Jack awakes to the throbbing of his hand. A voice floats through his mind, each word sharpening the pain in his wrist. "Jack, Jack, Jack. I must confess; you're becoming a bit of a high-hat. Thinking you're above associating with the Devil," there's a bit of a pause as the voice seems to be lost in thought, finding his previous words amusing, "figuratively speaking of course… After all I've done for you, looking out for you right from those early days, nurturing, caring…" Jack tries to find the source of the disembodied voice, looking around at the almost glowing red stone walls, the precariously perched sinister stalactites threatening to drop and skew a person. He realises he's back in the Devil's cavern, a chamber of Hell itself. The bats remain hidden in the shadows of the cave's ceiling, their feeling of malice and hatred projected even more strongly than before. Jack was their elusive prey, but they aren't willing to attack him twice. This can only mean Jack was saved for bigger things, for something worse than Vampire bats.
Lucifer steps out of the shadows, twirling his pronged triton through his long, pale fingers. "Been expecting me?"
"I know how this works, Lucifer, just get it over and done with." Jack snaps, tired of the Devil's games.
"And spoil my fun?" Satan pouts, drawing closer to Jack. He moves so quickly and quietly it's as if he floats on a cloud of black hatred. "Oh, look, the nail's coming loose." He chides. From nowhere a hammer appears, dark and hooked, and the Devil slams it down into Jack's palm, driving the thick nail through his bone and into the unforgiving stone wall. Pain explodes in Jacks hand and swamps the rest of his body, roaring through his veins and jolting his heart. The Devil hears it. The steps back to admire his handiwork and appraise Jack.
"Skipped a beat back there, did we?" He smirks. Quicker than a cobra strikes he darts forwards again, this time hammering a nail into Jack's opposite hand. Fire blooms in Jack's other palm, blossoming into searing agony which threatens to consume him whole. His blood seems to stop in his veins, his scream catches in his throat and the breath is knocked from his lungs.
"The metaphoric party has just begun, Mon Capitan. And like all parties, we need party hats. Here's one for Captain Jack." The Devil pulls Jacks tricorn hat out of air and places in on Jacks bowed head with a flourish. The hat feels as though it's been stitched with barbs and thorns. Jack shakes it off defiantly.
Lucifer clucks his tongue and stoops down to pick up Jacks hat. "Now, now. Don't be a party pooper," He chides, ramming the hat back down onto Jacks head.
Although the hat looks like normal; with soft, weather-worn leather, it tracks cuts down Jacks temples and forehead, as if its interior really was full of briars and thorns. Blood trickles down Jacks cheeks and drips off the tips of his plaited beard. Jack glares through lower eyes at the Devil. Had the Devil not been the source of the entire evil of the world, Lucifer would have shuddered in fear under Jack's deathly gaze, his dark eyes chilling still and blankly tomblike.
Instead the Devil just chuckles superiorly; how could a mortal have anything on him, the Prince of Darkness? Jack opens his mouth to curse him, but the Devil holds up one long finger, ending in a sharp, black tipped nail. "Sshhh," he whispers, "you'll spoilt the surprise." His voice grew louder and taunting once more, "You are bound to recite your solitary line, but my part's not written in the guidebook. I have as long as three days to complete your stigmata, and you have absolutely no say in the matter, apart from the fact that I unfortunately cannot kill you. Not that I would want to; we still have many more pleasant encounters ahead of us." The Prince of Darkness smiled a cruel crooked smile; one of devastating beauty but at the same time the blank sneer of a decaying corpse. "Oh, irony in it's most poignant form; to escape the Devil and his Black Spot, you have to receive a baptism conducted by a Man of God, and the stigmata conducted by the Devil. But enough monologue; you have some surprise guests attending your party who wish to give you presents."
Lucifer steps back and snaps his fingers at a stone wall of the vast chamber. With a smell of fire, brimstone and sulphur, the wall splits open and a person stumbles through. Still bathed in shadow, the figure staggers up to Lucifer, gulping in air through lungs that had been scorched by flame and strangled by smoke. The Devil silently hands the figure a long, crooked-looking spike and the hooked hammer. As the figure steps closer to Jack, he can just make out the features.
The man advancing before Jack can hardly be described as one. His skin is boiled lobster-red in some parts, and burnt black in others. Chunks of flesh and skin flake off his body as he steps towards Jack and into the full light. Half his face has melted like candle wax, the liquefied flesh tugging at his eyes and mouth, dripping from his melted and elongated chin like some perverse form of a beard, falling onto his charred chest. His hair has been reduced to brittle straw-like tufts and ash. His eyes are red-veined and weepy as he stares into Jack's eyes; dead and sightless. He bends down, crosses Jack's feet at the ankles and places the wicked-looking spike in the middle of his overlapped feet. A second too late Jack realises what the melted man is doing. In a single strike the spike pierces both his feet and nails him to the stone wall. Jack sags limply against the cool wall of coarse stone; his crucifixion almost complete.
"Aren't you going to thank your old friend for your present, Jack? It's not very nice manners." The Devil scolds. "Jack, say thank-you… Don't you recognise your good friend?" Lucifer asks in a surprised voice, "The man who sacrificed his life for you…take a good look…" The burnt man clamours shakily back to his feet and looks Jack once more in the eye. "For shame, the Captain doesn't remember who you are. Perhaps a little reminder…" The charred and forsaken corpse narrowed his eyes in fury and spat in a voice as harsh and dry as the raking flames that had consumed his body,
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." He hisses mockingly.
Father Deprey? Jack thinks in anguish. So the poor priest hadn't made it out of his burning church. But he was a man of God, a good man; why was he too trapped in the bowels of Hell when he deserved the clouds of Heaven?
The Devil twirls his pitchfork in contemplation, as if reading Jack's thoughts, "Isn't it funny, how all your friends – mere acquittances even - seem to be willing to follow you to the ends of the earth? Even, it seems, into the depths of Hell itself… but enough introspection. Your last gift is still yet to come. I know you'll like this one…"
Again the stone wall cracks open and a dimly-lit figure steps out from the roaring flames on the other side. Hidden completely by shadows, Jack couldn't see where the figure had disappeared to. Jack feels dread creep through his body. Who else, what other unwitting victim would Lucifer unleash onto him as another embodiment of Jack's guilt. Lost in the river of remorse, he fails to see the glint of silver in the shadows at his left.
The dagger plunges into his side as quickly as a snake's forked tongue darts out of its mouth. Jack gasps in shock as he feels the steel brush and knock against his ribs. With relish, the dagger is finally drawn out of his side and Jack exhales shakily, the dark ocean of pain threatening to drown him into black oblivion.
"Jack…Jack…Jack," whispers a voice, soft lips brushing against his ear. He fights his way through the pain, opens his tired eyes and blinks through the haze. Cassie stands before him, looking not a day older than the two score years since he last laid eyes on her. Her hands are clasped behind her back innocently, almost child-like, and her amethyst eyes glint, full of mischief. His Cassie, alive. Then he sees it. The blood, splattered on her white dress. He frowns in confusion and fear. She smiles sweetly, trying to relax and comfort him. She steps forward and traces a finger down his cheek softly, twirling her finger around his hair. Jack closes his eyes, remembering. But then he smells it. The coppery, metallic flavour of blood. His eyes snap open and his glances at her hand. It's covered, stained, tainted dark maroon with blood. Noticing his gaze, she drops her arm down to her side and steps back. Not her blood. Jack's blood.
Lucifer appears at her side, snakes an arm around her waist. As if he knows her. And she lets him. She slides her arm up behind her and cups her hand behind the Devil's neck. Both smirk insolently at him, knowingly, mockingly. Then Jack realises.
"God, why have you forsaken me?" He chokes, anguish tearing at his throat, ripping it raw.
Cassie drops the dagger and it clatters, echoing, to the cavern's floor. The dagger she pierced his side with.
"And there's the line we were all looking for." The Prince of Darkness scorns. "Surprised?"
"Why, Cassie?" Jack whispers, emotion raking his throat and heart raw.
Cassie steps towards him again, traces the nails embedded in his hands and the scratches at his face in contemplation. She kisses him harshly, her teeth grazing his lips. She breaks away and whispers, "That's Captain Cassandra to you. Of the Drifting Maiden." And then Jack sees no more.