One of the first rules you'd learnt while sailing was that nothing came easy. So, why had this victory felt just that? Easy... too easy...

The vessel - 'The Ashen Siren' - may have been new to the seven seas, but that hadn't deterred her climb to fame. With a capable, cut-throat crew and a Captain - you - with a good head on your shoulders, it was no wonder your name was whispered from harbour-to-harbour like a bad omen. Townsfolk afraid to speak your name too loud lest your ship appear on the horizon.

In a world where reputation was currency, yours had grown faster than any tide you'd faced. Perhaps a little too fast. Your ego growing with each re-told story of your heists and victories, until you believed you were untouchable.

Which is why, when 'The Black Pearl' had cut through the mist shortly ahead of your own vessel - a crew and Captain whom had become legends themselves, you didn't run from the fight.

The battle was brutal. Though it hadn't slipped your attention how oddly brief the fight was.

Your crew moved with a hunger that spoke of those who had something to prove. Steel clashed with steel, wood splintered as cannon balls flew through the air, grapples sinking into wood as your crew swarmed onto the enemy ship. When the smoke finally cleared, her deck was yours, and her master lay broken at your feet.

Captain Simon Riley, otherwise known as his alias - Ghost, was panting on his knees before you. Two of your men, one positioned at each side of the fallen Captain, held iron grips on his arms; your blade held to his throat, close enough for the steel to steal his warmth.

Up close, he was every inch the nightmare of your childhood stories. Broad, scarred, smelling of sea salt, gunpowder and tobacco smoke. His balaclava and skull mask giving nothing of the man beneath away. Yet, there was an ease to him that you didn't often see from your rivals. A calm that unsettled you. This was no beaten man. This was a man getting exactly what he wanted... a meeting with you.

"Wondered how long it would take you to hunt me down after the badmouthing I did back at Hangman's Cove," he drawled, his voice warm like aged rum. Gaze sliding up the length of you appraisingly. "Hope you didn't take it personally, love... had to get your attention one way or another."

Your eyes narrowed at his obvious comfort, despite the situation, pressing your blade closer to his throat. Not entirely sure where he was going with his point. Most in his predicament had begun to beg for their lives by now...

"I don't beg so don't expect it," he said as if sensing your confusion. "I heard that you were trouble, you know... your tales don't do you justice though. Beautiful doesn't seem strong enough a word. Bet half my crew would die a happy man by your blade-"

Your blade bites at his skin, an unspoken 'get on with it', as your head tilted to the side in contemplation of what to do with the man before you.

"I believe as much as you do that the seven seas doesn't require two rulers," Simon finally reached his point, the reason he'd allowed his men and himself to be so easily 'captured' by the up-and-coming pirate crew before them. "But they'd bend nicely to a pair who knew how to take what they wanted-"

Slowly, Ghost rose to his feet, shaking off the hold of your men as you hesitantly pulled your blade from his neck.

"-I admire you, and that's not a compliment I often give. Join me and I'll make sure you have everything you ever wanted," he concluded, the corners of his eyes crinkling, giving away that he was smiling - or smirking - beneath the balaclava and mask. Offering you the possibility to ally yourself with the most dangerous, and feared man, to ever sail the seas. All too quickly realising that your 'victory' had been nothing but a staged show for your meeting. "And, between you and me, love... I've always enjoyed a warm bed more than a cold grave."