Chapter Text
Now Chip doesn’t want to come off as full of himself, but he’s a damn good pirate. The best even.
His wanted poster said as much.
MOST WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. NOTORIOUS THIEF, PIRATE CAPTAIN CHIP.
Chip brushes a hand over the yellowing paper.
His likeness in ink is rather inaccurate, as always. There is always something wrong in their depictions. The fact should make him proud; that his identity and appearance is not actually as well known as the Navy would like to believe, but a guy can only be portrayed as less handsome then he truly is so many times before it starts to affect his self esteem.
He rips the poster from the building and hurries along, balling up the paper before tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder. He thinks he hears someone grunt out a curse of surprise and a shameless smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.
No one pays him any mind though. The port is crowded, bursting at the seams as people arrive and depart. Packed bodies crowd around, pushing and shoving past each other.
After hitching a ride, without the actual knowledge of the very gracious crew, Chip had arrived at his destination.
Grivale. A bustling port city, home to some of the most magnificent architecture, trade, and–the reason he’s here– treasures.
Here in Grivale, they pride themselves for their art, history, and culture. They have some of the most elaborate collections of antiques and artifacts. Galleries that are renowned around all lands and to all races. Chip thinks putting all their valuables on display is really just asking for it to be stolen.
Who is he to deny what is practically placed in his lap. Most security and protective precautions in museums are feeble attempts that just slow him down rather than stop him.
It’s not as if it’s a difficult feat. Not for the best pirate.
Although, if you wanted to get into technicalities, Chip was really more of a thief and con-man than a pirate. He hadn’t possessed a ship or crew of his own in a long time.
He works alone now. A lone wolf. And as cool as a one man pirate crew sounds, running an entire ship solo was not plausible. Of course Chip spoke from experience, he had tried it once. Stolen a ship and sailed off with himself playing all the roles.
That ship had blown up in less than a week. Don’t worry about it.
The title pirate was just convenient. Covered all the bases, y'know. He robbed shit and he traveled by the sea most times. Simple as that. Also, pirate just sounds fucking cool. Who wouldn’t want to be called a pirate.
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across cracked stone as he arrived at an inn for the night.
He had picked someplace close to the museum, but not too close. Not too expensive, but not too cheap. Somewhere unsuspecting, where he could prepare without gaining any extra attention.
Chip would sleep the night, wake up early, and then his plans would commence. Yes, of course most common thieves would be pulling their heist now, with the cover of night, but Chip was no common thief.
Stealing at night was child's play.
Stealing in broad daylight was a challenge, unexpected most often, and way more flashy.
A priceless gem or painting disappearing right under your nose was much more cruel than while you were asleep and unaware.
Chip liked the challenge, liked the thrill. The chase was the most fun.
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As Chip dozed off unknowingly, a large ship drew closer to the harbor. Dark flags declared the Navy’s identity to uncaring waves. Two darkened silhouettes stood upon the deck.
Chip’s carefully laid plans began to crack.
The chase would be fun.