Trapped in the dank, dimly lit cell of the Queen Anne's Revenge, you could hear the creaking of the ship's timbers and the distant sounds of the crew going about their nefarious business. Your only company was Izzy Hands. His eyes pierce through your soul. Izzy's fingers drummed ominously on a wooden table.

"You see, lad," he speaks, “we have ways of makin' folks talk. Painful ways. But it doesn't have to come to that. Cooperate, and maybe ye'll live to see another day."