In the cell he had been thrown into, the greasy-haired pirate that had been the first to detect the targets that turned out to be a trap was shaking uncontrollably.
Before being captured, he had injected himself with a large quantity of one of the drug cocktails he was hooked on, hoping that it would keep him calm.
Yet, he had taken a bit too much and now it had just increased his anxiety and made him unnaturally paranoid.
He was certain that he was starting to hear voices next to him. His dead comrades cursing him for surviving by selling them out.
"Why did you do it Raul? Do you really think that you'll survive much longer. Now when you die, we'll all rip your traitorous soul apart."
Hearing hateful and terrifying words in his head, and not being of particularly sound mind right now, the man, Raul, huddled into the corner of the room and began hitting his head against the wall.
It was around this time that he heard the doors to the brig open with a soft whooshing sound.
