A Letter a Day <Tag: Chord>

[drake]

Drake cursed a thousand times under his breath. He listened as the innkeeper told everything about Amelia, and he actually gave the redcoats the key to her room. Drake whispered to Amelia, preparing a plan for a quick exit, no doubt they had heard Amelia's squeal and were now planning a way to trap them. Just then, he heard someone moving in front of the door they were listening through. He placed his hands on his pistols, feeling their familiar shape, then heard something being moved. When he heard the person move away, he attempted to open it. 'Damn! They're blocking the door!' He then noticed both pistols were empty... What was more important? Self-protection, or quick exits? Drake muttered another curse, then loaded both pistols quickly. But not quick enough. He heard movement outside the back door.

He heard something being placed in front of the door, then waited once more for the person, most likely a redcoat, and God damn it if it were to be that Lieutenant, Matthew Chord. Drake attempted to open the door, to no avail. He had wedged something under the handle, and it was most likely stuck into the ground! Drake was on fire. Amelia was starting to get concerned, and attempted to console him with a quiet, soothing whisper, but was interrupted by the sounds of muskets being loaded, ready to fire. Drake grimaced, then pulled out his loaded pistols. Without a word, he shot a chunk of the door off, including the handle. He then shot off the opposite side of the door, and watched it fall back into the storage room with a crash! "God damn your King and your country you bastards!" Drake yelled, running out with Amelia. "Quickly, onto the horse!" he ordered, motioning Amelia to get on as fast as possible. She flashed another grin, and got on.

"You always have a horse, where do you get them?" she said sarcastically. Drake delivered a laugh filled with sarcasm, and retorted, whipping the reigns on the horse. "Least I'm not the one always being rescued! H'yah!" The mount whinnied, and they were off on the path Drake had been on a day or two before. Drake had lost track of time, being chased, killing messengers, and creating havoc. What was the date? When did he last sleep? Where the hell would they go, now? The questions were endless! They rode out of the village, and Drake began laughing like a madman. He wondered what the hell that Lieutenant - who no doubt was leading the search - was doing at the moment. The blonde would probably be 'hurt' after Drake's insult, or something. Drake's thought processes were interrupted by Amelia. "So, I've heard about what you've done the past day. You really are a monster. But, a likable monster, that I can't seem to get away from..." she said, giving him a warm smile as he looked back at her. Drake shook his head, and once again prodded the horse to go on faster. He looked back again, checking for pursuers, and to watch the town fade in the distance.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Both soldiers jumped as, the second they opened the door, the other door was busted open by the Patriot as he shouted back a flurry of insults at them.

"That troop you were talking about," he turned to the officer then grabbed him as he started running out of the inn. "I think we should go get them."
"That might be a good idea, sir, but can you please let go of me?" The officer laughed nervously.
"That man! When, not if, when I get my hands on him...I swear I will ensure he has the most painful death possible!" The Lieutenant fumed and shoved the officer towards a horse, not caring that it wasn't one of theirs.
"Go after the troop and alert them, I'll follow them and keep them in my sights so you know where they are. Got it?"
"Yes sir," the officer nodded and quickly turned the horse away, ignoring the stuttering protests of civilians as he charged off down the street, almost trampling some of them.

Matthew took another horse, still a bit unsteady, but this time he couldn't afford to be weak and useless. He quickly set off around the outskirts of the town, following the pair at a distance and under the cover of the thin woodland that lined the road.
You are not getting away this time! Matthew hissed in his mind, urging his horse on more. He was very slowly gaining on them; so long as he could keep this up, and the army get here soon, then they would have a hard time getting away. Though just like with everything, it probably wouldn't go to plan.
He should be hung, drawn and quatered...or thrown in jail to rot and have the rats eat him...which ever is worse, Matthew thought maliciously as he nudged the horse with his foot again, still keeping a firm grasp on his musket. Or even better, why not both?

He sighed in relief when he heard shouting behind him, and saw a few more redcoats following them on horseback, others behind them on foot. He jumped when someone came up alongside him, still smirking at him.
"You definitely ride better when you're in a hurry," the officer teased and Matthew glared at him.
"Where's the nearest town with redcoats in it?" He asked and the officer was silent for a moment.
"The next one along this road, I believe," the officer eventually replied.
"Good, keep them going in that direction," Matthew nodded at the faint figure of the horse and riders, only slightly visible due to the tree cover between them. "The trees are going to thin out in a minute - when they do, pull back out onto the road. Shoot the horse if you're within range."
"Where are you going?" The officer protested, urging his horse forwards.
"I'm going to cut across to the other side. With any luck they might start nudging across towards you, and then you can fire at them," Matthew explained, surprised at how much information he'd managed to squeeze into a small space of time. "You were in the cavalry, so you'll undoubtedly be far better at handling weapons whilst riding than I am, ok?"
"Understood, sir," the officer nodded, whipping the reins slightly and giving his mount another kick with his heels.

Matthew turned his horse around, grinding his teeth together in frustration. The man would get away, he knew it. He always did. But so long as they made as impossible for him as they could, they could all at least feel relieved that they tried to get him. Besides, Matthew thought with a smirk as he pulled out behind the other soldiers riding a head and cut across the road to the other side. We almost had him last time. With any luck, we'll make progress on that, and finally have him in our grasps. Or at least the girl - he's just proven that he always comes to her rescue, the petty thing.

Matthew was brought back to the present when he heard gunfire, and looked across to see the officer with his musket at the ready.
How on earth does he do that? Matthew felt his eye twitch as he watched the officer control both the horse and his weapon at the same time, and seeming to not have much trouble with it.
Matthew clicked his tongue, giving his own horse and nudge with his heel to bring him closer to the criminals on horse back. He heard guns firing again, but this time it wasn't from the officer, but from a group of redcoats on the outskirts of the town ahead.
The group of soldiers and the Patriot and his girl were not yet in firing range of each other, but he knew the rebel would have seen them. And if he hadn't, then he was definitely blind...or extremely distracted.

"This cannot fail!" Matthew growled to himself, clenching his teeth furiously. They pretty much had the pair surrounded - if they could just get him off his horse, or get him to stop, then he'd have to seriously go some to fight them all.

But then, this was the man who'd so far been responsible for the death of, what was an equivalent to, a whole company of soldiers.

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[drake]

Drake kept prodding the horse to go faster. He looked back another time, and saw a bunch of redcoats going for him! Some on horseback, others on foot, running as fast as possible to kill him and Amelia. He rode on down the road, and about a mile ahead, he saw that the trees would thin. They would most likely attempt to hide there and shoot his horse, then kill him. A painful death? Most likely. Would he die? Probably. He winced and kept going. He thought of dying for his cause, the Revolution, and for his friends. Drake's thoughts tormented him once more as he yelled out, attempting to go fast. They were slowly but surely gaining on him, and within a few minutes they would be on he and Amelia. "Drake, what are we to do? I don't want to die on a horse... 'Specially with you." she said, sarcastically. She seemed to think they would get out of this little jam. They always did, why not now?

"We're going to ride on. Pray for the Indians..." he said, somewhat ominously. "Indians? What do you mean, Indians??" Drake gritted his teeth and whipped the reigns on the horse once more. "Just do it, if they're still up here, we'll be fine." He looked up at the tree lines on both sides, hoping to see what he was looking for. If the Indians were still around, they'd be a valuable help for this current situation. Drake then began to think strategy, should they not show up. 'Jump off horse, two seconds, grab pistols, three seconds, shoot them, then throw ten throwing knives in five seconds... No.' It was nearly impossible to get out on his own. He had killed more than forty men in the matter of days, but he couldn't face them all at once. Drake looked up once more and began grinning. He started to laugh like a maniac.

"Drake, oh no, you've gone mad! You want to die, don't you... I know you want to but-" Drake cut her off. "We're gonna live, just trust me." He let out a sharp whistle, then the horse skidded to a stop. "Come and get me, Lieutenant! I want to have a nice, cozy conversation with you. Would you like my dagger to meet your throat?! Well then, COME ON!" he yelled out, eager to fight again. Most men would be exhausted. But Drake had the willpower to go on, both physically and mentally. He pulled out his daggers, and looked up once more. The Indians were up in the trees, camouflaged with green paint and leaves in their hair. All ten of them were there, including the two he saved. Their muskets were at the ready, waiting for Drake to give the signal once more. They probably stayed because they wanted to see what would happen, and to kill some more Redcoats trespassing on their "holy lands". The Redcoats were ever approaching, becoming quicker and quicker.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

The Lieutenant slowed his horse a little when Drake started to laugh - had he gone insane? Had he finally realised that hey, maybe, this was the last time he'd be getting away?

As the Patriot whistled, his horse sliding to a halt, Matthew slowed his own horse down, keeping his distance from the pair. For all he knew, it could be a trap - particularly when the man addressed him. Sure, there were other Lieutenants in the large group of redcoats now surrounding the criminal pair, but they probably all knew who his taunts were directed at.

Matthew stopped his horse and it fidgeted beneath him, sensing the tension building up amongst the people. The group of fifteen foot soldiers up ahead on the road had come down to meet the rest of the twenty or so soldiers surrounding Drake and his accomplice, and the ex-cavalry officer had his musket trained on them as he nudged his horse forwards, still managing to control everything with expert skill.
A commanding officer of one of the groups of soldiers shouted an order for the soldiers to load their guns, and then did so, pointing their muskets at the pair as well.

Matthew smirked as some of the horseback unit joined him to the flank the right side of Drake, blocking their exit from that direction.
"Are we going to fire at him?" The Lieutenant from the mounted platoon asked, drawing his horse up close to Matthew's.
"Not yet," he murmured back in reply. "If he wants a fight, he will get one in good time, but for now let's just make sure this isn't a trap. Send two of your men towards the town to get any more back up soldiers...get as many redcoats as you can."
The other Lieutenant nodded then repeated the instruction to two of his men, who quickly headed off.

"You're under the arrest of the British Army for the murder of the King's men, treason and theft," a Captain explained as he stepped forwards from the crowd, the officers behind him covering his back with their muskets ready to fire. "Should you cooperate we will have no need to kill you. If you decide to retaliate we will assume it is an uncooperative response and will not hesitate to open fire on you."

Matthew got off of his horse, loading his own musket whilst waiting for Drake's response, a slight smirk on his face.
Well this is interesting, isn't it? Where's your little crowd of supporters now, Patriot? He thought to himself smugly. Seems the tables have finally turned. I have my men, so where's yours?

All of the British had yet to noticed the Indians in the trees above, poised and ready to fight.

"You're surrounded, mate," Matthew sneered as he took a few steps towards the mounted criminals, mirroring the Captain's movements as he two approached the man and young woman. "It's over. Finally."

[/size]

[drake]

"You're under the arrest of the British Army for the murder of the King's men, treason and theft, should you cooperate we will have no need to kill you. If you decide to retaliate we will assume it is an uncooperative response and will not hesitate to open fire on you." The words entered through Drake's ears, then quickly left. Surrender? Bah! The word meant nothing to him, he would show no mercy. "Yes, I'll cooperate, God save the King and all, chaps. But, I must warn you, I have many weapons, that I would appreciate taken away from me." The Captain cautiously walked toward Drake, musket at the ready. "Can you help? I can't get it off..." The Captain loaded his musket and pointed it at Drake. "Put your hands up, or I shoot!" Drake did so, with a grin. Amelia, all the while, stood behind Drake, hoping for safety.

Drake wondered what was going through her mind, the Lieutenant's mind, and the Captain's. They wouldn't know what the fuck hit them. Drake held his arms up higher, and began a sort-of rant. "My friends, my time has come to an end. The Revolution is not worth it, I give up. I do hope that, one day, I am pardoned by the dear King for my actions. I... apologize, deeply, for the loss of your companions, and the blows dealt to their families. I wasn't thinking straight, I do, however, know that you will not show mercy, like I didn't for the loyal British soldiers, the messengers only doing their job, and the Loyalists of the colony of Massachusetts," Drake was giving a convincing performance, he thought to himself. Amelia couldn't believe her ears, but the things that came out of that man's mouth... Most of the crap that made it's way out was meaningless and said only for the sake of saying it.

"I know what I did was wrong, and, once again, I apologize deeply, for the things that I did... AND I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS FOR WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NOW!" he yelled, at NOW! musket shots came from the trees, and quickly decapitated ten mounted soldiers, a moment later ten more fell. Drake pulled out his pistol and shot the Captain square in the chest, and as the man fell back, he began to throw knives at the soldiers, hitting quite a few in the neck, chest, and a very bad place to get hit in the groin area. Men screaming in pain, rocking on the ground, dying a slow, painful death. Perhaps that's what the Lieutenant wanted for Drake. And now, his men were paying the price for that longing. The Indians quickly reloaded and let out another barrage, and after only a minute or two, almost all the men that were alive and threatening Drake and Amelia a minute ago, now lay dead on the ground, or screaming their heads off, staring at their fatal injuries.

Drake seemed to ignore this, thought Amelia, as she watched him slowly walk forward and give a shrug. "Well, Matthew? You tried, I'll give ya that." he flashed a devilish grin. Drake turned around, and looked at the trees. "Ya can come out now, you damned lot of marksman!" Chattering was heard from the trees, and then movement. As the figures landed on the ground, it was discovered they were Indians. Amelia gasped, and began laughing incredulously, surprised at the fact that Drake always had a trick up his sleeve. The Indians ran out, rifles at the ready, whooping and hooting like the world would end the next day. Drake laughed, and then noticed he was nicked in the right shoulder, and watched as blood slowly seeped through his shirt. Most of the redcoats in the back, who were once chasing the pair of Patriots, were now screaming bloody murder and running their shoes off. Drake wondered what was going through the Lieutenant's mind. Just then, he noticed the Captain hadn't died yet. "Oh, poor man. Perhaps I can heal him..." he said sarcastically. The road was still muddy from the rain from the night before, and Drake turned the Captain's shaking body over, and then proceeded to forcefully push the Captain's face into the mud. The body squirmed for a few seconds, then after the final kick and muffled attempt to breath, he died. Drake smiled again then looked at Amelia, who wasn't disturbed at all. Had they won, totally, yet? Possibly.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew glanced at the Captain as Drake replied, his tone and words completely mocking. The Lieutenant watched all poised soldiers around him, all with the same sincere expression on their faces. For all anyone knew, their brothers, sons, fathers and friends could have been amongst the many dead the British were holding Drake responsible for. Perhaps, Matthew figured, that was why they looked so engaged in the action.

As Drake put up his hands, Matthew took a few more steps forwards, glaring at him furiously. 
I can't wait to wipe that grin off your face... the Lieutenant glowered, narrowing his eyes as the Patriot continued to ramble on. Every one of the soldiers knew he was taunting them.
"You don't give a damn about them," Matthew hissed under his breath, tearing his eyes off of Drake to glare at the girl hiding behind him, silent. If anything, they would not be leaving without her; if he proved too much trouble for them, they could simply grab her and run.

Matthew jumped when he heard gunfire, and action errupted from nowhere. Several men dropped down, dead or injured, and the Patriot took out his gun, shooting the Captain.
"Sir!" A soldier ran forwards to the aid of his commander, but was shot dead.
As Drake hurled several knives at the redcoats, Matthew motioned to the trees.
"Whoever it is shooting is hiding is in the trees!" He shouted. "Shoot the god damn trees!"
Some soldiers listened and fired at the trees, a few grinning triumphantly whenever they heard a grunt of pain. The trees fired back however, and another ten or so men dropped dead. 

Matthew whirled around, having to duck as a round whistled past him, hitting one of the men behind him. 
"You bastard!" Matthew snapped and, before he could shoot the man, the ranks started to falter. Unable to see who was shooting them, they started backing away from the scene, gripping their muskets tightly.
He prepared to fire when he was addressed, a few remaining soldiers backing him up while others watched from a distance, unsure what to do. Their thirty-or-so strong mass of men had been reduced down to fifteen.
"Well it's not over yet," one of the redcoats answered for Matthew.
The Lieutenant stared around, looking for his faithful officer, and found he hadn't stuck around.
He smirked, knowing full well where he'd gone - hopefully, within a few minutes, another wave if soldiers would show up...or even the cavalry.
 
A few Indians dropped from the trees, whooping amongst themselves in victory.   
So he's now using the natives? How pathetic, Matthew thought.
As Drake turned his attention to the Captain, Matthew stepped forwards again, ready to fight if the Patriot made any hostile move. The redcoats merely watched as their Captain's face was pressed into the mud, and he continued to squirm until he finally fell limp.
Matthew stared at the dead commander, mouth slightly agape. He wasn't quite sure how to react; he certainly wasn't going to shoot anybody - for all he knew, the Indians could shoot them dead in a few seconds. And then what? Again, everyone would have died in vain.

The Lieutenant lowered his gun slightly, sighing and pulling a disgusted face.  
"Honestly, men," he addressed the Amerindians. "You trust this man? He deserves this land no more than the British do - what is he, but a descendant of English settlers? And you are supporting his cause? The side that plans to push west into your lands and colonise the rest of the continent with their pathetic liberty preaches? How tragic."
Matthew clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I can assure you that the Patriots do not intend your liberty. At least we British have no intentions of advancing further west."
The redcoats behind Matthew lowered their guns too. What on earth was the Lieutenant doing? Why didn't he just shoot and try and kill as many as possible?
"Some of your brothers and cousins already fight with us," Matthew continued. "They've realised that the rebels are blind. Not only will their own government corrupt them, but also your people and land too."

Matthew glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers behind him, who all looked entirely confused. He didn't know if the Indians would understand him, but either way he'd delayed their next choice if action - whatever their plan was - for a minute or so.

They all came back to attention when a shot rang out and one of the Indians fell to the floor, and bullet wound in his shoulder. 
Matthew grinned triumphantly when he saw the two mounted soldiers returning with about ten foot soldiers, heavily armed with muskets, all ready to fire.
Not far off was the ex-cavalry officer, followed by another five mounted soldiers who again were armed with muskets.
"Oh look," Matthew smirked at Drake. "My friends are here. Too bad for you."
The soldiers that had run away to keep a distance slowly started edging back again, muskets still at the ready.
Amongst the group of fresh-arrived soldiers was a Lieutenant Colonel who, noticing Matthew was the current officer in charge, made his way over to him.
"Is this who the wild goose chase is for?" He asked the Lieutenant and Matthew nodded, lifting his tricorn off in salute.
"Yes, sir. A murderer, thief and gossiper," Matthew glared at Drake furiously, glad that the enemy was now surrounded again by more troops, their weapons focused mainly on the Indians.

Please, for the love if God, don't let this screw up! Matthew silently willed. He honestly could not see how they could fail - the Patriot was, again, outnumbered, and the British could again go and get more back up if needed.

[/size]

[drake]

Drake watched as the Indian fell to his death. He saw two mounted soldiers, holding muskets. They were followed by ten foot soldiers. "Oh look, my friends are here." Drake did not falter. He simply grimaced, then looked to Amelia. She began to cry, but she gave him a small wink as she began sobbing. 'Is she...' Drake's eyes widened and he grinned again. He then began to speak, silently, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide any signs of treachery. "Do ya still have the grenade?" Amelia started sobbing and screaming. "Why?! WHY?!?!" she said, words being drowned out by fake sobbing. Soon enough, the sobbing subsidized and became just soft tears. Amelia put her hand to her mouth, then gave Drake a response. "Of course I have it, it's been in my dress for a day now..." she said in between sniffles.

Drake could've leapt up in victory. Now all the was left was for their Indian friends. He walked over to the warrior he had rescued before, his movements tracked by the thirteen men, including that bastard the Lieutenant. 'Oh, how I would love to see him gaping at his manhood, dropped on the floor. I would rip his heart out and take a bite, but no. All there would be is just the blood of a pathetic redcoat, a dishonorable Englishman. But aren't all Englishmen dishonorable? Of course they are...' he thought as he placed his hand on the warrior's shoulders. He made movements as if defeated, his face buried in his hand. "Tell them to open fire when the explosion occurs. Don't ask what it is or how it happens, just do it." The warrior nodded and translated to his brothers.

The warrior then stepped forward. "What you say is a lie. He may be a descendant of dishonorable people, but he himself is a true and honorable... 'Patriot', I believe you say," he said, giving a small smile. The warrior continued, and Drake was surprised about what he was saying. He thought that the damned Lieutenant Matthew Chord had persuaded them to throw down their arms. "You say he is dishonorable. You say they plan to trample over our holy lands West. But yet, your people have brought him here, along with the rest of those in his cause. The British are nothing but power-hungry tyrants. And so, I will fight with this man, 'till death." he said, walking over to his dead companion. He turned the corpse over and closed his brother's eyes.

Then Amelia, who was lying on the floor at the time, showing fake sadness, spoke up. "You lot of boys are in for it, it'll come soon. Maybe not within the next minute, maybe not in the next hour, day, or week. Perhaps not even in the next year, but you will pay for what you have done, and what you plan to do... But, as any lady, I must respect those who have authority over me, and I will respect my captors." She then unceremoniously lifted her skirt, and most of the soldiers - especially the ones in their late teens and early twenties - quit pointing their rifles at the Indians, standing with their mouths agape, watching Amelia reach into her skirt, and withdraw a cannonball. "What the devil? A cannonball? What the hell are they going to use that for?!" one of the soldiers questioned, out of turn.

Amelia handed it to Drake, who reluctantly took it in his hand. "Did you... never mind." he said, shaking his head as he produced a match from his pocket and lit the fuse. It was much shorter than most fuses, and would the grenade would explode in three seconds. "Alas, I must bid leave to you, my friends. See you in Hell!" he yelled, hurling the grenade at the ranks of redcoats. It had devastating effect, instantly exploding into a million pieces of shrapnel, which embedded themselves in the bodies of the redcoats. The two mounted soldiers fell, as did most of the foot soldiers, two of whom managed to pull the trigger on the muskets, but missed the Indians and the pair of Patriots by a mile. To add even more insult to injury, the Indians reloaded their muskets again, and shot at every single soldier, making sure no one made a last stand. Drake walked towards Matthew Chord, and drew both his pistols, and pointed them at him. "You just don't know when to give the fuck up, do you? You're gonna die like this, try to be careful, please." He then redirected his aim at the Lieutenant's horse, and discharged it into the mount's torso. It whinnied, and threw itself on its side, and began whirling around in pain. After a few moments, it stopped moving, and Drake turned to the Indians, who were now even better prepared than before, and he watched as they ran forward, passing corpses, and found cover behind trees and in the bushes. Should another wave come, they loaded their muskets. With two a man, and with their fighting spirit, they could handle the Redcoats with ease.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew rolled his eyes as the girl began sobbing, putting on a pathetic display. Melodrama oozed from every part of the scene - at the why!? part Matthew even sniggered. She'd been a good actor other times - heck, had she even been acting? - but this...was so...unserious, considering the situation at hand. He felt a sting of irritance at it; it was like being mocked, really. Some of the soldiers exchanged confused looks, not quite sure what to make of the girl.

As she covered her mouth, Matthew narrowed his eyes and glanced at the still-approaching back ups. He managed to catch the ex-cavalry officers eye and made a cut gesture to him.
The officer frowned but turned his horse away, ordering the five mounted soldiers following him to back away and keep a safe distance - well out of firing range.

"We should let him go," the Lieutenant Colonel suddenly spoke up. "Our men are needed elsewhere, and it's not worth losing another number chasing him. He's not going to do harm...just one criminal."
Some of the soldiers laughed lightly, nodding in agreement.
Matthew smirked, turning to his commander.
"Sir, Americans are like snowflakes. You're familiar with snow, aren't you?" He began, not waiting for the Lieutenant Colonel's response. "Snowflakes are absolutely harmless. You touch them and they melt - bye, bye snowflake."
The Lieutenant Colonel raised an eyebrow.
"But," Matthew continued. "If a snowflake should meet and join up with other like minded snowflakes, they form an avalanche."
The Lieutenant Colonel looked away at this, blushing slightly. Matthew glanced at Drake, rolling his shoulders.
"And if they form an avalanche," he concluded. "Then bye, bye anything that stands in their way. So sure, he may appear harmless, but as he's demonstrated in this situation, he can be a complete pain in the arse if he get's supporters."
The soldiers all switched their gazes from their two commanders to Drake, then back again, confused.
"Let's not wind up royally fucked, eh?" Matthew lowered his voice, glaring at the Lieutenant Colonel, who cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"I suppose you're right," he sniffed and Matthew turned away.
Of course I am, he thought to himself, motioning subtly with his chin for some of the soldiers to stand back a bit. Whatever the criminal pair were up to, they were planning something devious no doubt. Even devious was even the word - more like sinister.

"Stay back!" A soldier yelled as Drake moved, five of the foot soldiers training their guns on him. They watched as he placed his hand on the warrior's soldier, covering his face with his hand.
"He's up to something," Matthew turned to the Lieutenant Colonel. "I suggest that we get a mounted soldier to get more back up."
"How many more people must die?" The Lieutenant Colonel protested.
"If we don't stop this man, plenty more will be put in their graves, too," Matthew replied, sighing exasperatedly.

Matthew looked round again as the Indian spoke up, rambling on about how the Patriot was honourable. It made the blonde sick to the stomach - to think they actually could consider him anything near a hero disgusted him.
He lifted his chin arrogantly, but the Lieutenant Colonel answered for him.
"Then death it shall be," he snapped back in reply, nodding to a group of soldiers who shot the Indian, not caring if they killed or injured him or not, more bothered that the man who dared to speak out against them was on the floor.

However, the concentrated order in the ranks broke when their attention was drawn back to the girl again, who was on the floor, putting on a pitiful display.
As she lifted up her skirt, Matthew noticed plenty of the soldiers lifted their hands to tug at their collars, clearing their throats uncomfortably.
"We should recruit more older men," Matthew sighed, turning to talk to the Lieutenant Colonel again, only to find he too was stood with his mouth slightly agape.
She's such a whore, Matthew decided, massaging the bridge of his nose. Again, he felt a headache coming on, and this affair was far from over yet.

As he noticed a cannonball, the ex-cavalry officer seemed to read his expression. It wasn't a cannonball, oh no, it was some form of explosive.
Gradually, the newly-arrived mounted officers started backing their horses up even further away, one turning around completely and heading off to get help.
As Drake reached into his pocket, Matthew's eyes widened as he realised his suspicions had been confirmed.
"Get back!" He shouted at the soldiers, pulling the Lieutenant Colonel with him behind the cover of a tree, just as the Patriot lobbed the grenade at the ranks. Those who hadn't got away were killed instantly, others impaled by the shrapnel as they ran, falling to the ground.
Those who were scrambling away, their limbs and torsos injured by the shrapnel imbedded within them, were shot by the Indians.
Some of the soldiers who'd gotten back fired at them, one managed to hit one warrior in the shoulder, who quickly dropped his gun to clutch his injury.

Matthew peered out from behind the tree, firing his own musket at the Indians. The Lieutenant Colonel still looked slightly stunned, and Matthew rolled his eyes.
It was easy to question who was in charge, sometimes. But then, he had experience with this criminal - he'd been on the receiving end of his temperament and cockiness....and skill.
Matthew moved away from the cover of the tree, glad that there were still five or so soldiers left, and some of the Indians had fallen.
He held his gun at the ready as Drake approached him, pointing two pistols at him.
"If you're going to make this a personal affair, then I suggest you pick and plan your fights better," Matthew snapped back. "This is not between you and me."
Matthew jumped as the horse behind him was shot and fell to the ground, dead, and the blonde turned his head back round to glare furiously at the Patriot.
And the point of that was...what? He thought to himself. There were other horses around, and he didn't plan on running.

Some of the soldiers left living starting dragging each other back to the safety of the shrubs on the right side of the road, just as the Indians and the white duo hid in the trees, both sides with their guns at the ready. God forbid anyone who came down the road - they'd find a mass of dead soldiers in their path, and a few injured and dead Indians, too.

"We should retreat," a soldier murmured to Matthew, who watched the trees across the road.
"No. We go out there and we'll be shot. And we'll only be endangering any others who may come down this road," the Lieutenant frowned. The soldier nodded.
"You sent those mounted soldiers off for back up, right?" He pressed and Matthew peered around the tree he'd retreated back behind, running his tongue along his lip, frowning when he tasted the steely blood on it. Two of the mounted soldiers lay dead, their horses grazing nearby, unaffected by the recent gunfire and blood shed.
"That ex-cavalry officer," Matthew turned to the soldier. "Do you know him?"
"Richard, sir?" The soldier offered and Matthew nodded.
"He's left to get more help. We're going to run out of British soon...I wouldn't be surprised if he returns with Loyalist forces."
The soldier looked away, sucking in a deep breath.
"What if we can't defeat them? What if it just turns into a bloodbath?" He turned to stare at Matthew, eyes wide slightly.
Matthew frowned, pondering, before smiling darkly.
"If anything goes wrong, grab the girl. We aren't leaving without her."
"The girl?" The soldier spluttered. "Sir, that's not very-."
"If we have the girl, we have him by the balls," Matthew folded his arms, resting his musket against the tree. It wouldn't be long before back up arrived, again.

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[drake]

Drake stood there, behind the tree that fucking bastard Lieutenant Chord was hiding behind, like a coward. Drake drew his daggers, ready to run through the Lieutenant. Just as he did so, the sounds of a horse were heard in the distance, behind Amelia and the six Indians that were left. No... Not one horse. More like five... Ten? Twenty?? Drake took a moment to quickly scan the riders, then returned his gaze to the Lieutenant, eyeing his every move. Drake muttered something under his breath. "Those sly bastards... Thought they were dead." As the riders drew closer, it was discovered that they were a ragtag bunch of men, most about twenty five to forty. They came from the village just a ways down the road, and Drake laughed as their horses drew to a stop. "Could've gotten here earlier, Will!" Drake yelled out. William was a veteran of the French and Indian War, and started his own local militia of thirty or so men. With him were twenty horsemen, and they surrounded the redcoats left standing. Five of the riders departed to take care of the runners. He then walked over to Chord, and smirked. "Just you, now. Try to escape, or pull something, you're dead. And I really mean it."

"Well, mate, you've failed, for good. Now please give up or I swear I will shove my hand down your throat and rip your heart out, then feed it to the buzzards. They enjoy the blood and flesh of a coward, don't worry. It makes them feel better, I think." Drake said listening to the gunshots a few feet away and down the road. All of the redcoats that were left standing with the Lieutenant and the Lieutenant Colonel were dead. Two Indians ran over and kept watch of Chord as Drake walked over to the Lieutenant Colonel. "Y-you will not get away with this!" he shouted, shaking in his boots. "Yea, well mate, I did. G'bye." Drake laughed, as he stabbed the officer. As he fell down, Drake nodded at the horsemen. Three got off their mounts and produced some rope, and a stool. It was obvious what was going to happen. Drake picked up the redcoat and stood him up on the stool, as the horsemen threw the rope over a branch, then tightened it over the man's neck. "Go to hell, fucker!" Drake yelled as he kicked the stool. Everyone watched the man squirm, suffocating to death.

The horsemen grew restless and began tugging, hard, on the man's legs. The sound of the bones in his neck crunching and cracking were sickening to most people, but not to these men and Amelia. They laughed as the man fell limp. "Should I get 'im down?" asked Will. "Leave the bastard up there. He deserves it." Drake said, turning to Matthew. He began to search for weapons, while two Indians held him. When he had retrieved all of the Lieutenant's armament, Drake then produced his own pistols and attempted to shoot the Lieutenant's feet. "Let's move out. Leave him here. He'll find help, soon. But not soon enough." Drake said, mounting a horse, and then pulling Amelia up. The Patriots rode off, whooping and yelling, confident they were victorious, leaving the lone redcoat, Matthew Chord.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew glanced around at the soldiers, some who were wounded and being treated by their friends, comrades, even relatives. 
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his heart thudding away in his chest, racing so hard he could have tricked himself into thinking he could actually hear it. At least it was still beating, he supposed. 

Behind him, Matthew sensed movement, but he daren't look around the tree, just in case...
He put his hand on his musket, just to reassure himself it was still there, but made no other movement. 
"Sir..." a soldier cleared his throat and Matthew put his finger to his lips.
The soldier glanced up from where he was sat at the Patriot stood in front of the tree, daggers at the ready, then glanced back at the Lieutenant again, biting his lip. 

At the sound of hooves, Matthew sighed in relief.
Finally...the cavalry...it's about time... he thought as he stepped out from behind the tree, smirking arrogantly, preparing his little 'you lose' speech.

He felt the colour drain from his face when he saw a band of rebels riding towards the scene, quickly surrounding Matthew and his men.
Oh shit...
Matthew felt a lump form in his throat as Drake's gaze turned back on him. Behind him, some of the British started backing away out into the open, their weapons trained on the newly arrived militia-of-sorts.
"Now what?" The Lieutenant Colonel muttered to Matthew. "Still think this is a great plan? We should've called a truce."
Matthew glanced over his shoulder at some of the men running - not bothered where they were off too, be it to get help or to simply save their own asses. Matthew would've run too, if it hadn't been his duty to stay until he was given the order to do so. Ensigns and other such footsoldiers could run - they didn't have anything expected of them, after all.

As Drake approached him, Matthew put his hand on his bag of lead firing balls, preparing to load his gun if things turned ugly.
Matthew couldn't help but laugh at his words. "It's amusing how you seem to think how this is about us. You needen't think you're so special."
Matthew proceeded to load his musket, ignorning the Patriot's threats. So what if they killed him? He'd taken a few out with him, too. 
The man continued, and Matt rolled his eyes. Honestly, if the future of the nation looked like this man, then Matthew was steering far away from America. He wasn't going to stand around listening to a bunch of arrogant rebels when he had better things to do.
"You'll have to go a fair way to reach my heart from my throat," Matthew smiled sweetly up at Drake. "For one, the two organs are not even connected. You could attempt to mutiliate my lungs, but even then your hand will likely be too big and fat to fit in my mouth in the first place. So, on the contrary, I'd like to see you try."
"I wouldn't push him, Lieutenant," the Lieutenant Colonel muttered and Matthew shrugged indifferently. Matthew looked round as he heard gunfire, frowning when he saw even more dead men littering the road.
God forbid anyone decides to travel along here and sees this...mess, Matthew thought, trying to hide all emotion in his face. If he showed Drake that the murder and threats bothered him, he would only do it more, and enjoy it more too. 
Matthew looked aside at the stuttering Lieutenant Colonel as two Indians ran to guard him.
"I wouldn't push him, sir," Matthew parroted his commander's words. He couldn't help but wince as the American plunged his knife into the Lieutenant Colonel's abdomen, making him drop to his knees.
"He was going to order a truce, you know," Matthew snapped. "There's no need to be so bloody."
Matthew's eyes widened as three men approached the commanding officer with a stool and a length of rope in their hands.
"What do you think you're doing!?" Matthew protested, wriggling as the two Indians moved to restrain him.
"Let go of me," he snapped at them, but they only grinned back in reply, pulling his hands tighter behind his back. They forced him to watch as the noose was fitted around the Lieutenant Colonel's neck as he just about managed to stand, more bothered about the wound in his stomach than the fact he was about to be hung.
"Stop!" Matthew shouted, writhing even more; the Indians struggled to keep him still, one eventually twisting his arm to make him shut up.
Matthew clenched his eyes shut, bit was unable to shut his ears off to tge sound of the vertebrae in the man's neck cracking and breaking. He shuddered, making the Indians laugh lightly.
"That wasn't necessary," he growled furiously, staring at his feet. He looked up when he saw Drake's feet in front of him, too, hissing angrily as his arms were yanked out, allowing the Patriot to search him for weapons.
"I didn't realise you felt so intimately about me, patriot, what with you feeling me up like this," Matthew spat at Drake tauntingly, wriggling as he felt the American's fingers settle on his dagger, pulling it out from its place on his chest strap. He just about managed to dance out of the way as Drake discharged his pistols at his feet, though the Indians took his time of imbalance to shove him over. He managed to prop himself up on all doors, rubbing his nose, not bothering to shout after them as they rode off. He stared at the floor for a while, not wanting to look up and see the massacre around him. He winced as he heard horses approaching again, suspecting the Patriot had come back to humiliate and mock him some more. One of the horseriders dismounted, revealing their off-white military trousers and, as Matthew slowly looked up, their scarlet military coat.
"You're too late," he laughed to himself. "You're too late..."
"Go after them, all of you. Trace the tracks they've left in the mud, and get as many troops as you can. They won't get away with this," the soldier ordered and the others took off, leaving the Lieutenant and the officer alone.
"I tried to get here as fast as I could," he pleaded and Matthew sat back on his knees, spreading out his arms. "Yeah. Great timing. You really saved the day, didn't you?"
The officer, Richard, narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't doing this as an act of heroism, I was doing it because my brothers were amongst the men here. I don't need you to tell me I was too late, I can see for my own eyes. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to search for anyone who may be saved."

Matthew got to his feet, almost falling back and hitting the tree as he lost balance. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the migraine pulsing through his head.
"I'll kill him," he muttered. 
"Pardon?" Richard looked up from checking a soldier's pulse. 
"Nobody, American or not, gets away with a deed like this," Matthew snapped, heading over to one of the grazing, ever-indifferent horses. "If he wants it to be personal, then so be it. I'll hit him where it hurts most - and I suspect that slutty girl of his would be a good place to start. He'll change his mind about what anger really is when I'm done with her...or rather, the prison rats are."
"Sir, where are you going?" Richard protested.
Matthew shrugged. "Back to the barracks. Before I go any further, I want to speak to the Brigadier. If he decides Drake isn't worth the hassle, so be it. Either way, I'm going to hunt down that girl - Amelia, I think her name is - and throw her in a prison to rot. We'll see how tough our murderer is then when his friend's being nibbled on by vermin."
He put one foot in the stirrup, pulling himself up into the saddle. "You're welcome to come back with me."
"I have to find my brothers, sir," Richard sighed, turning back to checking the dead on the floor. Some still had their eyes open, staring expressionlessly up at the sky. He crouched down to shut their eyelids, frowning, lost in thought.
Sorry, Matthew bit his lip before flicking his heels back into the horse's side, giving the scene one last look as he headed off. 

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[drake]

Drake, at the front of the group of horse riders, consisting of him, Amelia, Will and his militia, and the Indians. He looked back to see a group of cavalry coming for them. "Will!" he yelled, about to continue, but the war veteran shook his head and cut him off. "Get the hell out of here, Drake! It's not worth it!" Will replied, signaling to his soldiers and their Indian allies to turn back. Drake smiled even more as he saw more warriors, about twenty of them, coming down the road, accompanied by the other warrior Drake had rescued hours before. They joined up with their brothers and Will's militia, and turned back to engage the redcoats. Drake reared his horse, and rode down the road with Amelia, his allies and the redcoats disappearing from view.

"Where are we going?" Amelia asked, as they made a detour off the road. Drake shrugged, and became lost in thought for a few minutes or so, before replying. "I don't know. Not here, not in Massachusetts, no... You'll be safer with my uncle! Yes, that's it... He owns an estate in New Jersey, and is a respected Loyalist, there. Of course, he really isn't one, he is just undercover, gathering information, just like his demented nephew." he said with a sarcastic smile. The two remained silent as they rode through the hills, trampling farmland, which the redcoats would probably trespass on. The Patriots who lived there would slow their progress, and as more storm clouds formed above them, it seemed that the Redcoats would lose them, for good.

Drake changed his course and began riding on one of the main roads just north a few miles of the Massachusetts-Connecticut border. As they reached the border, they decided to ride off the road and into a forest, just as night fell. Drake kept watch for incoming Redcoats, as Amelia slept, and the horse rested. His mind was racing with thoughts and plans. How fast would they get away? What would they try to do, after all this bloodshed? Would he be caught, soon? How would they get through New Jersey? His mind became numb with the overwhelming questions, it was endless. He barely got any rest, and now, he was quickly deteriorating. Drake rubbed his forehead and decided to get some sleep, his eyes quickly shutting and not daring to open.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew returned to Boston, dismounting the second he was within the city, and started to lead the horse up towards the fort on the outskirts. The horse looked as tired as he was - eyes lidded and head hung.

Now do I tell them a load of their men have been massacred, or shall I let them find out for themselves? Matthew pondered as he lead the horse round to stabling area, frowning at some of the other officers there.
"Alright?" They nodded and Matthew shrugged. "Perfectly fine. Couldn't be better," he grumbled sarcastically.
"Chord, isn't it? Lieutenant Chord?" The officer approached him and Matthew raised an eyebrow, nodding.
"Your brother, a Captain, was looking for you. He seemed in a bit of a flurry, if you ask me," the officer explained.
Matthew looked away, frowned, then smiled politely at the officer again. "Ta," he said as he left, heading towards the doors of the fort. He could see one platoon lined up for parade inspection - his own uniform was a far cry from the polished standards they were presenting. Not a single brass button was out of place, and here he was covered in mud with grass in his hair and scratches on his face. He stared down at his boots, which were badly scuffed, too.

I forgot my musket, he thought sadly as he pushed open the doors, ignoring the glares he received from some of the soldiers inside the foyer.
"Captain?" Matthew nudged the brown-haired man, and he turned around, arching his eyebrows when he noticed the state of the Lieutenant.
"Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes, Mattie?" John sighed exasperatedly. Matthew stared at his feet.
"Please don't blame it all on me," he murmured and John frowned.
"Blame you for what?" He wrinkled his nose, frowning. "What have you done now?"
"We went after that Patriot guy...or at least, the girl he had with him. But he stepped in...we almost had her, too!" Matt forced a dry laugh, glancing up at his brother. "More people got involved than we expected and...well...it was like a massacre."
John placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'm not going to lie, if that's what you're asking of me. Providing you were not the officer in command, and you followed your orders, then you should be safe."
"There was a Captain and a Lieutenant Colonel there too," Matt explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "But they were killed...rather dramatically, at that."
John drew in a sharp breath, the two standing in awkward silence for a while before the Captain turned and walked away.

He's not worth it, Matthew told himself as he headed back outside again, glancing back at the trail of mud he'd left on the polished floors and quickening his pace when he heard footsteps coming round the corner. I should just let the Yank go. He'll wind up dead soon enough. I'm not going to let myself be humiliated by him any more.


---

Fade to black now?

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