Disclaimer: I only own Stiles Karver, the Navy captain- Wilford Hampton, and the HMS Lady Rose. Everything else belongs to Disney and Pirates of the Caribbean. If it belonged to me, this wouldn't be fanfiction.
A/N: This chapter was originally supposed to be part of the last one, but it would be too long if I kept it there.
Chapter Two:
Jack was led from the cell- which was locked to prevent Stiles from escaping- and dragged down the dark staircase in which Captain Hampton had gone. A door, just like the iron barred one to the cell, awaited them at the bottom. It was open already. He was pulled inside, the barred door locked behind him my no one other than Hampton himself.
The torture chamber smelled of death and decay. Looked like it too. It was almost pitch black, save the few candles around the room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were tinted red with blood of past victims. Rotting bodies sat in the darkened corners, out of the way, flies buzzing around them. A wooden table occupied the center of the room, various other devices scattered about. There were chains hanging from the ceiling to the right of the table, matching chains resting on the floor. The pirate captain wrinkled his nose to avoid gagging. He felt slightly nauseous. What have I gotten myself into?
He watched Hampton exchange a few words with a masked man- an executioner.
"Y'know, ye need me alive to get the reward for capturin' me, right?" Jack reminded them, anxiety getting the best of him.
"Makes it all the more fun. You'll be in so much pain when we're done, Sparrow, that you'll wish we'd killed you anyway." The Navy captain told him.
He swallowed nervously.
"Orders, sir?" One of the Navy escorts asked.
"Lock us in, and take position at the top of the stairs." Hampton ordered. "I'll let you know when we're through- then take him back to young Karver."
The pirate captain watched the two soldiers leave, longing to follow them out of this unpleasant place. The lock of the door sounded and the men vanished up the stairs, out of sight. Now he was left with just Hampton and the executioner.
"Ye really should've kept those guards in 'ere." Jack told them.
"Why is that?" Hampton asked, frowning at him.
"Well,"He began wandering the dank room as he spoke,"I really could grab anythin' layin' 'round 'ere and hit ye with it, if I so desired." He bent down, picking up the femur of a human skeleton. He tossed one end, testing the weight as if he'd swing it at someone. He frowned at it, tossing it aside. "Unfortunately, I don't wish to do so. But what I do wish is to offer ye somethin' in exchange that neither the lad nor I shall come to be harmed b'fore arrival in Port Royal."
"And what is it that you are offering to do for us?"
"We'll help 's part of your crew 'till we make port."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"And why not?"
"Because I refuse to work with pirates." Hampton answered. He nodded to someone behind Jack. "Lash him up- right arm first."
As he'd been attempting to negotiate with the Navy captain, he hadn't realized he'd walked and stopped directly in front of the executioner. He leapt forward, bowling Hampton over. The man let out a startled cry. The pirate was at the complete other side of the room by the time he got up.
"An' seein' as I refuse to be tortured, we're at a stalemate, mate." Jack pointed out, a lazy smirk making his lips curl in amusement.
"This isn't chess, Sparrow!" Hampton growled dangerously.
"No, t'isn't. Ye're right." He agreed. "But, so am I. Ye can't catch me, an' I can't leave."
"So what's it gonna be then?" The Navy captain asked.
"I can, an' am perfectly willin' to, stand right 'ere for the entirety of the voyage." He replied.
"You'll die of thirst before then." The other man pointed out smugly.
"Then I best hope me crew comes soon, eh?" The pirate said after a moment. "'Sides, I'd prefer dyin' of thirst than at your hand, torturous swine."
"Oh, no, you won't die by my hand. Not even his." He gestured to his executioner. "You'll die with a short drop and a sudden stop at the gallows of Fort Charles, back in Port Royal." He seemed impatient. "Now, Sparrow, I'll be back in no more than a moment. I expect you'll be waiting right there for me?"
"Of course." He smirked with false enthusiasm. "Ye can count on it, mate."
"Very well." Hampton turned to the executioner. "Watch him for just a moment."
"Of course, sir." The man spoke for the first time.
The captain turned and went to the cell door, pulling out his own set of keys. He unlocked the door and exited, locking it behind him as he went up the stairs. His voice was easily heard from down in the torture chamber. "I want you two to assist in catching Sparrow. He's being rather difficult."
A moment later, the door unlocked and the three men returned to the dark room, locking the barred door shut. The two guards approached the loose prisoner, muskets pointing toward him. He watched them warily, trying to devise a plan of escape. It was obvious that he'd talked Hampton out of patience, so negotiating was no longer an option. At least he'd stalled for time.
The executioner came slower, behind the two men. Jack could see no escape route. His jaw set tightly and his brow creased as he thought. He slowly crouched, all the while keeping his eyes on his attackers. His fingers found the femur he'd tossed and he gripped it tightly, standing back up fully. It was better than nothing.
The first man his musket at him, in an attempt to prod him with the bayonet beside the barrel. The pirate whacked it aside with the bone he held, watching it nearly fly from the man's grasp. He slammed the second one aside. Then he gripped his makeshift weapon with both hands and held it up to block the executioner's axe. He moved aside just as the bone snapped in half under the pressure of the metal weapon. He tossed the two halves aside, finding them useless now.
Hampton was impatient. "Shoot him, you idiots!"
"I thought ye weren't goin' to kill me!" Jack called to him, whilst dodging musket shots.
Distracted with the two guards, the pirate didn't notice the executioner approaching him. As he turned to his right, his face was met hard with the flat of the axe blade. He was thrown onto his back, vision spotted with black spots, groaning. He attempted to get back up, but found himself too disoriented to do so properly when he faceplanted back on the wooden planks. He held his right temple in his left hand, his right hand outstretched beside him.
"Remove his shirt and hang him up with the ceiling chains. Don't forget to secure his legs too." Hampton ordered. "And, guards, leave us- return to guarding the stairs."
Jack felt the executioner tear the clothing from his upper body. He was dragged to the middle of the room. He was lifted up by his right wrist, straining the shoulder. He gasped lightly in pain. He felt the cool metal cuff clamp around it. His other arm was strung up, then his ankles secured by the floor chains. All the while, he didn't struggle, knowing it'd do him no good at all.
"Start with the cat o' nine." The Lady Rose's captain demanded.
The pirate prisoner opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it and clenched his teeth in preparation for the oncoming blows. He winced as he heard the crack of the whip as the executioner pulled it out and prepared to strike. Crack! Pain rippled through his back. Refusing to give up his pride easily, he didn't cry out. As he felt the blood trickling out of the new welts, he bit his lip. He tasted the salt of his blood as the second strike landed and he bit his lip harder. Crack! Crack! Crack!
The pain slowly spread as more strikes hit their target. He stayed silent, unwilling to give in. He could feel the heat in his raw back, and he could see the blood pool beneath him on the wood. The pain was intense and his shoulders sagged, but he refused to let even a gasp escape him. His lip throbbed between his teeth.
His vision was black from trauma, his open eyes seeing nothing. He couldn't hear anything either- the only sense that worked was touch and feeling, which even that was starting to fade. He didn't hear the order for the executioner to switch to a steel pipe. He felt it collide with his back, jolting his whole body forward. It hit repeatedly, and he was sure that if anything of his back remained that it would be bruised beyond recognition.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! A slurping, plash like noise accompanied it when the metal hit a stream of blood.
All of Jack's senses were numb by the time his face collided with the pool of his own blood on the floor. He lay there for a few minutes before his hearing began to return, sight not long after. He still could not feel anything, the pain beyond being painful now. He weakly used his arms to support his upper body, his right moving up to wipe blood from the side of his face that had been in the pool of blood.
A hoarse laugh that didn't sound like his own escaped him. His voice sounded like someone recently back from the dead. "Do I look like 'ell yet? 'Cause I don't feel anythin' at all."
Hampton met his gaze, an almost curious look in his eyes. "Your back looks like a raw piece of meat, Sparrow."
"Wonderful." He commented sarcastically, clearing his throat. His voice sounded more like himself, except for the hopeful tone when he asked,"Is it my turn to hit ye with a steel pole?"
The other man snorted in bemusement. "Your spirit doesn't break as easily as your body, does it?"
"Thank goodness for that, or I'd 'ave given up on livin' a long time ago." The pirate admitted.
As he began to get to his feet, the sense of touch and feeling returned to him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself up anyway. His legs shook, but he walked around a bit anyway, waking up the muscles of his knees. He paused at the barred door, longingly looking up the stairs. Sure enough, the guards were still there. He turned back to the room. The executioner, clothing and mask now stained red, hadn't moved. Hampton was watching the pirate with an odd curiosity, distant thoughtfulness accompanying it.
"Wha's so interestin', mate?" Jack asked, words slurring together as he hid his pain.
Instead of answering, the other man turned to the executioner. "You may leave. Return in twenty minutes, the boy is next."
"Ye are not touchin' that boy!" Rage coursed through the pirate, eyes darkening.
The executioner left, clearly not wanting to be involved with the situation about to occur.
Hampton stalked up to the prisoner so that they were nearly nose to nose. He smugly asked,"And who's going to stop me from doing so? You?"
Instead of answering, the Pearl's captain shoved the other man back. Hampton drew his sword, growling. The pirate cowered back a bit, scanning for a weapon. He spotted and snatched up a metal rod. The Navy man swung his sword, but the rod blocked it. Metal clanged against metal as Jack fought back.
His movements grew slower as pain and exhaustion tugged at him. The flat of Hampton's blade slapped his wrist and he unintentionally released the bar, which dropped onto his foot. He winced, reaching down for it again. He was met with a knee to his side. It hit him with such force that his weakened form was thrown to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain.
Captain Hampton towered over him, sneering. "You are going to defend the boy? Really, Sparrow? You can't even fight for yourself."
"Ye tortured me, ye bloody blighter." Jack growled hoarsely, attempting to get up from his hands and knees.
Hampton's foot connected with his captive's stomach and he collapsed, an audible breath of air escaping him. "You wouldn't be able to fight off my whole crew for that boy even if you were in your best condition! You're weak! The whole lot of your kind are! You think you're strong enough to disobey the world's laws, so you make your own that contradict ours, then you wonder why we punish you! Weak and foolish! There's a reason we hang the lot of you; there's only room for the strong men in this world. You're not built for this world, Sparrow!"
"THEN WHY HAVEN'T YOU KILLED ME YET?!" The prisoner bellowed, his English accent showing through his pirate one as he finally broke. "Better yet, shoot yourself! That's one less person for the law followers to worry about!"
"SHUT UP, YOU FILTHY PIRATE!" The Navy captain finally lost his temper.
A foot slammed into the pirate's stomach with such force that it was sure to leave a nasty bruise. It was almost a miracle that it didn't puncture the skin itself. He cried out in pain properly for the first time since being brought down into the torture room, curling in on himself for protection. So much for keeping my pride.
"Hampt-" A kick to his exposed back made him cry out again. "W-we can make a deal!"
"ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE!" Hampton roared, enraged. Within a split second, the Navy captain had drawn a knife.
Jack's eyes widened in fear, a very probable idea of what the other man was about to do coming to mind. "No. No, no, no, no. No! GET AWAY FROM ME!" The last few words turned into a snarl as his captor advanced on him.
The pirate attempted to scramble away, but his injuries didn't allow him to get far. The captain of the Lady Rose pinned him on his back. He sat atop him to keep him from sitting up, and he used one hand to hold the captive's wrists to the floor. When the injured man struggled, nothing happened.
"Open your mouth!" Hampton demanded, knife dangerously close to his prisoner's face.
He shook his head quickly, breath quickening in panic.
In anger at his prisoner's defiance, the Navy captain dropped his knife on the planks and released the other man's wrists, only to clamp both hands around his neck. He squeezed tightly, violently slamming the weak pirate's head into the wood. He did it several times. Part of Jack's head hit the ground just right, and the vision in his left eye gave out to blackness. Head aching, unable to breath, he opened his mouth to suck in air.
Immediately, Hampton snatched his knife and thrust it between the pirate's teeth. He gripped his wrists and pinned them to the wood once again. He focused on his task with the knife. He felt it tear into flesh, hearing a resulting cry from the man beneath him. He pushed on the knife until it broke free from the tongue of the captive and stabbed through his left cheek.
The man got back to his feet with satisfaction, watching Jack turn onto his stomach, coughing and sputtering out blood. A chunk of flesh hit the wooden planks with the blood. Horror filled the pirate. "What did ye do?" He tried to ask, but pain flooded his tongue. Only a hoarse screech and a few grunts escaped him. Blood leaked from his mouth and dripped from his chin. Something inside his mouth kept feeding the stream of blood.
Realization at what his captor did hit him and he slowly looked up, disbelief, shock, and terror embedded in his features. No...no bloody way.
Hampton's harsh laugh filled the air and sent a chill down his prisoner's spine. He began untying his breeches, the words "You hurt mine, now I'm going to hurt yours" embedding themselves in the pirate's memory forever.
*X*
He's a mess...was Stiles' first thought as he saw the guards drag his uncle back up the stairs. The shirtless pirate was bruised and bloodied. There was a knife wound through his cheek, and the eye on the same side of his face was clouded over with something that wasn't an emotion.
Jack was thrown into the cell as soon as the door opened. He stumbled, latching onto the bars to stay upright. He spat out a mouthful of blood and looked back up towards the guards, eyes fearful and jaw set.
"Come on, boy." One of the guards ordered impatiently.
"I don't want to." Stiles responded firmly, eyes transfixed on his uncle.
"Oh, just grab him." The other soldier complained.
That's exactly what the first soldier did. He reached in and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him out of the cell for his companion to close it. The lad watched Jack, worriedly, as he was led down the stairs.
The guard shoved him through the iron barred door of the darkest room he'd ever seen. He heard the keys in the door behind him. His eyes cast over the rank smelling room. There was blood everywhere, both old and fresh. He could see it coating a steel pipe, a set of chains, the floor, the ceiling, and even one of the four curved walls. An uneasy shiver ran up his spine.
He spotted a masked man, who'd walked past the cell as the Pearl's captain was returned to it. His eyes finally rested on the captain of the Lady Rose, the man who went by Wilford Hampton.
"Ah, young Mr. Karver. Welcome to this dank little room." He greeted with a wicked smile. "I'm sure you've guessed what this room is by now."
"It's a torture room, sir." Stiles answered quietly. He was quiet for a moment. "I...I don't want to be down here, Captain Hampton."
"Don't worry, boy! You won't be down here nearly as long as your uncle was as long as you cooperate." Hampton told him with enthusiasm. "Just tell me, do you care for your arm or your leg more?"
"Sir?" His brow furrowed in mild confusion. The Navy officer continued to look at him expectantly. So, he finally swallowed and answered,"My arm, of course."
"Then would you lay on that table please?" The captain ordered more than asked him.
Having overheard everything that had gone on in this room when his uncle had been there, Stiles knew being defiant would only result in more pain. So, he nodded, and he walked over to the poor excuse for a wooden table near the room's center. He lay down on it as told.
He watched as Hampton exchanged a nod with the executioner, who approached the table. The man grabbed ahold of the adolescent's left leg and jerked it upwards, as if trying to bend the knee the wrong way. Sharp pain pierced said leg and the young man cried out in pain as an audible snap filled the air.
His leg was dropped back to the table. He didn't try to move it, knowing by the sound that it was more than likely broken. He heard sizzling hot metal and looked up to see an orange P shape held by a metal rod, which was in Hampton's grasp.
"Please…" Stiles begged the man not to press it to his skin.
The Navy captain ignored him and took the young man's right arm in his hand. He pressed the hot metal into his arm. Tremendous pain, worse than his leg snapping, filled the adolescent's body. It felt like he was thrown in a fireplace. He screamed against his will, silent tears running down his face.
The room smelled of burning flesh.