drsparnum wrote:
Placeholder spot for the Great Adolfo backstory
The Makings of a Pirate
Captain Reginald Pettiford the Third gazed out of the large ornate window behind his desk in his personal quarters, chest puffed out and hands clasped together behind his back. He breathed a deep sigh as he took in the perfect view of the open ocean behind “The Oasis”. It had only been around 4 months since he took charge of this vessel, and he could already tell how fast they were moving just by eyeballing the wake it left behind them.
“At least 10 knots… maybe 12” he mused to himself.
The Oasis was an older warship, classified somewhere between a large brigantine and a small frigate. It had been recently refurbished into a merchant vessel, but with a much faster setup and rigging than usual, per the Pettiford family’s request. It had been able to make almost twice as many runs up and down the local trading routes than its predecessor and Reginald was way ahead of schedule for this month’s deliveries.
They had just sailed out of Port Peril, after an unscheduled stop that nobody in his family needed to know about. There was no way his father would be okay with him risking their newly christened flagship visiting such an unscrupulous and dangerous location. And he would be even less thrilled knowing of his favorite son’s… let’s just say, less repudiable doings and dealings, which had been going on for far longer than his service to the family business.
But Reginald was known in this area. And he had done enough “under the radar” dealings here and provided favors for enough of the right people in this area to enter and exit the port unfettered. Regardless, The Oasis had retained a lot of its teeth from the old warship days and would be a handful for any pirate crew to try to conquer.
He smiled to himself.
“Reg, you’ve outdone yourself this time!”
He reached inside his coat pocket as he turned to face his desk. He carefully produced a rolled-up parchment, slightly yellowed and frayed around the edges, and placed it down. He unsuccessfully tried to contain his giddiness as he rolled it out onto the desk and smoothed it out.
A map. Weathered and worn but in surprisingly good shape considering how many times it had violently changed hands over the last few weeks. But his informant had been right and the drunken idiot who stole it last was dumb enough to put it up on the poker table, and three Queens decided that now it was his!
“Simply marvelous” he whispered to himself as he processed what he was seeing.
He placed his hands flat on the two ends of the map and leaned in close to get a good look.
“This could be the one” he thought to himself. “The one thing I do on my own that separates me from the Pettiford name and this accursed level of expectation everyone has for me. An escape from this boring drudgery of fair trade, noble intentions and honest dealings. And X marks the spot!”
But just before he could fully immerse himself in the daydream of going rogue and sailing out for an unsanctioned and certainly unacceptable treasure hunt, there was a knock at the door.
He sighed loudly and begrudgingly answered. “Yes?”
A familiar voice responded meekly from behind the door.
“Sir, do you have a minute?”
Reginald winced and decided it better to answer a question with a question before granting entrance.
“Is it an emergency?” he asked, his gaze remaining squarely on the map.
“Well… no. Not really.” the voice responded, weak and wavering.
Reginald sighed even louder.
“Then, no I do not have a minute, Clancey.” he responded sharply.
He could almost picture his quartermaster, all 6 and a half feet, 300 lbs. of him, standing awkwardly outside, wringing his hands and trying to work up the courage to knock in the first place. No doubt the tone Reginald had given him in that last rebuke had send him running off. Clancey was a mountain of a man, and as reliable and competent a sailor as you could ever ask for... but he had no backbone whatsoever when it came to chain of command.
Reginald hesitated to dive back into his daydream for a minute, and the extended silence told him he was right to believe Clancey had gotten the point. But just as he started picturing himself standing atop a pile of treasure again, the voice came barreling back in… or, more accurately, came weaseling its way back in again like a frightened mouse.
“Um, sir” it squeaked.
“Dammit Clancey! If it’s not an emergency, please just go and I’ll see you when I get the chance!”
“But sir.” Clancey responded in a voice no louder than a whisper “It’s him”
Reginald’s shoulder sank. He lifted his right hand off the map and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut.
“Not now” he thought to himself. “Why does this always happen at the worst times?”
His delay in responding invited further unwanted explanation from Clancey, who started babbling incoherently. Reginald acquiesced, quickly rolled up the map, took a deep breath, and called out.
“OK, OK, just come in!”
As Clancey opened the door, his incoherent ramblings became slightly more decipherable.
“I know you said you don’t like to be interrupted, but you also said that if he was involved then I should always interrupt you but then again that goes against you needing your “Captain Time” as you call it and I hate to be the one to interrupt that, but then again if he causes bigger problems, that could interrupt you even more and for even longer so I think the better option is to…”
After a few, calm but futile “Alright, Clancey” responses went unacknowledged, Reginald finally lost all patience.
“Clancey! That’s enough! I get it!”
Clancey jumped a bit and went immediately silent. He stood there, his giant frame blocking almost all daylight from coming in. He began wringing his hands apologetically.
“I’m sorry, sir.” he said sheepishly.
Reginald couldn’t help but smile. Clancey looked like he could faint at any moment from just a harsh word. But if you stuck a sword in his hand and threw him onto an enemy ship, he could quite possibly take the entire crew by himself.
He walked around his desk and approached Clancey, placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder once in reach.
“No, I’m sorry, old friend.” he said with a knowing nod “You did the right thing.”
Then he gathered himself and took a step back.
“So, what has he done now?”
Clancey regained his composure. “He wants a weapon” he said producing a piece of parchment from his pocket. “This is the fifth requisition he’s put in this week alone. And I have over a dozen from last week. I keep telling him that we’ll look into it, that there’s a shortage, that there’s a problem with his paperwork, I even told him that we have defective blades… I’m running out of excuses!”
Reginald nodded in understanding. “OK, OK, so where is he now?” he asked, his voice sounding tired.
“Well, he’s been demanding to see you about this matter” Clancey responded. “He says these delays are an ‘affront to his honor’ and he ‘demands satisfaction from the captain’. Pierce is with him now… running a little interference so I could get here first to warn you.”
“Thanks, Clancey.” he responded. “I’ll take it from here. Get back to work.”
Clancey nodded and quickly marched off. He moved surprisingly fast for such a large man. As he left, sunlight poured in. “It’s too beautiful of a day to be ruined by this” Reginald thought. He decided to leave the door open. He’d need all the fresh air he could get in anticipation of what was coming.
A few minutes later, a familiar face popped into the doorway. He gave a couple of courtesy knocks to the door frame before casually strolling in.
“Hey boss. Clancey talk to you yet?” he said with a smirk.
He was much smaller than Clancey, but somehow just as imposing, maybe even more so… medium height, medium build, but carrying a confidence much larger than his stature. The scars on his cheek and over his eye, combined with the missing chunk of his left ear, showed that he was battle hardened and not to be trifled with.
Reginald rolled his eyes and scoffed back. “Yes, Pierce. And try not to sound too happy when you bring this crap to me. Can you at least try to bring a sympathetic ear to your captain?”
Pierce snapped to attention and gave an overexaggerated bow.
“Of course, my captain.” he responded, switching to a most over-the-top sarcastic tone of remorse “I deeply regret to inform you of this burdensome news. Please forgive my impudence and have mercy on this worthless and undeserving soul that stands before you.”
Reginald held back a laugh and waved a hand in surrender.
“Alright. Alright.” he said glancing over Pierce’s shoulder. The absence of anyone else in the room loomed large given the context of the conversation. “Um… so where is he?”
Pierce’s smile grew wider. “He demands a proper introduction before entering the room.”
Reginald’s hand went back to pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight, a position that had become all too common for him, as the signature headache began stirring behind his eyes. As he opened them, he noticed a head peeking around the edge of the doorway, retreating quickly out of sight as he made eye contact with it. He sighed loudly.
Pierce’s eyes followed Reginald’s over to the doorway and then back again. If his smile could grow any larger, it might have fallen right off his face.
“Should I indulge him, Reg?” he asked.
Reginald considered the proposition for a moment.
“Probably not.” he admitted. ”Indulging him is likely the worst thing to do. But I don’t have the energy to fight this right now, so…” he gestured defeatedly toward the door. “By all means.”
Pierce walked over to the side of the door and stood at attention. He took a moment to steady himself and try to hold some level of composure.
“Captain, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce to you…” Pierce began, pausing to sarcastically add in some simulated fanfare “Dun, dun, daaaaaaa”, which he dragged on far too long, before finishing with…
“The Great Alfredo!”
After a couple of heartbeats of nothing happening, a high pitched, nasally voice pierced the resulting silence.
“No, no, no! It’s Adolfo! The Great Adolfo!”
A head poked into the doorway and continued whining. “I know you did that on purpose, Pierce!” Then mumbling continued as the head retreated once again.
Reginald had just about had enough. “OK. Great Alonso, come on in already.”
“It’s Adolfo!” the voice screamed back as the sound of an angry foot stomp echoed in with it.
“Fine. Just come in!” he replied with an eye roll.
There was a pause and a couple of throat clearing coughs before a tall, lanky figure glided through the doorway. He was in his early twenties, just under 6 feet tall, light skin with fairly long, dark hair, perfectly coifed, with a well-manicured beard across his chin, and no mustache. He strode in confidently, straight up to the captain, pausing briefly to throw a sneering glance at Pierce as he walked by. He snapped his heels to a halt a few paces in front of Reginald, removed his large-feathered cavalier hat with his left hand and bowed deeply. The hat was the only genuinely nice article of clothing he had on, in direct contrast to the grease-stained shirt & pants combination, complimented by the ratty officer’s jacket he had on over them. He held his hat under his arm, against his side, as he spoke.
“Captain, it is a pleasure to meet with you on this fine day” he stated respectfully.
His voice had changed significantly. Now it deepened, carrying a palpable gravitas, with an unplaceable accent that hadn’t been there before. Despite holding a much nobler and eloquent tone, Reginald found it even more annoying than the whining from before.
“Hi, Frankie. What do you need?” he replied flatly, trying to hold back the disdain in his voice.
The man flinched ever so slightly, clearly wounded by the way he was addressed. His shoulders slouched as his eyes started to lower, darting around the room in confusion.
“For-for-forgive me, captain, b-but I do not know who this ‘Frankie’ you speak of is,” he stammered weakly, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “Per-perhaps you are confused. I am…um…I’m…”
“I know. I know. Adolfo… The Great Adolfo,” he interrupted, fighting desperately to hold his composure. “Let’s just get to it, alright? What do you want?”
He recovered immediately, shoulders straightened, chest puffed out, his unidentifiable accent stronger than ever.
“Ha, ha, haaaa!” he barked triumphantly. “I knew my reputation had preceded me!”
He beamed a wide, smug smile, clearly very pleased with himself. Reginald thought his face was more punch-able than ever.
But that didn’t draw his attention as much as the outfit he was wearing.
“I know you spend an entire week’s wage on that hat but what the hell did you do to your jacket?” Reginald asked.
He had the same jacket that everyone on the senior crew had, with the Pettigrew family crest on the left breast and the symbol indicating your rank/job on the right. In Frankie’s case, there was a patch depicting a gear, which indicated he was the ship’s Engineer. Frankie had altered his jacket to have long tails in the back and piping like an officer’s coat, though done quite poorly given the actual materials needed for such a coat weren’t available. He had also removed the family crest from the left breast. Even more notably, he had altered the Engineer’s patch to have two rapiers crossing in front of the gear and a feathered cap on top of it. Reginald mused that this must be “The Great Adolfo’s” version of the Jolly Rodger.
The man ignored the question and barreled forward.
“But to business, captain,” he said, his tone strengthening. “Though your crew has been more than hospitable, they seem to have unfortunately, um, how you say… ‘displaced’ my weapon.”
“Frankie, the word is ‘misplaced’ and you know that because you are not a foreigner,” Reginald replied. “And you already have a weapon.”
He gestured to the makeshift scabbard hanging off the rope Frankie was using as a makeshift belt.
“See?”
But the Great Adolfo didn’t miss a beat.
“Ha, ha, haaaa!” he boomed. “I see your sense of humor is as strong as your resolve!”
He drew the ‘sword’ from the ‘scabbard’, revealing that it was made of wood, clearly a training sword. He swished it around expertly for a few moments and then slid one hand halfway down the ‘blade’ and laid it the sword flat in his hands. He then presented it to Reginald, arms outstretched, in a manner akin to a captain surrendering his blade in forfeit of combat.
“I’m sure your discerning eye can see that this is not a weapon fit for a swordsman of my, how you say… ‘calendar’.”
“It’s ‘caliber’, Frankie, and you damn well know that!” Reginald said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath to calm himself a bit before continuing. “We’ve been through this too many times before. You cannot have a real weapon… ever. You don’t need one and Besmara knows what would happen if you ever got a hold of one.”
The man’s smile slowly evaporated as his eyes narrowed.
“I see how it is, captain,” he sneered. “You have drawn a line in the sand. You fear what I am capable of. You fear the hold you have over this slave ship may be slipping away. You fear the love and respect that these men, who toil under your iron boot, have for me. If given the chance to see me wielding steel, that they would all, how you say… ‘multiply’!”
Pierce snorted from the doorway, desperately holding back a laugh.
Reginald found none of this funny.
“You mean ‘mutiny’ you half-wit!” he snapped stepping forward. “And the fact you are even mentioning the concept of that is going to make me quickly forget about the promise I made to your mother in letting you on this boat in the first place!”
The man stepped back, grabbing the wooden sword back by its handle and raising it upright in front of his face.
“So you wish to challenge me!” he proclaimed. “I accept. And I demand terms! We shall duel tomorrow at dawn at a location that I…”
Reginald could take no more.
“Francis Aloysius Polowotski!” he boomed. “I have had enough of your crap! You and ‘The Great Avocado’ better get out of my sight and back to work right this minute or both of you will be swimming back to shore!”
With that, any semblance of confidence drained from the man’s faced. His shoulder’s drooped as his arms went slack to his sides. The wooden sword slowly dropped out of his hand, and clattered to the floor. The cavalier’s hat soon followed. His eyes dropped and then began darting all over the room again.
The squeaky voice returned.
“R-R-Reg?” he stammered as he struggled to make eye contact. “Why am… um, why am I h-h-here? D-d-did I do something… b-b-bad?”
Reginald sighed as all anger washed away in an instant. He walked over to him and put a reassuring arm around his back. He walked him gently toward the door.
“No, Frankie” he said. “You’re OK. Just get back to work. You’re doing a great job.”
Frankie’s gaze settled on the floor and his posture perked up. Wherever his mind was lost to, he had finally made it back.
Pierce had already gone to the door to grab a crewman nearby. After a minute or so, Reginald handed Frankie off to the crewman, giving clear instruction to take him to his quarters for an ordered nap before returning to his workshop.
As he left Frankie turned, smiling, and squeaked “Thanks, Reg. You’re the best.”
“You got it, Frankie.” He replied with a sad smirk.
Pierced closed the door and turned. His oversized grin was gone, replaced by a slightly pitying but very sincere frown.
“He’s getting worse, Reg.” he said solemnly.
“I know. I know.” Reginald replied as he walked back to his desk. “I thought this job would keep him focused and maybe… I don’t know.” He sank into his chair, defeated.
Pierce dragged a chair from near the door and sat opposite Reginald. He produced a flask from his jacket took a swig and passed it across. Reginald took a swig and offered it back. Pierce waved him off.
“You need that more than I do” he said, leaning back in his chair stretching his arms over his head. “So, I know he’s your cousin, and that he has… issues. But explain to me again why we’re putting up with all this, given what this ship means to your family and what we’re trying to do here.”
“My aunt made me promise to give him a job and keep him out of trouble.” Reginald explained, pausing thoughtfully for a moment. “Of course, that was after my father ordered me to. Apparently, she had already given him an earful. I guess she persuaded him.”
Pierce chuckled. “I wasn’t aware your father could be persuaded to do anything other than what he already wanted to.”
“Frankie is… a sore subject” Reginald said, carefully choosing his words. “My father feels a bit… guilty… over what he’s become. Truth is, I feel bad for him too. He’s a good kid, with a good heart. Always has been.”
Pierce smiled and leaned forward. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s a wiz with machines, huh? Especially boats?”
“You have no idea.” Reginald said smiling back. “Ever since he could crawl, he’s been taking things apart and putting them back together. He’s a genius. Certifiably so.”
“So that’s why he went to that crazy boarding school I’ve heard him lament so much about” Pierce concluded. “Must’ve been hard going away so young.”
Reginald flinched uncomfortably and took a long pull from the flask.
“He told you about that?” he said. His tone much darker now.
“Well, yeah” Pierce admitted. “He’s a pretty open book, shy as he is. Kept saying it’s where he learned about science and engineering, complicated devices and whatnot… he even told me the name of the place. The Weatherby School or something.”
Reginald shook his head slowly. “And that’s where the delusions begin” he said softly “It isn’t a school. Weatherby House was a boy’s home… for troubled children.”
Pierces eyebrows raised. “Ah. So all of this goes that far back huh?”
“Not exactly” Reginald explained. “He was a good kid… just, energetic. Always bouncing off the walls, never sitting still. Drove his parent crazy. Teachers couldn’t get him to sit for lessons. His mind wandered even more than his body, always imagining being on some great adventure… a warrior charging into battle, an explorer braving the deepest jungles, or…” he stopped and gestured to Pierce.
“Or a dashing, swashbuckling pirate.” Pierce finished.
“It was my father’s idea to send him to Weatherby House. To realize the full potential of his brilliant mind, they needed to ‘fix’ him first” Reginald continued, “In my father’s defense, it was an expensive and seemingly reputable place.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t” Pierce interjected.
“It destroyed Frankie” he replied sadly. “They kept him locked up most of the time, using regimented behavioral drills combined with some ‘cutting-edge’ alchemy-based medical modification. He collapsed into himself, surviving only by imagining that he was some dashing hero, imprisoned by some evil prince or something. All of the ‘studying’ he claimed to do was his scheming ways to escape. Truth is he spent years stuck with only a library for entertainment and being punished for doing just about anything outside of his drills, which consisted of endless puzzles, meaningless menial tasks and endless busywork.”
“So he eventually escaped?” Pierce asked.
“Only in his mind” Reginald lamented. “He read books upon book on science and engineering, mechanics, carpentry, seafaring, even alchemy… anything that fit into the fantasy of his grand scheme to break out and go adventuring.”
“So how did he get out?” Pierce asked.
“The medicine they were given him was designed to refocus his mind and sharpen his senses. The idea was to improve his balance, hand eye coordination, and agility, while suppressing his impulses. That way he could be put to use on intricate tasks involving his hands and those focused tasks would keep his mind from wandering.” Reginald sighed.
“And the result is a highly skilled but lobotomized worker bee.” Pierce concluded.
“I guess their idea of ‘true potential’ wasn’t what my father had envisioned” Reginald scoffed. “And unfortunately, he realized it too late.”
“So Frank created ‘The Great Adolfo’ to survive” Pierce shook his head. “That explains so much.”
Reginald got up and slowly walked over to where the wooden sword and hat still lay on the floor. He picked them up and placed them on his desk. He stood over them and stared.
“I’m starting to think there’s more Adolfo in there, than Frankie. In fact, I’m not sure Frankie ever left Weatherby House.” His voice quivered a bit at the thought.
Pierce stood up. “You want some privacy, Reg?” he asked.
“No, no.” he reassured. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about… can’t remember right now.” Then his mind snapped to the parchment in his coat pocket. “The map!” he exclaimed.
Pierce cocked his head in curiosity. “Map? What map?”
As he reached for his pocket the ship suddenly lurched hard to starboard, almost knocking both men off their feet.
“What the hell?” Reginald yelled holding his desk for support.
Pierce sprang for the door.
“Hang here boss.” He said as he ran out to the deck. “I’ll be back with a report in a few”
Reginald ran to the rear window behind his desk and peered out. It was immediately clear that something was wrong with the rudder. Their wake was choppy and the ship was slowing fast. After a few moments, the creak of a floorboard and the dimming of the sunlight flooding in gave Reginald the indication that someone was at the door. Pierce had returned rather quickly.
Without turning he called out. “Pierce. Get over here and look at this! The rudder has fouled!”
But there were no rushing footsteps, just the sound of the door closing and some slow shuffling of feet.
Reginald turned to see Frankie sheepishly walking towards his desk. He looked terrible, paler than he had ever seen him, head drenched in sweat. “He must’ve woken up from the boat heaving” he thought. “This would be something he, as ship’s engineer, would be responsible for reporting on”
Reginald rushed over to him.
“Frankie, you should be resting” he said calmly. “You’re in no shape to be working now.”
“I’m so sorry, Reg” he croaked, voice wavering. He was shivering uncontrollably
Reginald took off his coat and put it on Francis. Then, he put his arm around him and gently led him towards the door.
“It’s OK, buddy.” Reginald said reassuringly. “No one’s mad at you.”
“Why did you take his hat?” Francis said quietly, stopping abruptly.
“Huh?” said Reginald. “I didn’t. You dropped it before you left. It’s right over there.”
“He wants it now” he grumbled. “And his sword.”
Though his tone was concerning, Reginald opted to acquiesce. He had never seen Francis so frail. Keeping him calm was the priority.
“I’ll get them for you” he said trotting over to the desk. “Hang tight.”
“Do you think he’s stupid?” he asked turning back to Reginald.
“Huh?” he responded.
Francis’ gaze slowly rose to meet his for the first time since he came in.
“Do you think he’s stupid?” he repeated. “That he doesn’t realize what you’re doing?”
“Francis, you’re really starting to make me worry” Reginald replied. “It’s just you and me, buddy. We’ve been over this. There is no ‘he’.”
Francis broke down and started to weep. “I’m so sorry” he pleaded “I can’t stop it anymore”
Reginald started to comfort him but a thought made him freeze for a moment. His eyes growing wide as he realized Francis wasn’t apologizing about the incident before, or his outburst now.
“What did you do Frankie?” he asked sternly.
As if on cue, the ship lurched again.
“I didn’t want to!” Francis exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”
Reginald rushed toward the door but Francis stepped in his path. As he tried to push by him Francis deftly slipped around behind him and clamped his left arm around Reginald’s throat.
“Ha, ha, haaa!” a familiar voice crowed in his ear. “Unfortunately for you, Captain. The Great Adolfo, is never sorry!”
With that he brought his other hand up to Reginald’s face, placing a dampened cloth over his mouth. Reginald barely had time to realize what was happening before he lost consciousness.
------------------------------------------------------
Out on the main deck, Pierce was rushing back to the captain’s quarters, having thoroughly ascertaining how screwed the vessel was. The alarm bell was ringing, and all hands were on alert. As he neared the captain’s door, it suddenly burst open. A figure swaggered out. It looked like Reginald but wearing a ridiculously oversized hat. It didn’t take him long to figure out who it was.
“Ha, ha, haaaa!” the figure bellowed. “Hello, er ‘Pierce’ was it?”
“Hello, nutbar” he retorted. “Can I assume you’re behind this?”
“Indeed” he admitted proudly. “And by this I assume you mean liberating my brothers in arms from your captain’s tyranny.”
“Francis, this is you cousin’s ship and there is no tyranny.” He replied, leveling a flat stare.
“No more words, Pierce” he said curtly. “If you want to speak you must do it with steel!”
He opened his coat to reveal the very real rapier sheathed at his side. Pierce quickly realized that he was wearing Reginald’s coat and sword, and Reginald was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s, Reg?” he asked cautiously keeping his hands out in the open, “I’m not gonna fight you, Francis. But I need to know if he’s ok.”
“The Great Adolfo, would not murder a Captain in cold blood! He’ll be up and about any moment now” he cried, deftly leaping back and up the stairs leading to the higher rear deck. He then turned to address the large number of onlookers from the crew who began gathering.
“But The Great Adolfo would lead his fellow men in overthrowing the tyrant captain and taking this vessel for themselves. What say you men?!”
Silence ensued with a few confused, angry murmurs and a distinct “Jackass!” coming from the crowd.
The Great Adolfo was unphased.
“Ah, a loyal crew! I respect that! But I feel the tides are about to turn for you all!” he scoffed coyly.
There was an awkward pause. The crew looked around at one another, but nothing happened. Just as Pierce piped up to speak, he was interrupted by a ship-rocking boom somewhere below deck. Smoke began billowing out of the hatches further forward on the ship. Pierce stood staring, mouth agape. He slowly turned back and shook his head, utterly dumbfounded.
“Francis, what in Besmara’s name have you done!” he exclaimed.
Men started pouring out from below deck, coughing and gasping for fresh air.
“There we are!” The Great Adolfo chimed. “If your crew won’t fight for their freedom, perhaps your slaves will! Take up arms men! Follow me to liberty!”
“Francis, that was the night crew’s quarters! They get paid to be here! And quite well!” Pierce stammered in a beyond exasperated tone.
Up to this point the crew had been following Pierce’s lead and not escalating the situation. But once the night crew joined the day crew and they quickly figured out what was going on, mob mentality kicked in and they all started heading toward the rear deck.
The Great Adolfo addressed the newly formed mob.
“Oh, ho, hoooo! So, you slaves have come to sympathize with your captors. How sad! Slavery is such a boorish thing. It sucks away a one’s spirit! Spirits are meant to be dominated through fear or won over through inspiration! Captivity is a fate worse than death!”
Pierce watched helplessly as the mob began making their way up to the rear deck. But before they could get too close, The Great Adolfo held up a strange pouch he had been hiding in his hand. The crew stopped immediately as they were all familiar with what it was. They had been hauling a load of alchemical items in a specialized, fireproof section of the hold. This was, in essence, a bomb.
The Great Adolfo smiled at this reaction.
“Ah, so you are familiar with the alchemist fire, huh? This one is particularly potent as I have added some of my own special Adolfo flair to it. Come any closer and this entire ship will become a, how you say… ‘informal’.”
“You mean ‘inferno’, Frankie” a familiar voice called out. “Will you please stop pretending you’re from wherever the hell you claim to be from.”
Reginald emerged from his quarters, stumbling dizzily.
For the first time, The Great Adolfo seemed a bit shaken.
“Don’t do this, Frankie,” Reginald continued. “I know you’re still in there. Come back to us.”
Francis appeared for a moment, confused and scared as always, eyes darting around.
“Reg?” he blurted out weakly. But quickly shook his head and reverted back to his arrogant alter-ego.
“There is no ‘Frankie’ anymore” he sad angrily, accent stronger than ever. “All we ever wanted was adventure. All we’ve ever gotten is captivity. This ship has been just another prison. And where your Frankie fails to escape, The Great Adolfo succeeds… say goodbye to your ‘Frankie’ once and for all!”
“You don’t mean that Frankie!” Reginald pleaded. “We’re a family. That crest on your jacket… that binds us forever! You are not some insane, smarmy, pirate scoundrel! You are a sweet, gentle man, and an amazing engineer, and this ship and everyone on it, needs you!”
The Great Adolfo looked down at his jacket. He placed his free hand over the family crest, which sat just over his heart. A tear fell from his eye and the scared boy appeared once more. He looked up shaking. Reginald knew he was getting through… he could bring his cousin back from this!
But Frankie’s hand felt something beneath the crest. Something bulged below the stitching. He reached his hand inside the inner pocket and produced a yellowed piece of parchment. Before Reginald could yell out a protest he unfurled it into the wind.
It was a map. An honest to goodness treasure map!
Frankie trembled as he stared at it. His eyes moved to his cousin, then back to the map. He took a deep breath and smelled the sea air. He looked down and saw the ornate rapier at his side. He glanced up and saw the brim of his hat. He looked out and just about the entire ship was watching him from below. He was in charge here. He was important….
He was a pirate!
“Ha, ha, haaaaa!” he exclaimed. “The Great Adolfo has no family! He is married to the sea and his mistress is adventure!”
With that he heaved the special Adolfo alchemist fire toward the main mast. As it burst onto the main sail, lighting it aflame, he threw his cousin’s jacket off… “The shackles of a slave’s life!” he thought to himself. His own, makeshift officer’s jacket lay beneath, with his modified Adolfo Engineer’s patch. He rolled up the map, stuffed it into his pocket and leapt toward the dinghy hanging off the port side of the ship’s aft. Before he hit the winch to drop it down into the sea he addressed Pierce, the crew and his cousin one last time.
“If you’re feeling raw about what The Great Adolfo has done this day, come find me and kill me… if you’re feeling inspired, come find me and join me! Either way it will be… how you say… ‘FUN’!!!”
As the dinghy hit the water, it automatically released from the winch ropes and after a few seconds a small mast and sail popped up. This was a pet project of his and he conveniently hadn’t gotten around to upgrading the other lifeboats on the Oasis. So even though it was obvious he would head back to Port Peril, there was no way they could come close to beating him there. With what he’d done to the ship, they would be days behind, maybe more.
As the sail caught the wind and pulled him quickly away from the burning vessel he caught a glimpse of his cousin standing on the edge of the ship, watching him sail away, with one last glimmer of hope in his sad eyes.
But Reginald was looking for Francis… and Francis was no more.
