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You fancy yourself a storyteller, but you've got no tales of your own worth telling. Songs and instruments hold no music for you. A book and a quill are more your style, although you'll never win a prize for your poetry and you've never been able to resist doodling in the margins.
You're a rebel without a cause, but that's why you're here: even as pirates go, the ones you've thrown in with are already infamous and notorious. But ruthless 'Captain' Kid and his band of misfits aren't only that. The crew love their captain, and for the first time in your life you're starting to feel like you might belong somewhere after all.
Breakfast is a freestyle affair. To each their own, depending on when you roll out of your hammock and what fare can be scrounged out of the kitchen. Along the way you pass Dive gnawing on something that might be leftover Sea King, and dodge Moai's elbow as he rummages in the cupboard looking for the can opener. But you're in luck—there is a pot of… something on the counter, and it's still warm. It looks like sludge but smells pleasant enough, so you fill your bowl and go looking for a spot to sit.
The mess is quiet, and one particularly taciturn man sits alone. Even stooped over a bowl of goo that looks a lot like yours, he's taller than anybody has a right to be. You take a breath and wrestle your misgivings into submission. Wire shrugs his shoulders with a broad stroke of affability that puts you at ease, and you slide onto the bench across from him. You don't know much about him, aside from the fact that he has sailed with the captain since the crew formed.
So you ask him how it started.
"Before we were pirates under one flag, we were thugs in different gangs... Always at each other's throats, and fighting over scraps."
You want to know what changed.
"A girl was killed. Victoria."
You recognize the name, of course. It is scribed with loving detail on the ass of the toothy ship that now sails on a page within your journal. Wire gives a nod, as he can tell you've caught on.
"I didn't know her well, but Kid and Killer were obsessed. Even after she thrashed them both over something stupid."
Even to you, it seems like a stretch that the captain would plead for help from rivals to avenge a girl. Wire laughs, because you're right.
"Yeah. Our captain isn't satisfied with being an underdog."
You're not quite sure what Wire means by that.
"Strays gravitate to each other," he muses. "Because when it's us against everyone else, we're better off together."
You look down at the empty bowls on the table, and although you still aren't certain what was in them, you can't deny that you feel satisfied.
***
Among pirates, fighting is as natural as breathing. There be monsters in the depths below the keel, and righteous soldiers on sponsored ships. Marauders and adversaries come and go in various degrees of wretchedness. Sometimes things get ugly. People get hurt. Some days it's people you know, and some days it's people you don't. You scribble about them all, because even if it's only a footnote now, maybe you'll know how to chronicle it properly someday.
It's not always easy to know which details are worth recording. This time, your hand hovers above a blank page until a shadow falls over your shoulder.
The shadow belongs to a man who looms—without ghastly intention, only the aloofness you've come to recognize as his expressive default. The sunken eyes focused on you are unsettling, if only because they seem aware you're already in distress.
Heat inquires if you're ready to leave this particular battlefield behind.
No, you admit. It finally comes out that you've never been good with words, and you wonder if you're not meant to tell stories after all. The ensuing silence is uncomfortable, but Heat's gaze directs yours toward your captain's handiwork; amongst which Reck is painting the crew's mark onto a mangled sheet of metal.
"We do not exist to appease others."
You're lost, and desperate for inspiration. So you ask why he went to sea.
"A person must act for their own sake. I have not met anyone who knows that better than Captain Kid."
You begin to understand, and flip through the book in your hands until it's obvious where your passion really lies. It finally strikes you how this scene should be portrayed; a sentence (or several) might not suffice, but paper is made to be marked, and the one that Reck has left on the wreckage seems a good place to start.
***
The deck is riotous with merrymaking. The reemergence of the ship's captain, with a wicked new fist of assembled steel, has shattered the tensity aboard. Night has long since embraced the sea and the sky, and with potent and zealous spirits flowing so freely it takes a while for you to notice that someone is absent. Still, it seems odd that the captain's most loyal man is not at his side or amongst the crew.
You find him on the aft deck, apart but attentive. Even cast in candlelight, you know that sentinel with the wild mane. Suddenly you feel as though you're intruding, but your presence does not go unnoticed. Killer leans against the rail, so you take that opportunity to join him. You're feeling braver than usual, so you ask why he's not below. He inclines his helm toward the cacophony.
"They were afraid this would mean the end. I knew it wouldn't."
Both of you witness Pomp, UK and Bubblegum ignite the fireworks they've dragged up from below. The explosives burst against the darkened sky, washing the ship and its crew with crimson and gold. From where you stand, you can hear your captain laughing.
Eventually, you venture to ask Killer why he felt so certain.
"Kid might lose sometimes, but he can't be beaten."
You didn't know there was a difference.
"Defiance of defeat has gotten us this far, and will see us to the end if we believe it can."
Remaining at the railing, you leaf through your journal until you find a page with enough room for what you've got in mind. A gauntlet of metal takes shape on the paper, forged into a rude gesture. When you show it to Killer, he doesn't try to mask his laughter this time.
***
It doesn't have a title yet and the cover is still blank, but everyone saw their story plunge into the maw of the Sea Cow that has thrown the ship and its crew clear out of the water. The landing is rough, and you get wet.
Upon returning to the surface, you discover that the captain of the Kid Pirates has gathered enough falling detritus to seize the offending beast by the horns, arresting its rampage before more damage is done. The ship remains resolutely afloat, riding the waves created by a contest of wills that churns the sea.
In the same moment as everybody else, you catch a glimpse of a legacy not yet lost—provisionally wedged between two colossal teeth. You could never hope to retrieve the book on your own, but the rebels you consort with are already rallying to the cause.
House fishes you out of the water. Wire commands the deck, and you leap to help bring the ship around. Heat sends Gig and Compo to fetch harpoons and nets while Mosh hauls ammunition up from the hold so Boogie can load the cannons. Quincey and Papas are suddenly cheering at the rail, drawing your attention to the havoc beyond. Captain Kid has wrestled the monster into submission, and Killer is so fast you barely saw him move before two excised teeth and the record book are plummeting towards the waves. The metal you nailed to the corners of the cover are just enough for your captain to seize, so only the teeth are lost to the sea forever.
The roar of revelry that erupts on deck is almost as sweet as knowing your companions will be honored among the grateful pages of a tale worth telling. With a victorious smirk, Eustass 'Captain' Kid entrusts you with the story of the Kid Pirates once more.
"Hang onto that. We're not done yet."
You will remember the satisfaction of that victory long after the journal in your hands can hold no more. The cover is a little sodden and stained, but you finally know how you will decorate the scarlet leather: the likeness of a bull, with horns of brandished steel.