Enigma on the Horizon

A "Pirates of the Caribbean" Fan Fiction By

Raven Usher

Part One. Objection & Flight

"I ain't got time fer yer rubbish! I ain't sellin' my ship. Not if hell were to freeze over."

"I think you'll find my proposition an interesting one. A lucrative one. It's possibly a suicidal one…"

"I know you're type!" the drunkard spat, reeling on his feet. "You're looking out to steal my ship! It ain't gonna happen!"

Joan pushed some of the stray strands of golden hair away from her face and straightened out her long, black coat that was very worn from use. "Sir, stealing is such a foul word. I only wish to direct your ship. It's not the same thing as stealing. I'm making you an offer."

The man seized Joan's coat by the lapels. No one in the bar seemed to be paying them much heed. Brawls were the normal course of action. Even if it did involve a woman, another outlaw's problems was nothing to get involved in. He held Joan close to his face that glowed red from a cross between the large consumption of alcohol and his growing anger.

"Then I'm not talking yer offer, bitch! Find yerself anether ship! 'Cause you ain't usin' mine!"

"My good, sir," came a smooth voice from behind. "And the word 'sir' I use as loosely as possible."

"This doesn't concern you, Sparrow! This is between me and the lady!"

A man with a weathered complexion and dark eyes put his hand on the burly drunkard's shoulder. "Captain Sparrow, my good man." Then he let out a short laugh. "Again, I use loose terminology. What fun we're having, eh?"

"I don't need your help," Joan grunted, wrenching herself out of the drunk man's grasp.

"See that?" replied the drunk. "We were having a conversation, jest me an' 'er." Here the man took a blade from a nearby table and held it dangerously close to the cornea of the other one. "Got it, Sparrow?"

The other took a step back, being a bit further from harm. He raised his callused hands to outline his words as he spoke. "I may be a pirate, my good man. And a bloody good one at that. But I'm still a very firm believer of chivalry."

"Chivalry's ded," the man spat, grabbing Joan by the throat and pulling her closer in order to make the dark eyed man back away. "Just like you should be, Sparrow."

"Two things," Sparrow started, clearly not phased, though looking up at the knife carefully. "I am in fact Captain Jack Sparrow. And it is quite apparent that chivalry is not dead, as I am still alive."

It took only the blink of an eye for Joan to reach for a pistol, hidden by her long coat, and hold it beneath Sparrow's chin. "I'll take care of this, don't worry about it, Captain."

Sparrow smirked, barely able to stifle a laugh. The only situation he saw her in control of was, well, himself, of course then, he meant her no harm. That would be the bumbling, drunken, moron who had her by the throat.

"Miss, maybe you should be concentrating on the man trying to choke you to death," the Captain said, trying not to sound as patronizing as he would have, had there not been a gun beneath his chin.

"Oh trust me," Joan said with a playful smirk. "It's all in hand."

Before either of the two men had time to come up with a reply or further comment, the young woman had freed herself, tearing the man's hand from her throat, and upturning his wrist. What came next made even Sparrow feel a bit uneasy, and sure anyone else (had they been paying attention. The young woman sank what appeared to be fangs in to the wrist that had held her throat. The man's screams were rattling in the ears of all those who were near. His blood was seeping down over his arm.

Joan raised her head and pushed the man back into a table, writhing in agony. She looked back at Sparrow, a devilish smile playing on her face. She licked the remaining blood with her tongue, her eyes illuminating.

"That's interesting," Sparrow muttered, stumbling backwards in awe.

"Perhaps I'll talk to you later," she said with an untraceable accent. "The sun's coming up."

With that Joan stepped up on a table, launching herself through the thinly paned window, glass shattering about her shoulders. There was silence for a brief moment while the entire tavern was focused on the window that had once been. Then the usual murmuring and slurred speech commenced. While Captain Jack Sparrow stood alone, smiling to himself.