The Victorious

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*Please play song above throughout chapter*

Breathing heavily, the two women collapsed onto the floor, allowing their weapons to clatter beside them as well. After a lengthy amount of time of just breathing, the two began to laugh as they looked at each other with great pride. "You look like shit, Jane."

Jane chuckled and fake pouted as she looked back at Clockwork. "You think you look better?"

The two looked over at the bodies of the two women from the Reapers of Justice group, feeling accomplished. Jane stood up before offering a hand to Clockwork, which Clockwork graciously accepted. "You think the guys are done? I haven't heard anything in a long while."

Jane rolled her eyes as she headed for the stairs. "Wouldn't be surprised if they lost. Men are useless, after all."

The two made their way down the stairs and paused in shock before continuing cautiously, Clockwork pulling out her knife in case of any imminent danger. It had been clear there was a struggle, for there were traces of blood all over the entryway and front door, as well as vases shattered around the ground. Clockwork put an arm out to stop Jane from going any further, in a silent way to communicate that she would be the one to check out the scene further. Clockwork tip-toed down the stairs further and noticed a trail of blood leading out the front door. Looking to each side before continuing cautiously, Clockwork slowly swung the door open further before feeling the cool night air on her skin. In the dark, she could just barely make out a figure stuck in one of the bushes. Eyes widening, Clockwork rushed towards the side of none other than Masky. Hearing his groans, Clockwork moved his body so she could examine the damage left; his right arm had been severed clean off his body, along with deep gashes around his left hip and leg area, as well as his throat being sliced cleanly. It was clear that the Reaper had done significant damage and was skilled with this type of thing. "Where are the others?" The blood in Masky's throat began to pour out of his mouth, along with gurgling as he attempted to speak. Clockwork rolled her eyes and simply shook his body, determined to receive an answer. Motherfucker is so dramatic, acting like he'll die. "Where the fuck are they?! I have to go help them too."

Masky let out a staggered breath before pulling Clockwork close to his ear. Whispering with all his strength, Masky painfully stated, "T-they're g-g-gone. Reaper took T-Toby and Hoodie." Clockwork's eyes widened as she separated herself from Masky, allowing him to collapse and begin to choke on the ground.

"No fucking shit." After a moment of processing the information given to her, she began to slowly laugh harder and harder. With tears in her eyes, Clockwork began to assist Masky with getting to his feet and going back into the mansion. "Men truly are worthless."

After giving Masky medical attention to the best of their abilities, being that Jack was still on the run, Clockwork and Jane found it necessary to pay him a visit and update him on the current situation. Knocking on the door anxiously, Clockwork waited for an answer before it finally was granted. Limping into the room impatiently, Clockwork threw Masky's body on the ground, hearing a satisfactory grunt in response from him. Jane and Clockwork stared at the ground, waiting to be asked to speak. "I'm sure you've heard lots of commotion tonight, Sir. The Reapers of Justice are real, and they got us pretty good. Looks like we're pretty short-staffed, considering they took Toby and Hoodie, Jack is on the run, and I don't know where the fuck Jeff is."

"I sent him after Jack and that human. Hopefully I will hear back shortly."

With a tsk emitting from Clockwork, she simply scratched her head, feeling exhausted from tonight's events. "Well, Sir, I hope you do as well."

The crescent moon shone all throughout the nation, causing reflections of beautiful blue on the ocean waters; (Y/n) cursed how the object above her could possibly be so breathtaking at a time like this. She didn't know how long it had been or what time it was; all she knew was that she wanted nothing but to be in Jack's arms, whether it be at the bottom of the ocean or in a paradise far, far from here. Numbness confined (Y/n) as she began to consider a life of solitude. What was the point when she could simply return to her life surrounded with friends and family? She paused her way of thinking. That wouldn't work, I can't tell them about Jack or anything that's happened. They've all moved on with their lives, thinking I've been dead for over a year. I can't do that to them. She began to feel suffocated, absolutely imprisoned with the totality of her reason to live being gone. She had absolutely nothing, utterly no one. How could she survive any longer?

For days, (Y/n) simply moped around the deck and thought of her pathetic life. She only drank water, opting not to consume food. She had begun to lost track of how many days she was at sea, and she didn't really care anymore, either. The only thing that kept her going was the sliver of hope that, perhaps, Jack was the one who was still floating atop the water after the altercation between the three parties. The chance was below one-in-three, however, being that his energy was absolutely expended during that time. It was somewhere around day 5 that (Y/n)'s mindset began to change for the better. She had started eating some of the food that they had packed as she continued to wander throughout the sea mindlessly. Her thoughts were beginning to gather, and she had come to terms with the fact that Jack was gone. Of course, he wouldn't die. When waking up at the bottom of the sea, however, he would never be able to catch up to her boat quick enough, probably leading to him returning to the mansion. There was also the potential that Jack wouldn't wake up for days or months due to his injuries. She had considered turning around, but what was the point when there may not be anything --- or anyone, there for her. It was a death wish if she'd ever heard of one.

Finally, after what felt like weeks but was probably more-so two, (Y/n) thought about how selfish she had been thinking all along and wondered what Jack would have wanted for her. After all, wouldn't he want her to move on and fulfill her plans of starting a new life? If she couldn't do it for him or for herself, his sacrifice would go down in vain. (Y/n) had practically become a captain at this point, learning all the tips and tricks of the boat, even going so far as finding the user's manual and committing every single control to memory. Even so, she nearly cried out with joy as she spotted a shoreline up ahead for the first time in weeks. Checking her map with shaky hands, she confirmed with certainty that this was the destination she had longed for --- the Marshall Islands. Upon arrival, she had developed a relationship with some of the natives and sold her boat to them, much to her own dismay. She had grown quite close to the thing, but she realized that she needed money to survive. It gave her quite a pretty penny, and she was certainly able to live comfortably for the rest of her life on what she had sold it for, all thanks to Arthur.

(Y/n) had grown incredibly self-sufficient, even being able to build her own home by buying some cheap supplies and tools, as well as utilizing all that the islands had to offer. She had incredible views of the sunsets and sunrises, and she ate fruits and meats from local sellers. Seemingly, she had it all put together --- she had friends, a community, a place where she knew she was safe. When nightfall hit, however, it was a whole different story. (Y/n) mourned Jack as though he were dead, and constantly stared at the moon wondering if he saw the same moon. She consistently sobbed and cried for what could have been, for the fairytale that they had planned together. Not a night went by --- no, not a minute went by where she didn't think of the love of her life and wonder how he was doing. Are you still at the bottom of the ocean? Are you at the mansion? Is he punishing you? I hope you're safe. I'm doing well, but I'm not happy. I'm dying inside and I miss you... I meant it when I said I need you. A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Right, it's daytime, I should think about this later. "Come in!"

A villager came in named Rayne, who couldn't have been older than 8 years old. "(Y/n)! We have a visitor today. He's blind and wants to live around here."

(Y/n)'s eyebrows furrowed as Rayne skipped off. A commotion was heard as (Y/n) left her home and squeezed into the crowd that was asking lots of questions to the newcomer. As (Y/n) reached the middle, her heart dropped, and her breath got caught in her throat. As the newcomer turned towards (Y/n) and smiled warmly, she nearly collapsed right then and there. Approaching her slowly, he held his hand out to hers and waited patiently. "Hi, I'm Jack. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Looking at the thin blindfold wrapped around his eyes, (Y/n) made what only she knew was eye contact with their new guest. Returning his smile with a grin and with tears in her eyes, she held her hand out to meet his. "Jack. My name is (Y/n)."

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