Scarlet With Drops Of Crimson

Sequence Three: Memory Six

December 2016

"You alright there, lad?" A concerned Benjamin Hornigold approached, expressing genuine concern for the dirty-haired blonde sitting on the steps of the general store. "What with all that madness those reckless dogs, Vane and Rackham started last night, I figured you'd still be in bed with that Irish strumpet you see every time you weigh anchor."

A cross-dressing Samantha Dawson perked up, immediately setting her eyes on the seasoned pirate standing in front of her.

Benjamin Hornigold, a distinguished pirate-turned-pirate hunter, stood with his boots in the sand without his favourite navy blue coat on. His shirt hung loosely with a thin V exposing his chest. His hair was in a messy ponytail, some strands of his greying hairs blowing about from the easterly breeze sweeping through the squalor that he so proudly called his republic.

"Aye," Samantha answered gruffly in a poor attempt to hide her feminine voice. "Had too much grog for me liking. And like you've put it, I still carry a head for ten. However, surprisingly, I feel a recovery taking effect from that mess them bartenders call breakfast. How the devil did you find a proper cook for your ship and none for this place?"

Benjamin chuckled. "We're workin' on it lad."

"Have you seen Thatch?"

" 'Fraid not. Went sailin' with Kenway to hunt that galleon he was going on about. Reckon he should have it here within a week or more."

"Ah, well... He knows how to put things like that to good use. Would make a nice ornament for the harbour, too."

Benjamin retrieved his pipe from his pocket and a match he used to light the tobacco. Folk behind him went about their daily business, most of whom were merchants delivering goods as ordered, and some were retrieving supplies to hunt for fish and other creatures to supply new items for the tavern gourmet menu.

The conversation she had with Benjamin Hornigold would be one of the rare occasions where he truly did care for the godforsaken island before his mind would waver and his soul would leech on the lies of the Templar Order.

It was now the start of June.

Samantha had lost count of the days of her captivity in a bunker, constantly monitored by members of Hydra and abused with medical and scientific equipment. Their ruthlessness was anything short of sufficient whenever they attempted to rattle Samantha's willpower in hopes of breaking her and convincing her to spill her secrets.

Each day that passed, Samantha endured extreme hardship; through regular beatings, meal restrictions, and torture just for the sake of her captors who wished to entertain their days or make it go faster.

The cosmic radiation that was detected, intrigued the terrorist organisation. There was, without a doubt, corrupted desire amongst the leading members of the Hydra group, for they wished to use it to benefit their own ideas and agendas; to conquer the new world and reshape it into a Hydra eutopia.

Some were more willing to obliterate the insignificant peasants that made up the face of the new world, while others preferred to control the people and create order and a sense of purpose and direction, similarly to that of the Templars, whom they were in league with.

Samantha was forced and strapped down tightly into a chair with none other than the German personally overseeing and leading her interrogation. She expected ruthlessness and a grand display of his cold heart once he began torturing her for information, as per protocol.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here... a clipped bird that lost its ability to fly. You are a long way from home, Frau Dawson." The German taunted, berating the blonde with further insults and such that made Samantha roll her eyes at his childish behaviour.