A half eaten bun flew into the cell. The humid air. That cracked four walls. A pair of knee high leather boots sat. There was silence. The guard sat, slouching back on his chair, legs on the desk. He was way overfed. If I’d get out, I would out run him for sure. His eyes shut, most probably going for his nap again. Most of the cells were shared. Some ran their steel cups against the bars making a sound, breaking the silence. Some just made with their voice. Behind bars, majority buffed, muscular, notorious, one of the greatest most feared of the seven seas. The men had marks on their skins, tattooed. There were missing limbs and body parts in some; normality.
They roared. They shouted. Taunted. Banged. The guard fell, awaken from his slumber. He greeted her. Well dressed, educated, armed. She had her long auburn hair tied up in a pony tail and wore a hat. Her cloak draped to the uneven prison grounds. There was a silent conversation between them. Amongst the deafening sounds they prisoners were making, it looked like a quiet play. Their fist sounded against the cold metal cell. They slowly walked down the corridor, past every single cell, every single prisoner. And everyone of them stopped after they had passed. The sound grew faint and soon disappeared. The guard had her wait while he gets his keys. The keys rang, echoed.
“Are you sure about this, miss?”
She silently nodded.
“These held captive are one of the most feared of the seven seas!” He warned.
She nodded.
He walked back. Stopped at one of the cells.
“This is BlackPitch. Imprisoned for-” He scavenged through the bundles of keys.
She stared. Dissatisfied. The muscular man’s eyes pierced through the iron bar. He had a scar over his left eye making it slightly closed. His bald head, untamed moustache and tattooed filled arms; figures, he’s but an ordinary plain old pirate.
Feeling a bit irritated, she stopped him. “Did you not hear me? I want intelligence, not brawns.”
He nodded and moved on. Trying hard to cover up his mistake. Mumbling words of silent anger to himself. He stopped at another. Fiddled the keys, not bothered to give her a proper introduction on the prisoner. She cleared her throat. “Oh...yes..yes..” He stood straight and pointed.
She tried to see through the darkness. The prisoner was about five feet four. Worn out boots and tattooed filled limbs. There were stitches up the legs and around the arms. Dirty filled fingers, stained from the oil and rust.
“This is Baron Vendetta. Baron’s been on coun-” She stopped him again.
“Did I not make myself clear?! Especially on WHAT I wanted?!” She grabbed him by the collar. “Or do I have to do it the hard way?!?!”
Shaken, he nodded quickly and brushed himself. He ran to the last cell on the right. “Come. Come.”
“I’m sure you’ll want this.”
She crossed her arms. Stomping her feet a little on the uneven prison grounds. He fiddled; looking for the key. He smiled and showed her the key before inserting it into the lock. Click. Didn’t budge.
He tried another. Click. Nope. He began to shiver a bit trying to find the right key and the extremely large bundle of lookalike keys. He showed her again; she rolled her eyes. There was a silent grin from inside the cell.
Light from outside shined into the cell but the prisoner sat at the darkest corner. Only the boot showed. Black leather, well taken care of and polished as well. The pair of legs were crossed as if very relaxed and comfortable. A glimpse of the long ends of the clothes the prisoner wore showed, the ends were bordered with a golden bronze ribbon. The rest remained in the shadows.
She rolled her eyes again. Click. He slammed himself into the cell gate in desperation and ended up falling back on the gravel. She slapped her forehead.
“You were saying?!” She was losing her patience.
From all the snacks he’d gobble down during his duty, he won’t be getting up anytime soon.
There was a solemn laughter from inside.
She walked back to the cell. Strained her eyes to see. “Who are you?!” She asked.
An evil grin showed. “I.” The pair of boots disappeared. The sound of them hitting the floor, the prisoner was getting up. She patiently waited. “I.” The prisoner repeated, still walking in the darkness. She silently waited. “You. I know who you are.” A pair of eyes glistened. “Professor Louisa IV.” A sinister tone echoed in that cell. She stepped back a bit, wondering how it knew. “Scared?!” The prisoner asked. She stood her ground and ordered. “Show yourself!!” The prisoner remained in the shadows. “Before I do, may I enquire. Why.”
“For personal reasons.” Enough said. The prisoner stepped into the light. Wearing the tri-cornered hat, fairly short haired, the collar of the top stood bordered with the same golden bronze ribbon as the one at the ends of it and three golden buttons buttoned at the abdomen. The white shirt inside turned a yellow from all the debris and dust in the cells, tightly wrapped though ripped at some parts due to past battles. The shorts covered just what they were supposed to. Black leather reached up to the knees. The sleeve folded up half the arm. The prisoner bowed. “At your service, Professor Louisa IV.”
A slight smile craved on her face. “Unlock this cell and you can come with me.”
“Hah!!!!” The prisoner laughed. “If I wanted to escape this dump I would’ve done it a long time ago, Professor.” The prisoner pointed and her. “And I most certainly can.”
“Go ahead then.” She grinned a bit at her own challenge.
She watched the prisoner pull out something from behind the right ear, then the left and placed both in the keyhole. The lock clicked randomly as the prisoner twisted and turned.
The cell door creaked open. The prisoner stood proud at the opening. She stared but smiled at the prisoner. Examining the prisoner up and down once more. No tattoos; no scars.
Silently they walked out, leaving the guard on the floor.
In the mist of the corridors the prisoner spoke. “Aye!! One sec. Me sword and me guns.” The prisoner pointed. The Professor nodded and walked up to the counter, explained and nodded to the prisoner. Briskly the prisoner grabbed what it needed. On its way out something caught its eye. “Ooo...shiny...” Looking around. Nobody’s looking. It grabbed the pair of well polished pistols and the dagger. Probably owned by one of those in the cells. But then again, who cares!! Running a little, catching up with the Professor.
Out in town, they went through the port. “Do you have a ship?” The prisoner asked. The Professor stared as if it had just asked the stupidest question ever. But solemnly said,”No.”
“Aren’t you supposed to get ME a ship?!”
“Aren’t you supposed to OWN a ship?!”
The prisoner stood silence, not knowing what to say. There was a long silence between them through the buzzing of the mongers at the port.
“Say.” The Professor broke the silence. “What shall I address you by?”
The prisoner laughed. “I thank you Professor for freeing me. But I find no necessity to get acquainted now.”
“Oh, believe me. We ARE going to have to get acquainted.”
The prisoner shook its head. “Nope. Not a chance Professor.”
“As a matter a fact, we are, doing it now.” The Professor grinned.
The prisoner pointed to turn left. “And what you purpose to do there exactly, I mean at The Winkles Rusty Cavern.”
The Professor entered. “You’ll see.”
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