❝ French Perfume ❞ - FrUk/UkFr Pirate Novella

Chapter 12

The sky around him had turned a dark purple, the clouds looked more like circus cotton candy than actual clouds. Francis walked down the dark alley, drunken pirates casting glances as he went into the bar that him, Hooke and Hunter had first met at.

The bar was usually packed, bright browns and grays delicately shined out , but at the silence of the night, the hues were black and dark brown, it reminded Francis of a dark void, sucking everything away and leaving nothing but darkness in its path.

"So pretty pirate, you showed up late?"

"Sorry, I lost myself in the beauty of nature." Francis responded, he wanted to twirl around and tell them about the walk he had, how the leaves crunched under his footsteps and how the butterflies and animals didn't seem bothered. He chose to leave out the part that Antonio was actually the pirate, like Arthur had said as he wanted the chance to find more info out. 

"Pirates don't look at nature. They look towards the sea," Hunter huffed and then grabbed his sword, the sword looking dull and uninteresting without any light to shine on the blade.

Francis turned away and let his head fall to the side for a bit, his eyes closing a bit in thought. "You have a plan, oui?"

"You're going to get a good look at whoever that pirate is and tell us if you know him. If you know him, we bust him and steal his stuff; if not, then we ambush him and kill him." Hooke responded, not going into many details about the plan and leaving it sort of like leaving the opening on a packaging in the box open.

"Questions?" Hunter's voice was a low growl, his gravelly voice would rest in the Davy Jones' locker if it could. Francis could hear a tapping of someone's foot, until he realized it was his own.

"Non, I don't have any questions." False. Francis wanted to abandon the plan that Hooke made and go his own route, his own way, but he knew the two would be pissed if he did that. He closed his eyes as his anger boiled. How could he let Antonio trick him like that? He realized that Antonio must've been acting when it came to him being written off as dumb and his blood bubbled. 

"Good, let's get walking. The ship arrives very soon. Hopefully you brought your sword."

"A frenchman always brings his sword —!" Retorted Francis and he knew that they were just trying to wiggle their way underneath his delicate skin just like Arthur would do.Thinking about Arthur left a feeling on his chest that felt like an elephant had sat down on him.

I'll do this for him. I will just ask the pirate if he knows where Arthur is. Now, that was a plan Francis would follow. He didn't care about becoming a pirate, or becoming rich; he just wanted his detective partner back.

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The trio trotted on the boards of the dock in silence. Francis had made a mistake in wearing blue, and he knew that Hunter and Hooke found him ridiculous since he could be caught easily if the moon shined the right way down on him. He felt the blade of the sword softly hit his back and heard the female pirate laugh crudely, a shiver running down his spine. 

Hunter took out his sword, the blade making a small scratching noise from its place in the hollister and Hunter struck from the side, a worker falling down, his hand grasping around his neck. Hunter grabbed the corpse and dragged him towards a darker area, giving Hooke a thumbs up. 

"Coast is clear now," Hooke responded, walking towards the loading dock of the big ship that towered over all of them. Francis passed by a mermaid anchor and slowly increased his steps.

"Go up there and spy" Hooke responded, his voice jogging along the lines of an ordering and a retort. "We will wait until you get the pirate cornered. When you do this, you will be welcomed to join our crew and become a swashbuckler buccaneer." 

"Why don't we all go together?"

"Simple. We need to know if you're real or not." Real or not. False. Francis growled to himself. They were shivering in their boots.

Francis snuck up the dock, most of the workers still on the boat, putting goodies and riches in pirate proof boxes.

Francis waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It seemed like a lifetime had drawn by, Francis slugged down and kept his posture straight, not getting side tracked from the mission. He crept onto the boat, his black gloves rubbing against the wooden floors, his purple eyes alert. 

The peace and quiet was ruined when a worker screamed, his scream was only short lived as it turned into a gurgle from a cut straight clean across his neck.

Francis leaped up quietly as the pirate began to take out the poor, unarmed workers. Their bodies thumped as they went limp on the deck.

The pirate went towards a package, glancing at the label on it and gently handling it. Francis saw the back of the outfit and inhaled sharply. 

This is my chance. My only chance.

Francis snuck towards him, making sure to stay in the shadows and a bit away from the pirate in case he would swing his sword at him.

"Excuse moi —" Francis stood up and straightened his posture, he dusted off his blue clothing and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The pirate turned around, his face covered in shadows. His oversized red hat helped to keep his face undiscovered.

The pirate didn't say anything. Silence filled the area between them and Francis then coughed, asking bluntly, "do you know where Arthur Kirkland is …? I miss him." He sounded desperate; however, he didn't care how pathetic he sounded. 

The pirate didn't say anything, but instead grabbed his sword and made multiple stabbing motions towards the sea.

"Oh thank—"

The pirate dragged his gloved hands against the shadow of where his neck was supposed to be.

His theory began to become more and more plausible. Arthur was only out here for business and must've realized that Antonio was the pirate, only to have died before making it back to England. Francis grabbed the railing of the ship as thoughts buzzed in his ears. He never told Francis that he was going back to England, or the mainland. Why didn't Arthur tell him? 

Francis fell to his knees before the pirate, the pirate gripped the handle of the sword even tighter as a waterfall of unhappy tears left the eye socket of the Frenchman. His hands trembled as his sword laid down beside him, he hugged himself as silent tears made their way down his face. 

It all made sense. 

Why Arthur left in a hurry and there was no trace of him on St. Pierre. He had tried to return back to England but… The paperwork that Francis over read probably had something to do with it as he turned his attention towards the pirate. 

"Why?" Was all he managed to croak out. 

The pirate turned away from him, not saying a word as he began to grab more boxes. The body language saying that he'll leave him be which infuriated him and Francis noticed the ghostlike vessel out in the distance. 

His blood boiled in his veins and he stood up, gripping the handle of the sword he had never fought with before and growled. 

"My name is Francis Bonnefoy. My bestfriend and I are going to put an end to your killings, prepare to die."

A creepy smile edged itself onto the pirate's face and he placed the boxes he was stealing onto a small rowboat and whipped out his sword, waiting. 

Francis' eyes blurred with emotion as his legs began to charge forward. His heart had taken over his brain.