ok. my first fanfic, so be kind! umm...ok. ya. first off, the Black Pearl, her captain, and her crew are not mine. sighs heavily

secondly, i would LOVE to thank A Sparrow's Soul for her AMAZING encouragement, beta-ing, advice, help, and basically driving me to write this story! She's become a GREAT friend, so thanks soooo much, luv:) You're the one who made this all possible and i really couldnt have done it without you:D (also, check out her AMAZING story...What One Will Do...its AWESOME!!!!) hehe. onto the story...

Of Darkness and Devils

Chapter One

Night had fallen, embracing the world with wide open arms. She had drawn a veil of clouds across the sky concealing the stars. Anchored on the southern side of an island a large, beautiful ship rested by the shore, her sails black as the night.

Tortuga, the tireless island, was fast asleep.

Only one soul was up, a man crouched in a chair, poring over navigational maps. His black tresses chinked softly as he moved; a result of the various beads and shells strung into it. His slender, nimble fingers were adorned with large rings that winked as they caught the light of a candle perched on the edge of the map that was spread across his desk. His hand moved to the side, grasping for a bottle that stood just off the edge of the map. He began tilting the bottle back, and then stopped, frowning. His kohl-lined chocolate eyes were furrowed as he stared down the neck of an empty bottle. "Why must the rum always be gone?" He mumbled, his words slurring delicately together.

Standing up, he swayed violently, threatening to tip over. Grasping the edge of his desk he frowned, "Oh. Tha's why." Mumbling nonsense to himself, he swaggered out of his cabin on the black ship, heading for the room below filled with more of his glorious drink.

"Oi! Tha's him! Move in, lads, 'urry up!" A harsh whisper penetrated the thick silence that had gathered as a large group of men watched Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl stumble out of his cabin and head to the entryway that led below deck. Silently, the men scrambled over the ship's railing, treading carefully so as not to alert the inebriated Captain. They moved fluidly, sliding across the deck like shadows as they approached their unwary victim.

The leader of the group, a man with eyes like an eagle set in a face of stone, motioned to the men to stop, then turned back as Jack Sparrow began to tread unsteadily down the stairs. With a sharp rap to his head, courtesy of the hilt of a bone dagger, Jack slumped forward, stopped from rolling down the stairs by the large hand of the leader placed on his chest.

Hoisting the slender pirate over his shoulders, the eagle-eyed man motioned for his men to follow him. A quick glance around the deck showed the fallen bodies of the pirates who had fallen asleep on their watch. Raps to their heads had ensured that they wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

Slipping over the deck and onto their own ship, the men sniggered as they cast off, leaving the Pearl and her crew unaware that their captain was gone.

"Jack. Wakey-wakey, Jack!"

Jack Sparrow drifted through the darkness that clouded his mind, struggling to open his eyes. Blearily, he blinked; shapes and colors swimming into view, his senses returning to him coupled with a headache that had nothing to do with the amount of rum he had swallowed last night. Blinking, the motley of colors came into focus as Jack found himself staring into the face of…he didn't know what. Moving away, the thing that had woken him chuckled softly at the swift glance of bewilderment that flitted across Jack's face.

Jack blinked slowly, realizing that the thing was in all actuality, a man. A man with a black mesh mask concealing his features and a black shirt, black pants, and a pair of—wouldn't you know it—black boots. Jack felt himself repressing a laugh at the man's attire. 'Really,' he thought, 'is it that terrible to allow some color in yer outfit? Unless…' he mused, 'Tha's it!'

"Yer a eunuch!" he blurted out, pleased with his logical reasoning. The man in black took a step back, as if in surprise.

"Jack, really. D'ye really wan' te be sayin' tha when it's ye who's been captured by me?" The man drawled, seemingly amused when Jack's expressive eyes widened, fully coming into the realization that he was not, in all actuality and fact, on his beloved Pearl.

"Wha' would you wan' with me?" Jack queried, his head still aching from the blow he had no doubt taken last night. "Where're we?"

"Ah, Jack… Jack. Ye still don' be knowin' the definition of captivity? When yer on my island, ye'll speak when spoken te. Otherwise…" The man laughed, holding up a cat-o-nine-tails. "Ye'll suffer the consequences."

"Well, actually, I don' think I'm up fer a whippin' jes' yet. Don' you be knowin' the rules of havin' a captive? Ye'll need t' be feedin' them every so often, so as they don' be starvin' t' death. And, speakin' o' feedin' where's me rum? I'm sure you men in black thingies have some o' tha' drink aroun' here somewhere—" Jack broke off as the whip whistled through the air, briefly licking the side of his face. He bit back a yelp as fire shot through his cheek and jaw, then glared at the man responsible for this new discomfort.

It was at that moment, as Jack struggled to bring up a hand to wipe at the blood at the corner of his mouth that Jack realized he was tied up like a trussed pig. 'So that'll be the reason why I couldn' feel me hands or feet. That's interesting.' Glaring at the man still standing in front of him, Jack bared his teeth slightly, showing off his gold and creamy white teeth in a feral grin.

Not willing to show his pain, he spoke pleasantly to the man, almost as if he was carrying out a conversation with one of his crewmembers. "So. Will ye at least be tellin' me yer name, or should I go ahead thinkin' of you as Man-In-Black-Thingie?" He smiled mockingly at the man, who raised the whip threateningly.

He took a moment to revel in his power over the hapless pirate Captain, then struck. The whip curled out almost languidly, hissing as it reached through the air. This time, it made contact with Jack's shoulder, flicking back gracefully. Under his mask, the man smiled unpleasantly, relishing in Jack's slight wince.

"Ye may call me whatever it is ye wish te. Slimy Pig seems te be a favorite around here." With that, he turned on his heel, barking orders at unseen others as he left.

Soon after, two men scrambled in, lifting Jack easily, they carried him to a dank cell, the only light coming from a lantern a few cells away. The floor was the same cold stone as the walls, and the iron bars set in the heavy door were slimy with who knows what. Jack grimaced at the rank smell rising from the cell, and grunted as he was flung onto the hard stone floor. Raising an eyebrow at the backs of the two retreating men, Jack mumbled, half to himself, half to no one in particular, "Great, a cell again. And you, ye filthy rottin' stuck up buggers—" he broke off as a thought struck him, looking around again. "Great. Jes' great. No rum in sight." He heaved a long suffering sigh, then lay down and closed his eyes. "At leas' there'll be no runnin' keys this time."

Tilting his tri-corn hat, which thankfully had not been taken away, over his eyes, Jack fell into a restless slumber, drowsing fitfully in the gloomy cell.

"Oi. Yew in there, Sparrow, get up! He wants te see ye."

Jack Sparrow was rudely awoken by the loud shout. Groggily, he sat up, stiff muscles groaning in protest at the hard floor. Getting to his feet, he peered at the guard who had just awoken him. He too wore a mask. It was the same as the previous man, a black mesh mask that concealed his face completely; however this man wore dark brown clothes instead of black.

The cell door was opened, and he was seized roughly by the man. Stumbling from a hard push by the guard, Jack was brought into a clean white room; the only contrast to the dazzling color was the man in black, standing with his back to Jack at the far wall.

Without turning around, the man spoke in his gravelly tone, "Jack. Welcome back. Today, I've decided te invite ye te a little party. This is one of my personal favorite times o' day. Ye see, Jack, this room here is known as The Red Room. I know yer pro'ly thinkin' right now that this room is white. But ye see Jack, tha's where yer wrong." Here, the man turned around and Jack saw he held something in his hands. A long, thick metal chain wrapped around the man's wrist, coiling dangerously as it lay in wait for it's next meal. Under the mask, the man smiled eerily, pleased at Jack's blank expression. "Ye see, Jack. When this 'ere beauty is brought in front of a new prisoner, they become familiar wit' her fairly quickly. She's a special lass, Jack. Ye see, she may be made o' metal, but she still hungers and thirsts. Ye wan' te know what she likes te drink, mate?" He paused, fingering the chain as Jack remained stubbornly silent. "Human blood, mate, she likes the taste o' that. Ye see, she's like me. Lovin' the feel o' splittin' skin beneath her cold touch, watchin' the crimson blood seep out, tastin' that life-givin' liquid. Rippin' and renderin' are like poetry te her, Jack. And guess what? Ye get te be the nex' poem. The Red Room is known fer the bloodshed that 'appens here. And we, my lassie an' I, we get te paint the walls red. With yer blood. Wan' te help us with our decoratin', Jack?"

The man in black nodded to the guard who still stood behind Jack. "Take his shirt off an' bring 'im here." The guard obeyed the harsh order, and soon Jack was kneeling in the middle of the room, shivering in the damp air. His tanned back rippled with muscles as he squared his shoulders, glaring at the masked man.

"Ye know mate, tha' can be a dangerous hobby. Playin' wit' weapons an' all. If I was yew, and yew was me, I'd be more careful. But seein' as yer yew, and I'm me, well then I wouldn' be yew an' yew wouldn't be me, an' this whole mess could be solved wit' a few drinks, savvy?"

The man in black just laughed; a harsh, hollow sound devoid of mirth. He turned to Jack, laughed once more, and swung the chain down hard on the bare back in front of him. He watched in cruel delight at the chain sliced the tanned skin, bringing forth a thick line of blood, a few droplets spraying on the pristine white floor. Then, leaning in close to Jack's ear, he whispered something and watched as the color drained from Jack's face, leaving him as pale as parchment, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Hours later, when the sinewy, tanned expanse that marked Jack's back was covered in blood and the beginnings of new scars, the words lingered in his pain-ridden mind. "I know yer secret, Jack. And so will the world. Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl will be no more. Yer so called 'friends' will be glad te be rid o' ye. And—it's all. Yer. Fault."

like i said. first fanfic...ever! so review please! bites nails anxiously while waiting for reviews and comments thanks!