Chapter 7

Inside the Bermudan Prison, no one could hear you scream. No one, that is, except for the other inmates and the ruthless guards. The inmates wouldn't be able to hear you, due to the fact they were too busy drowning in their own anguish, despair, and pain; and the guards just didn't care. The prison was a literal hellhole, bursting at the seams with death, torture, and cruelty.

The prison was located on the center island of the Bermuda Triangle, disguised as a dormant volcano. But appearances can be deceiving. The volcano wasn't actual, it was just an illusion. However, the red and orange glow bursting from the circular opening at the very top was real; it was the blaze from countless torches lining the walls inside. The opening was located in the very middle, a sturdy stone bridge leading from the adjacent peak providing the foreboding pathway.

Throughout the silent corridors, the sound of a cracking whip pierced the thin air. The noise was coming from the torture chamber, located right next to the array of cells filled with depressed and decaying pirates who had now become prisoners. Again, the sharp cracks echoed in the dank space.

Inside the torture chamber, a battered, bruised, bleeding, and bare-chested prisoner was being held up by his wrists in chains while once again, the lethal lash ate away at just a bit more of his raw flesh. The man yelled in agony, his eyes watering from the intense pain surging through every bone and muscle in his body. The prisoner's sense of touch was slowly starting to ebb away along with his subconsciousness.

From the shadows of the dimly lit chamber, Blackbeard looked on in malicious glee as his top tormenter inflicted endless pain on the pathetic excuse of a man now crumpled to his knees before him. Blackbeard currently sported a blood-red captain's coat that almost made his ink-black beard blend into the fabric. Two slits that served as his eyes poked out from a tough, hardened face that had no intention of showing even the slightest hint of mercy. The ruthless pirate also wore many weapons within the hilt of his belt; an edged sword that could pierce through skin with only the slightest touch, many loaded pistols, a lash of his own, and countless knives. If looks could kill, then anyone who so much as glanced upon Blackbeard could die instantly.

Satisfied at how long the lashing had endured, Blackbeard stepped forward and motioned for his henchman to cease his actions. The man obediently obeyed whilst his captain made his way over to the battered and broken prisoner. Blackbeard kneeled down so that he could make eye contact.

"By now, you're flesh should feel nonexistent and the bone exposed. It's the feeling everyone gets when lashed continually for this amount of time."

The prisoner was to weak to say anything; he merely let out a whimper. Blackbeard grinned, removed a key from his pocket, and unlocked the steel restraints that were holding the man up. The prisoner fell to the stone floor in a crumpled heap and curled up into a fetal ball.

"Disgusting," Blackbeard spat. "Why don't you do yourself a favor and cooperate by telling us what exactly your intentions were when sailing here? Your captain won't utter a word, so that leaves you: his first mate."

The first mate stared defiantly up into Blackbeard's eyes. "Go...to...hell!" Every word was drenched with both pain and pure white hot anger.

Blackbeard sighed and glanced toward the tormentor, who nodded while removing his sword from its hilt. He conspicuously approached the first mate from behind, and wasted no time in plunging the blade directly into the man's skin so deep, that the tormentor was positive the tip was able to penetrate the heart. Instantly, all traces of life evaporated from the first mate's eyes as the sword was yanked out of his back, causing him to fall over dead.

"You first," Blackbeard told the fresh corpse. Blackbeard turned to his faithful follower. "Bring in the captain. Let's see if we can't get anything more from him." His eyes glanced over the dead body. "And throw this one out to sea. We don't need his stench adding on to the already foul odor."

The henchman went about his duties as Blackbeard waltzed over to a small window, through which moonlight poured inside. Blackbeard glanced down at his chest, and removed a gold coin that was attached to the necklace draped around his neck. The piece of gold was large enough to fill the whole of his palm. At the center was a radiant red ruby which shone brightly even in the dimness of the fires. The ruby acted as the eyeball for an engraved drawing of a woman's eye on the front of the medallion. This medallion was not only a memento from the goddesses with whom Blackbeard had struck his bargain to guard over the treasure for these past few years, but it also served as the source of power for his crew's, Blackbeard included, ability to morph into monstrous creatures of immeasurable force; and that power was at their fingertips anytime they desired it.

Their years of service were almost up, and Blackbeard had a certain plot in mind. He and his crew intended to steal the Bermudan Treasure when they got their chance, and escape to one of their old hideouts. Blackbeard and his crew were just too greedy to let this opportunity pass them by.

The captain of the recent vessel they had taken being dragged inside the torture chamber suddenly jarred Blackbeard from his thoughts. He replaced the medallion back inside his coat and turned to face his latest victim.

"Glad you could join me again, captain," said Blackbeard in an eerily pleasant tone.

"Shove it, you cruel blighter," the captain shot back.

Blackbeard grinned and shook his head at the amount of defiance he seemed to be getting from his recent batch of captives. "Remove his shackles," he commanded.

The shackles rubbing into the captain's flesh were slowly removed, and when they were fully off, the captain rubbed his wrists furiously.

"Should I prepare him for another good lashing, sir?"

Blackbeard waved the question off. "That won't be necessary. I intend to use brute force this time around."

Quick as a flash, Blackbeard raced over and slammed his massive fist against the captain's bare jaw. The action caused the victim to fall to the ground, spitting out blood. Blackbeard then brought his boot down full-force against the captain's exposed and unprotected left arm. He could tell by the force of impact and the earsplitting cry of agony that escaped the captain's lips that he had at least broken a few bones; that and the sickening crunch that was recently audible. Blackbeard backed off.

"Are you ready to cooperate?"

His wall of defiance now broken, the captain reluctantly gave in. "Alright," he gasped out in-between short breaths, "you win."

Blackbeard smiled maliciously. "Excellent. Now why were you and your crew sailing here?"

The captain answered as he began nursing his broken arm. "We were after a treasure that was said to have been buried here."

"I thought as much," Blackbeard sighed. "Did you have a map in your possession?"

"Y-yes. And I s-s-still do. Reach into my right pocket."

The captain still wore the now battered and torn uniform he had donned the night he and his crew were abruptly attacked. Blackbeard approached him and slipped his meaty hand into the pocket. His fingers soon rubbed against something worn, and he pulled it out. It was the treasure map etching. Blackbeard unfolded the paper and eyed the scrawlings.

"Is this the real copy," he inquired.

"No. It's just an engraving."

"Well then, where is the real map?"

"It might be in the possession of another pirate as of this moment."

"Who?"

The captain hesitated before answering. Growing more impatient by the minute, Blackbeard urged him on. "Tell me, or I will have no hesitation in breaking your other arm."

"J-Jack...Sparrow."

Blackbeard's insides tightened at the sound of the name. Blackbeard and Jack had briefly crossed paths once before, and the experience was not a fond memory of his.

"Sparrow," Blackbeard spat out the name like it was poison. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Blackbeard heaved a deep sigh. "Very well. You've served your purpose. Take him back to his cell."

The henchman nodded and dragged the captain away. After they'd left, Blackbeard once again stared down at the copy; it was an exact replica of the real map. Crumpling up the paper in anger, Blackbeard's temper slowly started to rise and he tossed the paper into a torch's flame with precise aim. He then stared out at the moonlit ocean once again, quietly contemplating what to do next. He finally came to a solution; once Jack Sparrow crossed the threshold of the Bermuda Triangle, the wily pirate would soon find himself neck-deep in his worst nightmare.