Into the Fire (Antonio & Francis) [SM/DT]

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Water…. Sunlight… Fresh food… The breeze against his back… That was all Ludwig wanted right now as he stared into the dim lighting of the cell he was held in below deck. Shifting, he caused his bonds to clack and jingle together as he tried to move and get some semblance of comfort in this disgusting hell-hole. “Gott…” He mumbled near silently to himself as he let out an exasperated sigh.

Pressing his back against the hull of the ship, he scratched at his head with a frown and picked at a few of the loosened blond locks. His hair had gotten a bit longer during his stay—not long enough to tie back into a decent ponytail, but long enough so that most of it hung in his eyes and tickled the tips of his ears. If anything, it was annoying and there was little he could do about it. Pulling at his chains, he tried to adjust so that he could cross his arms over to rest on his knees.

“Persistent bastards,” he thought to himself with a scowl. He had told them already he would not speak regardless of what they did to him. After all, he had sworn an oath—on pain of death—that he would bite his tongue and never breathe a word of the Navy’s operations to anyone—especially not some ship full of foul and lawless sea-refuse. The only thing that concerned him was Lili. While it was true that he would rather die than give these pirates anything they wanted—and he was quite prepared to go through such lengths—he knew that it would kill Lili to know what had become of him. Ludwig had made her a promise, after all, that he would be all right. Apparently, he had failed in that task, but it would do little to injure her further. He silently prayed she would never find out of his fate of a prisoner aboard this Spanish pirate ship. “Verdammt, she’ll know something,” he growled, his cold blue gaze settling on an indiscernible point in the distance. “Once the letters cease…she’ll start worrying. And it’s not like I can send anything out to her in this condition—it’s too risky not to mention impossible. She needn’t be involved in this at all.”

The master gunner shut his eyes and pressed his head back against the damp boards of his cell as he clenched his jaw. His thoughts, for once, were scattered few and far between…Breathing softly, the tired to think of something—anything—that could assist in this situation. Had he his weapons, this wouldn't be as nearly as frustrating as it was, but unfortunately all of that had been confiscated along with most of his other effects (undoubtedly the crew had cast lots for who got what fancy trinket or shiny pistol). Ludwig was left with little more than the clothes on his back and some stale bread that a few stow-away rats had taken to nibbling on since he had not the hunger or desire to take it for himself. Now, however, his stomach churned in on itself and made its wants and needs known. Had this been any other situation, he could have walked himself to the galley or the nearest tavern and ordered a meal, unfortunately, all he could do right now was wait until the Captain deemed it proper to grace his naval hostage with his presence. Not that anything normally good was associated with such a visit—if one excluded the small portion of daily scraps that was leftover from a previous lunch or dinner.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Ludwig continued to formulate a plan of action, and ran through as many possibilities as he could in his mind as he waited for his first bit of human company for the day.

[Antonio Fernandez Carriedo]

Despite cutting an impressive figure with his wealth-boasting green coat, polished boots and gold adornments, at times like presently those ignorant of Antonio's seemingly double-edged personality would surely not recognize him as the captain of el Incendio Español, a notorious pirate ship. Sure, if he so chose he could let fire seep into his eyes and walk with an authoritative presence befitting his position, but that morning the Spaniard couldn't keep the bounce from his step, nor the whistling of sea-shanties from his lips.

'I wonder if he's gonna break today,' he thought with an anticipatory grin, eyes glinting. Even though breaking his current prisoner for information he'd been so far hell-bent on keeping to himself would most likely spell the end of the captain's fun with this particular plaything, Antonio had to admit that having chained and helpless naval scum in his possession and at his mercy below deck definitely had ego-inflating perks.

It was due to that accomplished possessiveness and feeling of superiority that the Spaniard waltzed into the hull's holding area upon reaching it, meager leftovers on a small wooden platter in hand, the previous bounce to his step never having left. He masked the previous glint in his eye with a distracting and most likely off-putting smile that didn't match the circumstance, stepped into the only presently occupied cell and took in the unkempt state of said captive, chained up in front of him.

"Buenos días," he greeted, drawling out his greeting in what must have sounded eerily pleasant while he proceeded to sit cross legged in front of him. "You must be hungry, no? Here," he slid the sorry excuse for a platter in between them. "I know es no mucho, but I've told you before amigo," he said, briefly taking on a slightly exasperated air of 'I-told-you-so'. "Sayers of the right things get rewarded~"

[Francis Bonnefoy]

It was that time of day again, when the sun was at its zenith and the breeze blew warm relaxing air that he would usually find his captain the most relaxed. Most days. Sometimes, due to circumstances of the crew or of the weather itself, Antonio's mood turned sour.

It was during these times of potentially threatening meetings that Francis seemed to be the only one willing to go near the happy-go-lucky captain; and really, he was more than fine with it. The crew men could not decide if he was truly brave for dealing with Antonio in these times; or if all the years at sea had given him a strong case of insanity. Most decided it was between the two, varying on the time of day. For how else but insanity would one poses such an easy turned facade of loving to black hearted scoundrel.

The truth was, Francis knew Tonio, knew his persona; how rage could turn to guilt later over his actions. Through there had been times when he had to thank all of the God's he knew, that Antonio actually listened to him, he couldn't count on it forever. For rage and hatred and loathing were blind to consequences in the moment where burning passion seared the retinas and the only sight that could be seen were the immediate goals and loses were discounted as insignificant. 

Making his way down the stairs to the brig, his boots sounded his steps, a slow, meticulous thunk that reverberated off the walls. As black pants led to his royal blue jacket laced with vermilion, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the other two occupants.

"That time of day again mon cher? You do know with this stubborn fool the threat of bad food won’t work. It hasn’t worked yet. I think it’s time for a change of tatics. Like for example….”

Walking closer to the man in chains, he runs a hand through the hair that is quickly becoming shaggy and knotted. From this, a gentle finger traces down his cheek and jaw, across the stubble. Was a gentle touch, done purposely for easy withdrawal, and to make the little hairs there scratch the face of the blond man.

“I bet this bothers you, hmmmm? How bout something easy? Tell us your full name and I’ll cut your hair to how you like it. Tell me the name of the ship you crew and I’ll get rid of these pesky stubbles for you. A little tit for tat after all.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig didn’t move a muscle as the door opened and footsteps moved to his cell. Nor did he open his eyes as he heard the cell door – rusty from its age and unavoidable weathering from the salty sea air—swing open. He did, however, furrow his brows some as the Captain sat in front of him and greeted him so cheerfully. He tone had rarely been intimidating or harsh—it was only on the occasion that Ludwig severely grated at the man’s nerves that it took a darker quality. However, it was rather disturbing that Carriedo would appear so chipper as he dealt with his prisoners.

“Sayers of the right things get rewarded~"

A blue eye finally cracked open as Ludwig lifted his head and looked the captain square in the eye. Yes, of course he had been promised rewards if he spoke. He had been promised better food—more food— and better conditions than this cell he was stuck in at the moment, but still he hadn’t caved. Honestly, he wondered what made the Spaniard think he would.

“Und traitors get hung,” he spat, eyes narrowing slightly as his face fell back into a countenance that practically screamed irritation and stubbornness. However, despite his outward appearance, he couldn’t keep his stomach from letting loose a small grumble once he had smelled and caught a glimpse of his meager portions. Thankfully, the captain’s first mate distracted him and drew his attention away from the food. Looking toward the other, he watched as the Frenchman made his way to join Antonio, but rather than stopping by the captain’s side, the other moved closer to Ludwig instead.

Instantly, the master gunner’s lips curled up into a snarl as he tried to pull his head away from the other’s soft touch. Ludwig had never cared for such displays in public, and as a captive, he certainly didn’t welcome strangers putting their hands on him.

“I bet this bothers you, hmmmm? How bout something easy? Tell us your full name and I’ll cut your hair to how you like it. Tell me the name of the ship you crew and I’ll get rid of these pesky stubbles for you. A little tit for tat after all.”

Oh yes, it would be incredibly easy to tell them such information. Tell them his name and that he was the master gunner of his brother’s ship. But Ludwig Beilschmidt didn’t normally operate on the terms of pirates and he certainly wasn’t one to go for the ‘easiest way out’.

“I'd razher let it grow to zhe floor zhan tell you anyzhing,” he growled through clenched teeth, eyes filled with distaste and venom for each of the men.

[Antonio Fernandez Carriedo]

Though he hadn't voiced it aloud, Antonio didn't think anything short of violence would work on their current captive. Creating discrepancies between words, tone, facial expressions and intent hadn't produced any results yet besides mild discomfort in their prisoner, and... quite frankly, that just wouldn't do. The blond was withholding information, and he intended to hear it whether the blond offered it up willingly or needed some none-too-gentle persuading first to loosen his tongue.

"Sorry, but you really don't have much of a say on the matter, I'm afraid," he informed the unkempt man chained up in front of them before producing a knife from his coat and watching his own fingers run along the blunt side of the blade nonchalantly. "I'm feeling generous, and think you could use a shave too. That scruff can't be too comfortable, after all." 

He raised his gaze to trace along the blond's jawline, contemplatively, then smiled and turned to Francis. "Maybe we'll start with that, Francis: A nice, close shave for the shaggy man. Then, I think... if he hasn't appreciated our kindness enough by then to reciprocate by telling us what we want to know..." he paused, grinning in a manner he hoped would come off as malicious as he redirected his expression back towards their prisoner, "Maybe being graced with a homemade tattoo will change his mind~."

Years of acting sadistic to fit in and gain rank would've made it impossible to tell for all except those privy to his honest thoughts that deep down, Antonio didn't really want to make good on his threats despite how keen he seemed to an untrained eye to carry them out. He didn't want to soil his knife with this stubborn fool's blood, nor did he really care to carve a crude version of his ship's insignia into his flesh. He was merely a man used to going to great lengths (or great bluffs) for what he wanted: information and security for himself, his crew, and his riches. 

[Francis Bonnefoy]

"Maybe we'll start with that, Francis: A nice, close shave for the shaggy man. Then, I think... if he hasn't appreciated our kindness enough by then to reciprocate by telling us what we want to know...,Maybe being graced with a homemade tattoo will change his mind~."

Just watching how Ludwig reacted to those words, he moved to lean against the wall, pulling out one of his own knives to clean under his fingernails. He hated being dirty, and even if he couldn’t get as clean as he wanted to, he could at least do his best; and keeping his fingernails clean was one thing that would separate himself from some of the other pirates that were out there. In his mind, the ones that took a bit more time with their looks and keeping a bit cleaner where the smart one. After all, looking like you belonged with people would be guaranteed that you could slip into more places to find out shipping information than just a common beggar.

“I’d take me up on my offer rather than my captain here, there’s a reason why I cut the hair of the people on the ship…And I bet your crown would just love you to have a new tattoo that rang with pirate stench wouldn’t it. A nice P perhaps? That’s a common symbol for a capture pirate. Or even our ship crest. That would mark you as our property. Would your crown really trust you again after we marked you? How could they believe we didn’t do it as a marker of your changing loyalty?”

Oh he knew exactly what he was saying, and he actually doubted the crown would see it as more than a warning, but it would put a thread of doubt, no matter how small, into his brain and it could only grow with the more things he found off about the crown and navy that didn’t fit his narrow point of view. He also knew his captain better than most, he knew he didn’t want to carry out those threats, but he would. He would and it would hurt him. So, Francis would manipulate others, stain his own hands red with blood and his own soul to protect him. Sheathing his dagger, he came and squatted down in front of Ludwig, balancing easily. A grin on his face, he smiled easily before looking back at his captain and held a hand out to Ludwig, showing a clean hand.

“Just your name and your ship. That’s all we want, and you can finally relax, feeling better with a nice shave and a haircut, and oui, food to keep up your strength. Wouldn’t it be a lot better to call you by name…though I would more than willing to keep calling you prisoner, dirt, scum.. any degrading name I can think of.”

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig’s lip twitched in irritation as the Spaniard continued. “I don’t have much of a choice? Seems like I’m perfectly capable of controlling and biting my own tongue if I don’t want to tell you a damn thing,” the thought crossed his mind, but the most he offered the pirates at this moment was a dark scowl. As the captain toyed with the knife, Ludwig’s gaze followed the pristine blade before his eyes snapped back to the Spaniard’s face—the other seemed to be inspecting him again.

“I assure you, it’s a thousand times more comfortable zhan having the blade of a pirate anywhere near my zhroat,” he quickly added, “regardless of their true intentions.”

"Maybe being graced with a homemade tattoo will change his mind~”

At this, Ludwig bared his teeth and was about to retort until the fairer haired man spoke up. Again, his eyes followed the speaker as he squatted in front of him. It was indeed a thought to entertain… What if they did take the knife to his flesh? He’d been cut before, sure, but these bastards were probably the kind to carve in places that would do far more than simply scar. At the very least, Ludwig wouldn’t put it past them… when it came to pirates, he always had a tendency to imagine the worst. Always. Thus far, it had yet to fail him to think in such a manner, and at the very least, should their actions not be as severe as he had initially imagined, well, that often was quite a relief for the Master Gunner. Regardless, the thought was not pleasant, and Ludwig still had no intentions of loosening his tongue and betraying his captain, the crew, or the crown.

“If I had changed loyalty und you marked me so visibly, vouldn’t it be viser to keep me on the ship rather than parade me for the slaughter? You know as vell as I zhat is precisely vhat vould happen.” He spoke evenly, unphased by the threat for now. Truly, it would be a rather difficult situation should he be marked, but it was one he'd have to contemplate later...despite that, he would never ally himself with the likes of these men. “Even if they did hang me, at least I’d die vizhout zhe guilt of knowing I had willingly betrayed zhem.”

His eyes did not leave the other blond's, though he did catch sight of an empty hand being extended to him. Again, at the mention of food, his stomach churned, begging the naval officer to reconsider the proposition he had been offered for its own selfish benefit. Indubitably, survival was still on his mind and he had surely pissed the others off at least a bit, so he had to remind himself he was walking on eggshells since he was the one shoved into a vulnerable position and outnumbered. Still, the steely , dark look never left his features as he spoke with the pair. He was stubborn, there was no doubt about that.

“Call me vhatever you’d like, but as I stated before, you’re not getting my name or my ship.”

If anything, Ludwig surmised that he could ignore or block out the verbal abuse a lot easier than he could something more physical. His skin was relatively thick and it probably wouldn’t be anything he’d never been called before. After all, those men in the cells did love to hurl insults at him whenever he walked past…but this was a much different situation and he was the one in the cell this time.

“I do have one inquiry, if you vould entertain me: vhat good am I to you ozher zhan a bargaining chip or a spring of information…or have you zhought of me as capable of anyzhing beyond zhat?” he was genuinely curious about their thought processes, but at the same time, he could perhaps weave his own minute web of doubt and consideration into the pirates’ minds. “If you keep me alive und vell, zhere is alvays zhe possibility zhat I may tell you vhat you vant vizh enough persuasion, however…dead men tell no tales as zhe saying goes.”

If they were to torture him to the point of death or if the thought of cutting him down simply because he refused to comply ever crossed their minds—then they would essentially be wasting a potentially valuable asset. However, it wasn’t as if Ludwig ever intended to tell them in the first place. He had made that point again and again and he was unsure if he could be any clearer, but then again, if the previous insinuation could make them consider that he’d be willing to squawk, then he’d perhaps save his own skin just a little bit. Regardless, they had taken him for a purpose, had they not? Going through the trouble of capturing a loyal naval office and holding him captive only to later kill him in frustration made about as much sense as buying a rooster, caring for it, and then killing it because it wouldn’t stop crowing with the morning sun. 

[Antonio Fernandez Carriedo]

"You're right. I have no use for dead men. Not when they still have tales to tell," Antonio agreed, not overly concerned that their prisoner was unwilling to cooperate and offer up the information they sought without further persuasion. They had managed to capture quite a loyal one, but that simply meant that the process of trying out different manners of persuasion on him and seeing which one would cause his resolve to waver and finally break would be dragged out a bit. Being chained up below deck in isolation and given scraps for nourishment hadn't dented his commitment to biting his tongue, and threats about crudely carving a memento of their time together into his flesh hadn't worked either.

It was probably time to switch gears and start contemplating more... active methods of loosening the blond's tongue. Despite having started out relatively tame in his approach to this, the Spaniard did have a reputation to uphold. He wasn't above resorting to force when it became necessary to obtain what he'd set his sights on (in this case, their prisoner's role in the Navy to gauge his value and his knowledge of the Navy's current operations). 

Getting the sense by now that he'd given the blond enough time to enjoy the implications of his agreement (i.e. that they intended to keep him alive long enough to see just how deep his loyalty ran), Antonio let his previous air of nonchalance drop and looked up from polishing his dagger with a narrowed gaze directed at their captive. "...That doesn't mean, however, that I won't spill blood and inflict pain if that's the only way to spill forth some secrets as well," he added threateningly, not about to be underestimated for having been patient with him up 'til now, before his countenance shifted again to better incorporate a knowing smirk. "...And judging from your reluctance to spill even in the presence of formidable pirates like myself and Francis here, you probably have some very valuable Navy secrets stashed away in that stubborn head of yours. Now, how to best coax them out..." 

Getting an idea, he sheathed his dagger and walked forward to squat down in front of their prisoner. "How about I start by snapping your fingers, one by one, until you wanna loosen up that tongue of yours, hm?~ And if that doesn't work... well, you can be sure I'll think of another way of persuading you that's worse than this." He reached for one of the blond's thumbs. "Now... what's your name n' rank, amigo? Y your real one, por favor—if I feel like you're lying to us at all, "snap"'ll go your finger anyway~."

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

"You're right. I have no use for dead men. Not when they still have tales to tell.”

Good, he agreed that having the master gunner dead was worthless. Still, Ludwig knew quite well that this man wasn’t about to give up so easily…his reputation did, after all, proceed him and Ludwig would have been a fool not to have remembered WHY Antonio had been tossed into the prison (before his men sprang him free, that is). The pirate captain wasn’t someone to be taken lightly, despite that smile plastered on his lips.

Steadying his breathing, Ludwig’s cold blue eyes shifted from Antonio, to Francis, and then back to Antonio where they remained as the pirate began to polish his dagger. "...That doesn't mean, however, that I won't spill blood and inflict pain if that's the only way to spill forth some secrets as well,” he continued.

The naval officer’s eyes narrowed a bit at the other’s threat and the more devious smirk that overtook his features. The only thing that surprised him, perhaps, was that it had taken the man this long to resort to more violent methods. Most pirates were more swift to torture when it came to the loosening of tongues, so at the very least, Ludwig had to give the man credit for his patience. “Perhaps he does have some sort of humanity left in him—as corrupted as it may have become. Still that doesn’t excuse his choice or his life,” the blond mused to himself, watching as the other squatted in front of him.

Ludwig inhaled sharply, sat as straight as he possibly could, and clenched his jaw as the other came closer and grabbed his thumb. Instinctively, he jerked, trying to stubbornly pull it away from the other’s touch, but his restraints would only allow for so much movement. How Ludwig wished that the man was close enough to head-butt or the like, unfortunately, Antonio wasn’t that stupid.

"Now... what's your name n' rank, amigo? Y your real one, por favor—if I feel like you're lying to us at all, "snap"'ll go your finger anyway~.”

His lips refusing to part, the blonde’s gaze remained unwavering and locked with Antonio’s.

---

OoC: In the spirit of authenticity and and why the heck not, feel free to break some fingers, give him a few scars, and torture him as you think Antonio Fernandez Carriedo  would. Just don't kill him or mangle him up to the point he can't do his job ever again/is permanently disabled, please, but otherwise...go for it. =w=b



Francis Bonnefoy

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis watched, half amused and half angry as his captain threatened and threatened the navy man... and really, he could tell that they weren’t going to get anything. There was only one mistake that the man had made so far, and that was to start talking. Once someone started talking about something, it was usually easy to keep them talking and eventually lead them to the track he wanted. Though, he thought more and more about how the only reason this man was still alive wasn’t because he had tales to tell, but more because kidnapping and torture of a navy man both held higher sentences for pirates, the death of a navy man had a price far worse than either of them wanted to pay. Normal price was death… the enhanced price could be so much worse. He knew of what some of the other countries did to traitors, how they could enhance the pain instead of just a nice quick hanging… and Francis knew that he would rather face a short drop with a sudden stop than anything more creative the powers that ruled the navy might come up with.

"Now... what's your name n' rank, amigo? Y your real one, por favor—if I feel like you're lying to us at all, "snap"'ll go your finger anyway~.”

Moving beside the man, he moved to stroke the man’s face, turning it to face him, giving him an amused grin. He enjoyed making the prisoners uncomfortable in their own skin, in multiple different ways. And this prisoner seemed uncomfortable with touching. He stayed far away from those lips though, and keeping his own head far away.

“That would be so uncomfortable though, it be so hard for me to play with him with broken fingers… though, it would make it harder for him to attempt to strangle us in the long run….”

Running that hand down Ludwig’s cheek and to gently grip his chin, he hummed as he followed the line of his throat with one of his fingers, just observing before bones started snapping.

“Your throat will move in wondrous ways with the screams that we pull from you… I wonder if you’ll scream yourself raw to where even breathing hurts… Hummm. I would attempt to open your lips for you with my fingers, but I don’t trust you not to bite me. You are a dog after all, a dog of the navy that looks down on people, that doesn’t give everyone a fair shot that they deserve…. So privileged in your upbringing that you can afford to not see the injustice that takes place under your very nose…”

He moved to trace down one of Ludwig’s arm, admiring the muscles as he watched Antonio. He would never make one threat, that threat had no place on his ship and he wanted everyone to know, navy included, that even pirates had some standards, their own code that they followed, no matter how skewed it was.

“Can you even do your navy job with mangled fingers? Or will they be forced to give you an early retirement because of this… all the crew to know that you fell to pirates, that you are a washed up fool.”

Withdrawing to stand more to the side of the prisoner, but out of his line of sight, he moved to give Toni something to focus on in case the sound of breaking bones and yells got to much for him. He never offered, he just did.

“Start breaking fingers Antonio, this man’s as likely to talk as the mast on the ship or my hairpin.”

---

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo Ludwig Beilschmidt

[Antonio Fernandez Carriedo]

Antonio sighed with a look of pity on his face; however, whether that pity held any genuineness or was fully false would be a challenge for just anybody to discern... which was just the way he liked it. "What a shame you chose not to speak, pero... oh well. Guess we'll just have to see if your lips loosen any when you're in pain~."

That said, the captain grabbed their captive's hand to steady it, then used the hand still gripping the man's thumb to quickly & forcefully bend the digit backwards, until the bone made a telltale snapping sound. Methodically, he let go & moved to grip the next finger in line, all while keeping a steady grip on the man's hand so he couldn't try to pull it away/cradle it. "You probably wouldn't be able to use these fingers again if I kept re-breaking them & kept them from healing properly, would you..." he mused, before quickly snapping his index finger without warning. "You'd be of little use to anybody with mangled fingers, unable to hold a weapon to defend yourself, or others..."

Trailing off, he dropped the pretense of sympathy in his tone and shrugged. "Not that that concerns me at all. You made your choice, so whatever your fate will be for not talking, es on you amigo." With that, Antonio moved onto the middle finger, broke the bone by snapping it back at a painful angle, and held it there so the pain could radiate this time. He knew he wouldn't need to glance at Francis for support for some time, as they'd just started inflicting pain and his psyche could handle quite a bit before needing a reprieve... but he appreciated his unspoken positioning nonetheless too. 

---

Word Count: 292
Francis Bonnefoy
Ludwig Beilschmidt

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

“That would be so uncomfortable though, it be so hard for me to play with him with broken fingers… though, it would make it harder for him to attempt to strangle us in the long run….”

Ludwig’s head had been turned to face the other blond’s, but rather than engaging in a verbal exchange, Ludwig kept his lips sealed shut. He offered the other a cold, dark look, and as his chin was gripped, he tried to turn his head away. He was less than enthusiastic about this man touching him—practically caressing him—and it made him feel filthy and in need of a good, scalding shower to burn away the touch. As the other spoke, the only thing that Ludwig could think was how much of a damned pervert he really must be. The Gunner honestly didn’t want to think about that or what may happen if he was left alone with this man…restrained. It made his stomach churn.

“You are a dog after all.”

He was a loyal dog at least. Ludwig would admit to that. To him, the pirates were the curs and the ones that broke the law for their own gain. The navy was just there to ensure the rules were upheld and to protect the innocent from the accursed brutes of the sea. As the man went on, Ludwig kept his breathing even as the blond retreated and Antonio stepped forward. It seemed they were truly serious about this… not that Ludwig was surprised.

However, he didn’t simply allow his hand to be taken and held. No, there was a bit of a push and pull as he tried to pull his hand away despite the bonds that held him. The Pirate captain, however, managed to grab, pry open, and hold it before quickly snapping his finger back as he spoke.

Ludwig’s head tilted back as he closed his eyes tightly and bellowed in pain. Catching himself, he clenched his jaw and teeth together, muffling the groans and growls of agony as he watched the other’s face. He could feel his own becoming flushed and damp with droplets of cold sweat. The pain from the second break lingered in his forearm, and as he clenched his other fist and tried in vain to push at the floor beneath him with his feet in order to gain a bit of distance. It felt like daggers and splinters of fire had been shoved into his arm along with the fracture and he wasn’t entirely sure how much of this sort of thing he could take, but he was adamant and stubborn not to give in so easily. It did make him wonder, however, that if he managed to survive this, would he be able to continue his occupation with the navy? It would be a disappointment if he was forced to give up his position but..broken and alive was better than dead and gone. At least in most cases...

Breathing shallowly and biting back cries of pain, he opened his eyes—damp with unwelcome tears—and parted his lips as he looked to the pirates. The Naval Officer looked as if he was on the verge of speaking, but only three words were growled out:

“Rot in hell...”

---

Francis Bonnefoy Antonio Fernandez Carriedo .......feel free to continue breaking as many fingers or otherwise do as you please so long as you don't kill him. Because let's face it, nothing in life is going to go the way Lud would like, and I love giving him a bit of difficulties.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

"What a shame you chose not to speak, pero... oh well. Guess we'll just have to see if your lips loosen any when you're in pain~.”

With their prisoner’s refusal, he could only watch as Antonio moved forward to carry out his threats. He kept his eyes on Antonio, his face expressionless, but internally? He was cringing. He hated the sound of bones breaking, it was enough to send shivers up his spine and that was the noise to haunt his thoughts. One would think it would be the screams or the blood. No, those didn’t bother him, but the breaking of bones did. He knew this had to be done, but he didn’t approve of the whole thing. Francis had spent quite a while arguing with his captain about this since it was navy, and this was one way that he didn’t want to be used to increase the price on their heads. He was helping Antonio because it was his job to help the captain; he would stain his soul for the captain, but this just proved how far he was willing to go.

“Rot in hell...”

With those words, Francis just sighed as he moved to take a handful of Ludwig’s hair and wrench his head backwards. Looking into those eyes, he kept his expression hard and as judgmental as he could.

“We’ve already been there and we’ve fought tooth and nail out of those situations. Piracy was the only life left that would take us. You know nothing of hell.”

He let go of the man’s hair and backed away again. This might be considered hell for the navy man, but it was nothing compared to the two pirates in the room with him. He hated this whole situation. They were both going to be extremely wanted after this…

---

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo Ludwig Beilschmidt

[Antonio Fernandez Carriedo]

Antonio paused his infliction of pain to watch Francis wrench their captive’s head back & set him straight. He hadn’t learned what hell his first mate had been through before joining on, but the statement rang true for him, with the upbringing he’d had. Finding amusement in the exchange because of their seemingly presumptuous naval prisoner, he laughed. “Besides, why settle for rotting in hell when you’re tainted and ambitious enough to climb the ladder & possibly get the run of the place? I’d say we’d probably do quite well there, isn’t that right amigo?”

He looked up at Francis with smug confidence then, but in truth, the captain was fairly sure there would be no rewards to be had for him when his time came, & he was nowhere near as full of himself to think he could rule hell. Sometimes intimidation called for such bravado though, especially when one had an image to uphold.

Antonio was also aware that despite wanting to project the impression that this torture was being done at a leisurely, nonchalant pace, they still couldn’t drag it out too long. If of important rank, their naval prisoner could attract more attention to them the longer he was in their possession & thus be more trouble to hold on to than he was worth. He could also be a scarcely missed common rank member of the Navy, but with his tongue not loosening to give them an indication of which was the case... the Spaniard knew they had to err on the side of caution and not keep him aboard too long. 

With that awareness of the realistic time frame they had to extract anything useful from the man, Antonio got back to breaking the remaining fingers on that hand. He would only escalate his methods if his current one proved unsuccessful once all was said and done, or if taunted to do worse. Francis had stressed the consequences again and again for them if they killed or seriously injured their naval captive in an attempt to extract intel that may or may not come forth or be helpful. The resulting increase to the bounty on their heads wouldn’t be worth it, he’d said.

The price on their heads had long gone beyond the point of being worrisome, in his opinion, but he’d grudgingly agreed to try reining in his methods in light of Francis’s reasoning. He trusted the blond more than he thought he’d ever come to trust anybody, especially when it came to his ability to think clearly and be levelheaded. His warnings about consequences had been getting a little annoying though... which might have served as more incentive for the Spaniard to soften his tactics this time.

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Francis Bonnefoy , Ludwig Beilschmidt

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig’s thoughts were entirely focused on trying to overcome and ignore the pain shooting through him. His jaw clenched and the fingers of his other hand tightened into a fist as he tried to steady his breathing. As his hair was grabbed and his head pulled up, he hissed with a growl and glared at the Frenchman. He couldn’t find the words to retort, but he managed to accrue enough energy to spit into the man’s face before he was released. He didn’t give a damn what hell they’d been through--just like they didn’t give a damn about his own issues. And why should he? They were on opposing ends of the spectrum. They were vile pirates and he was a man of the law; they had nothing in common save for the seas they sailed on.

If the gunner could, he would roll his eyes at the captain’s bravado, but instead he let his head hang down, breathing raggedly until his fingers were taken again. Once more he tried to fight back, but the movement only hurt previously broken digits. Hissing, he cried out again, clenching his jaw as a few tears streamed down his cheeks, staining his pale skin. His words came as a growl between labored breaths.

“When they find out...everything...you’d only wish for the gallows…” he managed, glowering as best he could through the bangs that had been pulled loose and stuck to his forehead. Darkness pulled at the corners of his vision as his mind began to swim. He felt faint, but fought to keep his eyes open… just for a little longer. At least until they left.

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Antonio Fernandez Carriedo Francis Bonnefoy