"HANG ON! NO, NO, NO, HOLD YOUR HORSES, CAPTAIN RICCI. I ONLY WANT A WORD WITH YOU!" Came the booming voice of who Rosalind could only assume was Lord Beckett himself. From a distance, she could tell he was a small man; sporting the all too and horribly familiar white blonde wig, and the navy uniform of the EITC. Hesitant, Rosalind glanced to the side of their ship, only to see that no gates were open for canon fire, and no men were brandishing swords. The Endeavour, to the eye, was not ready for battle.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Boomed Rosalind, mere seconds after her demand to do the exact opposite. Rosalind surveyed the situation carefully, dropping a hip to one side and looking intuitively to the decks of the Endeavour. Indeed, the planks were lined with well dressed men, but none had been given the order to strike. And so, Rosalind glanced once more to Paul, who returned it only with a slight nod.
"A word regarding what, exactly!?"
"Preferably, a civilised word over here! Please, Captain Ricci, my throat is ill prepared for such a shouting match!"
Rosalind rolled her eyes, scanning quickly her frozen crew down below. Most of their eyes were looking up to her, waiting patiently for their next order. Filled with doubt and a burning desire to leave this situation alive, she looked reluctantly to Beckett.
"I'm afraid my trust for your lot has worn thin, Beckett! If there's even the slightest chance you'll pepper us with canon fire, I cannot accept!"
"What meets your eye is my crew, Captain Ricci! The entirety! I have no men below decks, and no intention to flash my canons! Unless, of course, you do not agree to hearing my word! Please trust me, Rosalind!"
Rosalind rolled her eyes once more, groaning loudly this time.
"Ugh, fine. I'll have your stupid word and be done with you and your pigs."
"Rosalind, are you sure about this?" Paul quickly interjected, grasping at her arm.
"Listen to him, Paul. If I don't have this talk, we're going into battle. I don't want to put your necks on the line, and so I will have this goddamned talk. RUN YOUR PLANK THEN, BECKETT, AND I'LL COME OVER. Lads, run the plank."
Instantly, yet hesitantly, the crew began their work on running the plank; and Beckett, his. Rosalind walked angrily to the crew then, with Harry and Paul following closely. Just before she reached the plank, she grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him close to her and leaning her lips to his ear.
"Listen, you're taking over now, yeah? I want you to use that brilliant initiative of yours and prepare for battle anyway. We can't trust a word that foul prick says, so I want you to keep a look out." She whispered lowly to her first mate, to which he nodded subtly in return. Then, she turned to Paul and Garrick.
"You two, you're coming with me." The surgeon and the quartermaster nodded frantically in return, before Rosalind set a stern foot on the plank.
"Wait a second, Miss Ricci!"
Rosalind rolled her eyes, looking regrettably towards the small man not far in front of her; standing firmly at the other end of her uncertain endeavour.
"What now?" She groaned.
"I request that your gunners be brought above deck!"
"Uh, I feel obliged to decline that particular request, actually."
"Only seems fair, does it not? Ironically, our trust for your lot seems too, to be wearing thin. Now, my gunners are not present at their post, and it only seems fair to play this game on level ground."
Rosalind rolled her eyes, retreating slowly back to the crew and towards the steps descending to the lower decks.
"You heard what the swine said." She growled reluctantly to her crew.
Shortly thereafter, the rapping of boots against timber could be heard, as one by one, each of her gunners resurfaced from the lower decks.
The last one to return was Eugene "Mack" Mackenzie, and it was this man's arm which Rosalind pulled to her grasp.
"You lot stay close to the stairs. I want you back down there at the first sniff of battle." She whispered once more, earning herself another subtle nod of assurance.
And so, Rosalind, Paul and Garrick made their way to the decks of the HMS Endeavour, only to be greeted with the slimy, cunning smile of Lord Cutler Beckett.
"Right, spit it out. What do you want from me? You want to burn the crest of a pirate into my arm?" Rosalind yanked the sleeves of her jacket and shirt up to her elbows, exposing the golden skin to the small man stood in front of her. "Here. Made it nice and easy for ya." Rosalind's lips were curled into an evil smile, and she could sense the urgent, pleading looks of Paul and Garrick standing at either side of her, but her eyes were trained on Beckett and his challenging gaze.
"I'm not here to brand you, Miss Ricci. I am only here to ask one very simple question."
Rosalind shifted her sleeves down then, dismayed at the poor reception of her stunt. Nevertheless, she rolled her eyes and dropped one hip.
"Shoot. Give me your best."
"What are you and your crew doing here?"
Another smug smile stretched across her features.
"W-well you asked us to come over, Beckett."
Beckett rolled his eyes then, sighing as he did so. He had not heard many stories of The Burning Rose and it's captain, but they were stories nonetheless. In fact, he hardly knew what to expect from the famed Rosalind Ricci, and so to be greeted with only smugness and cheek was something he was sorely prepared for. All Beckett knew of Rosalind, was that she had managed to cleverly evade capture from the East India Trading Company time and time again. Whether it was her smarts, or mere finesse at sailing a ship, he did not know. But to finally track her down and have her cornered in such an unlikely port was something not even he thought was imminent. Now, Beckett was standing face to face with the woman who had escaped his cold grasp for so many years, and he knew then that something was setting Rosalind apart from the others. Something he was entirely intending to take advantage of.
"Miss Ricci, I hardly have time nor patience for your poor perception of humour. Now, could you be so kind as to offer your true intentions of sailing these waters?"
"Ah, I'm afraid not. But thank you for asking so nicely." Crooned Rosalind.
"Exactly as expected." Beckett droned slowly, his jaw clenching with the irritant of the Captain. "Now, I'd like to refer to you, my previous agreement. The agreement which regrettably entails the lives of your crew and ship. So, if you comply with me now, I may be so nice to let you all live."
Rosalind's stomach twitched then, with the promise of death looming over them all. Worriedly, she glanced towards Paul, then towards Garrick; both of whom held sympathetic and understanding gleams in their eye, silently pleading with Rosalind to comply. Rosalind rolled her lips between her teeth then, carefully surveying the man before her.
"Fine." She spoke eventually through clenched teeth. "We came to Singapore to meet with Sao Feng."
"Sao Feng, you say? Pirate, I'm assuming?"
"Aye, pirate."
"And what is it you needed from Sao Feng?"
"The-" Rosalind stopped herself, a single second before the utterance of the word 'court'. She did not know whether Beckett knew of the brethren court, but the multifaceted intention of their journey was about to prove itself extremely useful in the bargain of her freedom.
"World's End. Sao Feng has the maps to World's End."
"World's End?"
"Aye...Davy Jones' locker itself."
Beckett responded with a plotting gaze, rolling his gums between his teeth as he thought.
"Interesting...and whatever could you need from Davy Jones' locker?"
"Jack Sparrow, of course."
"Ah. And...what is it you need from Jack Sparrow?"
"We, uh...we miss him."
"We?" Scoffed Beckett.
"Aye...uh, we, as in, my, um, me and my friend...my good friend and I, we miss Sparrow so. Poor bastard getting himself killed? Shocking. Though a little pathetic, if you ask me."
"I'd be inclined to agree with you there, Miss Ricci...and I thank you wholeheartedly for your compliance so far, but I do have one more question."
Rosalind's heart skipped a beat then. Could it really be that she had just bargained an exit with the truth? That was certainly something basically unheard of in the world of piracy. Partial though it may have been, there was nonetheless a small element of truth.
"You and your friend...who are they?"
"Me. I - uh, I'm the friend." Interjected Paul quickly, to which Beckett's careful gaze was pulled straight to him.
"I see...and, is World's End where you're going right now?"
"Yes. Yes it is." Added Paul once more. Rosalind had opened her mouth to respond, but with the end so near in sight, she could hardly blame neither Paul nor Garrick for wishing to quicken this process.
"Ah...and, Sao Feng...why does he have the maps exactly? Is it because he, too, is a pirate lord?"
"Aye, Sao Feng is a pirate lord...is that it? Is that the end of the questions? Your word? Are we free to go now?" Rosalind waited patiently and shortly for an answer, but something in his cunning gaze and equally cunning lips told her this was not the end. Discreetly, her hand was pulled to the butt of her pistol, and her fingers wrapped around it firmly. She only had two shots readily available for fire, but she had earlier figured that one shot to alert her crew, and another straight through Beckett's heart would suffice. Should the crew scramble to Beckett's defence, her trusty sword and dagger would see fit to rise to the challenge.
"Yes, Miss Ricci...we are done here."
Rosalind's heart fluttered in her chest as a smile of great relief instantly curled her lips. But that smile was shortly shifted, as two strong hands clasped around her arms and before she could even utter a breath, the fingers grasping her pistol were wrenched behind her back and clapped in irons. Rosalind barely had the time to think, never mind defend herself, for seconds later she was pulled into the crowd and any comforting view of Paul and Garrick was plucked from her sight. As the strong hands lifted her to the air, she finally bought the time to scream.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, BECKETT, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF AND SHOVE IT ON A FUCKING STICK!" She howled, loud enough to successfully attract the attention of her crew. The heavy footsteps of thick boots against wood thundered and echoed around her, and as she thrashed and kicked and screamed in unfamiliar arms, her heart wrenched at the realisation that somebody had skilfully and quickly removed her scabbard and holster amidst the mess. She hoped and silently pleaded with the gods, that her crew had been given the time to fight back. That her gunners had marched straight back to lower decks upon the first instance of struggle aboard the Endeavour, but as her vision closed through the mess of suited men, the sound which reached her ears next conjured instant heart break.
The colossal chorus of bullets firing from one crew to the other sounded around her, filling her ears and pressing into her brain like a hot poker. Rosalind choked and cried and screamed some more, but the men holding her back were too strong, and the cuffs on her wrists were too tight. She came to the realisation then, that even if they had been kind enough to let her keep the scabbard and holster, they would have been rendered pointless accessories.
"IF YOU TOUCH EVEN A HAIR ON MY CREW I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I SWEAR TO IT! I'LL RAM MY SWORD UP YOUR SORRY ARSE AND KEEP TWISTING UNTIL I GET TO YOUR TWISTED BRAIN! YOU FUCKING SWINE, Y-YOU SWINE, YOU-"
The tears were scratching her throat, and her eyes were burning with rage as a large, clenched fist was plunged squarely to her nose, knocking her clean out and halting any further words of fury.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was less than an hour later when she awoke; strapped tightly to a mast alongside Paul and Garrick. Both of which, were unconscious and losing significant amounts of blood from various points of their faces. Her eyes fluttered slowly open, and instantly, the fiery hot, red glow of fire reached her sight. Her heart sunk in her chest as her eyes continued to clear, and as the sight became all too apparent, she choked on her tears once more.
"You-you f-fucking monster." She croaked through the insurmountable and unavoidable heart ache of watching her own ship burn to ashes in front of her. Not a single member of her crew surfaced over the burning railings. Not a single warm smile could be seen behind the flames.
Richie
Toby
Harry
Lloyd
Dewey
Steph
Penny
Ollie
Marj
All of them; naught but lifeless, bleeding bodies slowly becoming encased by the fire spreading hastily across the decks of the Burning Rose. And still, Rosalind was cuffed; tied firmly to the mast, being forced to watch it all unfold. Her body ached and shattered, unable to close her eyes because the tears were flowing so fiercely down her hot cheeks. She thrashed weakly against the ropes, her legs pleading her to move; pleading her to release herself and to snuff the flames and revive her crew. Perhaps some were still alive, but the deafening void of their calling voices was all she could hear. The roaring flames were like beckoning screams; begging Rosalind to save her ship and sail to Shipwreck Cove, where she could wait for her husband and be together with her family, her crew, and her birth right.
But Rosalind was powerless - helpless against the restraints, and utterly weakened at the sight. There was nothing she could do, and not even the bargaining of Davy Jones could help her then, because Davy Jones was ruled by the true monster of the sea. The monster, which was currently holding a smug smile, standing only a few feet away from the weeping Captain, his arms behind his back and his chest puffed with pride.
"Ah, look who's awake."
"Y-you...you killed them. Y-you killed them all." Choked Rosalind.
"Now, now, Miss Ricci. I am not a monster, and I have not killed them all, have I? Look to your left, then look to your right. I've been ever so kind to keep your henchmen alive...barely."
Rosalind could not find the words to utter in that moment, instead only finding a croaking, pleading scream in response.
"Y-you! My crew. M-my ship!"
"M-my m-my m-my sh-sh-ship." Mocked Beckett in a cruel tone, mimicking her twisted features of pain. "It's ironic, isn't it? I myself, am quite proud of this artistry. The Burning Rose, up in flames."
"M-monster. You're a fucking monster." Spat Rosalind, to which Beckett strode closer to her, clasping her trembling chin in his fingers and pulling her gaze towards him. Rosalind writhed under his hold, her eyes spilling venom as he roughly moved his fingers around her jaw, forcing her lips open.
"You're going to see for yourself, Miss Ricci, how kind I really am. Your crew? Pirates. Your ship? That of a pirate. It's about time you realised your species is going extinct. It won't be long, anyway, that by my power, the pirates are wiped from the face of the earth. You'll be thanking me before you know it, because I have no intentions to kill you, nor harm you. And I have equally low intentions to inflict pain upon your henchmen here. No, no, no, I have different plans for you, Miss Ricci, and all you have to do, is comply. Maybe then, I could make an honest woman of you."
"You sick, sick man." Growled Rosalind in response, taking little heed of his words nor their meaning. Frankly, she did not care for the pain she could endure from that point, because she was sure it would never match the ache of watching her ship and crew roar with fire at such a short, yet painfully unreachable distance.
"You are a pretty thing, aren't you?" Crooned Beckett, shifting his fingers finally from her chin, and instead moving a strand of hair from her face and tucking it gently behind her ear. "Blonde hair." Then, he softly ran his fingers across her temple, his own eyes becoming entranced. "Big, beautiful, brown eyes." Then, he ran the upside of a knuckle down the bridge of her nose. "The most adorable little nose." Finally, he rested a thumb on her quivering bottom lip, rolling it under his touch. All the while, Rosalind flinched at every movement, growling lowly in futile protest. "And plump, rosy lips...yes, you will do just fine indeed."
Quickly, the Captain took his thumb between her teeth, clenching as hard as her trembling jaw would allow, earning a yelp and a wince from Beckett in return, before he pulled his thumb from her lips.
"Oh, you do have quite the bite, don't you?" He crooned, tucking his hand once more behind his back. He leaned close then, resting his lips against her ear, and whispered:
"You know what happens to naughty girls though, don't you? They get punished. And darling, don't I have the perfect punishment for you."
Rosalind's heart wrenched in her chest as she considered all possible meanings of his word. Each meaning grew bleaker and bleaker, and did not aid the sickening feeling broiling in her stomach.
"Master Murtogg, Master Mullroy."
"Yes sir?" Two relatively harmless looking and slightly dumbfounded men joined Beckett at his side then, standing straight with puffed chests. Rosalind recognised them almost immediately as the men whom had assisted Jack and herself in the saving of Elizabeth back in Port Royal. She could not blame them for failing to conjure memories of her, though, for her version of Victoria Crawford was quite unmemorable.
"I want you to prepare a warm bath for Miss Ricci here. It simply would not do to have her spoil my sheets."
"Yes sir. Right away, sir."
"Thank you, Master Mullroy. You will come back and fetch her once it is ready, won't you?"
"Of course, sir." Added Murtogg.
"Good...and mark my words, if she slips from your fingers, you will have hell to pay."
"Yes, sir. Noted, sir." Finished Mullroy.