Scroop was hidden from sight, his body expertly concealed in the shadows. Silver had been right to leave someone to guard the ship, as he had spotted something approaching the starboard side. It was one of the longboats, from the looks of it the one Silver and the others had taken, but now there was a lone figure piloting it. The mercenary peered closer. It was unmistakably human. The cabin boy. Scroop waited for someone else to sneak on deck, but Jim was definitely alone.

The damned kid had been hiding in the galley that morning, and had overheard Scroop and Silver in the midst of a heated debate. Silver said he was putting unnecessary pressure on the kid, and Scroop argued Silver was getting soft.

He felt his mouth curl into a loathing snarl. Silver was an Ursid, and as such had no bloodfeud with the Terran empire as a whole, but Scroop was different. His people had a long standing hatred for humans. Where he was from the human slave trade was widely encouraged. He'd grown up with that prejudice, and years as a pirate had only served to strengthen that hate. Silver was old, and had family issues of his own. The very treasure they'd all risked their lives tracking down was on the line now because Silver had a soft spot for this bastard. Scroop had been there. He'd seen Silver draw, had willed him to take the shot, but even then he knew the old cyborg wouldn't do it. Gone soft.

Jim had slipped below deck without ever looking over his shoulder, so following was easy. His dark coloring helped him to hide, his footsteps carefully muffled, as Jim made his way back to the longboat dock. He darted to a coil of rope, and pulled out something that looked exactly like the map. The arachnid realized, with overwhelming fury, that it was the map. Jim clutched it to his chest.

"Yes," he sighed in relief. He pocketed the sphere and moved quickly back to the door, still completely unaware of his stalker. He went to one of the few remaining control booths, and with shaking hands he pulled open a compartment to expose a tangled mess of wires. Scroop's eyes adjusted faster to the faint light, and he crept up behind the boy as he frantically searched the wires.

"Cannons, cannons, cannons," Jim chanted under his breath as he fervently tried to recall what little he actually knew about the wiring and hardware of spacecraft.

And he would've let him get that far. Scroop would've allowed him the time to at least find the right wire before making a move, just for the sake of crushing that much more hope out of him. He didn't get the chance. Jim was reaching up over his head, trying to follow one wire with his fingertips. The map was too big to fit securely in his pocket- that was why Morph had been able to steal it earlier that day. Now, it slipped from the material of his pants and thudded to the floor before rolling lazily away. Jim cringed, and dropped to his knees in desperate attempt to grab the map. That was when he noticed the thin, spindly leg bracing itself next to the door. Jim froze, his blood turning to ice. To the spacer's surprise, he threw himself back against the wall, map forgotten, his body trembling uncontrollably. He opened his mouth to scream but only the smallest whimper escaped. He was trapped, and this psycho had no reason not to kill him.

"Cabin boy," Scroop growled, and now Jim was screaming, begging for Scroop to leave him alone, making promises he couldn't keep and all the while scooting back away from him, to the corner of the control room opposite the door. Tears trailed down his face and his chest convulsed with desperate gasps for air as he began to hyperventilate. Scroop took his time. After all, the mutiny had been sprung and they were the only two onboard. He was a damn pirate for crying out loud, he would enjoy every second of this.

Jim's frantic babbling gave way to words.

"I'll t-tell him it was me!" He swore. "I killed Arrow, it was my fault, I'll tell him!" Jim knew he wouldn't care about that. Deep down, he knew he was going to die if he didn't do something fast. But a bigger, louder part of him was flashing back to the larder, to being pinned down and helpless, vulnerable. He didn't want that again, or worse. The fear outweighed his humiliation.

"You did kill Mr. Arrow," Scroop leered. "You killed him the day you crossed me and got him involved. You're the reason he died." Scroop reached down and grabbed him by his upper arm, lifting him off the ground and off his feet as he squirmed and cowered.

"No, no, no no no no," Jim whimpered as he tried to pry Scroop's grip away.

Let'ssss ssssee," Scroop emphasized his lisp, mandibles gleaming threateningly in the faint light of the control room. "Sssspying on the crew...playing sssilly games...trying to sssabotage our carefully laid plansss..." With every infraction his grip grew tighter. "Ssstealing a ssskiff...no, both of them. My my, Cabin boy. Sssomeone's been-" Jim swung his free hand into the side of Scroop's neck as hard as he could. The Spacer hissed in pain, and when Jim pulled his hand away he was holding a bloody pair of wire cutters. Scroop dropped him out of surprise, and Jim lunged for the map, lashing out at the leg by the door. The cutters closed around the end of one long, skinny leg, crunching down with unrelenting force. Scroop screamed as the sharp metal cut into his body, and severed his leg. Jim was running before his feet even his the floor, already out of sight by the time blood began to flow.

The arachnid took to the walls, legs moving as fast as they could. He overtook the boy, beating him to the only set of stairs leading up to the deck. He swung out with the cutters again, but Scroop caught his arm, hurling him backward into a stack of crates. The wood splintered. Jim tried to get up, only to be met with a board to the face. Blood burst from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and shirt, but before he could beg his captor for any kind of mercy. It came again, this time to his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. The last crashed over his head, and as the thick, murky black of unconsciousness loomed ever nearer he heard a single, terrifying sound- Scroop was laughing. He felt his body being picked up, sagging like a broken doll. Scroop carried him into the dark, and Jim let go, praying that whatever hell awaited him would at least be over fast. He blacked out.

When Jim woke up he was in the brig. He was in the middle of three cells, and through the bars he could see three more empty cells across the cramped room. A set of steps led to a closed, and presumably locked, door. Jim pressed his back against the wall, feeling heavy iron shackles around one ankle. A shiver crept up his spine, through his arms and legs, until his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. In the dim light he could see dark stains on his hands and clothes, dark puddles on the floor and the steps. Blood. He's gonna kill me.

As if on cue, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

In one claw, he held a candle. He held it over the flame, eyes glowing as he watched the wick catch light.

"You're going to open the map." Scroop intoned. "Or we'll be getting...better aquatinted." Amelia began shaking her head violently. Jim swallowed, but her resolve gave him courage. He met Scroop's glare evenly, unflinching. And spat in his face.

A chorus of chuckles erupted from the pirates. Silver attempted to resume command but Scroop gave him a withering look that silenced him. He backhanded Jim into the cell bars.

"Jimbo-" Silver started again, but his voice died in his throat as his crew turned to him, their eyes shining with bloodlust and mutiny. His face hardened. "Ye shoulda listened to 'im lad." Jim felt his stomach sink. Not Silver. Maybe everyone else, even Delbert, but not Silver. He could stand everyone else abandoning him. He begged, pleaded, bargained with whoever could hear his frantic prayers, but his only answer came in the sound of the pirates retreating back up the steps, and Silver's cold voice as he said,

"Get it open. I don' care what it takes."

His heavy footsteps were louder than Jim's heart as it pounded in his ears. He'd been right to fear Silver thinking him weak. That was why he was leaving. Leaving him here to whatever horrors awaited him at Scroop's malicious...claw. It was then he realized he'd been sobbing quietly under his breath. Blushing in shame he looked up just in time to see the thick wooden club swing down at him. It slammed into his face, and Jim saw stars. His vision blurred, and his body went limp for the second time that day. He numbly felt Scroop tying his wrist to something hard and stiff. His other wrist and ankle were shackled. When his head stopped spinning, Jim realized his arm had been strapped to an odd table, and he was chained to a chair. The sleeve of his shirt had been cut off, the skin of his trapped arm exposed.

"I could peel the flesh from your body." Scroop chuckled, a hollow sound that chilled his bones. "I could cut the ligamentsss and musclesss from your body like a butchered animal. Sssnap your boness. Sssear your eyesss with a hot iron." He held something. A piece of fabric. He drew closer. "I could make you watch your blood run out until there'sss nothing left." He wrapped the blindfold around Jim's eyes, grabbing him by his throat when he resisted. Jim tried not to panic as he was cast into the dark once again, but his breath hitched. Scroop chuckled again. "But I'm sssure you'll find our gamesss more fun thisss way." Then he was gone. Jim held his breath, listening as hard as he could, but there was nothing. Not even the sound of his skittering legs. He waited for something to happen, anything, but as the seconds stretched on into minutes he was lulled into a false sense if security. His anxious anticipation was awarded with nothing but more silence. His arm ached, protesting the tight bonds around it, and he tried to stretch it. He could wiggle his arm, just a little. Pins and needles started to claw their way up his ankles. As Jim started to squirm, he noticed the sound of the straw rustling from his movements. Something odd happened. Those noises, repetitive and close, were him. His legs pulling at unseen bonds, his other wrist searching for a weakness in the chain. There was another noise, hidden beneath that.

Shhh, shhh, shhh.

Jim froze. The silence returned. He forced himself to stay rigidly still, waiting. Listening. Nothing. He resumed his struggling, and there it was again. A noise that he knew wasn't him. He kept moving, trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. Scroop was still here, he had to be. Otherwise the door at the top of the steps would've creaked open or closed.

The door slammed shut and locked.

A dark chuckle came from above him.

Scroop slowly descended from the roof.

"Sssomeone needs to teach you a lessson, boy."

The chains rattled as the raw panic brought him to helpless spasms. Sweat poured from his skin, feeling clammy in the stale air. Though his lungs pumped furiously in time with his heart, Jim couldn't breathe. A whimper broke out, turning into a small whine.

"Oh," the raspy voice crooned, almost soothing. "Hush now." The back of a claw trailed slowly down his chin. Under the blindfold Jim's eyes grew wide. The touching. In the larder. In the control room. It was happening.

"No," he whimpered. "Please, please don't-"

"Shhh."

"I'll do it, I'll open it, please let me go, please," Jim begged. He felt the claw slowly make its way down his shirt, finding the part at the collar.

"Good," Scroop growled. "But we have sssome unfinished businesssss." The claw disappeared.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" No reply. Jim couldn't hear anything over the sounds of his own screaming. He couldn't stop. He kicked and fought against the chains with all his might, feeling capillaries burst from the tight metal.

Searing heat covered the tender underside of his arm, burning knives stabbing and scraping as he screamed louder. Something was crawling up his arm, down his hand, into the tiny space he'd been able to wiggle his arm. It covered his arm, and he felt it start to crawl up toward his shoulder. His cries grew more frantic.

"It ssseamsss we've reached an undersssstanding." The pirate smirked. Jim only whimpered, nodding his head. "You'll obey my every command." He continued to nod. "Open the map."

"I will, I swear," he pleaded. "Just please, please stop, please..." He felt Scroop tug at the blindfold, and he winced as the light of a lantern temporarily blinded him. When he could see, he slowly dared to turn his head, fearing what he might see. His arm was covered in wax. The candle sat next to it, half melted with the wick still lit. What skin he could see was an angry, blistering red. He moved his fingers, wincing in pain. The skin felt too tight, even as the cooled, hardened wax cracked and broke away. Scroop picked up the candle again, with his other claw he forced Jim's head back. He brought the candle close to Jim's face, close enough that he could feel the heat on his cheek, and could smell his hair being singed. He pictures the molten wax dripping down his face. His whimpers began anew. Scroop brought his face closer, his breath ghosting the flesh of his neck.

"If you ever fight me again, I'll sssslice off your nossse, then your earssss, and your lipsss, with a russssted blade until you crave the releassse of death."

The wax flowed down the side of his neck and the part of his shirt.