Help Unwanted

Dea

Despite what happened, Deacon was thrilled to be working again. He spent his entire night researching his lost fugitives, theorizing their whereabouts as a head-start to his mission. He’d make an entire schedule for the next three months if he could. He came into work that morning with a plan already sorted in his head. 

He arrived at the docks and found a woman sitting on one of the crates, kicking her boots idly. The two locked eyes when he appeared and she stood to her feet right away. 

She was dressed like him - a tall, black-and-golden hat on her head, along with a full-face mask and sheets clipped onto its sides to conceal her hair. She wore what looked to be his coat incorporated into a dress - buttoned together on the sides of her stomach, the ends shy of reaching her ankles. A small black cape was attached to a gear collar exactly like his, except this one only fell below her shoulders. 

He eyed her hourglass figure as she approached, her small boots emphasizing her steps. She stopped to place a hand on her hip. Her green eyes looked Deacon up-and-down without a word. She drank up his appearance, as he did with hers. He took the liberty of speaking first. 

"..Why do you look like me?" He sounded unimpressed, but that was far from the truth. It was a little flattering. 

Her voice had a Monquistan accent. "Queen designed the getup. Said something about it complimenting you."

He raised a hidden brow. "And your name?"

She tilted her head and crossed her arms. "Tell me yours first."

He'd never been too careful with his real name. He knew what tracks he left and wiped what he wanted from his files a long time ago. Codenames were unnecessary and a nuisance most of the time. "Deacon."

"...Dea."

He snorted. "Queen came up with that one, too?"

She sounded delighted. "I did. Just now."

"Charming."

She gestured for him to follow. He picked his cane off the floorboards and trailed behind, glancing at the docked ships they passed. They were getting less impressive and smaller in size the further they went. He hoped Kane didn't downgrade his ride as further punishment. 

"I heard the Erebus was an impressive vessel. Had the biggest brig in the fleet. Easy to sail, too." Dea tsked. "Pity what happened to it."

"Yeah, well." He muttered, digging through his pockets. "Nothing I can do about that now."

When he glanced up, he found Dea looking at him from the side, a playful glint to her eyes. She knew what happened and was already rubbing it in his face. He wasn't going to escape the humiliation no matter where he went, was he? 

They stopped at the last ship on the dock. Thankfully, it wasn’t the smallest one - its size equal to the Erebus, though not as familiar to him. Its structure looked similar to other prison ships, which piqued his interest. The sails were not their usual black-and-golden color, remaining a white and blue instead. As he observed the craft, Dea stood to the side and motioned proudly.  

“Here she is - The Executioner .” 

“She was named already..?” 

“It’s a newer clockwork vessel. Kane picked this one for our mission. They let me name it, so I did.” She waited before adding, “-I thought it was fitting. We’re using it to execute our mission - therefore, the ‘Executioner’ . No?” 

“...Isn’t that part of the Captain’s job?” 

She scoffed, turning around and jabbing a finger at his chest. He was taken aback at the forwardness, stumbling when she poked him.