DISCLAIMER (IN VULCAN, BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT): Nirsh.
"Welcome."
They didn't answer.
"The captain and the scientist, I assume."
"...You don't know that," Charles managed to say.
"Oh, but I do." The man chuckled. "I know whatever I wish to know."
"Really?" said the Pirate Captain. "Well, so do I. And right, I wish to know exactly what's going on here!"
The man gestured to the empty chair. "Sit down."
"Finally, someone with a sense of decency - "
"Not you." He held his hand out towards Charles. "Mr. Darwin."
Charles blanched. "What...?"
"That will be all, captain. You are dismissed."
"Now hold on a - AAAAAHHHH!"
Charles jumped back as a trap door abruptly opened beneath the Pirate Captain. He went tumbling into the dark hole below, his shouts echoing through the room.
The man nodded approvingly. "We may talk without disturbance now."
"What was that for?" Charles snapped at him, his anger briefly triumphing over his fear. "If you hurt him, I swear I'll - "
"You won't. But go on, finish."
"...Never mind."
"Then sit down."
There was something about this fellow, something which made Charles want to follow his orders. Not that he liked it. "Who are you?" he asked as he sat in the empty chair.
"The Quartermaster."
"Not really what I meant, but that's a start."
"Oh, I know what you meant," the Quartermaster said. "But you already know what you ask."
"I am very sure that I don't."
"You haven't thought about it."
"I don't need to - "
"Think."
He thought. "A...a quartermaster steers a ship?"
"Steers a people, in this case. But that shall do, Mr. Darwin." He was drumming his fingers on the table again. "What kind of a name is that?" he asked mischievously.
"It's my name, thank you very much!"
The Quartermaster ignored his outburst. "What think you of this place? Such an ingenious design. We invented it, you know. The pyramid, the labyrinth...even the dungeon."
"...Interesting..."
"I thought you would find it so."
Charles could sense him smiling again. "What's this all about, then?" he asked quickly. "Why'd you bring us here?"
The Quartermaster turned away from him to stare at an especially violent fresco. "The pinnacle of beauty," he said with admiration.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The days when the world was in torment. We were so powerful back then...there was such excitement. Now there is only peace."
Charles slowly looked around, staring at the images. Masks were hidden within them, tucked into corners and beneath rocks, lurking behind unsuspecting kings, holding daggers and poised to strike. "Why?" was all he could choke out.
"No one noticed us amidst the destruction. We slipped ourselves into history, behind the thrones of the great leaders. Sometimes onto them," the Quartermaster added with a fond laugh. "Building the world as we saw fit. An order born of chaos. Maintained by chaos. That was the price which had to be paid."
"But why?"
The Quartermaster returned to the chess table. Stretching out a gnarled, bony finger, he effortlessly flicked over every white piece on the board except the king. He then placed his hand upon the black king and slid it forward until it stood before its counterpart. "We all need a way to amuse ourselves." With another simple flick, the white king was toppled.
An expression of horror crossed Charles' face, instantly followed by one of revulsion. "So it's a game."
"A most excellent one."
"People have died because of you."
"Oh, not me. The time of our power is long gone. But it is coming again." He picked up the black king and casually played with it. "It will not take much. A single bullet, perhaps."
The headache was beginning to grow. "But what do pirates have to do with all this? What do I have to do with all this?"
"Pirates? They are merely another set of pieces. Pathetic ones. They betrayed us, vowed to destroy us and failed at even that. We would kill them all did they not cause such excitement wherever they go. And as for you...well, what do you think?"
"I don't want to know," he said, backing towards the door.
The Quartermaster followed him. "They said your new mind was weak. Must I do everything myself...?"
Charles was up against the door now, madly searching for another way out and not finding one. His legs had decided to stop working again. He could only watch as the Quartermaster approached. "I am not like you..."
"You should know better," the man said, "than to speak such things...my student."
And then his forehead burned.
"Who are you?"
"Your student, subject and servant, Quartermaster," he answered with a bow.
"What is your purpose?"
"To serve you and lead our people back to glory."
"Well put. What have you been taught?"
"Fighting. With weapons and with words."
"And what else?"
"Order is born from chaos, and it lives on chaos."
"And what shall you do with this knowledge?"
"Create chaos so that order may live again."
He grinned with delight as his father spoke with the Quartermaster, who nodded and bowed to him. The long nights in the library, the hours of endless combat training, the days he forced himself to study when he could barely stay awake, every second of his seven years on this earth - it had all been in preparation for this moment.
The Quartermaster took his hand and turned him to face the packed ballroom. "Illuminati!" he shouted. "I present to you the boy who shall become your next Quartermaster!"
"How they cheered for you that night, my student," the Quartermaster was saying. "You kept calling it the greatest hour of your life. But there's no need to remind you, is there?"
Charles had slumped to the floor and was curled up in a ball, not even trying to muffle his shouts of pain. The dark, terrible thing in his brain had broken its bonds, and he could feel it seeping through his mind.
"Stop resisting it," the Quartermaster told him. "It has been oppressed for far too long, by someone who was never even real."
But I was! he wanted to scream. I am!
Everything seemed to be getting brighter, and he was feeling lightheaded. "Hold on," he mumbled to himself. Don't let it happen, don't let it happen. "Hold on, hold on...hold...on..."
And with that, he descended into darkness.
The Quartermaster poked the unconscious body of his student, checking for a sign of life. It would be most annoying if the return had killed him. At last, however, he opened his eyes. For a second, there seemed to be a glint of relief in them. But when he looked again, it had vanished and was replaced with a look of cold loyalty. "Student? Are you there?"
The man once known as Charles Darwin slowly got back on his feet and bowed to his master. "I'm here."
*ducks behind vibranium shield* For the love of God, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! If you kill me, I won't be able to finish the story. Yes, there's more! So put the deadly weapons away, please!
~ A. Kingsleigh
