A/N: Dea's design/clothing is based on one of the Elite Queen leaks from Kingsisle. The image is used as the cover for this story.
Despite what happened, Deacon was thrilled to be working again. He spent his entire night researching his lost fugitives, theorizing their whereabouts as a head-start to his mission. He'd make an entire schedule for the next three months if he could. He came into work that morning with a plan already sorted in his head.
He arrived at the docks and found a woman sitting on one of the crates, kicking her boots idly. The two locked eyes when he appeared and she stood to her feet right away.
She was dressed like him - a tall, black-and-golden hat on her head, along with a full-face mask and sheets clipped onto its sides to conceal her hair. She wore what looked to be his coat incorporated into a dress - buttoned together on the sides of her stomach, the ends shy of reaching her ankles. A small black cape was attached to a gear collar exactly like his, except this one only fell below her shoulders.
He eyed her hourglass figure as she approached, her small boots emphasizing her steps. She stopped to place a hand on her hip. Her green eyes looked Deacon up-and-down without a word. She drank up his appearance, as he did with hers. He took the liberty of speaking first.
"..Why do you look like me?" He sounded unimpressed, but that was far from the truth. It was a little flattering.
Her voice had a Monquistan accent. "Queen designed the getup. Said something about it complimenting you."
He raised a hidden brow. "And your name?"
She tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Tell me yours first."
He'd never been too careful with his real name. He knew what tracks he left and wiped what he wanted from his files a long time ago. Codenames were unnecessary and a nuisance most of the time. "Deacon."
"...Dea."
He snorted. "Queen came up with that one, too?"
She sounded delighted. "I did. Just now."
"Charming."
She gestured for him to follow. He picked his cane off the floorboards and trailed behind, glancing at the docked ships they passed. They were getting less impressive and smaller in size the further they went. He hoped Kane didn't downgrade his ride as further punishment.
"I heard the Erebus was an impressive vessel. Had the biggest brig in the fleet. Easy to sail, too." Dea tsked. "Pity what happened to it."
"Yeah, well." He muttered, digging through his pockets. "Nothing I can do about that now."
When he glanced up, he found Dea looking at him from the side, a playful glint to her eyes. She knew what happened and was already rubbing it in his face. He wasn't going to escape the humiliation no matter where he went, was he?
They stopped at the last ship on the dock. Thankfully, it wasn't the smallest one - its size equal to the Erebus, though not as familiar to him. Its structure looked similar to other prison ships, which piqued his interest. The sails were not their usual black-and-golden color, remaining a white and blue instead. As he observed the craft, Dea stood to the side and motioned proudly.
"Here she is - The Executioner ."
"She was named already..?"
"It's a newer clockwork vessel. Kane picked this one for our mission. They let me name it, so I did." She waited before adding, "-I thought it was fitting. We're using it to execute our mission - therefore, the 'Executioner' . No?"
"...Isn't that part of the Captain's job?"
She scoffed, turning around and jabbing a finger at his chest. He was taken aback at the forwardness, stumbling when she poked him.
"I'm your co-captain, in case you've forgotten. And the first rule of my command is that I get to name the ship."
He leaned forward to meet her abrasiveness. She was several inches shorter than him, not accounting the heels on her booties. "-Then let's call it even: I get to sail it."
She flicked her gloved hand. "Fine."
Truthfully, the name of the ship didn't bother him. When captaining Armada boats, he was more concerned with where it went and how it got there. And he likely didn't deserve the privilege, after his incident with the Erebus. But he didn't appreciate her making decisions on his behalf. This was his mission, after all.
They were noticed by some crewmembers, who dropped a board to allow them on. Dea went first as Deacon followed behind. They were greeted by the crew, who stood in a line and saluted them. There were soldiers, marines, and even a couple of dragoons and battle angels. The spymaster noted the higher selection of fighters and wondered if this was done purposefully, due to the failure of his last battle.
" Captains !" They shouted loudly. He'd have to get used to the plurality. He moved in front of them and rested on his cane, preparing his usual introduction.
" Buongiorno. My name is Deacon, the Armada's Emissary and Spymaster. I will be the captain of this vessel for the next few months. You are expected-"
"-I'm Dea, your co-captain." The woman beside him butted in, much to his annoyance. "You are expected to follow our commands and keep this vessel in ship-shape. We will be imprisoning any undesirables and pirates we encounter. Am I clear?"
"Yes ma'am!"
"For the glory of the Armada!"
The Armada soldiers repeated the line proudly. Deacon rolled his eyes. He wasted no time getting familiar with the ship - inspecting the deck, checking the sails, and assigning jobs to the crewmembers. He made note of everything he observed and wrote down his crew's names, in a journal he kept with him on his voyages. He counted the empty cells and determined the full capacity of their future prisoners. When all was said and done, he went to visit the Captain's cabin, only to get stopped by his female doppelgänger.
She looked at him expectantly. "Ready to assign the crew's duties?"
"-Already done." He flipped the journal to her view. She leaned forward to read his handwriting.
"When did you do that ?" She went to grab it from his hands, but he pulled it away before she could.
"I've done this a million times. There's no time for dilly-dallying on the first day, especially when we're expected to sail tomorrow."
"Yes, but–" He was already opening the door to the cabin. She stormed after him. "You're supposed to consult me ! That's what co-captaining means!"
He stopped in his tracks. She was steaming under her mask, gloved fists clenched in anger. He grabbed the small journal from his pocket, flipped it to the right page, and handed it to her. She took it with a huff. She focused on reading what he'd written down. Deacon took this time to properly survey the cabin, seeing as this room will be his lodging for the next few months.
There were two beds on opposite walls, one for him and the other for her, both concealed by privacy sheets. A long table sat in the back respectively for mapping and navigation, with a built-in compass and globe in the middle of the room. A bookcase was placed against the wall with provided parchment paper. He glanced at the informative titles on navigation, geography, and varied history – noting the ones he'd have to read later.
Dea finished reading, sighing as she shut the journal. She went to return it, only to find the Emissary hunched in the back of the room. He was trying to open a chest he found under the captain's desk. She stepped forward and carelessly dropped it, drumming her small fingers on the wood. She glanced at his crouched figure from the corner of her eye.
"You must be a lone wolf - one of those men who like to take charge. Who prefer to do things by themselves. Am I right?"
He nodded vaguely, only half-paying attention as he attempted each of his keys in the lock. She stifled an irritated groan. She didn't want to lose her patience so soon.
"We're working together . You can't do something and tell me about it afterwards - we need to talk through things, and–"
She was interrupted when the box sprung open. They were presented with a gorgeous view of gold and doubloons. Deacon made no hesitation to count the sum inside. Dea was too busy marveling at the sight, snapped out of her trance when he dropped more than a handful of coins into her hands. She was quiet for a second or two, until she finally looked at him, and found he was pocketing a good portion as well.
"What's this for?"
He tilted his head strangely at her. She turned defensive at his silence. "You dumped a bunch of gold in my hands..?"
"It's more than usual because there are two Captains now, if that's what you're wondering."
He resumed what he'd been doing. Dea held her palms out, no idea on what to do with what she was given. She grew agitated. "That still doesn't answer my question!"
Deacon finally stopped his movements. He looked at her for an awfully long time. The silence grew tense and uncomfortable. She shifted her feet and blushed under her mask, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Over what - she didn't know. He soon clicked his tongue.
"Have you ever Captained a ship before?"
She was offended, as he assumed. "What?"
"They give you a chest of gold for necessities." He shut it for emphasis, locking it with the same key. "-Every Captain knows this."
Her defensiveness was immediately replaced with humiliation. She discarded her share in one of her dress' pockets, promptly looking away and clearing her throat. "-I knew that. It's…been awhile, that's all."
He continued to stare at her, which did nothing to ease her discomfort. The quarters felt unbearable. She wanted out of this room as soon as possible. She turned on her heel and headed straight for the door, refusing to pass her partner a second glance.
"I'm going to check on the crew."
He watched her leave in a hurry, slamming the door behind her. He stood to his full height and grabbed his journal from the desk. His eyes traveled back to where she once stood, replaying Dea's confusion in his head. They drifted back to the door and he hummed inquisitively to himself.
He suddenly wanted to know more about his 'co-captain'.