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Captain Victoria Bullard was the most daring of any pirate Hector had ever seen or met, and he did not have a biased opinion simply because she was pretty. She had the gall to attempt raiding a fort she had recently heard about in a tavern that was rumored to have a very large treasury.
So they had spent the better part of that month, attempting to track this fort down. Hector believed it to be called Defensor del Nuevo Mundo. Spanish for Defender of the New World... On second thought, was it Defender of the New Land? He couldn't remember, and he didn't speak Spanish.
Almost as if that raid was to be blessed by God, the night was foggy. It gave them the perfect cover to approach the fort, and be the first to fire.
The Ashaton crept closer. Her metal-reinforced hull's creaking as waves lapped along it's sides, seemed much louder to Hector over the deafening silence of everyone aboard.
"Are ye ready, Hector?"
The question startled him. He looked to his left, where Captain Bullard stood resolute. She kept her steely gaze forward, as she was the one at the helm for the moment.
"Of course," he replied, shocking himself with how loud his voice had come across. Yet he was sure his voice was only above the volume of a mutter.
As soon as the fort's massive form came into sight, Conny, the fellow at the Crow's nest, hollered down at them.
"Dead ahead! Steer 'er left!" Bullard stepped aside, letting Hector take the helm. They had already determined beforehand that Hector had the best skills in navigation to steer The Ashaton during the battle.
"Ready the mortars! Aim for the left Artillery tower!" Bullard's voice rang out. Hector worked on spinning the wheel. Slowly, The Ashaton's starboard side faced the fort.
"FIRE!"
Hector flinched, even though he already had anticipated the herd of thundering booms to follow her command. The bright, fiery balls of lead shot high into the sky, arced, and came down upon the fort like a rain of fire. Most of it, hit the artillery tower spot on. There were several explosions, and the distant sounds of yells as the tower began to collapse in on itself.
Hector turned the wheel left, steering The Ashaton around so they could give the fort a taste of nineteen powerful broadside cannons.
"FIRE!" Captain Bullard's voice pierced the air again. Hector watched through the corner of his eye, as cannonballs fired from the port side of The Ashaton. The fiery balls of death smashed into the walls of the fort.
"They're firin' at us, Monroe! Steer 'er right some!" Conny bellowed from up top.
Hector turned the wheel towards the right as he glanced up. They were indeed firing their mortars.
"Reload the mortars! Aim for the other artillery tower!"
Hector glanced back as the opposing forces' shot had missed, and slammed into the empty water just at the rear of the ship. It was so close, sea water splashed Hector's cheek. That was close, he thought grimly.
His head snapped forward, as the captain again bellowed "FIRE!" The roar of mortars punctuated her command. Within a few moments, her order received a response of thundering explosions.
"They're firin' again Monroe! To the right again!" Hector already saw, as it was hard to miss the flashing lights of mortar fire. However, he was still grateful for Conny's warning. Through the fog, Hector couldn't make out where the shot might hit. Frantically, he turned the wheel right once more.
Yet he was not swift enough. The mortar fire clipped the port side of the ship, towards the front, just shy of the chase cannons. There were a couple primalistic screams of agony below deck. Hector cursed under his breath, hoping nobody was killed in the hit. It was bad enough quite a few of them were already going to die once they stormed the fort on land.
Hector continued to spin the wheel, until The Ashaton's starboard side faced the fort. When it had reached that point, Captain Bullard pointed at the wall, the only remaining defense that Fort Defensor del Nuevo Mundo had.
"Fire the broadside cannons ye scurvy dogs! Fire, fire, fire!" She screeched, the excitement of having her prey in a chokehold getting to her. Hector couldn't help but feeling rather giddy himself.
Nineteen hurdling balls of destruction smashed into the wall, but not before they had unleashed their death throes. Several cannon balls ripped through the crimson sails, breaking bits off the mast.
"Brace yerselves!" Hector hollered, ducking down. A large piece of wood bounced off the railing by the wheel, and flipped over his crouched form.
There were several startled cries of men over the explosions taking place within the fort. Hector pulled himself up, and glanced on the deck, where the men all looked at Conny's body. Even Hector found the sight a bit gruesome.
The young lad's head had been completely blown off, and the bloody remains were so twisted and malformed from the fall, he looked almost demonic in appearance. The only way they all knew it was him, was the brown deer-hide jacket he always wore. Then, there was the fact that he was the only one who was up high. He was probably climbing down after The Ashaton circled in for the kill.
Captain Bullard was frowning as she gave the command, "couple of ye take his body below deck for the moment. We've got a fort to annihilate. Monroe! Bring us in."
As he steered the ship in, he tried to keep his gaze to the docks. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he still saw several crew mates carrying Conny's body away. A shame, Hector thought. He was a good pal and a good drinking buddy.
By the time Hector had The Ashaton's port side brushing the docks, the crew was gathered on deck.
"Drop the anchor!" Hector bellowed. However, the hidden meaning behind that, was to release the hounds. Wide boards were dropped, connecting the deck to the docks. The crew charged ahead, leaving Hector, Bullard, and a couple of the crew members who were dropping the anchor behind.
"Hector, I want you to head to the war room, kill the commander. If you see any officers on your way there, kill them."
"Got it, captain." Together, they charged off the deck, and up to the fort.
By the time Hector reached the jaws of the beast, the crew was already waging war against the Spanish soldiers. Fires were everywhere, penetrating the black of night. Screams, gunfire, explosions, and the clanging of steel upon steel blended in harmony. It was a song only people like him could enjoy. A melody of death, destruction, and violence.
Hector did not hesitate to leap into the fray. He whipped out his cutlasses, and charged the neared soldier, whom was about to disembowel a fellow crew member. Hector felt his blades slice through flesh. He peeked over the Spaniard's shoulder, to see the blades poking out of his chest. The wicked tips glinted redder in the light of various fires. With a grunt, Hector shoved the soldier aside, removing his blades from the corpse in the process.
In a flash, he moved from soldier to soldier. He couldn't be sure how many he fatally wounded, but could feel and hear the subtle sound of his blade sinking into the flesh of his enemies. It was enough to satisfy him.
But now, he had to focus on his goal. He saw a scaffolding, which could offer him a vantage point. Quickly, his eyes traced a path from where he was, to the scaffolding. He could easily leap from the stairs to that roof, and from there, climb the scaffolding no problem.
Sheathing his cutlasses, he did just that. Dodging a few soldiers, he reached the stairs, and leapt. A loud clank was heard, as some shingles gave away beneath his feet. Staggering, and actually almost falling, he clambered onwards, across the roof.
He practically flew up the latter that lead to the top of the scaffolding. Once he was at the top, he spotted a sniper that he wouldn't have saw earlier from his position on the ground. The sniper was taking aim into the courtyard beyond, not yet noticing Hector. He lowered his head, and charged, as if he was the bull, and the Spaniard the red flag that didn't get pulled away in time. He yelled as Hector slammed into his back. He flailed through the air for a moment, before landing in fiery pile of debris.
Hector then turned to observe the courtyard. From here, he could see the grand oak doors that lead to the War Room. However, he had to go through a warzone to get there. Shouting in Spanish, appeared to be an officer who fought like the devil. A foxlike grin twisted Hector's lips. A challenge.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfKfybxLfme
Hector leapt to the next roof, which was closer to the ground. From there, he again unsheathed his blades, and leapt upon the nearest soldier. There was a satisfying crunch as both cutlasses entered each shoulder. Hector tore his blades out, and continued on his way, wrecking more havoc than a hurricane. He fought, until his sights were on the officer. The two circled each other, like rival alphas.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiLyT6csijJ
"Dispuesto a morir, pirata?" The officer barked at Hector in Spanish.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcUAkc8IACo
"No hablo español, ye Spanish mutt!" He called back, before charging. He aimed a slash at the officer's stomach, which was parried. At that moment, the officer's scimitar spun around his blade, and pricked Hector's hand, causing him to drop his blade in reflex. Hector cursed himself silently for rushing the officer. He could've and should've played that smarter.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBM2mbRvnvk
At that moment, the officer then unleashed a barrage of attacks upon Hector that he barely managed to fend off.
"Morir! Usted. Va. A. Morir! Todos. Ustedes. Morirán!" Each accursed word he yelled, was another slash Hector had to block. Hector would've had a smart comment in return, despite not knowing what he said, but he was focused on not dying at the moment.
Now the two traded blows quite a few more times, before the Officer somehow managed to disarm Hector of his other blade. At this point, Hector was sure that he was going to die right then. But, a convenient savior had different ideas.
The officer now laid dead at Hector's feet, a bullet hole on his forehead, over his left eye. He snatched up the officer's scimitar, before looking over his shoulder to see his hero.
Victoria Bullard propped a rifle on her shoulder. He could see her over-confident smirk from even down here. He only gave her a curt nod of gratitude. She'd never let him live this one down.
Hector then moved to the Oak door, and delivered a swift kick to the door beside the handle, busting it open. There stood a small, lanky Spanish man, whom was cowering behind a table covered in maps, scrolls, and books. Hector couldn't make out many details, as the room was very murky. For a fort with a grand treasury, couldn't they invest in some candles, or perhaps some braziers?
He yelped at Hector's arrival, and began speaking such rapid Spanish, Hector barely caught any of the foreign sounds.
"Por favor, Por favor, si, sobra mi hija! Piezas de ella! Sólo tiene doce años!"
"How many times must I say it? No hablo español!" The last sentence he yelled, punctuating it by hurtling the scimitar at the commander. It buried itself into his throat. He gurgled, clutching the area around the blade, before he fell over, dead, and in a pool of his own blood.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXdl0aYmcCJ
Hector approached the corpse, and was about to rip the scimitar from his throat, when a young girl's voice rang out.
"Deténgase! Stop right there!"
He froze, looking up to see a little girl pointing a beautiful Queen Anne's pistol at him. Finely designed, it was. Or at least, from what he could tell in this blasted gloomy hellhole, it was. Then he realized she was indeed pointing it at him, with trembling hands and terrified eyes.
"Do you actually know English?" He asked sarcastically, and amused. Finally! Someone who actually knew English. Unfortunately, that person was a little girl pointing a gun at him. He still couldn't get over the idea a little girl was threatening him.
"Yes. Step away from my pa, you filthy pirata."
"Now, now," he chided quickly. "I'm not a filthy pirate. I'm as clean as a pirate can be. Physically, anyways." Despite his smooth talking, he felt a twinge of guilt. He just slaughtered her father in front of her. Actually, scratch that. The guilt was suddenly gnawing at him quite a bit, like a hungry dog with a hambone. He let that sink in.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKoBAmS6OU3
"Oi, Hector-"
A scream. Then gunfire.
Hector's head snapped left, towards the door, where Victoria Bullard now laid in a pool of her own blood. His guilt forgotten, he shoved the table aside, and rushed to her side.
"Victoria," Hector breathed. It all happened so fast. Now blood was pouring from a bullet hole in her stomach. He frantically pressed his hands over the wound, trying to halt the bleeding.
"No, no, no!" He yelled, it finally sinking in. She wasn't going to survive. Yet, that didn't stop him from trying.
"Hector, stop it." She paused to choke up blood. "Listen." He didn't cease his attempts to stop the bleeding, but Hector looked to her paled face. A small trickle of blood ran from her coral lips.
"Don't...Let the crew break up...Hector," was her final words, before her fierce indigo eyes lost their steely glint. She was supposed to be alive, bragging about how she saved his life! She was supposed to be cheering with him at their success and their gaining of riches! Victoria Bullard was not supposed to be laying limp before him, all the spirit gone from her body.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0ZirBeXmTh
But she was. She was dead.
At that moment, he staggered to his feet, looking around. Where did that wench go!? He did not care if she was a little girl! He was going to make her pay. His sadistic, bloodthirsty mind was already putting together a list of all the horrible things he'd do to her.
Yet all he saw was the silver Queen Anne's pistol, that he used to think was a beautiful piece of art. But now, he could only think of it as something evil.
"WHERE ARE YOU!" he howled, glaring about. Little Spanish girls do not just disappear.
Hector had spent hours looking through the fort. He had only given up when the mists had begin to part, showing the morning flush. The little girl was gone. Just like that.
The crew of The Ashaton then worked throughout the day, to move all the bodies to the docks, and sunk each one by tying a heavy object to each. Captain Bullard was the last, and Hector demanded to be the one to send her off.
After he carefully released her, and then the rock into the ocean, he stood back. With a forlorn expression, he watched his best friend sink to the bottom of the ocean. The last thing he saw of her, was her deep orange hair, disappearing into the depths of the Caribbean Sea.617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv7apVgBdLH
After the rest of the crew had left, he still stood vigil. Even when it began to rain, he still stood, allowing himself this one moment of weakness while nobody was around. Hector Monroe cried.
Captain Hector Monroe sat at a table in some tavern in the middle of Port Royal. He was sinking in his memories of Victoria Bullard, who had died eight years ago from today. The only two objects of her's that was still left, sat in front of him. A worn, black silk scarf, that lost it's luster long ago, and her tarnished Italian stiletto wrapped up in the scarf.
It's been a long time since he felt real grief over the experience, but it was something he'd never get over.
Maybe I would, if I could bash that little girl's face in, the darker part of him thought. Yet, there was no point entertaining such thoughts. It would only serve to dig up an old grave that only hid anger that could compare that of a demon's.
"Hey, mate. Ye've been staring at that for quite awhile now. Ye alright?"
Hector looked up to see a young woman sitting across from him. She dressed like a man, was the first thing he had noticed. Second, he saw she was armed with two cutlasses strapped to her back, both in leather scabbards.
Finally, he saw that she was clearly a Spanish woman.
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617Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwmnJ0O3xoS
