“There ya are! Captain’s been looking for ya.”

Caesar heaved the limp meat sack of a man off his shoulders, tossing it to a slump against a boulder. The body groaned in response, bringing a twinkle to the pirate’s eye. The man’s pain amused him; and rightfully so. He could have made it easy for himself. He had given the man plenty of opportunity to do so. Instead, he chose to run, leading him on a wild goose chase. He might have even got away with it too, if it wasn’t for the lead ball the pirate had lodged in his back.

“What took ye so long? Captain’s been throwing a fit waiting for ya.”

“Blame it on that fool o’ a man,” Caesar grimaced. “Wanted to play hide n seek. The game went on longer than expected.” Caesar lifted his gaze from the broken body, turning his attention to the lumbering pirate beside him. The fellow was thick as a tree with bristling muscles hardened to stone. He was a hair shorter than himself, but could likely hold his weight if put to the test. But his size mattered not. It wasn’t what the man was known for. It was his face that stole the show. 

His nose was gnarled, and his cheeks were marred with scars. The man’s left eye was split evenly down the middle, but he refused to wear a patch. But it was his mouth that gave him his name. His twisted lips, chapped and baked, were glued in a low hanging scowl. The side of his jaw was splayed open, with a triangular gash leading up the center of his lip. Not much was known about the wound. The only detail the man would reveal was that the missing chunk was lost in the tides of Tunder with the man who had severed it. 

“Where’s the captain, Slackjaw?”

“Right here.”

The raucous voice brought a chill to Caesar’s spine. His stance straightened to a board as the heavy steps of his captain came forward. The pirate slid to the side, allowing his captain to push past to tower above the slumped body.

“I take it this is him?” The captain asked over his shoulder, his bristling beard, wild and untamed, wavering in the wind. 

“Yes, sir. This is him.”

“And who might that be?” the captain quizzed with a kick of his boot.

“A fading ghost,” the wounded man coughed.

“A ghost?” The captain smiled. He drew his cutlass from its scabbard, bringing the point to dig into the man’s side. “No, I don’t think so. Yer shell may be broken, but yer not a ghost story yet, friend.”

The wounded man grimaced in pain as the blade inched its way between his ribs. He squirmed before the tyrant, coughing and sputtering with each tiny press. “Do it!” He pleaded through a gurgle. “End it.”

“Do it?” the tyrant laughed, pulling the tip free. “Why are you so keen on death?” The captain crouched to his knees, allowing his blood-tinged blade to scrape across the rocky terrain. “Oh, could it be? Dead men tell no tales, is it? Ye couldn’t be more wrong, my friend.” The captain remained stooped, tilting his head back over his shoulder. “He doesn’t have it, does he?”

“No, sir,” Caesar replied.

“Did he say where it is?”

Sweat formed on Caesar’s brow as his lips stumbled to speak. His leader expected an answer. It was his job to deliver it. He had hoped to have more time with the fool before delivering him. He had hoped to pry something to please his leader. But all he had gained was another riddle.

“Did he say where it is?” The captain asked once more, his voice turning firm.

“He said it was gone. Probably left the island.”

The captain’s head swiveled back to his prisoner, his meaty tongue wetting his lips. “Is that so?”

“You’ll never find it.”

“Oh, but I will.” The captain lifted his blade, digging the point in the crevice of the man’s clavicle. “Yer song will be sung, mate. I’m afraid it won’t be from yer lips.”

Before Caesar could interject, the captain slammed his fist on the hilt of his sword. The blade slid through the man’s flesh, the metal rod wedging firm in the middle of his windpipe. The captain lifted himself upright, dragging the blade to follow. With a final gurgle, the wounded man’s eyes rolled back, his body atop the captain’s boots. The captain kicked his feet free, turning ever so slowly to face his minions.

“Sir, how are we to find it with no answers?”

“We have our answer,” the captain replied, lifting his cutlass to rest on Caesar’s shoulder. With a swift flick, he wiped an edge clean, twisting the blade about as Caesar flinched in fright. “It’s sea-bound, son,” he continued, flicking the other side clean. “No ship has left this port. We find the captain, we find our prize.”