Downpour ceased into a gentle fall. Darkened clouds drifting with precipitation forewarned of a looming critical storm, yet faint, a hint of warmth, that circular Sun concealed from its duty could be given peer.
Swelling with emotions of loss, amongst his own abode. A ship’s anchor was removed allowing tides their commandment of destiny.
Blackguard, taking center deck, a shout bellowed out. “Come out. You’ve won, before I die here. I desire my why.” His gut-instinct knew who the culprit was. Defeat written in his body-language, slouching posture from deceit.
He told the Crew to leave but the treacherous snuck aboard a scent the Miqo’te picked up.
Paced feet drew forth from creeping shadows, a cloaked individual wearing a mask of Imitation of Mistbeard. Even alone, cowardice mind games are played. While a silver-pointed pistol with engravings <Silver Wind> had been locked onto the Captain since departure.
Frowning unruly symbolism, apparel was a legacy attire the Goldbrand of Old used to assassinate, ruthlessly collecting hoards of other pirates, merchants, civilians.
Ingrained steep into the culture of piracy. They took Mistbeard’s legend to commit heinous acts. As the original mask held reputation, to pass down from various others; to wretched few, there was a scapegoat to hide crime behind another's identity. None could ever replicate Mistbeard. A King transcended time itself for as long as the actual mask exists, or the imitations, nothing could be forgotten; eternity.
This betrayer knew Captain better than any advisory.
Two distinct paths taken from a crossroads once shared.
Since pre-teens to adulthood.
Sole-survivors.
Muffled laughter came from behind that mask, pleased with themselves, before the hooded figure drew a slow methodical grasp on it to pull for identity already known.
The Seeker squinched eyebrows angrily before howling, “We were Skull Brethren! I vouched for you! Three decades between us, growing up beside another, trained! Back to back, front to front! You wanted a Crew like this for sometime! But you fed ruin. WHY! Speak, Sol!” His fanged teeth grit together.
Upon name ushered, the Raen revealed himself, discarding Mistbeard’s false mask, tugging off his shadow drapes, revealing an arsenal of a tactical strapped assortment of pistol’s and ammunition enough for atrocious war crimes.
Clapping hands together continuously with mockery. “CAPTAIN KURO SOLAIRE.” Following his words like a conductor each word drawn out. “The Infamous Captain Kuro Solaire…. From Harems, magazine covers, large bounties. Denizen’s traversing called you in passerby, The Next Pirate King; Hells.. The girl I was fond of even wrote about you in her Diary, to her you’re a beacon hero.” Thievery showing-off he held Casta’s journal, “To her you’re a saint! – Maybe she’s right. Cause’ of you, I’ve saved this realm on three disgusting counts!” Captain’s face showed disbelief, what an ego, talk about something to complain about, snickered to himself letting this condescending praise draw..
The traitor’s tone changed into resentment with a burst. “...But I know who you really are. Over-hyped and rated, you are played out! – I should be the Captain, swimming in recognition, I’m a Pope of the Seas, If anyone’s ascending to King it’s me! I have achieved everything without help, unlike you. Know why? I don’t spare people who cross me, I don’t let my emotion’s get between my fortune. I ERASE them with what comes out from this barrel. You GREW weak on land. Soft as a butterfly. Forgetting who, what we are! We’re PIRATES. Conquerors, everything is subjugated as our rightful claim… Makes me vomit, protecting, compassion, trying to be moral. – You think I was your brother? I couldn’t ever be. Not when I’m a designated shadow, watching you HOIST to the top, you’re a glorified showman. Which piggy-back off me! I’m the creator of where our feet grace, this ship wouldn’t move without me! I won’t be stolen from you ever again!” Shooting bullets into the air with lunacy, demonstrating his dominant Freedom.
Captain never met this side of Sol before was suppressed this his depth? Even unbeknownst to him, two-faced. Long ago an incident occurred where the troubled-Raen had gouged out their own Founding Captain’s eye with a fork, for being commanded. Is this alter-ego the same culprit?
This other persona seemed to maliciously come out of nowhere. Was this Garlemald’s influence from being enslaved by them until earning conscription? Nay… This part existed somewhere inside him. Brought to dawn from an event outside Captain’s knowledge.
The sun-kissed clad in black stepped daringly forth. “Envy? Huh.” Judgemental amber orbs, infuriating his seething brother-no-more. “Stole from ye? I’ve never been like you, or others upon the original Crew. I couldn’t kill for sport. You relish in making others drown in red. I chose to make others float in pleasure, I gave them my worth, for a small price of a selfish memento to carry with me on high seas. Aye, some, I broke hearts, swindled, hurt but they live now stronger to despise me. I’ve gotten what comes around. You perceive denizen of th’ land feeble? Nay, my mate… They’ve surpassed us! Many can LIVE in Peace! Fine with what they have and got! Can we say that? We struggle stopping after a taste of wealth. Eventually something valuable turns into trash if taken for granted! Accustomed to replacing fer a shiny new thing. Our bond relates t’ this reality. I don’t get it, ye never bothered being Crew’s jester, what changed?” Exhaling bottled lament, showing utter disappointment.
The self-proclaimed Pope, snickered and canted his head, “You want to settle down, I’m supposed to follow you? Your ambition is seeing others fulfilled, wow! How generous! Or wait; this for Freedom and Love? Pathetic. Kuro I knew once had unshakable rebellious fire. — For some insane reason. Our Founding Captain chose YOU to be the next successor despite, I'm the senior. He groomed you to replace him. I’ve been discarded as second-rate. When Judas came back, guess what happened? You demoted me back to Shipwright! The reason I put up with being a Jester, is so I can be in the court of the supposed king and usurper him.” Viscous jealousy continued to rattle against the Captain.
Disagreeable shake of his head accompanying a chuckle, “I didn’t have a choice to pick up, after our Captain. If you weren’t lost to the sea and placed into the clutches of Garlemald. Things would’ve been different. Frankly, I’m glad you didn’t inherit this mantle. Cause you disregard all life. From other mercenaries employed, to any semblance in recreating your own Goldbrand with Silverbrand, you mentioned stealing? Ye become polluted by entitlement. – People judged you initially on having any affiliation with the Garleans. Not including your pirate background. I played advocate trusting the side I saw of you, now I’ve painfully learned is fiction. You b’ another insufferable dickless prick. Lobbing blows in the dark, a type who’d sell out his own brother, break up his family.” Spitting on the side with disgust.
Striking a nerve from the mercenary, but showing composure quickly. Remembering he held all the power with his firearm. “...Underestimate me, Cap’n. I don’t have a family, I butchered them. You should’ve listened to others, maybe they would’ve stuck around. Where is your Crew now? Ayla? Sivir? Everyone is gone, you’re left to perish alone. What has kindness rewarded you ever? – Nobhead, every-time you visited that orphanage, each Starlight donated your share of hoards to them. I TOOK it back to my trove. All your movements and poor attempts to advance as a person, I rectified them.” Deplorable veracity shown, crueler than death.
Stunned by the slimy low, the fathomless spite. The most dangerous enemies to possess are those who've been closest. No resolve to fight anymore. He didn’t react with explosiveness or anger even though, knowing that’s what Sol wanted for that rough-destructive, smash-mouth Captain to come out. “I did make a grave underestimation… What exactly, ye want Mr.Perfection? Still you haven’t broken-even yet, taken enough from me!?” Engulfed by sorrow his throat tugged, how do you combat someone you found dearly to be purely a facade after thirty years! It took only a moment before cherished memories shattered.
He couldn’t understand what this version of foul Sol tried to convince him, become or achieve. To Kuro this was pointless, unbridled envy and unfortunately, his opponent had mentally deleted his resolve.
“What I’ve always wanted. – The Successor Crown atop your head.” Sol’s thick Garlean accent gave his demand. “I can tell, you’ve no willpower to fight me. Remember who I am… Try not to hurt yourself, but think, Captain. I KNOW all about you, I’ve followed you everywhere. Saw houses of all your ACTUAL treasures. I could send some mail over to your hearties on the land and they’ll get an unexpected present, that’s surely going to blow them away.” Purest of evil distorted his putrid face, no limit! Existing on lengths, Sol would go to obtain his believed rightful claim.
The unholy mark of Scourge gave rise in plain-sight.
Captain’s depleted form began straightening, his entire being, resolving aether in fury from a despicable blackmail… His reason to fight returned. “...Y-You… m-monster!” Previous devil’s encountered in his past and brought their bane couldn’t compare to this level of malice, menace, a brotherhood eaten alive by hatred.
🌊 ♫Gasoline♫ - Reference - Last Chapter 🌊
(Shoutout to my roomie since Sol is his muse, always reliable on brainstorming story ideas together.)
