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Mark slowly walked the upper deck with Tyler, his Quartermaster. He always started a day by observing the productivity of his crew and discussing the day’s plan with Tyler. As they walked he saw the efforts of his crew to keep their ship in tip-top shape. Seán, the First Mate, directed the activities, making sure everything was operating smoothly. They passed Wade and Bob, who stopped their casual conversation as Wade tried to look like he was being productive and doing his job as the master gunner. Bob who, as the head surgeon, currently had no work simply laughed at Wade trying to “look natural.” Ethan, his cabin boy, giggled as he rushed past, hurrying to offer assistance to anyone who needed it.
Mark would never admit it out loud but he loved his crew like family. They had been with each other for years and he knew they all felt the same even though it was unspoken. He loved the morning walks because it gave him a chance to be around them, to view their lives for just a moment. Despite the upbeat mood, the morning was foggy and bleak, and it didn’t look like the weather was going to clear anytime soon.
The weather limited what they could possibly do that day, as sailing with limited visibility would be dangerous. So, they didn’t have much to do other than plotting new courses for when the weather cooperated. Mark and Tyler had long since retreated to their shared cabin, trusting that Seán would run the ship while they took care of the boring work. The afternoon seemed to stretch far too long in the small cabin, so when sudden noise came from outside the two men were grateful for a break. Even if it was to stop a petty fight.
Tyler stepped out of the cabin first, the taller man blocking Mark’s view. He had to shove past Tyler when he stopped dead, only to stop dead himself as he saw the chaos on the deck. It seemed a ship had pulled in front of them and boarded, immediately challenging his crew, his family, to combat. The deck was in ruins, the cargo was scattered, people were everywhere, thankfully nobody was dead but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be soon. Mark pulled his sword, jumping into combat, easily blocking a blow sent towards Bob so he could deal with the other man going after him. Tyler followed behind him, his sword also drawn, he watched Mark’s back. As the crew realized their Captain was on deck things slowly became more organized, and they almost seemed to be getting the upper hand. Tyler had been separated in the fray, but Mark trusted in Tyler’s abilities and he wasn’t too worried. As he delivered a non-lethal blow to the enemy in front of him, arms from behind wrapped around his torso, holding him. A knife grazed his neck, a clear threat.
“Hello, Mark. Long time no see.” Mark stiffened as he heard the smooth, deep voice from behind him. Dark. Time seemed to stop as he was almost cradled by the man behind him, the only indication of violence was the arm holding him in place and the knife at his throat. “It has been a while, but I haven’t forgotten our last meeting.” Dark chuckled softly.
His attention shifted as the laugh died out.”Crew!” He yelled, addressing Mark’s family, “Drop your weapons or your Captain here dies.” Everyone froze, a wave of fear settling over the ship. Tyler looked to Mark for confirmation, ready to carry out whatever order he issued. Mark nodded slightly, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to stop Dark this time. At his nod, Tyler dropped his sword, “stand down,” he commanded, looking as if they were going to the gallows. Seán snarled, ready to take down Dark himself if need be, but Tyler rushed to hold him back. Before Tyler could grab him though, a sword clashed with Seán’s, knocking it out of his hand. Before anyone could react he was in a similar hold to Mark, the knife pointed at his heart instead of his throat. “You heard him, stand down.” A voice gleefully hissed near Seán’s ear. Anti, Dark’s Quartermaster, and second-in-command.
-
Slowly, mournfully, weapons dropped and crewmates were captured. Tyler was grabbed by Dark’s First Mate, Google, who stood stoically guarding him. They had to watch as one by one the crew was tied up and sat down to wait for whatever Dark had planned. Dark took great pleasure in tying Mark’s binds slightly too tight, a grin on his face as he pulled them shut, causing Mark to wince. As everyone was contained, Dark mockingly patted Mark’s hair, “sit tight.” He stepped away, leaving Tyler, Seán, and Mark under the guard of Anti and Google.
“For those of you who do not know me, I am Dark, Captain of The Mayor. I am here for revenge. Your precious Captain, Mark, has stood in my way time and time again. He has prohibited my goals for too long, so I am here to put a stop to it. With a punishment, a warning of sorts.” He stalked towards Mark again, grabbing his chin to force Mark to look at him. His brown eyes showed no emotion, his facial expression blank to not show weakness.
When he spoke, however, his voice was filled with steely determination. “Whatever you’re going to do, Dark, do it to me, not them. I will bear the punishment, just don’t touch my crew. Please.” His voice broke slightly on the last word. Dark simply chuckled, and Mark’s face fell.
“You are so selfless, but Mark, that is your downfall.” He laughed again, “See, I knew you would say that. I knew you would gladly take my punishment if it meant saving somebody else from my wrath. You would never learn your lesson that way.” Dark’s grip on the other man’s chin turned bruising. “Somebody here will be getting my punishment, and you will have to watch. You get to sit right here as one of your beloved crewmates endures pain because of your actions. I know you well, Mark, and I know what will hurt you most.”
He released his grip and walked away, ignoring Mark’s pitiful pleading in favor of surveying the crew. To Mark’s left was the man named Seán, the First Mate. He was close enough to Mark that hurting him would cause pain to Mark, and he would be a fun one to punish. He was currently spitting what sounded like furious Irish curses at Dark, struggling in Anti’s grip. After observing him for a second, Dark began to walk away, before reconsidering. He stepped back, facing Seán again, and simply backhanded him, “do not speak to me that way,” he commanded before walking away once more.
Tyler was next in the line, Mark’s Quartermaster. Despite the submissive position he had been forced into, he still had his shoulders drawn back and his chin up, a look of pure anger rested on his face. Dark didn’t consider him for too long. He knew Tyler wouldn’t be very fun to punish from the times he had met the man in the past. The rest of the line moved similarly to this, he only truly paused at a few crewmates. Unfortunately, both they and Mark had dull reactions to almost being chosen.
At last, a young man caught his attention. He skipped the three people in front of the boy, something about the young man called to him. “What is your name, boy?” He questioned. The boy in front of him shook slightly even as he attempted to sit tall and defiant like the others.
“Ethan.” Came the clipped response. A fitting name for such a young man, something about it matched his appearance and demeanor all too well.
Dark tilted the boy’s head up, forcing Ethan to look him in the eye. “Nice to meet you, Ethan.” He smiled, baring his teeth.
The boy shivered, “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual,” he quipped, desperately trying to ignore his current situation.
Dark’s smile dropped, “I’m letting you off with a warning this time, don’t you ever speak to me like that again. Next time I won’t be so nice.” He savored Ethan’s fear, he could almost taste it. “What is your rank on this ship, Ethan?” He asked innocently.
The boy’s eyes flickered to his Captain and then back to Dark. He seemed to push his fear down as he said, “I don’t believe that is any of your business.” His tone was short and clipped as if he spoke too slowly emotion would leak into his voice.
Slowly his grin grew back onto his face. Dark drew his hand back, pausing for a moment as he watched Ethan flinch and heard Mark and Seán shout for him to stop in the background. Slowly, Ethan opened his eyes after not feeling the blow, only to see Dark lowering his hand. He grabbed the boy’s arm, hauling him to his feet and dragging him over to the mast, throwing him down so he was leaning against it. A perfect view for Mark to see everything he would do.
“I believe we have a volunteer.” The smile never left his face as Mark and Seán’s protests grew louder, Tyler, Wade, and Bob also joining in this time. Dark savored the panic and anger emanating from Mark and his crew. All of their messy, ugly emotions fueled him, he wanted more. He wanted to see them scream, cry, grow red in the face because of their anger at his actions. He wanted to see Mark realize the consequences of getting in his way.
With no warning, he lunged forward, seizing the front of Ethan’s shirt and ripping it apart. He didn’t need it getting in his way. He relished in the boy’s panicked shout, the way his breathing sped up until he was practically hyperventilating. Dark allowed the tatters of the shirt to fall to the floor as he tied Ethan to the mast face first, exposing his back as a perfect canvas for him to paint on.
-
Ethan was terrified. He had barely any idea what was going on, but somehow he had been roped into this mess, and it wouldn’t be a fun mess. He was fairly new to Marks ship, The Iplier, and he had never met this Dark, never even heard his name mentioned. Yet somehow he had become the target of his wrath. He had been tied to the mast face first, and he had no idea what was happening behind him. Oh God, he had no idea what was happening behind him.
Everyone had seemed to encounter Dark before, based on their reactions to his behavior. They knew him as well as he knew them, but Ethan knew nothing. The crew seemed to know of the punishment in store for him, and yet he, the person about to endure it, had no idea. As all the thoughts rushed through his head he was on the brink of a panic attack, the unknown terrified him.
Finally pulling himself back to the real world, he heard the shouts of his sort-of family behind him. Mark was begging for Dark to take him instead. Seán had gotten so angry that he had reverted back to his native language, Ethan couldn’t make out what he was yelling even with the small Irish lessons here and there. Tyler was trying to reassure Ethan, and God did he need that familiar voice giving him comfort. Bob and Wade were screaming for Dark to leave Ethan alone and get off their damn ship. The amount of noise was almost overwhelming, especially without being able to see anything other than the wood in front of him.
Apparently Dark thought the same, “Google, please shut them up.” He commanded, voice pinched and exasperated. Ethan twisted painfully to get a peek over his shoulder, watching as the man who must be Google produced five rags from somewhere and proceeded to methodically gag the noisy crew members. Slowly, the noise level died down as he watched his family be restrained painfully, the gags obviously tied too tight. Tyler accepted the loss and settled for his death glare, but Seán refused to admit defeat as he was still muttering Irish curses through his gag. Mark, noticing that Ethan had turned, locked eyes with him for just a moment. Long enough that Ethan could see all the pain and sorrow in Mark’s eyes, and for that moment he channeled all of his forgiveness into his so that Mark would know it’s not his fault.
The position Ethan had forced himself into was wearing on his neck and shoulders, so he was forced to turn back around and just wait for the inevitable. Time seemed to pass too slowly as he waited for whatever Dark was going to do to him, it crawled by, five minutes becoming thirty. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified when he heard a satisfied hum from Dark, he had been handed his weapon. He heard the muffled shouts start back up behind him as the crew saw the weapon that was to be used on him. Ethan couldn’t bring himself to turn and look again, too scared of what he would find. Unfortunately, the universe granted him that knowledge anyway. Behind him, he heard a swish and thwack of something hitting wood. The sound was unmistakably a whip.
“Ethan will be given forty lashes, no more no less,” Dark stated, his voice frighteningly calm. In fact, it almost had a hint of glee to it. “This is your punishment, Mark, remember that.” With that, everything went silent, all Ethan could hear was his frantic breathing and the rushing of blood in his ears. He braced himself, and the first lash fell. The whip, made of braided leather cord with pieces of glass woven in, struck his back hard. Ethan couldn’t help but cry out in pain, the strike worse than he expected. He leaned his head against the mast in front of him, trying to breathe through the pain. After the first strike, he knew what to expect and he vowed that he wouldn’t scream. His family was watching and he wouldn’t put them through that. He couldn’t put them through that. Mark was already blaming himself enough, and there was no way that Seán and Tyler didn’t feel guilty as well.
The second lash fell and he groaned as it pulled at the marks on his back uncomfortably. Biting his lip, the second, third, and fourth lashes fell with no noise from him. Obviously disappointed with the lack of noise from Ethan, Dark swung quickly, lashes four and five struck in quick succession. The pain caused Ethan to bite through his lip, but he still made no sound. Six caused Ethan to let out a pained gasp, his body shuddering as the pain crashed over him. Pleased with the small reaction from Ethan, Dark swung lashes seven, eight, and nine one after the other again. His lip already bloodied, Ethan had to bite his tongue this time in order to avoid making a noise. Ethan’s head was pounding, the pain muddling his thoughts to the point that he almost forgot why he was holding back from screaming at the tenth lash.
Eleven wrapped around his shoulder, ripping the skin on his upper arm and causing him to involuntarily release a scream. Immediately after the strike, the shouting behind him began once more, muffled by the gags but loud enough that he groaned, unable to handle the sensory input. What lash was he on? He had lost track once the yelling started. Maybe thirteen? He didn’t know anymore. More lashes swung at him, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying out anymore. He was so overwhelmed, he barely registered the tears rolling down his face or the slowly spreading puddle of blood beneath him. More lashes, he was collapsed against the mast at this point, unable to hold up his body weight. More lashes, his screams were becoming hoarse. He didn’t know how much longer he could go, the mast in front of him looked like it was under rippling water.
-
Seán had stopped shouting profanities through his gag long ago. Fighting Anti’s hold was just exhausting the energy he’d need later to kill Dark while the others helped Ethan. Instead, tears were streaming steadily down his face as he was forced to watch his little brother be flogged. They must be close to the end by now, Seán hadn’t thought to count the lashes until it was too late to start. He was resigned to watching and hoping it would be done soon.
Ethan was slumping dangerously, his screams growing quieter with each line carved into his back. Honestly, Seán wanted him to pass out, at least he’d have an escape from this hell then. Maybe if Ethan passed out Dark would give up early. Or maybe he’d just wake him harshly and continue. More lashes swung, by now Ethan’s screams had become hoarse cries. Another lash and Ethan let out a hiccuping sob, Seán felt something in his heart snap in two.
Finally. Finally, Dark dropped the whip on the deck beside him. “Forty lashes, no more no less.” He sauntered over to Mark, grabbing his hair to force him to look Dark in the eyes. “I hope you remember this, dear.” Something in his tone turned mocking on the last word, his grip in Mark’s hair becoming painful. Releasing Mark’s hair, he turned to Anti. “Leave them to Google for now, fetch me the medicine.” Anti’s grin turned feral as he stepped away, leaving Seán’s field of vision.
As they waited for Anti to return, Dark began addressing the crew. “Here is how this is going to go. I am going to treat your friend’s wounds,” Bob made a sound of protest, “and then I am going to release one of Tyler’s hands. I will be making my retreat with my crew while he unties all of you. If anyone comes after me I will kill not only them but also Ethan. This is your only warning.”
Seán heard footsteps behind him, Anti was returning. Mark, who had the best view of the approaching man immediately began shouting as Anti stepped forward. A bucket? Anti approached Ethan carrying a bucket full of sloshing liquid. He stopped behind Ethan, setting the bucket down to wait for Dark’s instructions. Seán almost puked once he saw the liquid inside. Saltwater, straight from the ocean surrounding them. And a very painful treatment for open wounds. Dark gave a single nod, “I promised you a turn, didn’t I?” Anti let out a feral laugh as he hefted the bucket up, and upended it over Ethan’s prone form. Ethan came back to awareness with a heartwrenching scream. At this point Seán had lost the need for revenge, he struggled in Google’s grip fiercely to reach the friend he had begun to view as a little brother.
Dark released Tyler’s hand, as promised, and began to retreat with his crew. Immediately, Tyler pulled his gag from his mouth and grabbed his knife to release Seán. “Help the others, when they’re free come help me with Ethan.” He commanded, leaving no room for protest. Seán moved to release the others as fast as he could, and as soon as he had gotten Mark, Bob, and Wade free he passed the job off to another crewmate.
They practically raced to reach Tyler and Ethan. Seán won, releasing the others had given him time to work the pins and needles out of his limbs. He practically crashed to his knees beside Tyler, who was cradling and rocking a sobbing Ethan. Seán began to slowly card his fingers through Ethan’s hair, soothingly mumbling old Irish lullabies. Not too long after, the others reached them, all attempting to help Ethan in any way possible. Wade laced their fingers together, the only part of Ethan he could easily reach through Tyler’s secure hold. Bob began inspecting his back, muttering treatment methods to himself. Mark grabbed Ethan’s other hand, sobbing almost incoherently. “God, Ethan I’m- I don’t even know what to say, this is all my fault. Ethan, I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” He hiccuped through his tears, still mumbling apologies.
Ethan’s eyes opened slightly, peering over at Mark. “Don’ need to ‘pologise. Not your fault M’rk.” His mouth formed a reassuring smile for just a moment before his eyes closed again, and he passed out.