Damien’s fingers trembled as he brought the pint to his lips. He grimaced in detest as the dark liquor hit his tongue. Vile beverage. How is this to calm anyone’s nerves?

The rhythmic snores of the captain broke through the chatter of the tavern, causing Damien’s scowl to grow with each labored breath. He hated how his companion slept so peacefully with his head submerged atop a puddle of drool. He was fast asleep. Nothing would wake him from his slumber. The elderly gent had already tried.

The screech of a chair dragging across the floor jolted Damien upright. His eyes darted across the room, scouring the tavern for a source of danger. Finding the source, he let out a sigh of relief before lowering himself back into a slump against the wall. We’ll break port in the morning. Just have to make it to morning.

Damien studied the room carefully. He watched every movement, every stumble, every turn from the drunken crowd. What he had stumbled into? Was he paranoid? Possibly. But paranoia keeps a man alive. He wasn’t safe here. He wasn’t safe anywhere.

The clatter of the tavern’s door slamming against the brick walls brought Damien’s attention to the exit. He watched as three burly men pushed their way into the room. Two drifted to a table in the back while one made his post by the door.

Damien squirmed in fright. He slouched down as far as his thin body would let him, tilting his back to the door to mask his observing glance.

The three men took no notice of the cowering gentleman. The pair at the table called to the maid, placing their orders before engaging in conversation. The third relaxed his stance, leaning his heavy body against the wall and setting his bored sight to the ceiling above.

Damien sighed with relief. A bullet dodged, he thought. They surely weren’t here for him. His body relaxed, rising back upright in his chair. He took another sip from his pint before sliding it across the table with a scowl. He had his fill of the harsh beverage.

He allowed his eyes to wander about the tavern. It was a fairly peaceful night. The patrons drank heartily, engaged in conversation with their brethren. Women of the night prowled the tables, their ears searching for the juicy hints of hushed secrets.

His sights soon fell on Ruby, dancing from table to table, spinning her deceptive web about the drunken men she deemed powerful. Damien chuckled heartily as she caught her prey. The spider queen spun down from her web, attaching to the drunken lap of her fly. Her hands danced about the sailor’s face, her fingers enticing the man to spill what secrets he knew in hopes of spending a night of bliss below her sheets. And he just may. But not before the minx robbed him blind. Damien knew the little game she played. He knew it quite well. It wasn’t the coin she was after. She was after something far more valuable.

With a pat on the cheek, Ruby lifted herself from the man’s lap and slinked off to the dark corner of the bar. She leaned across the wooden tap, resting her delicate arm in the embrace of the gnarled paw of a man in the shadows.

Odd, Damien thought. Usually, the sale of information happened behind closed doors. Why leave herself exposed to the prying ears of the open tavern?

Her smile widened as she flicked her attention to Damien, her thin lips curling to form a single inaudible word. “There.”

Damien leapt upright, his trembling hands reaching for the arm of the dozing captain. “Wake up, you buffoon,” his breath screamed as he shook the man with fear. A loud snort was the only response received. Damien squealed in detest, his fingers sliding into his belt, latching onto the thin dagger. He pulled the blade free, hiding it beneath the table as his eyes darted back to the dark corner of the bar.

Only Ruby remained, her eyes twinkling with delight as they met Damien’s. She lifted her arm from the table, her fingers curling in a mischievous wave.

Where did he go?

“This seat taken?”

Damien jolted upright as a mountain of rolling muscle approached the table. His beefy hand fell on Damien’s shoulder, his meaty fingers clamping down with an iron grip as the man lowered himself into the seat next to him.

What’s got you all jumpy? I’m just a fellow sailor looking for a pint. Once seated, he released his grip, thrusting his hand in the air. His tattered sleeve slid down his arm, revealing the writing tattoo of a snake beneath. With a flick of his wrist, he beckoned the barmaid over. “Admiring the ink?” the man smirked, catching Damien’s studying gaze.

“Not at all.”

“I suppose not.” A toothy grin formed on the man’s face as a pint was placed in front of him. “I take it you know who I am?”

“I have my guesses.”

“And I suppose you know why I’m here?”

“I do.”

“Good.” The man lifted the pint to his lips and took a hearty glug. Foam ran down the man’s chiseled goatee as the man pulled the mug from his face and placed it in its spot on the table. “Let’s get this over with. Where is it?”

Damien’s fingers tightened on the dagger, his wrist twisting the blade into position beneath the table.

“You can put that knife away, son,” the man chuckled, tapping a heavy metal cylinder against Damien’s knee. “Wouldn’t want to wake this bloke, now would we?”

Damien lowered the blade, slowly sheathing it back in his belt, his enraged glare locked on the stranger.

“Good,” the man smiled, his twisting finger gesturing for Damien to raise his hands to the table. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Don’t play coy. You know what we want.” The man lifted his gaze towards the exit. On queue, the two men who entered before rose from their seats and joined the third by the door. “There’s no getting out of this. Ye won’t be getting through my men with that little blade. Now, let’s make this easy. Where is it?”

“Bite me.”

“Yer not my type, mate,” the man sighed, his hands lifting the pint back to his lips. “Stop trying my patience.”

Damien slowed his breath to a crawl, his eyes closing as he pondered his next move. It was reckless. Reckless and stupid.

“Praying for a miracle? God won’t help you, mate.” The man took one last sip before slamming the mug to the table. “I’m done asking.”

Damien’s eyes shot open. With a swift kick, he rammed his foot between the sleeping captain’s legs. The captain howled with pain, hurling himself backwards, his flailing fist flying into the back of a nearby sailor’s head. Damien rolled to the side as the sailor grabbed the startled captain and tossed him across the table.

Bang!

The explosion rattled the room as smoke lifted from the tattooed man’s hand. The loud shot declared war in the tavern. Each patron drew their weapons, attacking one another in a drunken frenzy.

Damien dove beneath a table, drawing the small knife from his belt as his feet hit the floor. He searched the room for his exit, his eyes falling on two men at the bar. They held a young barmaid to the wooden top, ripping her blouse as she screamed in fright. Ruby ran to her rescue, hoisting a stool above her head and bashing it on the head of the man on the right. The man flew backwards from the impact, shattering the window behind him. That was Damien’s exit.

“Caesar! He’s getting away!” One of the guards screamed as Damien darted from beneath the table.

“Get him,” Caesar bellowed, urging his cohorts into action.

Damien bounded across the bar, ducking under the fists of the dueling sailors. With one strong swoop, he dove through the air.

Bang!

A second shot rang out through the tavern as Damien’s feet cleared the shattered window. He rolled into the alley streets below. Now was his chance to escape. He pushed himself to his feet and took off running down the alley, his back wet with blood.