Azur Lane: Return of Davis

Interlude/Roberts-Heather: Damnation for Survival

Who I am, really?

Yes, I remember now.

"Those bastards...!"

--

What happens next can only be described as a scene straight out of a modern heist film or Pirates of the Caribbean (or something). First, the musket shot flew through the air and plastered the traitor's temporal cortex and hippocampus (among other parts) over the walls. He was pronounced dead on the spot.

Heather, in her rage against those who'd wrong her, rediscovered the ability to activate her rigging. It was a new sensation for her; one of power. She skated as close as she could and fired, causing the local wildlife to screech in surprise, waking the townsfolk.

Those with pirates in their homes were quickly dealt with, either dying on impact, or having their homes looted in front of their eyes.

By the end, roughly 60-70% of the total male population have all perished from the raid.

A pirate's justice has been served.

--

It is some three months after Davis' death, and we are now on one of the most important decisions in my career. It is October, and a sizable fleet of Portuguese ships stand before me. This is the Brazilian treasure fleet in its entirety, and we're starved for treasure.

However, a frontal assault will result in death (what with thirty-seven of the ships surrounding us 3 ships), so we need to be bold.

"Here's a plan. We set our other two to wait behind, as we wave under French colours. Martim, you're Portuguese, correct?"

Martim Alto, one of our gunners, nods.

"Good. Request of the captain of the closest ship to board our deck, in which we give him two options: point us to the richest ship or face death. Does this seem good to you all?"

Murmurs thus fill the room before a consensus is made.

Kentley: "The crew agree this is a good idea. We are all on board."

"Please never make a pun again. That one was awful. But thanks. We move in an hour."

After that hour, and after we load that captain upon our ship, I play my cards.

"Captain João Cerqueira, welcome aboard." I give a salute to the poor sod. "I am... Bartholomew Roberts, captain of the Royal Rover. This is one of our best crew members, Ms Heather... Davis."

Heather, clearly uncomfortable about me using the 'Davis' family name on her: "H-Hello, there, Sir Cerqueira."

Cerqueira, in a thick Portuguese accent: "I have never heard of a woman being a member of a ship's crew."

"She snuck upon the ship, standing to be a man, and only revealed the truth not too long ago. Still, she does pull her weight, so we let her stay. Anyways, on to the topic at hand. We are men of fortune, serving under His Majesty's will, and wish to offer a large sum of money to purchase some of what you carry. However, I would like to talk to the ship with the most you have to offer, to ensure I am able to get something I am certain I would like." I give a genuine smile. "Now, if you would point us to that ship's location, I will let you back to your ship once we are done, without molestation on your behalf. However, if not... Miss Heather?"

Heather: "Of course, Master Roberts."

"Please don't call me that in front of a guest..."

Heather revealed, beneath her dress, she had a pair of shears, oddly sharpened and bevelled.