Dripping Red

Italics = “slave language when in quotes”; thoughts or flashbacks when not

Bold = author’s note

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The best part of legends, or at least in Red’s opinion, was the fact that they were so exaggerated. Take the legends about him for example.

Ripped Red: the most fearsome pirate in the two seas. Named for the scarred, red skull and crossbones tattooed on his back. Using his two swords and a small crew, he would attack the enemy ships, steal any thing of value, and then wreck their ship. With only twenty men, he had the smallest crew in pirate history. Yet they were still deadly.

The part about that legends that amused him most was that many stated he was in his thirties, when in reality he was twelve.

Born a slave, Red was bought by a pirate captain named Spark at the age of four. Spark tattooed all his crew members with a skull and crossbones; usually with black ink. But when he saw Red’s blood colored hair, he couldn’t resist giving the boy a tattoo to match.

Since he was raised a pirate, he took over as captain when Spark died. At the age of nine, he was the youngest captain ever. The youngest, but with the highest bounty.

Three years later he had finally earned the respect he deserved from the oldest members of his crew, but he had yet to earn it from the new slaves the crew had just bought.

“Hey boy, you’re young. Mop this floor for me and let me rest my old bones,”

a slave in his forties ordered in the slave language.

“Do your own work,” Red snapped back, also in his native tongue. The older man looked about ready to beat him for disrespecting an elder when a boy about Red’s age came running up.

“Hey Captain! Eyes said he spotted a ship to the east. What do you want to do?” the boy greeted, sparing a glance at the older man, who paled when Red responded in common speech.

“Hey Tide. Leave it be. We’re still resting from the last raid. Also, take him to Spike. He’ll know what to do,” Red instructed, pointing at the older man. “So no one makes the same mistake, I am the captain, and Tide here is my first mate. We give the orders. Not you,” he added, raising his voice. Afterwards, he stalked off.

Tide just smirked at the old slave. “Idiot,” he laughed.

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Red had woken up in some pretty strange situations. But never once had he awoken to find himself handcuffed and gagged. He had also never woken up in a marine base before.

He could hear the men muttering about him all about the room. He had been dumped unceremoniously in the corner of the small, cramped room. Men cluttered in the doorway, all most likely wanting to see the infamous Ripped Red. He was on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back. He glared defiantly at his captors as a high ranking officer crouched in front of him. The officer grabbed Red’s chin and turned his head from side to side, examining him.

“You expect us to believe this is the feared Red?” the officer asked a boy standing behind him.

“Of course. I grew up with him,” the boy responded in a bored tone.

The instant Red recognized him, he struggled to his feet and growled, unable to shout with the gag.

Tide smirked. “Considering the position you’re in, growling threats isn’t a good idea,” he commented. Red continued to growl.

“Behave,” the officer ordered, punching Red in the stomach and knocking him back to the ground. “Remove his gag so he can speak.” The second the gag came off, a string of colorful words directed at Tide came pouring out of Red’s mouth.

“We told you to behave,” a second officer warned, kicking him in the groin. Red doubled over in pain, groaning loudly. Begrudgingly, he remained silent, but continued to glare.

“Now that you’re listening,” a third officer began, earning himself a sarcastic snort from both Red and Tide. “You belong to the marines now. We wouldn’t want your skill to go to waste, so we’re putting you in the bounty hunting business. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“You won’t be paid, of course,” the first officer added with a sneer. “Allowing you to live is payment enough.”

“No,” Red spat.

The second officer grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head backward into the wall. Red grit his teeth as he felt blood trickle down the back of his head. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I’d rather die,” Red hissed, his anger making him slip into his native language.

“ Red,” Tide stated. He crouched in front of his old crewmate, a smug expression upon his face. “You were born a slave. This is just reverting back to your roots. Once a slave, always a slave. Just accept it and be a good boy.”

“Get away from me,” Red growled. Tide rolled his eyes.

“You’re in no position to be giving orders, idiot.” He stood and turned to the officers. “I’ve given you all the major pirates onboard. I’ll take the rest and travel as merchants. I should go before the crew wakes up.”

“Hold it kid, you’re not going anywhere,” the first officer ordered, grabbing Tide as he tried to walk out the door. “We’re taking all of you pirates. Take him to the prison.”

As Tide struggled, protesting, he turned his pleading eyes to Red. Red remained impassive, showing no sign of acknowledgement as his former crew mate was taken away.

Once Tide was locked up, the officers turned back to Red. He stared at them in silence, his raised eyebrows daring them to make their next move.

“I’m still not going to do what you want,” he said in a bored tone.

Smirking, the officers began to beat him.

He lasted for hours, enduring every punch, kick, and other painful torture devices the officers came up with.

“Well?” was all the officer said.

Red sat hunched over in pain, curled into a protective ball. Gritting his teeth, he let out a reluctant “Yes sir,” before he doubled over, hacking up blood.

The marines watched smugly as the twelve year old collapsed in a fit of wracking coughs.