Fic; The Story About How They Were Captured by Pirates, oceanpunk 'verse
Title The Story About How They Were Captured By Pirates
Rating PG for now
Summary Continuation of Oceanpunk 'verse.
Disclaimer Will never own, boo.
The facts were these:
At 1800 hours Lieutenant McCoy communicated to Chief Mate Darwin the contents of Mr. Summers’ Vision, who then made the executive decision to inform Captain Lensherr of the important items of said Vision. At which point Captain Lensherr stormed out of his quarters and into Lieutenant McCoy’s lab, dragged Mr. Summers by the collar of his new military-grade jacket (that Lieutenant McCoy had zipped up for him when Chief Mate Darwin made it clear with a glance that any state of undress was not to be had in his presence) out onto deck, and bound him to the Lookout’s mast, belly pressed against the metal and hands cuffed out of sight.
“Interrogation tactic,” Captain Lensherr - Erik, to his friends, of which he had few - rumbled, eyes a little too bright. Above them in his perch, Sean was peering down at the scene curiously. Erik’s shirt was improperly buttoned at the collar, but no one was going to tell him that. Hank hoped.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that,” Alex said to the pole to which he was fastened. “Also, your buttons are funny. I’m only saying because you’re supposed to be properly uniformed at all times.” Hank winced as he recognized his own words, spoken just moments before, coming out of the blonde’s mouth. Beside him, Darwin smirked. At least one person found this amusing. Hank hoped Alex’s lip wouldn’t be his downfall. He rather enjoyed the brief conversation they had been allowed. He also hoped that no one had noticed his appreciative glance at the blonde’s backside. He was hoping a lot of things.
“What did you see?” Erik snarled, intense. He held out his hand to Darwin authoritatively. Darwin nodded at it, confused. “Your pistol,” he clarified to the second-in-command. “I left mine in my quarters.”
“Er,” Hank said, not legitimately worried. “I don’t think that will be necessary, sir.”
Darwin slowly handed his pistol over to Erik. “Don’t waste my rounds,” he warned him, which is not what Hank would have said. Erik, with practiced ease and a fluidity that Hank envied, readied the pistol, unhooked the safety, and fired. A bullet zinged towards the mast, glancing off the metal above Alex’s head. It made a dent.
“Holy Neptune!” Alex yelped, craning his neck though he couldn’t quite see the captain. He struggled against the cuffs around his wrists, but they only clanged uselessly together and against the metal structure. “You’re flippin’ crazy. Why have you tied me up? I’ve told you everything willingly. You could just ask me, directly, like a normal person!”
“Why should I believe you?” Erik said, taking aim again. Hank felt frozen in an internal debate on whether or not to tackle the pistol away from his captain.
“Why would I lie to you?”
“General Stryker is the leader of the United Islands. We worked together, with Charles, to capture Shaw and bring him to justice. The General would not betray my trust in such a way. He would not keep something like this from me.” The more Erik spoke, the more dangerously low his voice became. He and the General had a long history of tracking down traitors and bringing them to justice. They may have diverged on a few ideals and philosophies - like magic - but they had a good working relationship, or so he thought.
“The General is seascum,” Alex replied, just as low, punctuating his distaste with a spit to his right. Which, again, is not what Hank would have said.
“Say that again, if you dare, and it will be the last words you say.” Erik looked murderous, more like a shark with his glinting teeth and dark eyes than man. Hank was really going to do it. He was really going to tackle away that pistol from his captain, since Darwin seemed nonchalant about the whole affair. Well, he was always so nonchalant about everything. Hank steeled himself for the mutinous action he was about to engage in.
Conveniently for him - and for Alex, he supposed - that was when their ship was rocked violently to the side, nearly tipping over before righting herself again, the Captain and Darwin and Hank all buckling and rolling with the tilt. Above them, Sean yelled, long and drawn-out, but when they were level again Hank saw with relief that he was still in his post near the top of the mast. The pistol had fallen from Erik’s grasp at the sudden movement, and Hank saw Darwin secure it safely in his holster as they all stood again. Alex seemed unshaken, as he was standing stock-still against the metal, cheek pressed into its coolness, staring at something past Erik’s shoulder.
“You the captain of this boat?” said an unfamiliar, low, and gravelly voice behind Hank. Hank turned. Darwin turned. Finally, Erik turned.
The owner of the voice was a bear of a man, with the sideburns to go along with it, and he was standing comfortably with his big arms crossed in front of him on the recently submerged deck of what Hank realized was a specialty submarine - a ship that did just as well underwater as it did above. The man’s crew were emerging behind him from the hatches that dotted the black surface of the deck. None of them, he noticed, were armed. He murmured this to Darwin, who acknowledged his comment with a brief tilt of his chin. Sideburns quirked an eyebrow; Hank had no idea how he had heard. “We don’t need weapons, bub,” he said. “And we’re taking over this ship.”
“With what?” Erik called incredulously. His own crew had subtly arranged themselves into their defensive and offensive positions. A few were scattered on deck, ready. Some were manning the guns lining the side of the ship. They would attack on his signal.
Two women amongst Sideburns’ crew stepped forward, one with hair as white as snow, the other with hair as bright as fire. Even without Alex’s Sight, Hank could see what was about to happen. He took an involuntary step back as the eyes of the women changed, the first to milky white, the second to inky black. The water between the ships began to churn. Behind Hank, a member of the crew cried out as flames erupted from his boot. His friends struggled to help him throw it off.
“Mages,” Erik bit, once the flames had died down.
“No,” Sideburns disagreed, blunt. “Pirates.”
The stalemate lasted all of two minutes. Erik quickly ran through every possible scenario in his head, and they all ended with about half of his crew dead or seriously injured, and he was not that kind of captain. “Fine,” he growled. “According to the International Code of the Seas, this means that you are not to harm the prisoners you take.”
“Did I say anything about prisoners?” He smiled wickedly. Hank gulped.
“We have someone that might interest you,” Erik bargained.
“Yeah,” Sideburns nodded. “I see him. What d’you have Summers the Younger up there for?”
Erik spluttered, blinking rapidly, almost incoherent. “You know him?” He turned around to face Alex, who was still tied to the mast. The blonde had the decency to look ashamed, at least. “You know this man?” he repeated to Alex. “Have you led him to us? Is this your fault?”
“Heeeeeey, Logan,” is what Alex said, sheepish.
Erik turned back around, enraged, as Sideburns - Logan - said, “Nah, he didn’t have any part of this. His brother’s giving us grief about it, though.”
“Scott’s with you?” Alex asked, as though Erik were not even there, in between them, infuriated. Hank thinks he hears Alex breathe out a long curse to himself.
“Below,” Logan confirmed. “And very unhappy with you. He’s going to kill you.” Logan smiled as he said this. It deeply unsettled the scientist.
“What a dick,” Alex said, more to himself again, thumping his head loudly against the metal he was trapped against. “Just leave me tied to this pole. Tell him you didn’t find me. Please, Logan. Please, please, please?”
The woman who started the fire in the crew member’s boot scoffed, her eyes back to their normal, hazel color. “I’ll tell him, gods.”
“Shut up, Jean,” Alex grumbled, clearly needled.
“And what of the ship?” the other woman with the white hair asked deliberately, or maybe that was just her voice and how she talked, but she just as clearly wanted everyone to get on with it. “It sails under the General’s flag. It will attract attention.”
“The good captain will continue to sail it. You, John, and Bobby will join him to ensure that he does so under my command. Summers, with me. Hm, and those two.” He pointed with a thick finger at Hank and Darwin. Hank’s knees locked in place. They were taking him away from his lab. Away from his maps and gadgets. Darwin glanced at him in sympathy, but shrugged. They seemed powerful, his look said, but not crazily dangerous. Reasonable pirates, Hank thought to himself, too terrified to be amused. “You look like you know your way around a map,” Logan said to Hank as another man stepped forward from the crew and formed a bridge of ice between the two ships. He walked across, and so did the white-haired woman and, ostensibly, the man called John. “Which is good,” Logan continued, “because we’ve got an island to find. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s called Stryker Island.”
-endstory.
Rating PG for now
Summary Continuation of Oceanpunk 'verse.
Disclaimer Will never own, boo.
The facts were these:
At 1800 hours Lieutenant McCoy communicated to Chief Mate Darwin the contents of Mr. Summers’ Vision, who then made the executive decision to inform Captain Lensherr of the important items of said Vision. At which point Captain Lensherr stormed out of his quarters and into Lieutenant McCoy’s lab, dragged Mr. Summers by the collar of his new military-grade jacket (that Lieutenant McCoy had zipped up for him when Chief Mate Darwin made it clear with a glance that any state of undress was not to be had in his presence) out onto deck, and bound him to the Lookout’s mast, belly pressed against the metal and hands cuffed out of sight.
“Interrogation tactic,” Captain Lensherr - Erik, to his friends, of which he had few - rumbled, eyes a little too bright. Above them in his perch, Sean was peering down at the scene curiously. Erik’s shirt was improperly buttoned at the collar, but no one was going to tell him that. Hank hoped.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that,” Alex said to the pole to which he was fastened. “Also, your buttons are funny. I’m only saying because you’re supposed to be properly uniformed at all times.” Hank winced as he recognized his own words, spoken just moments before, coming out of the blonde’s mouth. Beside him, Darwin smirked. At least one person found this amusing. Hank hoped Alex’s lip wouldn’t be his downfall. He rather enjoyed the brief conversation they had been allowed. He also hoped that no one had noticed his appreciative glance at the blonde’s backside. He was hoping a lot of things.
“What did you see?” Erik snarled, intense. He held out his hand to Darwin authoritatively. Darwin nodded at it, confused. “Your pistol,” he clarified to the second-in-command. “I left mine in my quarters.”
“Er,” Hank said, not legitimately worried. “I don’t think that will be necessary, sir.”
Darwin slowly handed his pistol over to Erik. “Don’t waste my rounds,” he warned him, which is not what Hank would have said. Erik, with practiced ease and a fluidity that Hank envied, readied the pistol, unhooked the safety, and fired. A bullet zinged towards the mast, glancing off the metal above Alex’s head. It made a dent.
“Holy Neptune!” Alex yelped, craning his neck though he couldn’t quite see the captain. He struggled against the cuffs around his wrists, but they only clanged uselessly together and against the metal structure. “You’re flippin’ crazy. Why have you tied me up? I’ve told you everything willingly. You could just ask me, directly, like a normal person!”
“Why should I believe you?” Erik said, taking aim again. Hank felt frozen in an internal debate on whether or not to tackle the pistol away from his captain.
“Why would I lie to you?”
“General Stryker is the leader of the United Islands. We worked together, with Charles, to capture Shaw and bring him to justice. The General would not betray my trust in such a way. He would not keep something like this from me.” The more Erik spoke, the more dangerously low his voice became. He and the General had a long history of tracking down traitors and bringing them to justice. They may have diverged on a few ideals and philosophies - like magic - but they had a good working relationship, or so he thought.
“The General is seascum,” Alex replied, just as low, punctuating his distaste with a spit to his right. Which, again, is not what Hank would have said.
“Say that again, if you dare, and it will be the last words you say.” Erik looked murderous, more like a shark with his glinting teeth and dark eyes than man. Hank was really going to do it. He was really going to tackle away that pistol from his captain, since Darwin seemed nonchalant about the whole affair. Well, he was always so nonchalant about everything. Hank steeled himself for the mutinous action he was about to engage in.
Conveniently for him - and for Alex, he supposed - that was when their ship was rocked violently to the side, nearly tipping over before righting herself again, the Captain and Darwin and Hank all buckling and rolling with the tilt. Above them, Sean yelled, long and drawn-out, but when they were level again Hank saw with relief that he was still in his post near the top of the mast. The pistol had fallen from Erik’s grasp at the sudden movement, and Hank saw Darwin secure it safely in his holster as they all stood again. Alex seemed unshaken, as he was standing stock-still against the metal, cheek pressed into its coolness, staring at something past Erik’s shoulder.
“You the captain of this boat?” said an unfamiliar, low, and gravelly voice behind Hank. Hank turned. Darwin turned. Finally, Erik turned.
The owner of the voice was a bear of a man, with the sideburns to go along with it, and he was standing comfortably with his big arms crossed in front of him on the recently submerged deck of what Hank realized was a specialty submarine - a ship that did just as well underwater as it did above. The man’s crew were emerging behind him from the hatches that dotted the black surface of the deck. None of them, he noticed, were armed. He murmured this to Darwin, who acknowledged his comment with a brief tilt of his chin. Sideburns quirked an eyebrow; Hank had no idea how he had heard. “We don’t need weapons, bub,” he said. “And we’re taking over this ship.”
“With what?” Erik called incredulously. His own crew had subtly arranged themselves into their defensive and offensive positions. A few were scattered on deck, ready. Some were manning the guns lining the side of the ship. They would attack on his signal.
Two women amongst Sideburns’ crew stepped forward, one with hair as white as snow, the other with hair as bright as fire. Even without Alex’s Sight, Hank could see what was about to happen. He took an involuntary step back as the eyes of the women changed, the first to milky white, the second to inky black. The water between the ships began to churn. Behind Hank, a member of the crew cried out as flames erupted from his boot. His friends struggled to help him throw it off.
“Mages,” Erik bit, once the flames had died down.
“No,” Sideburns disagreed, blunt. “Pirates.”
The stalemate lasted all of two minutes. Erik quickly ran through every possible scenario in his head, and they all ended with about half of his crew dead or seriously injured, and he was not that kind of captain. “Fine,” he growled. “According to the International Code of the Seas, this means that you are not to harm the prisoners you take.”
“Did I say anything about prisoners?” He smiled wickedly. Hank gulped.
“We have someone that might interest you,” Erik bargained.
“Yeah,” Sideburns nodded. “I see him. What d’you have Summers the Younger up there for?”
Erik spluttered, blinking rapidly, almost incoherent. “You know him?” He turned around to face Alex, who was still tied to the mast. The blonde had the decency to look ashamed, at least. “You know this man?” he repeated to Alex. “Have you led him to us? Is this your fault?”
“Heeeeeey, Logan,” is what Alex said, sheepish.
Erik turned back around, enraged, as Sideburns - Logan - said, “Nah, he didn’t have any part of this. His brother’s giving us grief about it, though.”
“Scott’s with you?” Alex asked, as though Erik were not even there, in between them, infuriated. Hank thinks he hears Alex breathe out a long curse to himself.
“Below,” Logan confirmed. “And very unhappy with you. He’s going to kill you.” Logan smiled as he said this. It deeply unsettled the scientist.
“What a dick,” Alex said, more to himself again, thumping his head loudly against the metal he was trapped against. “Just leave me tied to this pole. Tell him you didn’t find me. Please, Logan. Please, please, please?”
The woman who started the fire in the crew member’s boot scoffed, her eyes back to their normal, hazel color. “I’ll tell him, gods.”
“Shut up, Jean,” Alex grumbled, clearly needled.
“And what of the ship?” the other woman with the white hair asked deliberately, or maybe that was just her voice and how she talked, but she just as clearly wanted everyone to get on with it. “It sails under the General’s flag. It will attract attention.”
“The good captain will continue to sail it. You, John, and Bobby will join him to ensure that he does so under my command. Summers, with me. Hm, and those two.” He pointed with a thick finger at Hank and Darwin. Hank’s knees locked in place. They were taking him away from his lab. Away from his maps and gadgets. Darwin glanced at him in sympathy, but shrugged. They seemed powerful, his look said, but not crazily dangerous. Reasonable pirates, Hank thought to himself, too terrified to be amused. “You look like you know your way around a map,” Logan said to Hank as another man stepped forward from the crew and formed a bridge of ice between the two ships. He walked across, and so did the white-haired woman and, ostensibly, the man called John. “Which is good,” Logan continued, “because we’ve got an island to find. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s called Stryker Island.”
-endstory.