Disclaimer: For once, I actually own most of this chapter. Jack and the Black Pearl are not mine. But everything else is. Isn't that just too kooky?
Author's Note: Hey guys! I know, I'm updating so quickly it's scary. But my muse saw fit to give up some vacation time to come home and help me crank out another chappie for y'all. On another note, you may have noticed that the rating has changed from R back to PG-13. The reason for this is that I simply can't decide what people under 13 shouldn't read. If you ever come across something in any of my chapters that you believe should make this fic upgraded to R, please review and tell me. Thankie kindly!
Adios Amigos,
Thousand Faces
P.S. My good friend twilightlafae helped me a lot with the final paragraphs of this chapter. Go check out her stuff!
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"Remind me again why we 'ave to go to Port Royal?" asked Jack for the fiftieth time. He stood at the helm of the ship, guiding the wheel gently with only slight turns.
Dèsirèè was balancing precariously on the railing of the ship, back leaning against one of the clusters of rigging, her floppy hat pulled over her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. She was almost certain Jack had brought a whore back to his room after she'd gone to bed. At least that's what it sounded like. She sighed deeply, "This is the last time I am going to say this: one, you are in dire need of supplies-"
Jack grumbled something to the effect of "I wouldn't be if I hadn't met you."
"And two," she said, a bit louder as to drown out his complaining, "If you want the treasure, you're going to need what's in Port Royal."
"What could possibly be so important to finding the treasure in Port Royal, hm?" Jack was slightly irritable today. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night as he had been extremely busy entertaining a very respectable young lady. At least she had been respectable until she met him. "We already got the map, what else do we need?"
Dèsirèè pulled her hat farther down on her head. "What do you need to open a treasure chest Jack?"
"A key o' course."
Dèsirèè clicked her tongue. "Now he's gettin' it."
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Squib was dead. The remaining attacker could see that. In fact, it would seem that he was the only one who was still breathing. The man picked himself up, and looked around nervously. He could run right now. His cousin had that place up in England and Thorn would never be able to find him.
No. That wasn't true and the pirate knew it. HE would always find you. And then it'd be worse.
Slowly and reluctantly, the brigand made his way back to the docks. Instead of traveling the way Dèsirèè and Jack had gone, the man slinked to the very end of the dock, where a huge ship was anchored. The figurehead was that of a skeleton holding a book and a rose. After checking in with the two men watching the gang plank, the surviving swordsman was led nervously below deck.
As he and the two guards we're walking down the raucous hallway, the man could perceive a shrill sound in the distance as he and his escorts drew near. It wasn't until they stopped in front of a door that the man realized the noises were human screams. The guards pushed the door open.
A man sat hunched over a small desk in the back of the room, scratching determinedly on a piece of paper. "Day 7," the man said aloud as he wrote, "My dear friend Jason is still alive. I must remember-" Another moan pierced the air. The man writing gave a heavy sigh. "Pardon me Jason, but would you mind not moving? You're taking away my light." The surviving pirate looked up to the person the man was talking to. Almost immediately, he had to turn away his eyes and retch onto the floor.
Jason, if that was indeed the man's name, was hanging from the wall, his hands and feet chained to keep him upright. At various places of the man's body, the skin and muscle had been gouged out, creating pockets of human tissue. Inside each of these holes had been placed a burning candle that slowly was searing the skin. The man's eyes had been gouged out and his fingers removed completely. A large puddle of blood had formed at his feet. The man who was sitting at the desk leaned down, dipped his pen in the pool of blood and went back to his writing. "Now where was I? Oh yes. 'I must remember this treatment for my other guests. It has proven quite enjoyable.'"
The bandit cleared his throat. The man at the desk straightened. "Yes?" he purred.
"Cap'n Thorn?"
Thorn turned around, stood, and walked towards the brigand. Thorn was of about average weight and height. His black hair was put up in a small ponytail that was beginning to become undone. His face was smooth and bronzed. One could say the most unusual feature of Thorn's was his eyes. They were a deep, deep black. If you looked into them long enough, it was possible that you would tumble into that merciless abyss and be trapped forever. There was something about them that made a dissatisfied glance bore into ones soul. Thorn was dressed in elegant night black slacks and an ebony vest underneath which was a white shirt. A ruby cravat was tied around his neck and gold cufflinks sparkled from his sleeves. Several emerald and jade rings were slipped onto his slim fingers. All and all he was not an unattractive man, but his soul was as black and rotten as Jason's melting flesh.
"So you've returned Taps," said Thorn with a casual air, "Where are the others?" Taps' eyes were fixed on the man hanging on the wall. Thorn turned to look. "Ah yes, do you like it. Rather a devilish little trick I picked up in Persia. I'm so happy that it's gone over as well as it has. Isn't that right Jason?" Jason moaned. "Well," said Thorn, turning back to Taps, "He doesn't talk much." Thorn threw his hands into the air. "But where are the others?"
"Well, uh, sir, we ran into a bit o' trouble-" stammered Taps.
"It was a very simple task Taps," mused Thorn, dusting off his clothes and attempting to rub out a blood stain on his white shirt, "Find Dèsirèè Moore, follow Dèsirèè, and get the map, using force if necessary. Now tell me Taps," said Thorn, his voice lowering to growl, "What was so difficult about that?"
"Cap'n," whimpered Taps pathetically, backing away from Thorn slowly, "We 'ad her Cap'n we did! 'Er and the map."
"And you let her get away. I'm less than pleased Taps. You know what kind of mood I get in when I'm upset."
"It wasn't me fault Cap'n, I swear!" cried Taps. "We followed her from the bar just like ye said!" His back bumped into the wall. There was no where left to run. "There was another man with 'er!" Taps shouted his last bid for salvation.
Thorn stopped. "A man you say?" Thorn's interested was peaked. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely positive Cap'n," the pirate confirmed, shaking with relief.
Thorn turned away and began pacing the room, his fine leather boots tapping softly on the wood. "I'm certain that you had the brains to find out his name." Thorn turned back to Taps, hands clasped behind his back, eyebrow raised in question, "Didn't you?"
Even Taps, who was by no means the brightest pirate on Thorn's crew, understood that that was not a question, but a threat. "Uh...I believe 'e said 'e was....uh..."
Thorn sighed and brought his hands up to his face. "Taps don't make me do something that's going to ruin my clothes."
It was amazing how the threat of a long and painful death seemed to jog one's memory. "Sparrow!" Taps cried out triumphantly. "Jack Sparrow, that's wha' 'e said!"
Thorn's forehead wrinkled in thought. "Sparrow? You don't say? Really, I expected...hmmmm..." Thorn said, more to himself then to Taps.
Taps glanced nervously at 'Jason' or what was left of 'Jason'.
"Cap'n, should, I, uh, leave, sir?" he asked, trying not to gag as Jason tried to move and sent out a stream of crimson blood.
The Captain waved his hands vaguely, lost in his own thoughts. Taps took this as a yes, and side stepped hurriedly to the door.
"Taps?" Thorne asked, almost absentmindedly. Taps glanced nervously back at his Captain.
"Yes?" he said, voice quivering with fear.
Thorn beckoned to the terrified pirate.
"I've yet to reward you for your information," he said, beckoning. Every instinct screamed to run, but greed won over and Taps stepped nearer to his Captain.
"Aye, sir?" he asked. Taps never saw the dagger until it was firmly imbedded into his stomach, and twisted cruelly. His eyes widened in surprise, and then glazed over in death. He fell to the floor, his mouth still open in pain and surprise.
Thorn looked down at his newly stained shirt and swore. "There goes another expensive shirt," he muttered to himself. Jason moaned in response. Thorn ignored him, pulled off the shirt and threw it into a steadily growing pile of blood stained garments.
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Okay guys, now you know who the mysterious Captain Thorn is. Did you like him? Did you hate him? TELL ME!! singing Talk to me! gets slapped Please, I would really appreciate reviews on this chapter. This was my first time writing a torture scene and I want to know how I did.
Overview of next chapter:
Characters: Jack, Dèsirèè, WILL, ELIZABETH, NORRINGTON, CINDY, and a host of others.
Place: PORT ROYAL
Adios Amigos,
Thousand Faces