Spiteful laughter echoed across the deck of the sailing vessel that had plagued the waters of Kidd's Creek Bay for so long now. The Jolly Roger had always been the dark blot that marred the rest of Neverland's fair features, but now, the ship's malicious nature seemed to be spreading in billowing clouds to the rest of the island. The thunder that roared from the usually peaceful Neverland sky mimicked the cruelty in that guttural, wicked cackle as lightning ripped through the swelling clouds, casting the gnarly, unnatural silhouette of Hook Island against the sky.
Pirates and Lost Boys had long since ceased their battling with each other and now looked on at their respective leaders as they sparred. Even Neverland itself seemed to know what the outcome of this battle would be as the sky darkened to a dull, sickly green.
"You'll taste cold steal this day, boy."
These words had passed through the captain's lips more times than anyone could count, but there was something different about them this time. And everyone felt it. Everyone except that eternal boy who laughed down at the pirate captain with a mocking grin.
That boy that had made Captain James Hook's life a living hell from the day he had laid eyes on the cursed island. How the Captain loathed that wretched child. How his namesake itched to bury itself between his ribs and yet was denied that privilege time after time after time.
But this battle wasn't like those before. This time, Hook could sense his own victory, smell it in the air, even. It was unmistakable that Peter Pan would draw his terminal breath this day. With a newfound confidence, Hook leered at his prey, the red of his eyes beginning to glow from behind his icy blue irises.
He sneered up at the flying boy and motioned to the dismal air, "There's a storm brewing, Pan," he droned, "and you know what that means, I trust?"
The boy laughed, hovering mockingly over the man's head, his voice carrying the hint of laughter, "Only that we might get a little wet, Captain."
Hook chuckled deeply, "Aye, boy. Wet…with blood."
He lunged at the boy, a vicious snarl escaping his throat.
Peter laughed that mocking laugh as he turned to make his aerial escape, but the sky, which had long been his sanctuary, held no safe place for him this day. Instead of landing back onto the deck as he should have, Hook continued upwards, and Peter cried out as his ankle was grasped in the Captain's iron grip.
Words failed the boy as Hook jerked him closer to his death. The pirate's eyes were by now entirely red as he rose above the petrified child like a viper ready to spring upon a helpless rodent. Never before had James Hook felt such joy as he did now, such power coursing through his being. He savored the look of terror in Pan's eyes as he raised the very grizzly instrument that had been so graciously bestowed upon him by the whelp himself.
Hook's laughter was amplified across all of Neverland this time, as if letting the entire land know what was about to happen the its leader. He raised the iron claw slowly above him.
"Thus perished... PETER PAN!"
The words repeated over and over in his own head as he brought his hook down upon the boy's chest. However, right before he could enjoy the satisfying sound of metal penetrating flesh and bone, the image of Pan's horror-stricken face began to fade before him.
Captain Hook winced at the shrill crowing in his ears then opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin and drenched in a cold sweat.
Quickly coming into focus with cruel reality, Captain Hook groaned, "Peter Pan…" he spat, as if disgusted by the taste the boy's name left in his mouth.
Hook sprang from the silken sheets of his bed and put on his many layers of clothing at an impossible speed, hastily splashing water onto his face from the washbowl on the mahogany table set across from the foot of his bed. He stormed out of his cabin, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white beneath his purple glove.
"Ready Long Tom, you dogs! And blast that accursed boy to kingdom come!"
The crew of the Jolly Roger bounded across the deck, not hesitating a moment at their Captain's orders.
"I'm not exactly sure where kingdom come is," Peter Pan laughed, hovering just barely out of Hook's reach, "but it'll take more than the likes of you to blast me there, Captain Kipper!"
"Gall and brimstone!" Hook clawed at him angrily, "Your day will come soon, Pan! By Queen Anne's Revenge, I swear it will!"
Peter Pan chuckled playfully, taking a reclining position in the air, "You shouldn't swear to promises you can't keep, Admiral Anchovy. Not proper form, you know!"
"I'll show you proper form, you puerile little urchin! FIRE!"
Billy Jukes lit Long Tom's fuse, and the cannon fired just barely missing Pan's head as he ducked at the last second.
"Reload, Mr. Jukes, and SHOOT ME THAT WRETCHED WHELP!"
"There 'e goes, Jukes!" Mason bellowed, pushing Long Tom around with little effort at all. He grabbed the torch from the young gunner before he could protest and lit the fuse.
"NO, Alf Mason!" Jukes cried, "It's aimed right at—"
Splinters of wood darted over the ship as the mast crashed to the deck, crushing several barrels as it landed.
"Have fun cleaning that up, Codfish!" Peter laughed as he flew toward the shore and out of sight.
Hook snarled, burying his sword furiously in the fallen mainmast then glancing over to his crew, who were staring at where Peter had gone, "You miserable mullie-morts! Fix that mast before I plunge this into your gizzards!" he flashed his hook toward them, and his men scattered and obeyed immediately, knowing better than to upset the captain when he was in such a foul mood.
"Aye, Pan," Hook hissed, plucking his sword from the mast as if it were nothing more than a flower petal, "it matters not how many times you escape me. It will make it all the sweeter when I finally rend you in two."
"Ha ha haa! Did you see the look on their faces, Tink?" Peter Pan darted in and out of the narrow spaces between the trees of the thick Neverforest, "I thought Hook was gonna explode! His face turned three shades of purple when that mast fell!"
"Sure, Peter," Tinkerbell yawned, lagging behind him a bit, "I just want to get back home and go to bed. We've been up all night."
"Go to bed? But, Tink, we're just getting started! I've got so many more pranks to pull on ol' Codfish today, and I need you for all of them!"
"Tin tops and copper bottoms, Peter! Don't you think knocking down the mast is enough for one day?"
Peter laughed as if what Tink had just said was the most absurd thing he had ever heard, "Of course not, Tink! You know we can't let Codfish go the whole rest of the day without so much as a few more inconveniences!" Peter sped up, quickly disappearing into the trees, "Now let's go! We don't have much time!"
Tink sighed, "Peter! …oh! That boy will be my undoing!"
By noon, the Jolly Roger was almost completely repaired, mostly due to Hook's threat of sixty lashes to anyone caught lollygagging. Hook now patrolled the deck, a predatory glint in his forget-me-not eyes.
"Robert Mullins!" he called up to the newly erected crow's nest, "Any sign of those air-born blighters?"
"None yet, Cap'n!" Mullins answered, "that island's been as still as the waters of the Pacific! Suspicious, I'd say!"
"Aye," Hook stroked his chin in thought, "I just know they're up to something. I can feel it in my hook."
"Peter, this is ridiculous!" Tink complained through a yawn, "I do not want to do this!"
"Oh, come on, Tink! It'll be easy!" Peter handed her a tiny blue sack only about the size of a ping-pong ball, "All you have to do is drop these into Hook's supper! Just a few of these will make even the most appetizing food taste like pond scum."
"That isn't nice, Peter Pan!" Wendy scolded as she entered the room, "Not nice at all!"
"Oh come on, Wendy," Peter replied cheerfully, "since when was I ever nice to Hook?"
"What if those things made Captain Hook sick?" she said, hands on her hips, "Then he wouldn't feel like fighting with you any more."
"Oh, they won't make him sick," he chuckled, "At least, not for any longer than a few hours. Besides, a little stomach ache never hurt anybody that bad."
"Well you had best be careful. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to Tink… or to Hook, for that matter."
"Hook?" Peter chuckled, "Why should I care what happens to Hook?"
"Oh, admit it, Peter. You don't really want anything that bad to happen to him. Then who would you fight?"
"That's true," he said thoughtfully, "If I'm going to kill Hook, there are much more fun ways to do it than by poisoning him."
Wendy sighed, rolling her eyes, but she decided against pressing the matter further.
"Besides," Peter explained plucking one of the tiny green balls from Tink's pouch, "these aren't poisonous; it's only filled with Neverswamp water."
Tink sighed, "If I do this, can I please go to bed?"
"Of course, Tink," Peter said apathetically.
"Fine, then. I'm going," Tink said quickly as she tied the bag shut and flew hastily from the Underground House.
Tinkerbell peeked from over the side of the Jolly Roger to the scattering of pirates on board. Mullins and Mason were reclined in coils of rope, Billy Jukes lied fast asleep on his stomach atop Long Tom, and Starkey sat at the other end of the ship, lazily picking at his fingernails with the tip of his rapier.
"Alright," she yawned, "now to get this over with so I can get some sleep."
She took one last glance across the deck then darted through the rigging and down to the hatch that led below, peeking through a crack between the planks of wood. Cookson's voice echoed through the hall beneath her as Tink spotted him carrying a large bowl of scraps up the stairs from the galley. She quickly darted behind a barrel just as the old Greek sea chef hobbled out the door singing something badly at the top of his lungs, Tink couldn't tell exactly what. As soon as she was sure he was far enough away, she fluttered below decks and into the galley.
She began rummaging through the numerous pots and pans strewn across the counter, first coming to a large pot filled to the brim with something viscous and green. The thick film that had formed on the top made it look very much like the scales of the Croc. Tink took a great whiff of the substance and retched.
"Ugh! That's definitely the crew's food. How anyone can stomach this filth every day is beyond me!"
Tink quickly placed the lid back over the offending contents and continued exploring the other pots and pans, coming across several other undesirable dishes, until she came upon another pot of soup. This soup was a creamy, almost white color, and its smell was relatively tolerable compared to the other dishes.
"This has to be Hook's supper; it at least bears a resemblance to food."
But before Tink could finish the job, she heard the creaking of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and Cookson's off-key singing.
She yelped and ducked into a large, empty cabinet that sat on the floor next to the counter, "I'll never get out of here now!"
She sat for a moment, her head resting in the palms of her hands, "Great… how will I—OH!" she sat up with a start and plunged her hand into the bag she carried at her side, a puff of glittery powder floating from the brim, and retrieved a handful of the shimmering particles, "I almost forgot about the special dust I got at Small Monday Island yesterday!"
She tossed the purple and blue dust in front of her, and it sparkled in the dark cabinet, then glistened white and grew into a small, round opening in thin air just big enough for her to fit into. Daylight shone in from the other side.
"Peter will have to come up with some other prank," Tink mumbled, "I'm going home and getting some rest."