Author's Note: This was originally a quick one-shot I made to combat writer's block so I could continue with my main project, 'The Anonymous Adversary'. I'm going to write a chapter on each member of Count Olaf's theatre troupe. This one is on Fernald the Hook Handed Man, the second chapter will be on the white-faced women, the third will be on the one who looks neither like a man nor a woman and the fourth will be on the bald man with the long nose. I haven't decided yet, but I might include chapters on Olaf's other associates such as Esmé Squalor, Hugo, Kevin and Colette.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'A Series of Unfortunate Events' or any of its characters.

OoOoO

I let out a brief sigh as I sit with my back leaning against the dusty brick wall of my cell. I look at my hands, or rather the hooks that are in their place. I am in prison for arson, much to my shame. I remember starting the fire that destroyed Anwhistle Aquatics and killed the famed ichnologist Gregor Anwhistle. I wonder what my stepfather, Captain Widdershins, would think if he knew the truth about me. Does he know the truth about me? I have no idea. I haven't seen my stepfather since I betrayed him. I don't want to. I just don't think I can face him after what I have done.

Then there's my sister, Fiona. She's so young and innocent. If she knew about the horrible things that I have done, she would be heartbroken. I hope against hope that she will never know, that my betrayal will remain a secret forever. I used to have a set of black and white morals, but now my life is so morally grey that I can't tell the difference between right and wrong. When I started that fire, I was convinced that I was doing the right thing. Only now that I sit in my dusty, old cell do I start to doubt my actions.

Now I have nothing. I seems like yesterday when I was last playing cards with Fiona and studying the poetry of Herman Melville with my stepfather. I close my eyes, enjoying the memories of the better times. I take another look at the two hooks which awkwardly hang off the end of my wrists. The loss of my hands was my penance, the physical price of my unforgivable actions. That is how I view it. The idea that I have payed for my actions is the one thing which makes me feel just a little bit better... but not by much.

"Hello there, misery guts."

I look to the side and see the man in the cell adjacent to mine. He is a new prisoner just like me. He arrived in the prison three days ago, a week after I arrived myself. He has one long, ugly eyebrow over both of his eyes, which reminds me of Jacques Snicket, the man who wrote the article that sent me to prison. He has dirt all over his tall, thin body. His is not wearing any shoes or socks, allowing me to see the tattoo of an eye on his ankle. I can't believe I never noticed that before. The insignia of VFD. I wonder which side of the Schism he is on. I decide not to ask. It is better that I distance myself from VFD and the Schism forever. It's not as if I'll get out of jail any time soon anyway.

I look at him with a hint of curiosity, "Who are you?"

He smirks with an evil bead of light in his shiny, shiny eyes. "My name is Count Olaf, but I'd prefer it if you call me Professor Foal. I need to get into character, start speaking with a Scottish accent and the likes. That's the alias I'll be using for a while after I escape."

His last sentence certainly catches my attention and the big question slips out of my mouth involuntarily, "You're going to try to escape?"

"Weren't you listening?" Olaf asked grumpily, "I didn't say that I'm going to try to escape. I said that I'm going to escape."

Count Olaf smiles, showing off his discoloured teeth. I cringe at the sight of the loose, yellow pegs that hang from his ghastly gums.

"How?" I ask, not sure whether or not he will give me a satisfying explanation.

Olaf's sick grin retreats to a slight smirk as he explains. "I'm very clever... and I have a plan."

Olaf leans over towards me, placing his hands on the bars between my cell and his. He tilts his head slightly, staring at my face as if he's studying me. I crawl back to the other edge of my cell, just a little bit intimidated by Olaf's purposeful glare. Eventually, his face brightens up and he puts a finger in the air as if he has just realised something. I can almost see the imaginary light bulb above his head.

"I know you! You're that fool Widdershins' son," he states triumphantly. "What was your name again? Fergal?"

Usually I would object to someone calling my stepfather a fool, but I am not in the mood to argue with my neighbour. I tiredly turn to face him.

"It's Fernald actually," I explain, "I'm not Captain Widdershins' son either. I'm his stepson."

Olaf nods, "I saw your handiwork at Anwhistle Aquatics. Very nice work."

I mutter to him in thanks, thought I'm not sure whether or not I should take his words as a compliment. I am no longer wondering which side of the Schism the count is on. It is more than clear that he is one of them. The fire starters. The villains. The enemy. If that's the case, then why don't I feel any hatred for him. I mean, his appearance creeps me out and his low standards of hygiene repel me, but overall I'm starting to find this man fascinating.

"Tell me Fergal... Would you like to break out of this place?" Olaf asks to my surprise, "I've got some plans and I might need a cohort or two. If you say you aren't related to that doofus Widdershins, then you might be exactly who I need."

I am not sure how I am supposed to react. I am surprised that I am actually considering Olaf's offer. What would Fiona say if she knew what is going through me head.

"I don't know," I mutter.

"Don't be ridiculous," Olaf spits. "You can rot in this prison for the rest of your miserable life or you can join me and be alive again."

I desperately cling to whatever dignity I have left by ignoring Olaf's offer, but with every word that comes out of his mouth, I lose my grasp slightly more.

"Your family won't take you back now," Olaf explains, "I'm the only person willing to accept me. If you join me, we can be rich and free. All your life's dreams will come true. All you need to do is leave this filthy prison with me. Or you could always just stay in here and slowly deteriorate into a vegetable. Your choice."

OoOoO

Many years have passed since I made that decision. On that night, Count Olaf escaped from prison, taking with him a hook-handed accomplice. The next day, the esteemed Professor Foal and his laboratory technician, O. Lucafont, left the country. From that date, the rate of house fires in several areas rose sharply. Many rich parents were killed, but in every case at least one of their children survived. They lived so that their families' fortunes would survive. They lived in agony, knowing that their family was gone forever.

I have been in Count Olaf's theatre troupe for years now. I was the first of many to join that villain. I have done so many terrible things for Count Olaf. Things so treacherous that the burning of Anwhistle Aquatics seems like a minor crime to me. I watched as Olaf corrupted so many more once-innocent minds. A bald man with a long nose, an enormous person who looks neither like a man nor a woman, two women with white powder all over their faces, the city's sixth most important financial advisor, a trio of carnival freaks and a spoilt snow scout. Like me, they all could have ended up being noble people if life had dealt them a better hand.

I do not ask for my sins to be forgiven because I don't deserve it.