Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Jun 11, 2012 15:08:27 GMT -5
Arthur was unconscious, for the moment. He didn't know quite where he was or how he'd got into this situation. He wasn't flawless at tracking and heading missions on his own -- but he did manage to get himself out of them. Well, most of the time.
This time, he'd ended up in the middle of the military district, having been sent on a chase by some of the military. He was usually glad at finding nooks and crannies, but it was awfully suspicious how they managed to find their way into every blockade and escape route Arthur would normally take.
He skidded to a halt in front of the more superior officers, and Arthur can't help but raise an eyebrow.
Before he knew it, he was overrun by soldiers, ambushed, and beaten unconscious. No one was taking a chance with him that night.
The leader allowed himself a simple smirk, before turning away to finish the rest of his plan.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 11, 2012 15:48:24 GMT -5
Francis should have known something was wrong when his butler reported that the military district was under quarantine. But it was not until one of his spies reported that the military had caught a notorious outlaw. Francis' spy recounted that the captured outlaw was a link to an underground deal that might be the most recent of many illegal deals the military made with disreputable figures.
The opportunity was too much for Francis to resist; if he could somehow get a hold of a clue, any clue of these dealings, it could be the first step to throwing off the military's power.
He made sure he was well-disguised when he left late that night, determined to break into the prison the outlaw was currently held in, and question him. When breaking into the prison proved too easy for Francis - the gate guard was asleep, no one was patrolling, and the keys lay on the front desk - his suspicion spiked. Someone was expecting him. It would be best to break out the outlaw and run rather than linger and interrogate him.
And it was just as well that the plan had to be revised, because when Francis, plastered to the shadowy part of the walls, peered in the cell, he nearly gasped. It was Arthur.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 11, 2012 16:06:27 GMT -5
Francis had been to distracted to hear the man who had knocked him out. When he finally came to, blinking blearily, it took him a moment to realize that he was bound and gagged.
He kept still, hoping to fool his captors for a few more minutes into thinking he was still sleeping. With his eyes half-shut, he tried to survey the space for Arthur. He couldn't see the pirate, but Francis could hear some scuffling behind him, to his right.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 11, 2012 16:48:23 GMT -5
Arthur's voice was warm, easing Francis' fear slightly. But he couldn't help but hear the strain in his words and feel the way Arthur tensed. Francis could hear the cell door creak open and footsteps come to a stop just in front of his nose. Francis kept his eyes lightly closed and his jaw slack.
In a split second, pain shot up from his chin to his head, and he cried out, which was muffled by his gag. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to roll away from the foot by his face.
Francis' captor remained silent, as if assessing him. This was even more alarming for Francis. He had no idea what his captor was planning to do. If he so much as touched Arthur again...Francis struggled against his bonds.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 11, 2012 17:15:11 GMT -5
The kick took Francis by surprise. Groaning softly, he curled up protectively over the assaulted area. But it was not the last strike. There was another after that, and another, and another, on every possible part of his body...
Francis willed himself to stay conscious. He had lived through worse than this. This was just some poking and prodding to provoke him.
Then he suddenly felt his hair yanked back, and he was staring into the face of his captor. It was as if he was in another time, in another place -
The shouts of the crowd, the claustrophobic press of people all around him, his sister's small figure facing away from him...And one of the judges of her fixed trial, sitting near the shade, eyes gleaming as he took in the sight -
Those same eyes. A hot surge of anger welled up in Francis, and he swung his bound feet toward the man, but he missed.