He was cut off by the sound of a bullet hurtling past him.

"Hola."

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he turned around to face the Spaniard leaning cockily on the centre mast, the pistol still in his hand, the smoke leaking from the gun barrel melding with the rain. He ducked when he heard more of the bullets, running while his coat trailed behind him, falling victim to more bullet holes. Antonio taking his time as he shot at the running Englishman, he mind remarkably clear from battle rage and just content to see the other get punctured by bullets. Grinning sadistically, he hadn't even started sword fighting yet.

Arthur clutched at the shoulder of a Spanish man, muttering something into his ear before walking off behind one of the masts, pushing his back on it as he tried to catch his breath. He brandished his sword, noticing a man charging at him with an overzealous battle cry. He sighed, shaking his head in exasperation before he stabbed into the man's heart when the man had reached him the sailor falling, his sword poised to strike. Some people just didn't learn.

"Still hiding, Devil!" The voice was closer to him now, maybe his opponent finally wanted to start fighting instead of shooting at him like he was some game. Arthur chuckled darkly, the bullet graze he had gained from the Prussian still throbbed.

"Well you aren't anymore." The familiar tone came from his left, the beaming face snark and conniving as he pressed the muzzle of his gun at the Englishman's ribcage.

"Tch."

"Should I blow out your guts now or should I torture you as you have me?" Antonio whispered. Arthur shrugged, feeling the hollow circle press harder into his chest. "You're certainly giving this a lot of thought."

"I want to enjoy it."

"Pity." Arthur stated. Carriedo raising an eyebrow before an idea struck him, "No I will just humiliate you."

"And how will you do that exactly?"

"You have an extraordinary sense of pride; it will hurt you the most when the world would learn of the pitiful state of, you, Arthur Kirkland under a Spanish captain." His smile grew as he saw the sneer from the Englishman.

Arthur started laughing, closing the distance between the two captains until their noses were almost touching, the other face guarded at the close proximity. "No way in hell bastard." Arthur pressed the trigger, Antonio realised what the Blond was doing and jumped back; barely dodging the bullet that was aimed for him. Arthur still holding onto his own gun.

"Lucky bastard. That should have killed you once and for all." He stood up, shoving his gun back into his belt. He charged, cutting the sword diagonally, aiming to slash at Antonio's chest. Said captain had recovered from the shock of almost dying, already having his sword in time to defend himself. The collision of the swords powerful enough to make the both of them take a few steps back. Arthur returning with even greater force, Antonio parried, making the other recoil. They met again and again. The Spaniard attacked fervently, Arthur forced into only making defensive strikes. He scowled, grabbing the shirt of some Spanish crew member he thrust him into the general direction of the opposing pirate. It was too late for Antonio to stop his attack and he stabbed into the chest of one of his crew. Growing at the offending Brit who was smirking. He slid his sword out of the man's body, the weapon making a slick sound before the man dropped onto the floor.

"He was pretty useful, you know." Antonio muttered, looking down at the dead man.

"Well too bad then."

Antonio once again slashed at him, Arthur sidestepping and blocking the sword before it could go any further. Sliding the metal against the pirate's sword, he made a move for his chest; however, the brown haired captain kicked him before he could make another move. Arthur collided with the mast, his body not prepared for the direct attack. From the corner of his eye he saw the brief nod from a Spaniard. He grunted while his back strained from the sudden impact. He spared a look at his ship, he should return to it soon; he saw a glimpse of a white head of hair. He sneered before he saw the looming appearance of a third ship.

"So Francis is finally here?"

"It appears so." The Terror answered, smirking at Arthur's slightly hunched body. "You're not going to last much longer are you."

"Who knows?" Arthur growled he sprinted from Antonio, hearing the other chase him readily; he heard the small explosions of gunshots once again, silently mourning his coat. "You can't let of that gun can't you?!"

Arthur slip under a low flying mast, "You're can't kill me without it! You can't beat me in a swordfight!" He screeched, hearing the furious growl of his chaser.

"You're wrong Kirkland!" He shouted back, leaping to bring his sword down on the Brit. Arthur turned around to easily block the attack, forcing him back. "Am I really?" He tripped the Spanish pirate. Antonio struck the floor, his back becoming more drenched in the rainwater. Arthur pointed the edge of his weapon at Antonio's neck, "You have yet to defeat me, in fact; I've almost killed you several times over."

A searing pain erupted in Arthur's shoulder, his eyes widened; his sword hand slumped as his other hand clutched at his shoulder. He swore, feeling the thick slippery feeling of blood and the familiar feeling of a bullet lodged into his flesh. He glanced behind him; seeing a face he was accustomed to hating. The Frenchman blowed on the gun, smirking from his balanced position on the sail mast, "Bonjour diable."

Arthur glared at the man who had caused blood to stain his coat. He glimpsed Bonnefoy chuckle as he aimed again, closing one eye and tilting his head for the effect. The Brit scoffed, forcing the dulling ache into the back of his mind. "Long time no see." He muttered, glancing back in between Antonio and Francis; both of them armed and aiming for his death, he straightened out, the movement burning his shoulder. "Took you a while to get to this stage."

"Ah, of course Kirkland but whose fault was that I guess? Can't you just surrender for once?" Bonnefoy reprimanded, his sly voice like a sharpened sword.

"The ridiculousness of that statement confounds me; how could I, the English Devil, ever surrender? Especially to a cowardly scum of a Frenchman like you." Arthur laughed harshly, pacing around them; their weapons aimed at his every move as he continued to walk around deck.

"I don't know but I suppose in your defence it wouldn't make a difference to your fate in the end whether you surrender or not." Bonnefoy stated, using the opportunity to slide down from the mast, his shoes clacking as they made contact with the wood, a small puddle of water splashing. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, his hand firm but relaxed on the hilt of his sword. Antonio and Francis began to circle the cornered Brit, slowly but keeping the other from running away.

"I'm surprised you haven't ran off yet, Kirkland." Carriedo sneered, "You have quite the ability of running away when things don't suit your plans."

"What can I say; I'm a pirate; or more accurately a privateer but a pirate yet the same."

Francis jeered, "Scum of the government; you're precious British Empire won't help you here." Arthur laughed, "You assume they help me; you're dumber than you look! The only thing they're good for is for not killing me. Personally I only became a privateer because it was useful to me but really there's not much to gain, there's more to lose though." Arthur swung around his sword, "But you two would know that, being privateers yourself."

Antonio growled and Francis frowned, "Well I think the chatter ends here boys." The Frenchman stated, seeing Arthur smirk, the Brit gripping the weapon harder. "Well I enjoyed it when it lasted."

Francis and Antonio both struck out, both aiming for the Brit from opposite angles. Arthur ducked; the scathing of the two metals clashing against one another. He scowled but wiped the grimace off his face, washing it with a full on smirk. He ran through the space left by the other two pirates; it was unoriginal but really, it was all in his master plan in the end. He couldn't defeat them by himself, really if you stacked the odds against him he should be dead but then he should've been dead a long time ago. "Do you mean the chatter or your life, Arthur?" The British pirate heard the whisper; he flung himself from the words. Just managing to not get blasted by the Spaniards rifle, glaring at the man casually throwing the weapon in the air and catching it, "You're getting slower, don't ya think."

"He is isn't he?" Francis muttered darkly, pressing himself behind the Englishman, both of the pirates had expected the Devil to run, though they hadn't expected it to go so well to their plans. Francis pressed the blade threateningly into where the spinal cord was of the smaller blond. "Though, personally I find it quite impressive that you've survived for so long already."

Arthur chuckled sarcastically. "You're one to talk, bastard." His eyes were clouded, "But where is that Prussian friend of yours?"

Antonio halted, "Where is Gilbert?" The absence of the Black Eagle finally making an impact on them.

Kirkland smiled, "Oh is there a fracture in the company?"

Francis snarled, "Antonio, as much as you want to skewer this sewer rat, I think you should look for Beilschmidt and I'll deal with the Devil." Antonio was about to disagree, his mouth open to start another sentence but he recognised something different in the Frenchman's eyes. "Fine." The Spaniard frowned but then turned to find the missing pirate, his red coat flailing into the storm. Arthur watching as the whole conversation wavered past him, he couldn't really do anything with the knife at his back.

"Now it's just the two of us."

"Indeed." Arthur muttered.

"Now why haven't you run away yet? I've surely given you the chance to escape by now." Francis twisted the knife, the edge of the blade now drawing blood on the Englishman's back.

"Why, give you chance to set a trap, really now you should know me better than that." Arthur kept himself from wincing at the break of skin, hopefully the other wouldn't notice the way his hand was twisting around.

"Well, it's going to hurt if you're going to stay in this position."

Arthur smirked, feeling a cold weight in his hand, "For me or for you." He flipped the small dagger in his hand, stabbing it in the direction of Bonnefoy's gut. "Really Kirkland, you are most predictable today." Arthur's wrist was stopped in its tracks, the knife still held in his hand. "Tch." But the dagger was now no longer pressed against his back.

Arthur took the opportunity to swing the hand with his sword, the point of the blade aimed at the Frenchman's throat, his other hand still grasped by the other, he raised an eyebrow snarkily. "Going to let go now?"

Francis twitched his head, replying with a strained smile. His hand reluctantly loosening the grip it had on Arthur's wrist, taking his time as he switched the knife in his other hand for his sword. "Well then, I guess this is going to have to be sorted in the way of the sword, non."

"Thank you for stating the obvious." Arthur started to move away from the Frenchman but his steps arched as the other mirrored his movements, their eyes battling as they waited for their opponent to make a move; walking in a rough circle, one foot over the other.

A/N:Okay Part two of the bad touch trio vs. england trilogy...Okay i tried editing this...i actually tried (i sat down with a printed out copy and crossed out stuff [its actually better than editing on a computer in my opinion]) but im not sure of the outcome because whenever i write something it makes perfect sense to me and not to anyone else...

this is the longest of the three and guess what...i made a reasonable update...