I thought I'd be nice and finish this tonight. This may be a small scene, but it's symbolism is important, and shall carry through future chapters. I hope you enjoy it. Any suggestions, please let me know.

On a sidenote; a big shoutout to all those who are nice enough to review. I really appreciate it. :)

It's action time.

~Chapter Ten~

Townspeople were quick to usher themselves out of the way, as dozens of soldiers bolted through the streets, lead by none other than the Spaniard himself. It was a common sight to see the garrison move through the town whenever a dangerous criminal was on the loose, but the sight managed to attract attention nonetheless. The Spaniard kept his eyes fixated on the building that stood on the top of the hill, as he let wondrous mental images flood through his mind about how exactly to deal with the infamous Jack. Following the recovery of the manuscript, a hanging would surely be in order, but no first. No. He wanted to make that blasted Sparrow suffer. Him and his little whore.

After crossing the final threshold, he reached the iron gates. Acting on none other than a rush of adrenaline, he wrestled for several seconds with the bars of the gates. The gates did not budge and inch, nor grant the garrison entry into the courtyard of the convent. "Someone open this gate!" The Spaniard ordered, as several soldiers worked to pick the lock. As the mechanism was slowly jimmied and forced open, the iron gates swept open, failing in their purpose to keep out intruders. One by one, the soldiers filed into the courtyard. By this time, attention had sparked, and the residents of the convent began to rush to the frontal-facing windows, attracted by the rumbling sounds of the soldiers.

As the garrison made their way to the great wooden oak doors, the Spaniard rapped forcefully upon it, alarming the residents in such a way they rushed speedily to the door. After several minutes were spent trying to unlock the doors, the pale and lined face of Sister Catalina appeared from behind the door. The many, many years of the absence to the sun had left her with a ghostly appearance, with her face colour frighteningly white.

"How may I be of service?" She asked, her tone of voice clearly demonstrating her unwillingness to both help the soldiers, nor grant them access inside the walls of the convent. "Open the bloody door, before my men knock it down." The Spaniard answered. Sister Catalina was quick to disregard his comment. Glancing over his shoulder, she looked in disdain at the forcefully opened gates. "Tread carefully, you don't want to be disrespectful in a place of god." She scorned. The Spaniard smirked a little, before spitting directly at the feet of Sister Catalina. Forcing the door open, he summoned his men to enter. "Get her out of my sight." He offhanded sourly, as two soldiers held her, but she made no attempt to struggle. "How do we find her?" One of the soldiers whispered to the Spaniard, as the garrison stopped inside the entrance hall. "Strategy." He replied calmly, before calling the attention of the garrison. He assigned a certain amount of men to search through each level. "You lot. Follow me." He instructed. The garrison disbursed throughout the convent.

The Spaniard found his way to the first door of a succession; and thrust it open in a powerful motion. He stumbled inside, turning his head from side to side to find an occupant. He laid eyes on a much younger inhabitant than he had been expecting. He had come face to face with Beatriz, and incidentally the only other occupant other than Angelica who knew where Jack was at this very minute. The Spaniard's luck had turned, although he didn't know it quite yet. The girl looked suddenly panic-stricken, as the Spaniard advanced towards the child. Beatriz took several steps backwards, but he reacted quickly and grabbed her forcefully by the arm. Too frightened to let out a scream; she merely protested by trying to yank back her arm.

The Spaniard clenched his teeth, as he tugged the girl back. Soldiers gathered at Beatriz' door, watching the Spaniard deal with the child. She was putting up a good fight against a fully-grown man, and was doing her best not to falter and let her fear show. "She's not complying, is she!" One of the soldiers commented, rousing several bouts of laughter to echo around the walls. In a sudden movement, he thrust the girl towards him, and slapped the girl hard across the face. Silence flooded the room, as nobody dared move a muscle. The Spaniard had expected the girl to cry out, but she remained silent, cupping her cheek with her hand, as a red mark began spreading across it. "You." The Spaniard pointed at a soldier at the door. "Pick her up." The soldier obliged with a nod, and lifted little Beatriz off the floor, receiving no such struggle from her as the Spaniard had received. Taking several steps closer the Beatriz and the soldier holding her, he raised a finger to her face. "Ahora, ¿dónde están?" He asked, and waited to see it the girl would respond.

Beatriz raised a shaky finger directed out the door. "Go where she points." The Spaniard insisted, as the men cleared away from the door. Making their way down the corridor at Beatriz' direction, the Spaniard grew more pleased with himself with every step. He knew this was it; this was his chance at revenge. His eyes sparkled at the promise of it, as he focused his attention on which door he might crack open and discover them. Eventually, Beatriz pointed to a singular wooden door. The soldier stopped, as she dropped her finger and lowered her gaze, watching the Spaniard out of the corner of her eye. He smiled and nodded his head towards her.

He stood staring at the door for several moments, trying to gain a mental picture of what lay behind that door. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it. He wanted the capture, he wanted the girl, the torture, everything. His greed shone through all rationality and morality.

He pressed his hand to the handle, moulding his fingers around the knob. He tightened his grip, and turned the handle. The door creaked loudly, as he pressed his hand flat against the wood of the door to open it fully. As the room came into view, he could hardly suppress his reaction.

"So here is the filthy whore." He stated through a snarling grin. "And look, it's the good captain." He said sarcastically.

They stood on legs like lead, with panic and fear knifing through them like physical pain. Angelica found herself rooted to the spot. She wanted to chance a glance over at Jack, but she found herself unable to remove her eyes from the Spaniards', as glints like daggers shone from the black depths of his eyes.

The silence was almost deadly. Jack knew this was it, that his luck had finally run his course. He wouldn't be foolish and run, no. He knew it was his responsibility to fix up this mess. And what a mess it was. The Spaniard leant lazily against the doorframe, as he moved his eyes away from Angelica's to address Jack.

"Game's up, Jack." He said, almost gleefully. Jack thought for a moment. He felt the time had come to be solemn, perhaps that was the way he was meant to clean up this mess, but his attitude was quick to get the better of him. "What a game it was!" Jack replied cheekily. The Spaniard was slightly taken aback by Jack's forwardness, almost wary of Jack, as though he felt like his prisoners could just melt through his hands.

The Spaniard signalled a guard in. "The girl." He stated with a nod of his head. The guard grabbed Angelica by the wrists, securing them firmly behind her back. Angelica struggled against him, but could not break free. The Spaniard took a few advancing steps towards her, standing much too close for Jack's liking. The Spaniard was fully aware of his position, using it to his advantage. Angelica refused to look at the Spaniard out of spite and pride. She did not want to face him any longer. She wanted this to be over, so she resisted to the best of her abilities.

Glancing backwards, he gestured for another guard to take hold of Jack. Angelica glanced warily at the guard who took hold of Jack. As helpless as she was, she was still capable of directing one hell of a glance. "Temper, temper." The Spaniard condoned, tapping her lightly on the nose, much to her annoyance. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." He commanded. She did not obey. She stared out of the corner of her eyes, at the guard holding Jack.

Agitated by her lack of response, the Spaniard grabbed her jaw and twisted it towards him. Angelica whimpered a little, screwing her eyes up tightly. She wasn't used to this type of treatment. She whispered a prayer, and focused on keeping her eyelids tightly closed. In all her years, she couldn't remember something so frightening.

"You piece of filth..." The Spaniard roared suddenly, as he raised his hand in a volatile movement, landing it right across Angelica's cheek. The pain radiated through her cheek, as she concentrated on the droplet of blood flowing freely down her cheek. The feeling made her sick and weak, as she struggled to remain upright. Her knees forced her to give way, as she had to be caught by the guard to stop her falling to a heap on the floor. Everything fell into a black abis, as she let her eyes close shut.

The Spaniard rolled his eyes at her weakness, before turning on his heel to direct his attention back to Jack. Jack had his eyes screwed shut too, as his ears seemed to jump at every noise. "Smart not to protest, Jack. You don't want to end like…" He gave a brief pause as he glanced at Angelica. "Oh look! She's unconscious!" He remarked joyfully, much to Jack's dislike. "All the more reason, Jack. You can't open your big mouth when you're not awake."

Jack did not dare to respond. Both him and Angelica were completely and utterly helpless, and he did not want to challenge that with no plan to back him up. "It's time for a little walk." The Spaniard said, as he headed out the door. The guards restrained their prisoners as they followed the Spaniard on his heels. "Search the room." The Spaniard commanded, as several unoccupied guards took over the small room.

The Spaniard crossed eyes with the Admiral as they passed each other in the hallway. He watched as the guards led Angelica and Jack out. With a look of horror etched upon his face, the Admiral called out the Spaniard. "She's unconscious!" He yelled. The Spaniard stopped dead in his tracks, as the guards followed suit. "Oh really?!" He snarled. The Admiral shot a look of disdain over to the Spaniard, as he made his way towards Angelica.

"Look, she can't even walk.." He acknowledged as the guard was holding Angelica up to prevent her from falling. He tapped her lightly on her undamaged cheek, until she roused. The Admiral waited until she was able to fully open her eyes. He raised his hand, as she flinched, as though ready to receive another brutal attack. "No tengas miedo..." He whispered so that the guard could not overear his words. With his thumb, he wiped away the blood that stained her perfect face.

"Move along, now Admiral. It's time for the march of shame." The Spaniard uttered, as he led the group out. Jack looked around at his surroundings, seeing too many guards in uniforms than he could comprehend. Catching his eye was the little girl, Beatriz. She looked almost tormented, with no nun around to help her with the havoc the guard had unleashed upon the convent. He felt guilty about raising that gun to her head, for instilling a fear that she did not need to experience at her tender age. He couldn't help but think this was all his fault. As the regret continued to stab at him constantly, he began to stumble as the guard restraining him began to deliberately trip him in humiliation.

The havoc of the guards invading the convent had caused quite a stir, and townspeople flooded the streets, eagerly watching the troop of guards marched back to the fort, accompanying two prisoners. The crowd began to murmur, outraged at those who had not respected the code of law. Children ran alongside Jack and Angelica, forcefully throwing rotten fruit at them. Angelica kept her head hidden beneath her hair, afraid of showing her face. Jack watched as the blur of colours passed by him, struggling to stay on his own two feet as he was pushed down the hill.

The Spaniard marched proudly along in front of the garrison, the roar of the crowd only fuelling his rush of adrenaline. This was it. This was his moment.

And then, everything went blurry for quite some time.

~End of Chapter Ten~

Enough for now, I have some exciting scenes coming up soon, hope you will stay tuned for them.

If you're reading this, you've read my ten chapters. YAY! Thankyou for reading! This story is going to be a lot longer than anticipated. Review for more regular updates! :)

Adieu.