Chapter 10.3- The Seadragon's Roar

I’d heard things about waterboarding all through my first life. If that one guy on reddit was to be believed then it was he be all end all of CIA torture, and if it was good for the CIA, the it was more than good enough for me, so I went ahead with it. First of all, I propped his chair back against a table so I didn’t have to force him to keep his head titled backwards. Next came the rag. It was a nasty, dirty thing I found on the floor of the brig. Considering Lungpiercer’s occupation, I doubted he would have many complaints. Pirates weren’t exactly known for leaving the most sanitary lifestyles.

Then I left the room for a few seconds to order a deckhand to fetch a jug of sea water. All through, Lungpiercer remained stubbornly quiet. That would change as soon as the water arrived, however.

Before I begin, I will ask you two questions, one, what is your name?, and the second, who sent you here?”

“Go to hell, Sisterfucking Scum”

“I don’t even fuck my sister. You know that right? Lovely girl, but I promise you we haven’t done any fucking at all.” I said in response before I walked forward and tipped the jug over, cleanly, calmly.

Everything I’d seen or read on social media had done a grand and combined total of fuck all to prepare me for the sounds he made. It only took a few seconds for him to begin to gasp for air, to struggle to breathe, to scream, to do anything. In a matter of seconds, he was practically begging me to stop.

I removed the rag. “Now, what is your name?” I asked.

“Quentin Sand” He said without hesitation.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, Quentin, who sent you here?” I asked next. Was it Dorne? I needed to know that. Because if Dorne were moving this early in things then there was a possibility that things were going to go much differently.

He went mute at the second question, almost like he had finally remembered just who held his loyalties. Interesting. I put the rag over his face despite his protests and struggles, and began to pour. This time, t was less than ten seconds before he began to plead that he would talk. I continued for another ten seconds regardless, driving home the point that I did not like to be disobeyed.

When I was done, the Pirate looked more like a wet rat than a man.

“Who sent you here?”

“Tyrosh” he said.

“Why did they send you here?”

“I don’t know. I’m just a pirate. I just go places, do what I’m told, and get paid.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a pirate to me. Sounds like a sellsail to me, and a sellsail captain like you would not have committed your ships and men to a cause you did not fully understand. So answer my questions now before I lose my patience.” I said, putting the rag over his face. I didn’t even need to start pouring again before he began saying he’d speak.