Coughs hacked. Tears fell. Shackles clanged against chains. Teeth were gritted and breaths were held as the captain walked slowly between the labyrinth of barred cages, his boots making a dull tap with each step, looking his prisoners over.
He made his way to the last and largest cell and stopped, staring at the group of twenty that had made it into his ship. They had each been kidnapped from a different place, some from mansions, some from other ships, some from who knows where during a raid.
The captain tipped his pointed hat up, the green feather on the end bobbing. One of these prisoners was staring straight back at him, the anger in his dark red-brown eyes nearly visible as a flame. His hair was the orange-auburn hue of a sunset, and his skin was pale and dotted with orange freckles here and there. His wrists were filthy with blood and grime from the rusty shackles, his chest heaved with adrenaline-filled, deep breaths, and his nostrils flared.
The captain laughed. "Angry one, aren't you?" he said, reaching a hand through the iron bars to grip his chin. The boy bore his teeth and made a deep, guttural sound in his throat. The captain scratched the boy's chin with his sharp, unkempt nails, drawing blood. "That won't get you very far on my ship, boy," he spat. "I will have you whipped and thrown off of the mast in a heartbeat if you are not able to rid of your developing attitude."
He let go of the boy's chin, watching the blood drip down his neck and over his chest. The boy lowered his head, but his eyes still held every bit of seething anger inside of him.
A voice was heard from the other side of the prison. "Captain Caliborn, sir!" the voice yelled. "You are needed at the spar deck!"
The captain took one last look at the red-headed boy before turning on his heels and walking back to the stairs leading to the outside deck.
"Why am I here?" the boy thought. "Why could it not have been some other soul unlucky enough to cross his crew's path?" He turned his head towards the other prisoners. There were ten in front of him, and four each on his left and right sides. They all seemed to be about his age, twenty-one, or not that much older. His eyes were caught on one girl who seemed to be… enjoying herself. She had a birthmark on her left cheek that looked like one dark brown dot surrounded by six others. Her eyes were a deep, sparkling cerulean and her pitch-black hair fell past her shoulders in straight, wispy locks with a few patches of stray hairs here and there. She wore a pendant with a small silver spider weighing down the end.
"And why are you so giddy, arachnid?" the boy said, aggravated by her ability to smile in this dire situation. The girl's dreamy, upward gaze quickly snapped to the boy's. She raised her eyebrows and grinned, showing off her pointed canines.
"Well, I absolutely love the concept of pirates. My grandmother was the great Captain Marquisse Spinnerette Mindfang," she smirked, narrowing her eyes just the right amount to get her smug point across to the boy. His eyes widened a bit at the mention of her ancestor's name. Mindfang was a legend, her being a woman, and no man pirate could ever top her reputation for ransacking, raiding, burning down ships, robbing kings, and killing barons. "I was a gypsy until Caliborn caught me, destroying my reputation of witchcraft and curses."
The girl seemed to notice the boy's surprise and laughed. "The name's Vriska Serket," she chimed.
The girl next to Vriska smiled a toothy grin, most of her teeth sharp. "Well," she began, "Since, apparently, we are now participating in a cell-wide introduction game, I might as well pitch in. My name is Terezi Pyrope, and my grandmother was Neophyte Redglare, the most renowned hangwoman in history."
A few heads popped up, listening to her story. "I myself, have studied law and once aspired to become as great an enforcer of it when there was an accident that left me blind, so my mentor found me useless and sent me here," she concluded. "So, how about you, angry one?" she interrogated.
The boy furrowed his brows before starting.
"My name is Karkat Vantas, grandson of the Sufferer," he muttered. Surprised looks were thrown about as he continued. "My mother died when I was born and my brother and I were separated into different orphanages, for our father did not want me, and was too drunk every day to care for my sibling. I have moved from town to town, all across Britain, wearing tattered clothes and being scowled upon by features… many people think I am the Sufferer reborn and will try just as hard to destroy the tyranny of the King with a new religion. I was walking out on a dock when this ship arrived, and I was kidnapped and thrown here with you," he finished.
The introductions went around and around. The woman next to Terezi was the granddaughter of the Dolorosa who worked at an orphanage that Caliborn and his crew had robbed. The strong-looking male beside her was the grandson of the Executioner and worked at a baron's stables. The girl sitting next to him was the granddaughter of the Disciple and ran with the circus as a lion tamer. The boy with the lisp was the grandson of the Psiioniic and said he was a psychic who fed his mother and older brother with the little money he made from his readings. The shy- looking boy with a stutter was the grandson of the Summoner and helped write fairy-tales for children. The girl with the messy, curly hair was kidnapped along with her valuable fossil findings. The girl with the warm smile and happy voice was the daughter of a countess and spent most of her time on the docks or in the ocean with the stuck-up boy next to her, who was her soon-to-be- step brother.
In order, their names were Vriska Serket, Terezi Pyrope, Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam, Equius Zahhak, Nepeta Leijon, Sollux Captor, Tavros Nitram, Aradia Megido, Feferi Peixes, and Eridan Ampora.
The group bantered and bickered about opinions for a while until another shout came from above deck, followed by a clap of thunder. Soon the ship was rocking back and forth, swaying with the shackled prisoners, the wooden planks of the ship snapping underneath them. The ship made a sickening lurch forward, causing even more holes to open. The prisoners' deck flooded with cold, rushing, salty water, screams being deafened in the chaos.
Karkat thrashed at his shackles, watching the others break down in fear. Tears streamed down his face, disappearing in the freezing, dark water that had risen almost up to his chest at this point. He screamed as he felt the icy cold cover his throat, clamping his mouth shut as the water consumed the rest of his body. He felt the water rush back and forth, snapping his shackles from the board they were attached to. He tried to swim up, his hands free, but was knocked down by one of the masts sinking quickly above him. He shoved his arms downward and kicked rapidly, running out of oxygen. A splintered plank sailed towards him, creating a gash in his on his side, the blood spreading out in smooth, wispy clouds that looked as if they were puffs of red smoke. He watched for a second, terrified, his vision becoming black around the edges. He managed to tug himself just below the surface of the water, almost to safety, almost to air-
And everything went black.
