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Two small solid horns jutted from his cheek bones. From his back came four bone structures similar to the ones sprouting from his head. The two larger ones jutted from his shoulders, while the other two from the middle of his back. They sent out at a vertical angle then turned sharply down at a ninety degree angle. From his forearms jutted several spikes running straight back. From the underside of his arms two tentacles whipped around rhythmically as he held the helm. His skin had a gray tone with tiger like stripping of a dark color. His chest was bare and his muscles rippled under his movement. He wore a simple pair of pants with a deadly sword strapped to the belt at his waist. He turned his head toward Blackbeard and his ship and glared at him with eyes of deep red, deeper than blood. Davy Jones’s crew was a mass of random creatures pulled from the depths of Hades, all true and dedicated servants of the Flying Dutchman’s captain. A voice entered Blackbeard’s head, one only he. "No, John," Linda gasped and pleaded to her husband between sobs as she shook in her restraints. "Please, I didn't mean it, please. You have to believe me!" Sorry, darling," her husband answered and then nodded at the man stood behind her. "Help her out of her jacket, Mike." Reacting to his cue, the man behind her grabbed the collar of her shell and cut from the collar down her right sleeve with kitchen scissors. As the cuff split, he directed his attention to the other sleeve and pulled the remnants of the jacket off her back as the garment fell away. Underneath, Linda wore a long-sleeve t-shirt and, at other nod from her husband, this too was cut away leaving her in just a plain white bra. While her John continued to watch dispassionately, Mike's ran his hands lightly down her back before running them around her waist and down her exposed belly causing Linda's breathing to quicken. As his fingers reached her jeans, he gradually worked the button lose before sliding down the zip and.
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