[Captain Del]

Thank you, mates!

This chapter is a little on the shorter/slower side, but that's mainly because it's more of a transition chapter. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy it! So, without further adieu...

Reborn

April 25th, 1702
Martliona, Spain
5:45 AM

The Spanish sun had just peaked over the horizon as the two squandered out by the docks of the town, huffing and panting in exhaustion and pain. They had ran all the way from the mansion to the mouth of the port, not stopping or slowing at any point, for fear that somebody may come up from behind and capture them. John bent over to sit on the ground, while Maria held herself up against the stone wall of a home that stood next to them.

John laid back on the dirt beneath him, letting the Commodore's pistol rest atop his chest. He wiped his hand at his brow, pushing aside his bangs; he tried to ease his restless body from all the pain that stroked through his body, both physically and mentally. The sight of what he had done to Garcia at the hands of the gun, the meshed and cut tissue that surrounded a gouged, bleeding eye, haunted him with a constant taunt, as though he had done something wrong. It sent shivers down his spine, the thought of the mutilation that he caused.

He looked across from him, where Maria was. She stood with her back against the wall, almost as though she was sitting on air. Her face wasn't at the slightest worried, or scared, or remorseful - she was just exhausted, and of all things, liberated. Where Garcia had gripped her forearms was marked by his hands, so much so that smears of blood ran up across her arm. She rubbed at it, not like it pained her, but that she was simply getting the blood off of her body.

John started to stand up, taking the pistol and sliding it back in to its holster. He walked back and forth, rubbing his right hand on the back of his sweaty head. "You should have allowed me to put him out of his misery, you know."

Maria shook her head no, wincing as her hands ran over her scars. "I'd sleep much sounder knowing that he has to suffer, much like how he did to me."

"I'm sure, then, you'll be glad to know he won't rest until he has us at his doorstep again, then?" John challenged her. He pointed his hand out to the path they had come from. "For all we know, he has his men chasing after us as we speak... God, why did I ever-"

Maria interrupted. "You did the right thing, regardless. If you had not shot him like that, I can assure you we would have been dead long before we escaped that mansion."

"Ah, excellent. So we might just prolong our executions so I can let that manifest in my mind for a little bit." John huffed; kicking the dirt as he angrily resumed pacing back and forth. He felt like as though he was just waiting to be killed in this paradise, stranded and left for dead. But as his vision was caught by the bay, he paused - and idea had come to his mind. "The ship!"

Maria looked at him his curiosity. "What ship?"

"Ruthe-t-therford's ship, The Darkskull, it still has to be in the bay. Maybe the others haven't reached it yet, or maybe they haven't left yet - perhaps they'll take us in!"

Maria froze for a minute. She looked at John, wide-eyed, before pushing up off the wall and walking up to him. "Hurry, let's see." she ushered to him.

Immediately John turned around and started running at top speed down the remainder of the road, and breaking off in to the dock area. He ran down the length of the beach, hoping that he would remember where the ship itself was parked - and he did, noticing the peak of its top mast towering over the tops of the other ships that were parked to the docks adjacent it. His heart raced as he imagined seeing his fellow crew members, and then departing back across the channel. He imagined being back home, with his childhood friends and neighbors - but it was at that point, he remembered his past.

John, as a child, was sheltered by his mother. She was incredibly protective over him, in the sense that if he was gone, she would be alone during the extensive merchant journeys that his father would embark on. She kept him confined to their home, aside from the very few times John was able to weasel away from the home when she was too busy to notice. He went no further than down the street, and the only friend he ever had to interact with was with his eyes.

As he reached the start of the stone dock, he banked at the turn and sprinted down it with whatever energy he had left. He propelled himself right to the foot of the board that led on ot the ship, and steadied himself before he strode up it, trying not to topple over in to the crystal waters below. He hit the deck with a slam, and much to his pleasure, he was met with four Navy soldiers with their backs turned to him. His thud on the ground grabbed their attention, but just as he prepared to walk forward and explain himself, he found the barrel of a long, steel musket pointed right at his teeth.

"Oh no," the soldier with the gun said, shaking his head sternly. "I don't think so, mate. Off the ship, now."

John was in utter shock, the men who he had spent his limited time on the ship interacting so tranquilly with. "What?! Surely there must be a misunderstanding, gentlemen, I mean no har-"

"Shut yer trap!" the short, stubby soldier to the right of the man with the musket barked. He turned and nodded to the soldier with the gun, who John could now recognize as Commodore Rutherford's First Mate, Hugh Roberts.

"I was sick of listening to Rutherford talking about you forever and ever on end, saying how you would 'fulfill the spot of a son he never had.'" Roberts making a mocking voice of the Commodore as he inched closer with the gun. "Sick of it, I tell you. Almost as sick I became of you as I did him, that arrogant little twat."

"DON'T talk about him like that!" John snarled. The three men surrounding Roberts took an intimidating jolt forward, but stopped right there. "You sick monster, you wanted him to die, didn't you?"

Roberts shrugged. "I wasn't the one who shot the bullet, but I sure as hell wanted to." Roberts rose the musket a little higher, pointing at John's head. "Now, I do suggest you leave. It's a long way back to London, and I'm not going to let you leech off us anymore."

Just at that instant, Maria gleefully bounded on top of the deck of the ship. John tried to swing his hand back to shoo her away, but before he could, Roberts turned the musket on her. He eyed the girl up and down, from head to toe. He licked his lips before smiling, and shrugged. "Well, I assume we can make one.... exception. The girl can stay, but the boy must go."

Two of the soldiers instantly lunged forward, grabbing Maria towards them and pulling her close. She tried to kick and flail against them, but they held her so tight she could barely move. They breathed heavily down her neck as they carried her off to the crew's quarters, her eyes like that of a puppy as she looked at John. "Hmm, I see they've already taken a liking to their new toy." Roberts chuckled. "You," he motioned to the remaining soldier, "take our acquaintance here off my ship."

As the greasy, lanky soldier crept towards John, the boy stumbled back, hitting his back against the banister of the ship. He accidentally had backed up in to a rope that was loosely tied to the side, which came undone as he hit it. The rope flung upward, to the first beam of the ship, where a barrel which had been lifted up from underneath the ship's deck had been hoisted. It fell straight down on to the dock, slamming with a tremendous force down on to Robert's shoulder. As his captain shot the musket blankly to the ground, collapsing under pain, the crew mate turned to see what was going on. With this opportunity, John grabbed at his pistol and tried to fire at the soldier - but it was jammed.

The soldier turned to the click of the gun, but by that time John had flipped over the gun and pistol-whipped the man straight on the forehead, so hard that it sent him to the ground in an unconscious clamber. Immediately disregarding Roberts, who was wailing in pain on the deck, John scooped up his musket and made a run for the staircase leading down in to the crew's quarters, holding it firmly at his side.

As he jumped down in to the dark hull, John was met with a wall of darkness. It was eerily still, not a thing to be seen. As John tried to motion through the void, a high-pitched scream rocketed far in front of him. Stunned, he paused a little, unsure of whether to respond or not. "...Maria....?" he whispered, trying to find her in the abyss.

A cry for help came forward from the same direction, and it was at this time John shifted in to action. He started trudging through the lack of light, bumping regularly in to buckets, stools, crates, beds, hammocks, and posts, but nevertheless moving onward. Each little scream seemed louder and louder as he progressed step by step, and each time he became filled with more and more anger. His face clenched with anger at the visions of what they may be doing to Maria - he would make them regret every second of it.

John pointed the gun at the back of one of the soldiers as their starch white skin pointed through the air. He turned around, his shirt already torn off, as he and the other soldier gasped in shock. Maria still screamed in terror as she nearly dove off the hammock they had thrown her on, crawling on the ground towards John. "Both of you, up!" he motioned them up towards the main deck, towards the little beam of light emanating near the stairs.

On the deck, Roberts just briefly began to scramble to his feet, catching himself on the mast. As he turned around, his two fellow men were thrown at him, knocking him back in to the mast. Before they could collect themselves fully, and get an understanding of what was going on, John began to bark at them. "Don't just stand there like idiots, set the sails!"

The entire group of men turned and looked at him as if they hadn't understood a word he said. Even Maria gave him a questioning glare, but he dismissed all of them. "Get to work, dammit!"

Slowly and shamefully, the three men went around the ship, fastening the riggings, tightening the knots, checking the sails, and coordinating anything that was regularly done before a journey. They all moved in an odd mood, however, a sense of confusedness and denial among them. Roberts felt as though he was about to throw himself over the banister and let himself drown, the thought that his dreams of running his own ship were being squandered by a fifteen-year-old - not that John wouldn't mind if he did. Not anymore, at least.

As John watched the three downfallen soldiers work about from the helm, he felt with him a transformation, as though he had been reborn. No longer did he feel squeamish, nor did he feel remorseful fr what he put his enemies through. Watching Maria being tortured slowly, emotionally and physically, brought an idea to his mind that he was meant to stand up for himself once in a while. He could feel his skin becoming thicker as he gripped the wheel of the ship for the first time, running his fingers over it. It was incredibly smooth, soft, and easy to the touch. Yet at the same time, it was firm, strong, and empowering, sending a shockwave through him.

When the ship was prepared, John gave Roberts the honor of steering her away from the dock. He seemed to do it in an utterly depressed manner, but John stood right by the wheel, his musket in hand, to make sure Hugh didn't try anything. The soldier easily got the ship away from the dock methodically, trying to hold back from tears as he literally drove away from his dreams. John saw the man grip the wheel tighter as the back of the ship pulled away from the tip of the stone dock, but he tried not to feel bad.

Once they had progressed in to the middle of the harbor, John called for Maria. "Alright, Maria, come and steady the wheel for a minute." As Maria took the wheel from Roberts, John shoved the man away from the helm. "The rest of you, down on the deck! NOW!" he yelled.

The three men stood in a small group in the middle of the main deck, worried as to what was about to happen. They rubbed their hands together feverishly, watching *** John descended down the stairs of the helm with the musket still in hand. Maria tried to watch what was going on over the wheel as John jumped down off the last step, stopping in his tracks. He raised the musket and pointed it at the group of men, causing them all to flinch a little. "Get off." John simply instructed them.

They were confused. "What do you mean?" the fat one asked.

"Get off my damn ship." John told them off, pointing with his free hand over the side of the ship.

The men's eyes widened in shock. "Surely you can't be serious!" Roberts protested.

"Would you prefer if I killed you, and disposed of you in the water?" John asked. It was with that statement he finally realized that he had changed completely from what he had been. He had gone from a peaceful, submissive child, to an aggressive, hardened man, and it felt good. But at the same time, he knew from this point on he was no longer an innocent - he was a criminal.

Slowly, the group of men backtracked to the side of the ship, looking over the banister. They buckled at the knees as they watched the waters splash up against the side of the ship, but just as they prepared to ease over, John called them one final time. "Oh," he said, pointing the barrel of the musket to their still knocked-out ally on the ground, "Don't forget about him, now."

Their friend in tow, the group of men sat themselves on the side of the ship, one leg hanging over the side of the ship, and the other still on the inside (with the exception of their unconscious friend, who had already been ruthlessly tossed in to the ocean.) Just as they prepared to go over, they were knocked violently in to the waters below, slamming in to them at a great, bruising speed. John had swiped the boots of the knocked out soldier and chucked them at the men, hitting the fat one with one boot, and Roberts with the other. The third, a fit yet dumb witted man, jumped off in fear something would hit him too.

John chuckled softly as he placed the musket down on the deck. "Would you look at that, I stole a ship with a gun with no bullets."

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