3733 stared at the mast, visible in the distance, and for a few seconds stood there, the wind stroking his hair. The scent of the sea relaxed his body, taking him out of reality, which wasn't the best option at the moment, yet he didn't care much. He was still dead, all of the time remaining being a gift for him to enjoy on his last moments.

Captain James had told them not long before. The man stood tall, strong complexion, with a long curly black beard, which started to show some white and grey, and his long hair tied up carefully into a bun. He always dressed elegantly, and so he acted, like if he was above everyone.

However not this time.

The barrelman, a young teenager, or more of a kid they all called Spidermonkey, had climbed down the mast, pale as a ghost not long ago, and talked personally to the captain. After a short while, the captain had called a reunion. He looked sick, also way too pale, as he gave them the news.

Now the large man was standing on the bow of the ship, saber on hand and multiple loaded guns on a belt, staring at the ocean with his dark eyes, filled with tiredness but also hard like steel.

The rapidly approaching sloop had completely black sails, with a red snake on the middle. Everyone knew what that snake meant. It was a death sentence for The Sacred Guard's ships like his.

He remembered  the day he had got drafted into the navy, while messing around with the trigger of the gun that had costed him thirty whip strikes and a bullet hole on the leg.

The teenager owed the Captain his life. He had taken him out of the streets, given him a job, a weapon, and taught him all he knew. And so he was ready to die protecting him. 

His gun was loaded, as he aimed it at the enemy ship. His vision was halved by darkness, since an eyepatch was always hiding his left eye, only letting a scar show under it. No one except Captain James knew that the eyepatch was just a cover, a disguise for a truth no one talked about.

The gunners were ready, cannons aimed at the target.

Those bastards would endure a hell of a fight.

The boy's eye finally caught a glimpse of the enemy crew.

Below the open sails, twenty people danced around, and gestured and yelled at their ship, probably obscenities, yet they were too far away for the words to find their way among the wind.

In the bow of the sloop, a single figure stood, solemn and lonely, carrying what seemed like a musket. The rest of the pirates were probably indoors, cannons ready to shoot at the vessel 3733 stood in.

Everyone was running around, readying themselves for battle.

Axes, cutlasses and pikes were being thrown around, those in night duty were being woken up, and the smell of gunpowder and sweat impregnated the ambience, not taking over the essence of salt but rather mixing with it, the boy's heart beating faster and stronger in reaction to it.

The whisperings of discomfort, expectation and distress of his fellow crewmen also added to the already existing tension. Some prayers could be heard, while others wrote small letters, which would be sent making use of the homing pigeon abroad, luckily reaching land and being able to be read by their relatives. Most of the letters the boy was able to take a peek at where goodbyes.

A few cannon shots were heard, coming from their own boat, trying to stop the enemy ship which raced forward like the  flying cannonballs, aimed at their main body and sails, weren't there.

As the enemy vessel got closer, the mismatched cannons and almost makeshift wooden planks could be seen, which yet seemed very capable of working together to hold the structure in place and maybe take a few hits without much trouble.

Their weapons also seemed to be made out of poor quality materials, and their clothing was mostly mismatched, dirty and ragged.

Except for who seemed their Captain, the one standing in the front of the sloop.

He was tall, taller than their own Captain even, and wore way more elegant clothing, his musket also looked as if it had just been cleaned. His long hair, black as night, was restrained by a piece of cloth that acted as a headband, though not stopping it from falling on his shoulders. However the most distinguishable thing about the man were his eyes. They were bright purple, with a slit pupil, which reminded 3733 of those of a snake. Some gasps were heard by the crowd of soldiers that aimed their guns and muskets and readied their pikes when they took notice of the last detail.

The homing pigeon was finally released, flying up to the highest mast's height, and then even more, trying to find the way back home. A few relieved sighs were heard. The soldies could die in peace, knowing their families would be able to listen to

Then suddenly, the pigeon fell with the resonating of a gunshot.

The other Captain, reloaded his musket slowly, as the crew's morale sank to the bottom of the ocean together with the poor bird and all of their last letters. Their last hopes had been killed sumply with the pull of a trigger.

And just to make matters worse, the enemy ship started to maneuver to get on its side, getting angle to shoot their own cannons. 

3733 aimed at the sloop, which was still catching up to them even though it was moving diagonally.

Then, he breathed slowly and as hooks attached the enemy to their vessel, which his mates frantically tried to cut with their axes, though not very effectively, and as pirates tried to climb to the ship, unphased by the spikes and guns, the boy pulled the trigger.

And then hell set loose.

Bullets filled the air constantly, and splinters flew everywhere, opening wounds on everyone. The enemy was quickly getting in, and the floor boards were slippery because of the blood that covered them.

The boy fell into the ground after a grenade exploded close to him. While still prone, he started looking for Captain James. He wanted to dedicate his last words to the closest thing he had ever had to a father. 

Amidst the battle and death that surrounded 3733, a short, muscular man, skin black like coal, jumped on him, and slashed at his face. He dodged as well as he could, and pulled out his cutlass. The teenager panicked for a second as the eyepatch fell onto the ground, revealing his embarrasing secret. His attacker even dropped the guard for a second, shocked. He took advantage of the moment to throw a low cut at the man's legs. However the pirate quickly jumped back, and started fighting another contender, who tried to stab him from the back.

The boy finally got out of the shock.

He stayed low, yet weapon on hand, looking for the Captain. It didn't take him too long to find him, next to a few bodies, battling a woman with a weird formation on her forehead, which looked kind of like a horn. Her boarding axe looked for weak points on the man's guard. However Captain James managed to replenish the lost youth with his experience, and managed to make her trip, before slitting her throat open. 

Only then the boy noticed the shocking fact that it was a woman the one he was fighting. 

However he had to quickly move on, because a blade was flying towards his face. He parried with his own blade, stopping it only a few inches away from his nose. He focused on his opponent. Tall, large, there he stood in front of him, retrieving the saber to try another attack.

The figure of Captain James, saber in hand and fury on his face, as he slashed endlessly at 3733. He was completely perplexed, as he dodged and parried around the dead bodies, trying not to slip on the blood, only able to block the incoming blows. Nothing made sense, his mind tried to find an explanation to what was going on.

-What are you...- said as he blocked a high blow directed at his neck- What are you doing?- he asked, confused and scared.

-No time to explain kiddo- answered the man- just die, I can't let them get you alive.

The boy was even more lost, but also feeling betrayed. His only paternal figure, the man that had taken care of him for years, was now trying to kill him?

As they battled around the ship, 3733 accidentally stepped on a dead body, tripping. He fell to the ground, loudly hitting his head against the mast. However he couln't feel the pain, shock and adrenaline working together to stop him from feeling anything, yet allowing his mind to freefall down a spiral of a million thoughts.

Captain James pointed the saber at his face, as the teenager, unable to get up quickly enough, just stared at the eyes of his killer, which showed remorse yet decision.

-I'm sorry kiddo, there's no other option- said the man- wherever you go after, don't be too mad at me.

The boy closed his eyes, noticing how the left one had seen light for the first time. He was glad of it having been able to do so. As he waited for death to arrive, his last thought went to his pistol, and the day he had stolen it from that merchant.

His back still had the scars that the tip of the whip had left, opening the skin. However he didn't regret it. He had been taken out of the street because of that, given a name, a job and a family. And even though that same family was dying all around him, he trusted he would see them somewhere else, in maybe a better life. And he was glad of the years spent together.

On his last seconds, he decided to open both his eyes. The right one, of a greenish brown, like moss, and the left one, always hidden in darkness, yellow, and also with a slit pupil, like the enemy Captain's.

As he stared at his own Captain, he noticed the tears on his eyes, as he slashed dwon at his neck. The boy hoped he'd get a clean cut.

However the cut never arrived, and the cloudy sky didn't fade away, as a last gunshot was heard over the last sounds of the battle. A hole, the size of a big coin, formed on the middle of the chest of his adoptive father.

He fell into the ground, trying to say some last words that would never get to his mouth.

Memories assaulted 3733's mind. A guard, jumping on top of him, as he pulled the trigger of a gun, the same that rested at the moment on his belt.

He remembered the soldier, holding onto his ribs, in a futile attempt of stopping a bleed that was just too serious to be fixed by suchy a simple gesture, also trying to expell his last words, but not finding air on his lungs to say them.

He remembered being weak and scared, just like he was in that same instant, cornered and fighting for his life.

Behind Captain James, holding a musket, just like the one the guard he had shot carried, was the other boat's Captain, dead serious, his violet eyes glowing with anger.

He didn't bother reload.

The ship, 3733 noticed, was slowly sinking, and none of his comrades had been left alive, bodies piling up everywhere. As he stared around the deck, he noticed Spidermonkey, hanging from a rope tied to the main mast, his chest turned into a mess of cloth, blood and organs, probably because of an arquebus or a grenade. His feet had got entangled on the rope, leaving him as he was, in a weird posture, upside down.

He was so young, a child, dead in such a gruesome manner. It was infuriating.

He stared back at the musketeer, filled with hate, and expecting death.

However, to his surprise, he hung the firearm back on his back.

Then, he offered a hand to the boy. His irises looked through his soul.

Then, to his surprise and shock, he smiled and said the last words he would ever expect to hear, words that resonated on his mind and got engraved on his brain, forming a new core memory.

With a surprisingly clear and kind voice, the man just stated:

-Welcome to the crew my friend.