Legal Note: I do not own any of the characters associated with Pirates of the Caribbean. I do not have any legal right to use them or any other proprietary words originating from these movies. This story was done just for the fun of it. Not for profit. If you like it please tell me. If you don't like it please tell me why with particulars but not excessive detail.

Author's Note: In September of 2009 I expressed to my friend Pirate-on-fleet-street an interest in writing a few oneshots with unusual pairings (ones that are not Sparrabeth or Willabeth). We decided that it would be fun to cooperate on such an undertaking. This story and eleven others are the products of that venture. We hope you will enjoy them.

Summary: Cutler Beckett's plans are going astray. His agents are unable to trace the whereabouts of Captain Sparrow, Will Turner or Elizabeth Swann. The rumor is that the Black Pearl has vanished from the sea. Beckett's only recourse now is to draw in a new pawn. But with so many pieces in play a pawn may be difficult to find. Takes place near the end of DMC. PAIRINGS CHALLENGE

Here Be Monsters

It was a rented room above a shopkeeper's home. The shop was in the less than reputable section of Port Royal. Formerly an area for brigands, thieves and pirates to gather information on shipping and passengers. It had been hardly any better than Tortuga. Now, after the Company's brute squads had routed out the vermin, it was more than just quiet. It was nearly abandoned. A perfect place to meet with a pirate.

Cutler Beckett turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door with a squeak of hinges. Dim light from the candle in the hall was enough for him to make his way to the small table by the flea ridden bed where a tinderbox and tallow dip rested. He struck sparks into the charred linen and set the small flame to the wick. As the light grew Becket turned to shut the door only to see it shoved to with a thunk. Betraying little surprise Becket blinked at the rangy, sea worn man who stood next to the door.

"Ah. I see you got my summons," Beckett said coolly.

"Is that what it was? I felt it were more in the line of an invitation."

"Semantics." Beckett dismissed the subject with a mew and a sniff. "I had heard a rumor that you were dead, Captain Barbossa."

"Aye." It could have been an acknowledgment of either the fact that there had been such a rumor or that Barbossa had indeed been dead. Beckett could not tell which from the level look in the Pirate Lord's eyes.

"Well, Captain, may I offer you some brandy before we begin?" Beckett said turning to the small table by the window. A tray sat there with a single goblet. Beckett frowned. He turned to find Barbossa holding the matching goblet and the crystal decanter.

"Spanish, from Jerez de la Frontera. Solera aging. Eight years old." Barbossa drained his goblet and refilled it. As an afterthought he handed the bottle to Beckett.

"Ten actually." A flicker of distaste washed over Beckett's features as he filled his own goblet. "Not their best I'm afraid. But still palatable."

"Aye," Barbossa agreed.

"Captain Barbossa, I have a proposition to make," Beckett said setting the decanter back on the tray. "The East India Trading Company is expanding. The Company's interests lay on every continent of the globe. Every civilized colony or settlement worth the name depends on the Company to keep it supplied with the modern conveniences and simple necessities that make life bearable. Naturally there is a good deal of profit in this trade. But there has been a good deal of loss as well. Natural disasters can not be helped. Random accidents and common wastage are to be expected. There is little that can be done about those things. Piracy, on the other hand, can be dealt with."

Barbossa's smile did not reach his eyes. "Dealing with pirates is tricky business."

"Tricky?" Beckett gave him a wintry smile. "Perhaps. Yet doing so is only good business. To ignore piracy is to encourage it."

"In my experience, pirates don't need much encouragement," Barbossa observed.

"It is your experience that I am particularly interested in, Captain." Beckett stepped closer in a conspiratorial manner. "I have letters of marque. It would mean a full pardon, Captain. You would be a free man. All your crimes erased. We would supply you a ship. One of your choice. Sail under our flag. Protect our interests."

"Ye mean the Comp'ny's interests or yer own?" Barbossa said softly.

"The Company's interests are my own."

"I see." The pirate's eyes narrowed again. "An' what be the price fer this boon?"

"A simple matter." Beckett stepped back and sipped from his goblet. "The location of Ship Wreck Cove."

Barbossa's gravely chuckle in the dim room was eerie. "Ye be after the Brethren Court."

"The Brethren Court may seem an old and venerable institution, Captain, but its time has passed." Beckett turned on the older man. "Secret societies may be good fodder for fire side tales and common fiction but they are not good for business. They belong in the realms of marauding giants and trolls under bridges. Not in the account books of the East India Company."

"The Brethren are not fairy stories, Mister Beckett," Barbossa growled.

"No. Indeed they are not, Captain," Beckett said stepping closer again. "My offer is genuine. Your reward will be quite handsome. Help me to destroy the Brethren Court. You will have your own vessel. One of your choosing. The letters of marque will free you to strike anywhere you choose so long as you strike at our enemies. The plunder will be yours to do with as you please. You may put in to any of our ports for provisioning and supplies. Repairs in our facilities. In time you may even rise to command a fleet. Commodore Barbossa. You could go down in history."

"I see now that what I heard tell o' ye be true," Barbossa said softly. "Ye are a dangerous man. Mayhap it were better to kill ye now and be done."

The Caspian Lord pushed himself away from the wall and laid his hand to the butt of his pistol. Beckett froze, his eyes locked on the weapon. Barbossa's eyes glinted with the flickering candle flame. A hint of a smile played across his weather battered face. Then he turned to the door but Becket's quiet, civilized voice stopped him.

"If you know so much, Captain, why not kill me?"

"Have ye not heard the old sayin'? Better the devil ye know?" Barbossa's fingers caressed the ornate stock of his weapon again as though he were reconsidering his choice. "If it be in yer mind t' challenge the Brethren Court for dominance o' the seas, Cutler Beckett, I have but one warnin' fer ye. Yer off the edge of the map. Here be monsters."

With those words the Caspian Lord threw wide the door and departed leaving Cutler Beckett in the shadow haunted room. Beckett tried to make light of that parting statement but a doubt passed over his heart. The die was cast. It seemed that he would need his own monsters after all.

Additional Note: If you enjoyed this story and wish to read the other stories in this challenge you can find them on my profile and on Pirate-on-fleet-street's profile. fanfiction(dot)net/u/1931701/Pirate-on-Fleet-Street