Chapter 4 - A Daring Escape

Markem MacCooper
Chapter 4 A Daring Escape

He awakens in darkness. “AHHH! I’m blind why me! Why-y-y-y me-e-e-e!” “Shut-up ya fool you’re not blind just blindfolded.” “Really?” -“Yes, really.” “Then take it off me!” “If I could, I might. I’m tied up too.” Markem starts swinging his head and the blindfold slips off. He is in a small metal room filled with crates, a ceiling fan with a light in it. And the squirrelly thief girl bound with rope, and front paws cuffed to him. “OK, what happened how did we get chained together?” He tries to break out but couldn't’t. “Well, I was caught robbing the Captain’s quarters, fought back, and got swamped. Judging by the lumps and bruises, you got in a fight with the pirates and got slammed by a billy club.” “Wow, your good, now that that’s out of the way, what be next?” “Well for one we must get out and retrieve our loot.” Says squirrel girl strongly. -“Cool lets get untied first and work from there.” proposes Markem “'K, how do you plan to pull that off, tis not like ye got a knife, or somtin do ya?” “No, but you do.” “Really? Where?” she says disbelieving “In the strap around your thigh.” “How may I ask do you know that?” “Err... I saw where you put it when we first met, and I can see the tip under your pulled up skirt.” He looks at her leg to indicate it’s exposed. She blushes then screams, “OOH you perv! How dare you look, and I don’t even know your name!” “What do you want? I’m a guy, you’re a cute girl, what am I supposed to do!?” Now it was his turn to blush. “ANYWAY after that awkward moment would you get that knife and cut the ropes.” “Uh sure.” She pulls out the small blade, pulls her skirt back down, and slices the ropes about their foot and front paws. But they are still chained. “Thanks. By the way, my name is Markem MacCooper. Nice to meet ya, and sorry for looking.” “It’s alright, I’m Celeste Copperton.” “That’s a lovely name.” “Thanks, lets get our stuff.” They sneak out the door head off the cold, dark, deck in search of their things. “Ok, girlie, where would those blithers hide our loot?” “Captain’s room, but I say we check on our gear first, then we look for the swag. We’ll investigate my room first. ‘Tis in this direction.” She points then yanks on the chain.“Ok, ok, no need to pull, lead on lassie.” She forces Markem down hall D, up stairs C, and into a room with W1 plastered on the window. She opens the door, inside are four bunkbeds and a solitary painting of beautifully colored sunset on the bleak white walls of this lackluster excuse for a room. “Yikes! and I thought prison was depressing. This makes that look like a spa.” “Tell me about it, but I’m the only one in here perfect for a thief." Over they go to the first bunk. “Now hold still.” She springs onto Markem’s broad shoulders. “Ow! Thank you, I always wanted a dislocated shoulder blade.” “Stop your sniveling! If I wanted to, I would have.” She grabs a purple backpack from under the mattress, she then takes a grappling hook, two throwing knives, and a brown trenchcoat from the closet, shoves them in the pack. “I’m good, lets go get your junk.” “Hey, I like that junk, now get off.” As she springs down he opens the door ever so slightly scopes around, then motions that its safe. They materialize into the walls, becoming as phantoms drifting the hall of shadows. Never daring to stray from the haven of darkness it provides. Alas their mission twas almost cut short by a close run-in with the sailors. Celeste, a master of thinking on her feet, throws Markem the trenchcoat from her pack, swiftly extracts the grappling hook, swinging it skyward, latches it to a rafter, propelling herself by a kick straight to the safety of the ceiling and waits. Young MacCooper dons the coat while leaning against the wall pretends to be stretching his arm. The sailors meander by not noticing the youth almost bursting his jacket, just carelessly turning a corner, squirrelly girl loses her grip and falls. "WHOA!! Heads up!” Luckily, raccoony boy puts out his arms, catching her like a net. “Woo, nice save, mate jolly good.” “Think nothing of it, but your heavier then I thought.” “Hey, mind that tongue, buddy boy.” Giving him the glare of a viper. On they press remaining in the shadows until they come to a boiler room, through the threshold, he shuts the door behind them. “Welcome to my humble hideaway.” His arms spread wide to show the hot brass room with bolted walls, a cot with his haversack and contents scattered about it, and the McCooper family sword leaning against the side wall. “Hurry along now, the corsairs could check here at anytime.” “Don’t gotta tell me twice.” They trot over to the big sword he hefts it up with one paw. “Here, hold this a sec.” He drops it in her waiting paws. She grasps it but can’t hold it above her knees she tries both paws and finally manages to cradle it on her shoulder. “Jeez’em! How can you swing this with only one paw?! It takes me two just to lift it.” “With these.” He flexes his arms.” “Yea, yea, muscle head.” “That taint nice.” She snickers, then he pulls the coat off and tosses it back to his radiant companion. Ties the shoulder sheath about him then inserts the sword. He drapes the cloak over the deadly sheathed blade. The shadow creatures slip onto the moonlit deck. “Right lass which way tis the captain’s room?” “This-a-way.” They shoot off to the control tower. At long last they arrive; Markem rips out his suction cups as Celeste slings her hook to arms they count down together. “Three, two, one.” She launches it the same instant, he skyrockets and sticks fast to the wall. Up they scale when they reach the cabin, Celeste peers through the glass spies their loot while Markem acts as lookout. “EUREKA, hey MacCooper check it out!” “Awesome, where?” “Over in yonder corner.” She points to a large pile bursting with jewels and coins. They scamper up the outer wall and to a ceiling hatch. Markem pokes his gray furry head through the opening around for any security cameras he gestures that there are three, now Celeste looks in, takes out her two razor sharp throwing knives, takes aim, let's the first fly, then the second en suet. Nailing the cameras dead on. “What ’bout the third?” “Yo Marks, dagger, give it here.” He passes it to her. It's chucked, zzzziing, it zips off, severing the remaining camera’s wire cleanly. They drop down, Celeste snaps.“DARN, too high!” “Ya can’t get ’em all, Copperton.” Markem speaks soothingly patting her back. “Just snag the swag.” She replies glumly. “Wait, let's get out of these cuffs.” Celess says as she plucks the keys from the hook in the wall, unlocks their numb, raw, wrists. Markem grabs the four bags and assorted gems, and gold and plops them in the bag. Celeste frees her knives from the destroyed cameras, also retrieves Markem’s sgian dubh, then throws it to him. “Marks, incoming.” “Got it, lass.” He catches it deftly without looking, spins it in one paw, and sheaths it in a single fluid motion. “Ready to go, Celess?” “Almost.” She also scoops some jewels and gold and puts them snugly in her bag. “Someone is coming, quick, up the hatch!” He speaks urgently. Celeste uses the crouched lad as a ladder. Then he does the Cooper double jump and lands on neatly on the roof closing the hatch behind himself. "How’s ’bout we change out of our disguises. You switch up here and I’ll go down on the catwalk.” “But.” Before she could finish he’d already jumped down and started disrobing. So she reluctantly does the same. A few minutes later Markem’s deep voice sounds up to Celeste. “Done yet?” “Yes, come on up.” He springs and lands right beside her. She’s wearing a Desert camo vest, a midnight blue belly shirt, a black studded belt, dull red cargo pants, and crimson sneakers. He has on his dark, forest green T-shirt, MacCooper sword in it’s brown shoulder sheath, the belt/sash with family colors, bark brown cargos, and his nearly black moccasins. The horn that blares when they have reached Paris. “Righteous, now is our chance to leave.” He drapes his cloak over himself and throws the hood up. She slips into her coat, Marks gives his glengarry to her to conceal her face. They huddle close, making their way to the boarding bridge, but are stopped by the crew.“You ain’t goin no-where’s!” Arthur’s bulk blocks the gangway. “Just drop the booty and whatever else your packing and ye can go free.” “Over my dead, rotting corpse!” The two cohorts say in unison. “Very well, we don’t give a darn either way.” Sneers Ridd menacingly. “Let her go, take me instead.” Markem boldly steps in front of a bewildered thief girl. “Marks, no, I can’t let you have all the fun.” She draws her twin knives ready for action. “You sure Celess?” “But of course never backed down from a scuff before no reason to start now.” “Right mates, sic’em!” A full on wave a sailors surge forward, Markem draws his sword and grips it tight. “Celess, you go right, I go straight, spare no soul.” He belts the McCooper battle cry. “VAAALOOOR!” Then he runs head-on into his adversaries, slashing and battling, doggedly decimating anybody foolish enough to be in his way. Celeste using more quick kills, slitting throats and stabbing vital points. Markem’s eyes process the sheer ferocity the highland warriors of old wielded so expertly. Consumed and fueled by their rage first he decapitates the badger, Arthur, then makes his way to the distraught Captain Ridd too busy barking out order to his men to notice the savage raccoon charging toward him. He howls aloud for all to hear. “YOU’RE MINE WOLF!” Swiftly, he blasts through the air, swings his heavy, bloodstained and battle-scarred sword, it whistles as it closes the fate on the damned Captain’s life. Celeste meets up with her fatigued partner no words pass between them as he throws a potent smoke grenade into the bloody crew, covering the exit. After they are out of the port, they stop in an alley, Markem’s bloodlust slackens and he momentarily returns to normal and blacks out. A short rest was a blessing, but short-lived, Celeste hears a cry for help down the other end of the alley. She ducks behind the trash cans, where Markem fell asleep. A young girl is being pursued by a murder of crows. He is still out, so Copperton plays the hero this time. The raccoon girl runs past Celeste, who grabs the scuff of the terrified lass’s tattered indigo blue shirt. “Shh, shh. Be calm, your safe now." The girl breaks down crying, the words between her sobs are barley audible, but she gets out. “Help!! AHAHAHA!! Don’t let them!" She sniffled, "get me-e-e-e-e please!” "They shan't, I’ll make sure of it.” The crew of large black birds are approaching their hiding place. Celeste quickly says. “My name is Celeste Copperton, you can call me Celess what’s your name lassie?” “Lyra…Lyra Cooper.” Celeste stares brought aback by Lyra’s response. “Cooper?” she repeats slowly. Lyra sniffled again. “Uh-uh, why?” “Nevermind.” Celess whispers to Lyra. The leader of the murder squawks out. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” The courageous young squirrel steps from behind the trash cans. “Leave her be, ya overgrown feather dusters!” Without warning, the female crow of the group lashes out with her heavy wing at Celeste. But she reacts with lightning speed. She slashes her primary feather, disabling her ability to fly. “You filthy wretch! I’ll teach ya!” Another member kicks her with his long, powerful legs, his clawed foot leaving deep claw marks in Celeste’s vest and her stomach also. “HA AHA A HA HA.” The crows cackling cruelly at the injured girl. That is when Markem snaps to conscious fury. “BIRDS!” He growls, the last word those crows heard before he mauls them. The fierceness he had on the ship returns full power. When the crow goes to kick Celeste the second time. Markem grabs it’s foot and breaks it with one paw. Swings his free paw and connects with the doomed birds skull, knocking him out cold. The one with the slashed wing charges. He silently latches to her throat, then kicks the struggling beast, shattering the ribs and sends her flailing to the ground. The third bird barrels toward him right after, but Marks easily sidesteps, slams his fist square in it's chest. Now the leader starts violently pecking and scratching at our thief’s back, at this time, he’s had enough. “BIRD you will pay!” He tears the sword from it’s cover and swings it four times, wailing the battered crows with the broad side of it like a bat. Sword sheathed and panting, he squats down, then Lyra emerges from her hiding place says anxiously. “Guys, uhh. There are sailors coming down the street.” “Ah, crap we gotta make scarce ourselves!” They start running but Lyra trips, so Markem doubles around picks her up, carrying her on his back. Celeste has ran ahead and shouts down from an old abandoned apartment building. He bounds up the fire escape and into the room. As soon as they’re all in, he shuts and locks the windows and door. Too tired to do much of anything, Lyra passes out on the couch, Celeste goes into the room. “Marks, you should get some rest too.” “I will, but not yet, someone must keep watch.” He smiles tiredly. “Very well, try for sleep.” She treads dotingly to the room and plops down. Markem notices his cloak is gone he remembers having it when he was carrying the girl. “Aha.” He speaks to himself. He tiptoes over to the couch where Lyra is fast asleep, curled up in soft brown cloth. “That wee ring-tailed lass. Yep she’s definitely a thief.” He mumbles and trudges back to the window sill to watch for those who wish them harm.   To Be Continued…

You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment