I've been wondering recently if the Devil's Triangle spawned between Jack (a dozen years before PotC 1) and Henry (decades after PotC 1).
I've concluded that it did.
Salazar has done experiments on humans during his first years in the Triangle.
Yes.
He has mastered the psychology of fear to such a degree that he can accurately predict in advance what his opponent will do. He doesn't trust words because he knows they're just noise to save themself. What's more, he consciously generates brain lag, delays, and errors in his opponent, which he exploits.
He thinks in 3D and in vectors – he has a coordinate system in his head, onto which he simply maps data. He's developed a statistical understanding of human psychology, so he... knows what you'll do. Because according to his research, a statistical 95% of people would do the same in a similar situation, under such and such pressure.
I imagine it this way: in the early years, he took some mortals from ships and lined them up one by one to fight his crew - ordering them to attack the humans in a precisely defined way. He stood aside and carefully observed what mistakes they made under stress - instinctive mistakes. Stepping back in straight line, blocking too hard, striking too far... It was the same every time. Hence, he simply anticipates what his opponent will do in a given situation, and what's more, he can exploit this and force errors and delays in their reactions so that they fall over without bigger help.
He generates micro-delays, which he exploits.
Experiments perfectly explain where he gets this knowledge, and it's instinctive at that.
Another time, he sat mortals at a desk in his cabin and tested various masks (I mean false expressions). Again, by observing their reactions, he developed statistics on what worked, and selected the most effective facial expressions, tone of voice, physical distance, and general behavior - what generated the greatest brain lag and the greatest embarrassment. What broke resistance. What irritated. What lowered alertness. What intensified the pleas for mercy. What increased the terror.
(He had to learn masks because he was the lynchpin of the entire crew's psyche. If he broke down publicly, everyone would break down. But it's impossible that he never broke down—he has trauma and PTSD. It's impossible that he didn't crack. He had to vent his emotions secretly. That's why he learned the mask—when he was crying in the corner of the cabin and someone knocked the door at the same moment, he had to look tough and serious. That's why he learned masks. If a crack were visible, everyone would crack.)
That's how he learned how the brain works. It explains his actions very coherently. That's why he easily breaks even the toughest opponents, like Barbossa.
I don't know if you noticed how much fun he had disorienting his opponent.
First, he had the expression of a monster.
Then the tone and expression of a tavern storyteller.
"Cordial intent... you hear that? This pirate wishes to be cordial. (...)"
(Remember Scrum in PotC 4? "Hey! Did you see that? This man forgot his name!")
Then the expression and tone of a polite child (puppy eyes).
"Might want to go go a bit faster, captain!"
Then he took off his mask and revealed his true face: a terrifying monster searching for Jack Sparrow.
"WHERE'S JACK SPARROW?!"
Then he donned the mask of a father explaining the obvious to a child.
"Nooo, the sea belongs to the dead."
Then he was an executioner.
"He'll die with you!"
Then he laughed because he saw the statistical reaction. Finally, he assumed the tone, facial expressions, and "warmth" of his barbecue buddy.
"Ole! Take what's left of them!"
He plays with facial expressions, tone of voice, and words. He inverts their meaning and juxtaposes them with incongruous ones.
He plays with the brain. He mixes up the settings and turns them against himself.
Furthermore, he disrupts the "enemy=aggressive" model.
He forces the facial expressions of someone friendly into a death situation.
The victim is unable to assign him a stable personality or react, because none of the brain patterns match him. Man tries to assign him a single identity, but he switches modes mid-sentence. Victim's brain goes haywire.
He generated such brain lag in Barbossa that the pirate... froze.
He simply stood there.
His brain suspended his reaction.
Therefore, the pirate stood there and didn't react.
What's more, throughout the entire film, he let Sparrow feel the knife on his throat without killing him. He let him escape, narrowly avoiding death. He kept him in a state of danger.
If he wanted to, he could have killed him instantly. But then it wouldn't have been fun.
Interesting.
The most interesting thing is that he doesn't fake emotions like an actor.
He uses learned masks like a mechanic uses wrenches:
He selects a tool for the type of resistance,
He tests the reaction, and if it doesn't work, he changes the mode. He puts on a different mask.
He doesn't enter into a relation, just toggles functions like a switch. It's inhumane. The victim tries to understand him as a human being, while he behaves like a stress management system.
This is partly due to his past experiments and his good memory.
After growing bored with the experiments—because he already knew everything—he decided to start releasing people for terror.
Psychological weaponry from a distance.
He didn't have to do anything. The system worked for him.
Yes, I know, it's been a while since I last posted a stand alone. This is story is the reason. It's been the single hardest thing I've ever tried to write. Anyone who is a regular reader of mine will understand the size of that statement.
Because of word count - I'm only posting chapter 1 here. Both chapters are up on Ao3.
Ao3 link
. . .
There were three places where Kayo truly felt were her ‘home’. One was being surrounded by her brothers, wherever they might be, the second was the cockpit of Shadow, and the third was with her father. A close fourth was this place, the north coast of Malaysia. She loved Tracy Island and was happy in England, but neither was this place. The incredible forests, the mist-filled mornings, and the spectacularly varied amount of wildlife. Here she was just Tanusha, if you were being extra formal, she was Tanusha Anak Perempuan Kyrano.
Most men her father’s age were spending their retirement watching sports, visiting with friends, and playing games with their grandchildren. But most men weren’t her father. He’d stepped back from the world. He was still a protector, but of the wilderness rather than of people. Kayo hoped to give him those grandchildren someday, but that day was further into the future than she liked to admit to.
The sound of her motorcycle was lost in the noise of Kota Belud, but once she was outside of it, she could see the ragged crown of Mount Kinabalu over the trees. As she got further into the interior and started to climb the cooler it got and the fewer people were on the road for her to dodge with her 'cycle. As glad as she was to be ‘home’, as much the people, the language, and the landscape soothed and relaxed her, nothing could quite touch the hollow feeling in her gut. She had questions. Big, serious questions that only one person could answer: her father.
As one of the rangers of Kinabalu, Kyrano was allowed to live inside the confines of the park itself. This meant that Kayo could bypass the line of tourists waiting to enter the park, show her pass to the gatekeeper, and just ride on in, leaving the visitors to gape at the slender woman in cargo pants and t-shirt getting into the park before them.
The forests were even lusher than what she’d passed through to get here. Her father and the other rangers took their positions of guardians of one of the world’s treasures very seriously. The enclave where the park staff lived was so small that it didn’t even have a proper name, it was just called Town. She stopped at the edge of the small drive and looked the house over. It was up on stilts as was traditional, nestled in a profusion of plants The house itself was all the shades of brown, with handsome fretwork around the wooden eaves on roofs that were high peaked to shed the rains. She pulled out her phone and took a picture of it. Virgil would love to have it as a photo reference.
The mere thought of Virgil and the shape she’d last seen him in, made the pit in her stomach grow deeper and darker. She had to know why. Why they had stayed? Why had her father even worked for that man in the first place?
She parked her motorcycle beneath the house next to the battered and ancient pickup truck. It might have been new once, back when Grandma Tracy had been a young girl. She grinned at that thought, she was also glad to see it. Even though she’d let her father know she was coming, his time was not his own. If the park needed him, he would see to it first. Not that Kayo expected any less, being that guardians ran in the family. The sad exception to that was her uncle. She took the stairs quickly, for all her questions and concerns, she’d missed her father deeply.
Before she could even raise her hand to knock, the door opened and her father was smiling at her. <Daughter!>
<Father!> The Malay was rough on her tongue, she hadn’t spoken it in far too long. Something she would remedy with John’s help. But for right now, she fell into strong arms and a tight hug.
The hug was broken far too soon for her liking, but her father brought her into the house, and from there, not to the richly appointed and vibrant sitting lounge but to the simple kitchen. She was given pride of place while he bustled around getting her cream tea and slices of brightly colored layer cake. Kayo’s mouth watered a little. She could make a version of it, but it never tasted quite the same as her father’s. Maybe something to do with the water on the Island.
The Island, Feather and Ma'at, the bone deep pain in all her brother's eyes. All her questions flooded to the forefront. She had questions and there would be no delicate dancing around, such as what she had to do with others. This was her father, and she could be as blunt as she needed to be. Whether or not she’d get her answers, was a very different matter.
He sat down at the table with his own cake and drink. “I am so very glad to see you, my heart.”
A small tendril of guilt grew thorns and stabbed its way through Kayo’s mind. She’d not made nearly enough time for her father since - since the Zero-X. “I’m happy to see you as well.” She reached over and took his hand, it was rougher than she remembered and the once salt and pepper hair was now fully silver. Oh, she’d lost so much time with him and not all of that could be laid at that man’s feet.
“Then eat. I rose before the birds to make that for you.” A gentle grin softened the words.
At that moment, she wasn’t sure if she could get the cake past the lump in her throat. But she nodded, squeezed his hand, took a swallow of the tea, and set to the cake with a will. It was better than she remembered: airy layers, slightly sweet, and colored like the sunrise. She’d missed this. There was little conversation, mostly Kayo listening to her father talk about the park and some of the silliness that the tourists got up to.
She laid her fork on the plate; the cake had helped to settle her nerves. “Father - I need to ask you a question."
“Of course Tanusha, if I can answer it, I will.”
Tanusha, almost no one called her that anymore. It made her feel warm and protected, which gave her the last bit of courage she needed. “You know that - Jeff,” she couldn’t help the derision that dripped from the name, "has come back. I need to know why we stayed. I knew at the time something was wrong. Especially with the way he treated Scott. Please, Father, tell me why we stayed?”
He sighed, “Because there was no other choice.” He rose, picked up the dishes, and headed to the sink.
The simplicity of that answer stunned her for a moment, then she went after him. “No other choice? That makes no sense!” She stood next to him so she could watch his face. “You left the Island many times, I was in school for much of that, we could have gotten away.” That would have meant losing her brothers, which would have broken her heart - “Was it the others? Is that why we stayed?” She needed to understand.
He turned from the sink and cupped one side of her face. “My beloved child.” He kissed her forehead. “We stayed because your father was a weak and terrified man. One that discovered far too late the cost of his salvation."
She searched his face; his eyes, always kind, were now sad and hurt. More wrinkles than she thought should be there as well. He seemed to gain years just standing in front of her. “Father?”
His thumb traced over her cheek. “Please, Tanusha, please, let this old man keep his shames to himself? I ask nothing else from you but that.”
A piercing squawk shattered what thoughts she had gathered. Her father cursed softly as the squawk sounded again. He pulled a slim radio phone out of his pocket. She hadn’t even noticed it.
“Kyrano.” The old and sad man vanished before her eyes. Once again her father stood in front of her, his face in a thunderous scowl. “Which gate?” He moved through the kitchen and headed for the door. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep them damp and see if we can find out where they were taken from. Out.”
“Father?” She hated how tentative her voice sounded. But everything was spinning around her and she had no clue what was going to land where.
The face that turned her way was once again sorrowful. Kind, but sorrowful. “Oh, my dear one.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I am needed. Some plant poachers were caught at the main gate. I need to see if the plants can be saved and find out where they were taken from.”
Duty over self, Kayo knew that one all too well. She had learned it at this man’s knee. “Of course.”
“Will - “ he took a deep breath, “will you still be here when I return?”
She may have hated how her voice sounded, but his was afraid and it hurt her heart to hear it. She had to fix that. “Of course, I will be. I’ve missed you so much.”
He crossed back and kissed her gently on the brow once again. “Thank you, my blessing. I will return as quickly as I can. The left room is yours.” He vanished through the door.
She heard the ancient truck growl to life, even with the new fuels, an internal combustion engine sounded like nothing else. Habits of a lifetime had her rinsing the dishes and setting them to dry before she went down to get her bag. The room on the left was as cheerful as the rest of the house. Pots of orchids lined the windows, giving the air a delicate perfume. The bed was raised in the old style, not that she minded in the slightest, it was covered in the lightest of linen sheets. Her small amount of clothes and toiletries barely made a ripple in the flow of the room.
But now she was at a loss. She had books she could read, she could nap, and she could even wander the garden that surrounded the house, but - she was still uncertain. “Get a hold of yourself Tanusha!” she said out loud. “You have a procedure, follow it.” She got out the tiny sensors and went about setting them. Yes, this was her father’s house. Yes, they were inside a protected national park and a global treasure. But being careful, especially over these last years, had become ingrained. It gave her a measure of comfort as she did so.
She paused outside the other bedroom. It was his, but she would be remiss if she didn’t set sensors in there as well. Feeling very much like an eight-year-old entering a forbidden space, she slid the door open. It was a great deal like the one he’d given her, yet at the same time, different. It was the same warm brown as the rest of the house, but there were no pots of flowers lining the windows, it was plain, almost austere. This was where he came to rest and nothing else. There were no personal touches of any kind, except for the small table on the north wall. In the middle of the table, in a frame of pale wood was a picture of her mother. Surrounding it were bowls of fruit. In front of the picture was a joss bowl with a thin coating of ash. She ran a finger over the frame of the photo. There should have been flowers, but that wouldn’t have been right for her mother or her culture.
She stood looking at the image long enough for the shadows to move across the floor. She could barely remember her mother: Lakshmi. She’d been told many times that she was a near twin of her mother. She didn’t believe that. The Lakshmi in the photo had a sublime beauty, something Kayo could see only distant hints of in the mirror. The only trait she was sure she shared with her mother were the color of her eyes; they were the same golden green. She gave herself a small shake, and touched the frame. "I love you, Mama," then she slipped from the room.
-o-o-o-o-
The fire of sunset had long since faded by the time Kyrano returned, tired but satisfied. Kayo had explored the house enough to find everything she needed to make kolo mee for dinner. She did wonder if her father had meant to make it for her, since it was a childhood favorite and one she’d not had in far too long. So he was greeted by the warm smell of freshly fried onions.
“Daughter?”
“Father!” She wiped her hands and greeted him with a hug. “I thought you’d like dinner when you got back.”
The hug she got in return was tight and lingering. “Daughter, you didn’t need to do this.”
She squeezed him and stepped back. “No, I didn’t need to, I wanted to.” She ran a critical gaze over him. “You need to change. There are no ragamuffins at my table.”
Kyrano laughed since that was what he had told her any number of times while she was growing up. “Yes, my blessing, at once my blessing.”
Kayo swatted at him with a grin. He flowed out of the way with ease, more laughter, and headed to his room. She turned back to making the meal. By the time he’d returned a bowl of kolo mee was waiting for him. Along with a dish of sambal oelek at his place.
That got an eyebrow sent her way. “Surely you haven’t lost your taste for spice.”
“Hardly,” she said, spooning a less vibrantly colored sauce on her noodles. “I still won’t eat that instant death.”
He chuckled, tasted the noodles, then added several spoonfuls of the fiery sauce to his.
“Hmph. I’m surprised you still have a sense of taste.” She started on her own meal.
“It’s a preservative, daughter. How else do you think I’ve lived as long as I have?”
She couldn’t keep the grin inside but she held on until he had a mouth of noodles. “Stubbornness, pure stubbornness.”
He choked from laughing.
Dinner finished, they moved to the sitting lounge with tea. Tanusha was dreading this again, but she had to know. “Father, I must ask, why do you call yourself weak? You are the strongest person I know.”
He bowed his head. “Daughter, please -”
“No! I am not a little girl hiding behind your knees anymore. I need to know why. Why did we stay? Why did you even go to work for that man in the first place?" She set her cup aside and grasped his hand. “Please, father. I can’t protect them if I don’t know why. I can’t give that man a single weapon to use against me or my brothers.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze, but he gave a great sigh. “I have feared this day for a very long time.” He swallowed. “I will tell you, Tanusha. I also forgive you if you leave this house hating me and don’t ever wish to speak to me again.” He pulled his hand free from hers.
She sat back, stunned. “I can’t imagine anything you could say or have done that could make me hate you.”
“I pray that it stays that way, but if it does not,” he focused on the far distance, “know that I love you, no matter what you decide."
She was frightened now. “Father?”
He sighed again. “It starts with your mother and her parents. I was not their choice for Lakshmi. But your mother was stubborn and for reasons only known to her, she chose me to be her husband.” His smile was small and sad. “I was, and am, grateful beyond words that she did that. Your mother was smart, beautiful, kind, and my joy of being her husband is only surpassed by having you as my daughter.”
Tanusha blinked, this was far more naked than she’d ever seen her father.
“I had a good job as head of security of the energy plant outside of Bintulu. I’d been working there since I left school. We were happy.” He closed his eyes. “Then the war happened.”
Tanusha froze, her father never talked about the war.
“Lakshmi’s family ordered her to come to them and to bring you with her. I could not leave my job,” he sighed, “nor was I welcome in their ‘safe haven’.”
Tanusha’s contact with her mother’s family had been sparse, at best. But until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much contempt they held for her father.
“Your mother thanked them and told them no, she would not leave me. Which turned out to be wiser than anyone knew.” The gaze he turned to her was dark. “Their ‘safe haven’ was Ahmedabad.”
She closed her eyes at that. The death toll in that city had been horrific. So many people had crowded into it under the mistaken impression that since it was a cultural and historical jewel, it would be spared. They were wrong.
“The spirits only know how your grandparents survived that. But they did, as did two of your aunts, an uncle, and several cousins. After that and the war itself, we didn’t speak with her family.” He shook his head. “Maybe if we had,” he looked down and shook his head, "I have gone over for years what I might have done differently without finding an answer.”
She sat there with her stomach in knots. She didn’t even try to hide her fear and confusion, not from her father. He knew her tells far too well and it would serve no purpose. “I don’t understand.”
“I will try to explain, the years just after the war were an unsettled time. There was still much anger about the Conflict and its horrors. I had only just started working for Mr. Tracy -”
“Don’t call him that! He doesn’t deserve your respect.” She nearly bounced out of her seat with her fury.
The look he gave her blunted her rage only a little. “I have nothing else to call him, but he lost my respect long ago, Tanusha. If I may?”
“We’ve been calling him either ‘that man’ or UnNamed.” She sat back with a huff.
“You may, daughter, but I cannot.” He took a swallow of his tea. “I had just started working for Mr. Tracy, mostly to oversee security concerns. It was a good job, with higher pay than either one of us had had before.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I should have been looking over my own security as well.” He looked to the middle distance and from there, the past. “You were ill. One of those fevers that small children get. But Lakshmi was worried when it hadn’t gone down after a day. We left Kawasan and headed to Bintulu Hospital." He got up to pace. "It should have been a simple trip! The roads were in good shape!"
"Father." She wanted to soothe him, but had no idea how to.
He shook his head. "No, I need to say the words." He took a deep breath. "You were fussing. Your mother was trying to comfort you. I - I only took my eyes off the road for a moment. It should have been safe, there was no other traffic." He bowed his head. The next thing I know, I'm in hospital with neither you or your mother nearby." He sat back down with a humorless chuckle. "I caused a great deal of upset by getting out of my bed in an effort to find you both." He rubbed at his left shoulder. "The only thing anyone is sure of, is that I was burned in an effort to protect you."
She held her teacup in a tight grip. She’d grown up seeing the burn scars that had covered her father’s back. But until this moment she hadn’t known how he’d gotten them.
"I still do not know or remember what happened. Spirits know I have tried everything I could think of. A single car accident they called it. Not enough of our vehicle to see if we'd encountered someone or something else." He reached for his tea. “When I regained consciousness for the second time in hospital, the first words I spoke were to ask where you
and your mother was. Lakshmi was dead and you were in the care of family. I assumed it was Belah, but I was wrong. Your uncle had come from India to claim you. I still thank the spirits that the government would not let him leave the country with you, or I would have never seen you again. Your mother’s family claimed you as theirs. They said you would be better off with them. I would be spending weeks, if not months in the hospital. When that did not sway people.” He bowed his head. “They claimed that I had caused the crash intentionally because I was seeing another woman and wished to be free from your mother. Belah fought to keep you - "
She couldn’t help the scoffing sound at that.
He gave her a look. “Belah was not yet the man he is now.” He turned back to his tea. “I have wondered sometimes if the efforts he went to and the contacts he made in fighting your grandparents started him on the path he is now on.”
She froze at that. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that the Hood could have been other than what he now was. Nor could she fathom the idea that she might be part of the reason for the acts he had done.
Her father continued on, unaware of the landmine he had set off. “I still do not know how Mr. Tracy found out about things, other than I was in the hospital. I didn’t even know that for sure until he came in just after Belah left.” He swallowed. “Your grandparents had tied things up with so many lawyers and strings we couldn’t even think where to start. I hadn’t seen you in weeks and was terrified that I would never see you again. Suddenly, Mr. Tracy was at the foot of the bed, asking how he could help.” He closed his eyes. “I was weak and frightened with the idea of losing you along with the loss of your mother - he was kind and wanted to help, so I told him everything.”
Tanusha’s shock melted before the fury at that man taking advantage of a wounded man, deep in grief for his wife, and distraught with the idea of his daughter being taken away from him. A snarl crossed her face. “I will gut him like a fish and leave him to die in the sun.”
“blessing, you will do no such thing!” The rebuke was sharp. “I have given up too much to let you throw your life away in revenge. On anyone.”
She flinched and bowed her head. “Yes, father.” She was deeply ashamed. Her father had surrendered everything to keep her safe and with him. She was smarter than that, but hearing yet one more unscrupulous action from that man against the people she loved - was hard. She needed to protect those she considered hers just as much as her father.
He reached over and took her hand. “My blessing, I know. Trust me, I know these feelings. I have had them many times but I had too many depending on me for me to act on them. Having them is perfectly normal, acting on them is not.”
She nodded and swallowed. It then struck her, how many times had her father swallowed his words? Pulled back on his need to protect? “I’m sorry, father.” She brought her head up. “I will not do that, but I will wish for it.”
“Sometimes daughter, wishing and hope are all we have.” He gave her hand a squeeze and then let go to sit back, his face solemn. "It has been a long day and we are both too tired to think clearly." He stood up. "Go to bed, daughter. Things will be different in the morning."
