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lemonkeiku · 1 year ago

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After Ending - Chapter 1 : Bitter Pill

Summary : Soap's death brought a storm of grief to certain people. Freya, an international mercenary who knew Soap well, was no exception. She's determined to find out what really happened to Soap.

Words count: 3,765

On this chapter include: Alex Keller and Farah Karim

Warnings: alternate universe, soap's death is canon here and he's already dead since the begining, call of duty: mobile character.

⚠ Important note ⚠ Freya is originally a character from Call of Duty: Mobile with name Vagr Modir. With the limited lore and background since it came from the mobile game, I created most of the lore and background myself, including the original name. The only things I used from the original character were the character's appearance description and nickname. The point is I don't know if I can call her as my original character or not.

24 NOVEMBER 2023 NORWAY – FREYA “VAGR MODIR” PETTERSEN

“Modir... Soap is dead.”

What the hell, she thought.

She didn't know what to think. It was almost impossible for her to react to such shocking news, in fact it was difficult for her to even comprehend it. But of course, the first thing that came to her mind was that it was kinda nonsense. She just talked to Soap a few days ago–maybe a week.

He sounded perfectly fine to her at that time. He might have sounded upset, but everything he said seemed fine. The last time she'd talked to Soap, he'd asked her a few things, but nothing concerning. They'd even had time to catch up, since they hadn't spoken in a while. It had been their first conversation in a long time. And now it was their last? She tried to recall the last conversation with Soap. About what they discussed and what things he asked, in case she could find clues as to how Soap had ended up like that. But unfortunately nothing came up, like she couldn't remember anything.

“He died here. In London,” they added.

She paused, trying to figure out what kind of answer she could give them. Her mind was now filled with a multitude of questions and doubts. Her heart stopped beating for a moment before it started pounding again. She tried to pull herself together as she tried to catch her breath, which now felt so heavy. Hot steam blew out of her mouth along with the wind, which felt colder from thirty minutes ago. The once clear sky was now overcast, blocking out the sun's warming rays.

On the other hand, Fenrir, one of her pet wolves who had been sitting beside her the entire time, knew her enough to understand that Freya was upset. He noticed the change in his mother's expression, tilting his head as if asking what was wrong. Freya, who noticed it, could only rub the top of his head.

She let out a heavy breath once more.

“Oh, is that so?” her response eventually. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She hung up immediately, without waiting for any response from the other end.

She remained silent for a while, standing still at the top of the hill, gazing impassively at the expanse of the forest. Part of her wanted to deny it, maybe most of it wanted to deny it. For all she knew, Soap was a tough guy. Didn’t mean he was immortal but it was almost impossible to think that someone like him could die just like that. But she had to realise that the message came from one of her most trusted informants. It couldn't be fake, no matter how many times Freya refused to believe it.

She quickly used her phone again, trying to dial the last number she knew to be Soap's. The call rang for a few moments and Freya hoped that someone would pick up. Her mind could not settle, her body could not stay still as she spun restlessly in place, waiting for the phone to ring. She hoped Soap would pick up.

“It's John. I can't get y’call, try again later o’ leave a message.”

The call went straight to voicemail. Of course, she should have known better that there was no way that anyone was going to answer. Even if Freya tried several times, the result would be the same and by knowing it, it felt hurt. It was hurt like someone stabbed a dagger straight to her chest and hit her kneecaps until she could barely support her own weight. She tried to lean on a nearby tree to stay on her feet. Fenrir became concerned and tried to help her as well.

It hurts even more just to think about it. She could no longer hide her expression, especially from Fenrir. That wolf could read her face so easily. She wondered if he would understand if Freya told him about Soap.

“I guess we won’t see Soap again.” Her voice sounded as if it had no strength left. Almost as if she had given up, although she still tried to deny it. “I know you always miss him.”

Fenrir whimpered in response, as if he understood what she was saying.

Eventually she started to walk away with the black wolf, leaving her favourite spot and heading into the woods. She picked up her phone–again and called another number. She still didn't want to believe it, of course, so she had to do something to check the truth. This time the phone was answered.

“Hey, you busy?” Freya greeted, matter-of-factly.

“Not really,” replied the person on the other end of the phone. “What’s up? You need a ride?”

“Yeah, can you take me to Urzikstan?” she asked.

“It depends. When do you want to go?”

“Soon,” Freya replied with certainty. “Don't worry about the pay. I'll pay you more if you can take me sooner.”

“Heh, I never worry about that with you. No problem, I'll drop you off early in the morning. You know where to go.”

After getting the deal, Freya quickly hung up the phone. In truth, she didn't have the energy to say much more than that either. Her mind was still on the news of Soap's death as she walked on through the trees. She tried to find the most plausible cause of Soap's death.

Who killed him? And how? These questions kept swirling around in her head.

She wanted to come back as soon as possible for several reasons. Especially when she witness how the weather had changed. The air grew colder with every step she took. The weather was supposed to be nice today, Freya had checked the weather report. But for some reason the sky was changing rapidly. It felt like a storm was coming. Even though it hadn't snowed yet, winter was just around the corner.

By the time she arrived at her house, the whole pack of her children had gathered. They were smart enough to understand that the weather was deteriorating. He led them quickly into their makeshift cave, making sure they would be safe no matter what happened tonight. They probably wouldn't sleep tonight. If the weather didn't get any worse, they would probably go out anyway.

After she had made sure that all of her children were all inside, she went into her own home, with Fenrir following her. That black wolf was indeed a big exception. He immediately sat down in front of the fireplace, which was his favourite spot, as Freya began to prepare her things for the next trip.

She had to confirm that Soap was really dead. She knew the only person she could ask, and that was what this trip was about. But it had been a long time since she had seen that person, who knew how he was going to react when Freya showed up.

26 NOVEMBER 2023U.L.F. MAIN BASE, URZIKSTAN – ALEX KELLER

The atmosphere at the base was tense recently. After Makarov's attempt to blame the ULF for the attack on the Russian plane, they knew that Makarov would not stop pitting them against each other and stirring up trouble. Even after Shepherd acknowledged the ULF's effort to form an alliance with the US, the threat to peace in Urzikstan would not go away.

This problem was not lost on Alex. He couldn't stop thinking of new ways to prevent the outbreak of war in Urzikstan. After Farah's return, the situation at the base became even more alarming. It has kept Alex awake for the past few days.

Like today, Alex didn't spend the nights in his room anymore. He was sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, so he decided to stand guard at one of the sentry posts with only a cup of black coffee. He knew he probably wouldn't get much out of his watch, nor did he really expect anything to happen. But at least he had something to do with his time. He really didn't need any more threats.

His eyes scanned the vast expanse of the desert. There wasn't much to see considering how dark it was out there, but at least the moon was shining brightly tonight. After standing for almost two hours, he finally decided to pull up a nearby chair and sit down facing outwards. He took occasional sips of his coffee, hoping the caffeine would keep him awake.

Alex had just placed his coffee cup on the table when he heard the creaking of the wooden floor echoing in his ears. He immediately got out of his chair and turned towards the source of the sound, searching for the cause, when a figure of someone standing outside the window. It was dark outside, making it difficult to see the figure clearly. The door of the post office was not closed, so it was easy for the figure to enter.

Strangely, Alex did not react or even take action against the stranger who appeared without any sign or even annoucement. He just stood still and watched as the figure approached him from the outside. It was as if Alex could make out the figure that was only a silhouette at the moment.

“Alex," the figure greeted. "Been a while, huh?”

The voice sounded so familiar. Especially when combined with the silhouette of the figure, Alex knew very well who it was. His memory immediately gave him the answer before he could ask himself.

“Mother!” Alex almost shouted.

His eyes blinked repeatedly, as if trying to make sure what he was seeing was real. Alex couldn't hide his surprise. She was a person Alex had known 3 years ago and he had never imagined that he would meet her again, let alone appear here.

“You look like someone who's seen a ghost.” Her voice made him shiver as he couldn’t guess why she was here. Her unpredictable tone didn't give him any clue, nor did her expression.

“How can't I ?” he responded. “A dead person shouldn’t be walking around.”

His answer left a small grin on her face as she walked toward the light, finally showing her face to him.

Seeing her standing there made Alex uneasy. She was a person who should have died 3 years ago, it seemed natural for Alex to be so cautious. His eyes could not escape the woman he knew as Vagr Modir, the Wolf Mother. As hard as it was to figure her out, Alex had to at least get some idea of why she was here.

“You should confirm by yourself next time.” Again, her voice sounded calm, but with a slight joking tone this time.

“How did you find me?”

“That was easy. You don’t have to know the details.”

“Then... What brought you here?” he asked, trying to remain calm. He put his hands on his waist, trying not to provoke her, so she knew he wouldn't do anything stupid. “Surely not to ask how I'm doing, right?”

“What’s wrong with catching up with an old friend?” She took a few steps around the room, as if scanning her surroundings. Her eyes wandered here and there before returning to Alex.

“We know that doesn't sound like you.”

“Did I really not leave a good impression on you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s a shame.” She crossed her arms on top of her chest. “I'm here to confirm the death of someone else. I'm sure only you can give me that.”

“Who?” he was puzzled.

“A friend of ours, Soap. I was told that he was dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

This was the second time Alex had been caught off guard. This time it even caused him to let his guard down drastically. For a moment he wondered if he had heard wrong or if Modir was lying to him. He had plenty of reasons why he couldn’t trust her. He hadn't heard anything about it. If it was really someone from 141's death, he should know by now. But by the serious look on Modir's face, she might be right.

“You know exactly what I was talking about,” she argued. “I got a report, Soap was killed. No details, that's why I came to you. You should have heard about it.”

“Who's your intel?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Then how would I know if it is true?”

“I wouldn't fly this far if I couldn't trust them, would I?”

“Fair enough.” Alex rubbed his face out of disbelief. This kind of information managed to keep him more awake than strong black coffee. “Well then... if it is true, I guess the news travelled faster to Norway.”

“So you really don't know?”

“The last thing we know, Soap and his team were in London. But I can look into it, see if your intel is reliable.”

“My intel is always reliable, Alex. I just need confirmation from you,” Modir insisted.

Their conversation was interrupted for a moment when they both heard the rumbling sound of someone climbing the wooden stairs of the guard post. It seemed strange, considering that Alex had not heard any footsteps when Modir had appeared.

The footsteps stopped as Farah reached the door. She had a look as if she was out of breath, as if she was in a hurry to find Alex.

“Hey Alex, we got some—” Her words were cut off when she noticed Modir was there, who was an unidentified figure. “Who is this?”

Alex could see the change in Farah's expression, she became alarmed as her hand almost pulled her gun from its holster. A reasonable reaction in Alex's opinion but he couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s okay, Farah. She's…” he hung on his words, trying to find the right one. “She’s a friend.”

It was clear that Farah didn't immediately believe it. But Alex had to try to convince Farah so that there would be no unwanted conflict.

“And what brings your friend here?” she demanded.

Alex tried to exchange glances with Modir. He didn't know what to expect when he looked at her, but Modir gave him no clues. Whether or not he could tell Farah about the news of Soap's death that neither of them had even heard.

“She said Soap is dead. She's here to confirm it,” he replied, almost hesitated.

Farah reacted as soon as she heard. But her reaction was a little different than Alex had expected. Her eyes were wide open, as if surprised, but her expression was as if she hadn't heard the news for the first time.

“How did you…”

“Is it true, Farah?” he asked, emphasising.

Farah sighed as her shoulders slumped, no longer tense. Her face became sad, with a furrowed brow and a mournful look. Alex should have been able to tell from Farah's expression that Soap was indeed dead. She no longer needs to explain.

“I just got a call from Price. Soap was killed a few days ago. I was about to tell you that.”

Now Alex knew that it was true. He still wanted to question how Modir knew before them, but it didn’t matter anymore. There was no response from Modir for a few moments, but Alex could see that she was clenching her jaw. As if Farah's confirmation was not something she had expected.

“Is it Makarov?” Modir questioned, again, like she already knew and asked just to make sure.

Farah didn't say anything at first, just stared at Alex. She obviously still didn't believe Modir, a stranger who had come out of nowhere. Alex could not trust Modir completely. He did not know her true intentions. But if she was going to do something to threaten him, Alex was sure she would have done it sooner.

With a nod of his head, he tried to reassure Farah. “You can tell her, Farah.”

“Yes. He was killed when he tried to stop him,” Farah eventually answered.

“Thank you,” Modir said. “Sorry for coming unannounced. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time.”

Modir immediately turned around and left the room through the door. He didn't even give Alex or Farah a chance to say anything. This time the sound of her steps could be heard, rushing down the stairs.

“Wait—Mother! Stop!” He tried to stop her, leaving Farah alone in that room. He ran down the stairs, trying to catch up with Modir before that woman disappeared just like how she came.

She went straight to the outside of the barrier. By the time Alex had almost caught up with her, Modir was already on a bike, preparing to leave. Alex had shouted at her several times, but Modir had no intention of stopping as she started her bike.

With no choice, Alex immediately jumped in front of Modir's bike. He pulled out his gun and even pointed it at Modir to stop her from riding away. Thankfully it worked, Modir didn't move–or at least she didn't ride off and hit Alex.

“I said, stop!” he commanded.

“You won’t shoot me,” she challenged him.

“And yet you stay.”

It took some time for the two of them to work out their egos. Alex was still pointing his gun straight at Modir, unwilling to move or even lower his weapon. Meanwhile, with both hands still on her bike, Modir was not about to give up her intention either.

But at the end it was Modir who gave in. It didn't take long for her to change her mind. At least for a moment. She took both hands off the bike and sat upright to show that this time she was listening to Alex. She also turned off her bike as a sign of good intentions.

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly. “You can lower your weapon. I'm not that stupid to run you over.”

Alex hesitated at first, but decided to listen to Modir's words and slowly lowered his weapon. By her tone alone, his curiosity outweighed his doubts about Modir and made him willing to lower his guard a little. He also took the opportunity to keep his weapon before beginning to speak.

“Why are you here?” he interrogated her.

“To confirm Soap’s death.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I want to know if he’s really dead and your Commander just confirmed it.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean “what else”? Wasn't that clear enough for you?”

“Of course not,” he was being doubtful. “Do you really expect me to believe that you're just here to confirm Soap's death?”

Modir raised one of her eyebrows. “And I left right after I got the confirmation. I’m sure it was pretty clear. Can I go?”

He didn't really like it, but he had to admit that it made sense, even if the rest didn't.

“Now you got your confirmation. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don't think it's any of your business.”

“It is!” he grunted. “You can't just barge into my base and leave without any explanation. You were lucky Farah didn't shoot you up there.”

Modir sighed loudly, her jaw tensing as her forehead creased. Her eyes were now fixed on Alex, and he could sense the woman's frustration. But here, too, Alex was annoyed because he was not getting a clear answer from Modir.

“You'd better stay out of my way, Alex. I'm no threat to you if that is what you worry about. Unless you’d try to hold me back, I’d have no second thought to fucking shoot your head . Now, move!”

At this point, Alex had no reason to continue to stand in Modir's way. True, he had gotten no explanation, but Modir herself had assured him that she was no threat. At least for now. Eventually, he stepped aside from the front of her bike and let Modir go. He took a moment to stare at the woman as she drove away, until she was out of sight.

He went back to his post when Farah was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was not sure if she had seen or even heard his conversation with Modir.

“Alex… Who is she?” she asked right away.

“An acquaintance.”

“From the CIA?”

Alex shook his head. “No, no... She’s a mercenary. We crossed paths once,” he tried to explain. “We worked together– short of. Well… at least not at first.”

The two of them walked up the stairs, back into the room. It was Alex who invited Farah to continue their conversation inside. He knew she must have many questions. It would also be better if no one overheard their next conversation. He closed the door behind him as soon as Farah walked through it.

“So what does she have to do with Soap?” She crossed her arms.

“Soap was there with me. Y’know… That one time I went to Alaska.” Alex took the chair he previously used and sat there. “I never expected she would show up here.”

“Why is that?”

“The last time I met her was 3 years ago in Alaska. More importantly, she was supposed to be dead. She was reported K.I.A. during that time.”

Alex would never forget his first and last meeting with Modir. Especially the last moment when he witnessed how Modir was killed in front of him. As Modir said before, he did not check whether Modir was really dead or not, he just received the report that Modir was K.I.A..

After seeing Modir alive and appearing at the ULF headquarters, Alex couldn't stop thinking about a few things. When Modir appeared earlier, he thought that she had come for him with bad intentions. Even when she questioned him about Soap's death, Alex thought she had other plans about it.

It felt as if the adrenaline was still pumping, his heart was still pounding and even his hands were sweating in their gloves. He had good reason to be anxious. He thought Modir was coming to kill him.

“Are you planning to inform Price about her?” she asked.

Alex was silent. He thought about whether it was necessary to tell others. Apart from the fact that Modir didn't ask about anything other than Soap's death, she didn't mention anything about the team either.

He thought so hard that his forehead furrowed and he sniffed the air from behind his moustache.

“Let’s keep this between us for now. I don’t think she’ll be a threat to them.”

Thank you for reaching the end of first chapter 💕💕 I really hope you like it and excited for the next chapter^^

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starsofang · 5 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! a/n: so sorry for the wait, this chapter isn't as long as the others but i'm in the process of moving! i'll be moved in by late next week, so when that happens, i'll finally have more time to deliver longer parts and be more active! <3 masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“You let her get away.”

“S’not like I meant to, Cap,” Soap defended, scowling to himself.

The four men stood in Price’s quarters, all shoulders equally tensed and expressions grim. While Gaz and Ghost remained quiet thus far, the intensity rolled off of them menacingly. Soap could practically see the sourness fill the air.

“But you did,” Price reiterated, slamming his palm on the table. It shook the room, quill holders rumbling and threatening to spill onto the floor. “We already take a risk havin’ her on our ship until she grows accustomed to livin’ here. How could you be so careless?”

“Can ye blame her?” Soap spat back. The men fell silent with Price narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “The poor lass watched the four of us burn her village down. Then we took her in like a fit of scoundrels. I don’t blame her for runnin’ off the way she did.”

Price kept his mouth shut, pressed in a firm line. His shoulders were squared, an argument threatening to spill out, yet he didn’t encourage it. After all, Soap had a point, but they weren’t supposed to care. It was a simple part of being savages.

“She’ll understand eventually—“

“But she won’t,” Soap cut Price off, leaning his hands on the table to match the Captain’s. The two of them stared long and hard at one another. “We don’t even understand, so what makes ye think she will?”

“Soap,” Ghost warned. Soap’s gaze flickered over to the masked man, whose eyes were darkened with warning. Gaz shifted uncomfortably from beside him. “Watch your tongue.”

Soap opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Price raised his palm, requesting silence. The look on his face was unreadable, but the sign of authority was clear.

“You need to get your head out of the trenches, Soap,” Price warned. “Carin’ for her will only have you throwin’ yourself overboard, and that’s not somethin’ I can save you from. We needed a medic, and she was in the right place at the right time. That is all.”

“So ye don’t have the slightest bit of sympathy for her, s’that right, Cap?” Soap asked, eyes narrowing in on the Captain.

“There is no place in this world for sympathy,” Price responded meekly. “Let alone for her.”

“And for us?” Soap questioned, gesturing to the other two men in the room.

“You are my men,” Price grunted. “She is an unlucky woman that came from rags rather than riches. That is to no fault but her own. You forget your place, Soap.”

Though Price had remained calm, Soap could see the building aggravation. It was in the way the Captain’s hands clenched atop the table, his eyes glossed over with a heated fire from being rebutted.

“It seems yer forgettin’ yers as well, Captain,” Soap muttered bitterly.

The atmosphere was so thick, it was suffocating. Not a single man said another word, caught in a deadly stare down. It was a rarity to challenge Price’s authority, let alone over an unfortunate woman who they had ruined all on their own.

If Soap’s words affected Price, he didn’t make it known. Rather, his irritability was evidence, and he appeared to be fighting off any resentment towards his own crew.

“Get out,” Price uttered, voice low, but the notion was clear. “All of you.”

Nobody argued. Rather, they filed out one by one, Price’s door slamming on the way out.

Ghost grumbled when just the three of them remained, stalking off to his own quarters for the night.

Gaz joined Soap in watching the masked man leave. It wasn’t until he was fully out of sight did Gaz speak.

“You have a point, Soap,” Gaz said quietly, slapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good luck makin’ Cap see that.”

Gaz gave him another squeeze of his hand before sauntering off himself, leaving Soap alone on the upper deck, the summer air suddenly feeling frigid and bitter.

The cell was suffocating you all over again. You missed the feel of a bed, the soft furs that lined Price’s bed that showered you in comforting warmth for the night, the flood of fresh air in your lungs.

Part of you felt like you took it for granted. The bitter part of you, though, knew that you deserved to have those things without being in the possession of a pirate.

The shoes Soap left you taunted you from the corner of the cell. They mocked you, called you ungrateful. It painted you with an uncomfortable guilt that settled deep in your bones.

You shouldn’t feel bad for a bunch of savages, but what kind of savages would think to surprise you with shoes, even picking out ones that you might like? You couldn’t speak for the others, but Soap had shed a light of humanity in a time where you needed it, and you had fucked that up.

Now, you wanted it more than ever. The cell was cold and unwelcoming, and you missed the taste of freedom you were given so shortly.

It felt as if you were back at square one. For the first day, nobody came to offer you food like before. Your stomach grumbled with a might that had you coiled over, silently crying into your hands. The second night was torturous, and it felt as if your own stomach was beginning to feast on itself.

The third night, however, was when you were finally graced with sympathy.

What greeted you, or more so who, had taken you by surprise. Expecting Soap or Gaz, or even Ghost to degrade you for being so stupid, you were instead faced with the Captain himself.

Price stood with a steaming bowl of stew and another bowl of simple rice. The sight of it had your mouth watering and your stomach gurgling in desperation.

“Hello, dove,” he offered, his tone surprisingly soft compared to the spitefulness he held days before. It still held authority, one you didn’t think would ever rid itself, but it wasn’t as angry as expected.

You gave him a nod in response but said nothing. A touch of dread crept up your spine. He was all too calm to you, who had nearly sent his men to unforeseeable death.

Price balanced the two bowls on one arm so he could unlock your cell door and step inside. Once in, he carefully placed the bowls on the ground in front of you where you sat, taking a cautious step back.

As much as you wanted to devour the food without. a second thought, you remained frozen and stubborn. You stared at the bowls of hot food before shifting up to look at him. When he gave you a nod in confirmation, that was all you needed to begin eating.

Eating was the nicer word. Demolishing was more accurate.

You didn’t bother to eat with the spoon given, rather you used your hands to grab a fistful of rice and guzzle it down. Grains of rice stuck to your face around your mouth, showing an embarrassing display. You were so hungry you didn’t care.

“Slow down,” Price ordered. You paused in your eating, glancing up at him. He didn’t look angry, but he did look a bit disturbed at your desperation.

Flustered, you swallowed the food down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Picking up the spoon in the stew, you ate it with eagerness but allowed yourself some decency.

Price was silent as you ate, standing with his arms crossed, watching. You were too enraptured in the meal to care, even if you look distasteful. The food had never tasted this good before, and you weren't sure whether it was because you were starving, or because somebody else cooked.

You imagined the pirates in the kitchen together, chopping vegetables and meat to place it in a pot, using an array of spices. Arguing over who got to do what, disagreeing with a choice of meal for the day.

It gave them a small sense of normality in your mind, even eliciting a small laugh from you. Price’s face contorted in confusion, wondering what could possibly be funny, especially in times like this. You, locked in a cell, given the worst hand the world could’ve given you, finding something joyful enough to laugh through it.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re laughin’?” Price gruffed.

You swallowed down your food, peering up at him from where you sat on the floor. “I was just imagining Soap and Ghost arguing over who gets to cook,” you confessed, looking back down at your food. “I apologize. It is not funny.”

You could feel Price’s stare. The air was silent, tense, before he ultimately broke it. “Ghost is the one that cooks,” he explained. “Used to be a butcher back in his day.”

“A butcher?” you repeated, pondering. The mask Ghost flaunted made him mysterious and concealed. You would’ve never imagined him as a butcher, though the more you thought about it, the more it clicked. “That seems to make quite a bit of sense, actually.”

“Does it?” Price hummed with the telltale sign of amusement. It was hardly evident. “Yes, I believe it does. Explains why he’s so good with a knife, aye?”

You grimaced at that. Ghost was certainly good in combat, that was something you could see from the jump. You just didn’t want to envision who and what he uses it on.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot,” Price began. The words took you by surprise. “Might have ruffled too many of your little feathers too soon.”

“That is a severe understatement,” you muttered. Price shot you a look, successfully shutting you up.

“We do not normally have others on our ship. If we have treated you with hostility, then I apologize. You must understand the walls we have built up, you see,” he explained.

“Then why have you taken me if you are going to treat me as a mere rat?” you asked. He sniffed, feigning disinterest. “I thought you appointed me as a medic. It does not feel as though you are true to your word. Is there perhaps another reason for kidnapping me that you are not telling me?”

Price was quiet, eyes wandering off elsewhere. He appeared in thought, as if debating something heavily in his mind.

“No,” he finally said, hesitating. “You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I do not apologize for taking you, but I do… sympathize. Perhaps I should’ve been kinder.”

“Perhaps,” you repeated, albeit a tad bitterly. Price was unfazed by the subtle resentment you held. He didn’t seem to care at all. He was a hard man to read, even harder than Ghost. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was dangerous.

Price cleared his throat, the aura of awkwardness smothering him. It was evident to you that he wasn’t used to being kind and having to resolve with someone. You briefly wondered what made him change his mind.

“You are right,” he continued. “We took you in to be our medic. Medics cannot work in a cell.”

Price took a step back to leave the cell, yet the door remained open. He gestured for you to step out, to join him. You were weary, slowly standing from your spot and taking a skeptical step out of the cell.

“I will give you the choice in who you wish to stay with until we can arrange a space for you to sleep.” Price began stepping up the stairs that led to the upper deck, so you silently followed. “If you wish to stay with me again, that is fine. But if you wish to stay with Gaz or Soap, that can be arranged as well.”

“No Ghost?” you asked in, dare you say, amusement.

“Unless you would like to be strangled in your sleep, I would not advise it,” he responded.

“That was a jest, Captain. I know how to pick my battles.”

Price paused in front of the doors to the upper deck, turning to you. He stared for a long moment, before you saw the tiniest of smiles play at his lips. It was buried under his facial hair, but from the slight crinkle in his eyes, you knew.

“You’re quite the wise bird, I’ll give you that,” he mused, before opening the doors. “Up you go.”

The moonlight soaked into your skin the moment you stepped out of the brig. It was inviting, basking you in the warmth you so craved. The air was crisp, and you breathed it in heavily through your nostrils, your body immediately faltering in relief.

Oh, how you missed the outside. Though your stay in the brig was much shorter than when you first arrived, it was still just as alleviating to get a taste of being human again.

“You will stay with me for the night,” he explained, guiding you across the creaky decks. “The others are already in their rooms. Tomorrow, you can decide who you prefer.”

You gave him a nod in acknowledgment, following him quietly to his quarters. When you arrived, the familiar scent of musk and cinnamon invaded your nostrils. For a pirate, it was a comforting smell, and you found a strange solace in it.

“I’m sure you wish to bathe, yes?” he asked.

A bath sounded heavenly. To wipe the grime and sweat off your skin, to feel clean again. You would’ve jumped into the dark sea if it meant bathing.

“You do not mind?” you questioned, suspicious.

“You’ll be sleepin’ in my cot for the night. I’d prefer if you were unsoiled. No bad blood, aye?”

Price’s boots were heavy against the floors as he made his way to the back of his quarters, where a lone curtain hung. Pulling it back, he exposed a wooden bowl, large enough to fit you, but certainly a squeeze for him.

A barrel stood behind the bath, and Price made haste to lift it with ease. Water began to pour out of the spout, slowly but surely filling the makeshift tub.

While he worked, your eyes wandered to glance around his quarters. When staying in it previously, you didn’t have the gall to be curious. Now that the two of you were on good enough terms to be acquaintances for now, you allowed yourself to be a bit nosy.

The walls were littered with pinned up maps, all varying in land. You hadn’t a clue where everything was, so none of it made sense to you. However, upon looking over to his desk, you saw another map, one unlike the others.

This one was written on with the ink of a quill. You weren’t sure the location, however, it seemed to be a mixture.

Over some of the islands graphed on the map, a large X was drawn in its place. They were crossed out with the ink, covering up the names printed over the location, deeming it impossible to read.

However, two locations were circled rather than crossed out. One was in the middle of the sea, not a piece of land or island in sight. The other was circled around a small island, tucked away from the Mainland, its name unknown. Beside it, a scrap piece of paper sat.

“The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

Washed away to land and shore

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

Find the one that you shall seek

to end the curse of Shadow’s Peak.”

As you finished reading, a large hand came into view, slamming over the poem. Price loomed over you, leaning against the table.

“Go and bathe,” he ordered. “I will leave you alone to do your bidding and return when you’re done.”

Jostled by the surprise appearance, you offered a meek nod, sauntering off to the tub. As Price left, he rolled up the map as well as the poem, tucking them under his arm and leaving no trace of what you witnessed behind. He had something to hide, it was clear, but you couldn’t decipher the meaning of the passage you read.

Perhaps he was simply a writer. It would explain why he seemed defensive that you saw it, but it wouldn’t explain the map. He also didn’t seem the type to sit at his desk and meddle with written poetry. He was a Captain, and his priorities lied with the men on his ship and the thievery of neighboring villages.

Now left alone in the quarters, you willed yourself into the bath, sinking into the water. It wasn’t warm nor cold, but it was relaxing anyway, biting away the tension in your muscles. You were in desperate need of it, and you were grateful you and Price were at a standstill where he allowed you the pleasure.

While you tried to rid yourself of what you saw, it kept creeping in in waves, burdening you with questions unanswered. Even after you scrubbed away the caked dirt until your skin was raw and changed into clean garments that Price tugged out for you, the sense of unease never went away. You felt tainted, like a lingering darkness was coursing through your veins and oozing from your skin.

The garments you wore were large. They overtook your body, swallowing you whole, but they were much better in comparison to the rags that hung from your body, dirtied with nasty impurity. You didn’t know how to feel about the Captain after everything, but he was showing you humility, and that was enough for you right now. It was the best you could make out of being kidnapped by the four of them and thrown in a life of chaos and uncertainty.

As you tucked yourself into Price’s cot, you took one last glance to the maps that remained on the walls. None were like the one you had seen, not a scribble nor blotch tainting the paper. The one Price held was special, and you knew you’d be fighting tooth and nail in order to find out. Until then, you could let yourself relax. After all the torment you’d been through, you deserved a moment of peace before everything imploded once again.

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