Map of the Problematique

Into The Labyrinth

Author's note:
Hi everyone! Just a heads up, there are knives and suggestions of violence in this chapter. It's really not very graphic, but proceed with caution if any of that is triggering for you <3 enjoy!
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1710

Frank was simple, he knew that. He was a simple man, living in the same village he was born in. The village was safe, his family was typical, he was normal. Frank loved his mother and father, he liked his boss, and if he thought about it hard enough, he liked his life.

Frank was a cartographer, a profession he chose due to his parents' advice. This was the only way he could make a living as an artist, they said. And he believed them. So he took the safe option, and began painting maps at a local shop when he was seventeen.

His shop was right by the ocean, which made for a decent view while Frank painted his maps. Frank's boss, Dallon, told him what to paint, and Frank made countless copies of the same map, until summer came around and they sold their maps to new travelers, often being their first stop right after getting off of the ships. Frank enjoyed his work. Although sometimes it was a bit mundane, he enjoyed Dallon's company a fair amount, and he couldn't possibly complain about getting to paint during the winter months. Frank was happy.

It was a November night, and Frank was working overtime trying to perfect the newest edition of their town's map. He was making a new version, a prettier version, that he was particularly proud of. He was sure that the vibrant colors and attention to detail would appeal to the tourists more than the regular, black and white map that was usually purchased. Dallon had left the shop over an hour ago, but Frank insisted on staying a little longer to work on his new design. The painter had to admit that his eyes were getting tired, and he longed for the warmth of his bed, but he stayed seated at his desk. He would work for just a little while longer.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew through the shop window, causing the flame in Frank's oil lamp to go out. He sighed, getting up from his desk to fetch a fire steel from the shop's storage room, taking the lamp with him. After relighting the lamp, the boy started the walk back to his desk, focusing on projecting the light on his feet to avoid falling. The short walk back to his desk was almost finished, until suddenly Frank's feet met someone else's. Someone in chunky black boots, someone unfamiliar, someone who had certainly broken in. Before he could think, Frank was shining the lamp's light on the stranger's face. Immediately after seeing the individual in front of him, Frank staggered back in a panic. There were multiple pirates in front of the boy, and the man who the black boots belonged to seemed to be the leader. The Captain, Frank assumed. He was standing right in front of him, and the poor mapmaker was cornered, completely at the mercy of the mysterious Captain.

The Captain gently took the oil lamp from Frank's shaking hands, and then promptly put a knife to his throat.

"Name?" the pirate demanded.

Frank tried to speak, he really did. But nothing came out. He was too scared, he was stunned. This was supposed to be a safe town, so how the hell did pirates get here? It was impossible. Frank was dreaming, he was sure of it.

The Captain stared into the boy's eyes, seemingly looking right through him. He pressed the knife deeper into his victim's neck.

"Name?" the pirate asked again, his tone being noticeably more threatening than the last time he asked.

"Frank. Frank Iero." the boy managed to squeak out.

"Well Frank, Frank Iero, welcome aboard."

And with that, a blonde, tall pirate who was previously standing behind the Captain stepped forward. He grabbed a fistful of Frank's short hair and banged his head against the wall, knocking him out immediately.