Chapter 1: New Beginning

A warm breeze passed through the air. When John's eyes opened he was greeted with blinding sunlight, immediately he threw a hand into the air. He could feel sand underneath his back and could hear the loud yet peaceful movement of the ocean. There was no doubt of his current location, a beach, but what beach was the question. Basilone slowly sat himself up and saw the ocean before him, his first thought was that he was still on Iwo Jima but that guess was immediately shot down. A pure empty beach of yellow sand surrounded him and he could see a lush forest behind that from the sound alone was rich with life. Wherever he was, it was certainly not Iwo Jima.

He felt a sudden sharp pain, wincing at he looked down and saw the source. A pair of bleeding wounds had finally made each other known, one on his chest and another on his leg. The marine wasted no time shrugging off the equipment he was carrying on his back to dig out an essential item, the first aid pouch. He was no corpsman but he knew enough from both training and experience to know how to bandage himself. It was a rush job and was not a pretty sight, but the bandages stopped the bleeding and a bit of morphine helped ease the pain.

After sitting and staring out at the ocean for a long time, John decided to stand and gets his bearings. If he was going to be stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere with no idea of how he got there, he might as well get a look around while he was at it. He walked along the beach for a brief moment, in was a tiny patch of sand shorter nearly the length of a baseball field if he had to guess. There was little to see except a few other small islands in the distance, no doubt this island was part of a chain.

Once he was done with looking around the beach he moved toward the small tropical forest within, he could hear the noisy wildlife as crabs scattered around the beach and small mice dashed into the brush. John checked his equipment, his pack was in good condition despite the mortar blast he endured. His carbine, pistol and the ever useful ka-bar knife were in proper condition.

"Alright, move it out." John said more to reassure himself than anything.

As he entered the island forest his mind was racing with questions that could not be answered. Had he died on Iwo Jima? He felt himself slipping away and saw it life flash before him. Who was the smoking man at the desk? That man seemed to be quite aware of his situation but had refused to answer a single question. Where was he? That one was a complete mystery but perhaps he could find answer. Thus the marine was left with the only thing he could do to ease his mind.

Focus and keep your head on a swivel

He felt like he was back on guadalcanal the lush jungle was completely alien when the New York native first stepped foot off the landing craft. The only difference now was that he was alone no longer surrounded by fellow marines moving on orders from one place to the next. That realization brought a sudden feeling of isolation, John struggled to hold it together but the sinking feeling in his gut was overwhelming. He took a sharp breath and leaned next to a tree for cover, the vegetation was nearly choking as his imagination began plaguing him with paranoid fears and sounds that were not actually real.

Despite the natural beauty that surrounded him it was a small comfort compared to the overwhelming situation. Moving was the only comfort at this point if he kept moving maybe he could find something, anything that would give him some answers maybe even give him new purpose. It was a pipe dream but one worth chasing. He needing something to do anything that would keep him from stopping if he stopped now he wasn't sure if he could will himself to keep moving. It was hard to tell how big the forest was, the island was much longer than it was wide the terrain was mostly flat it was almost a paradise if it wasn't for the circumstances that brought him there.

As Basilone's mind attempted to plague him with worries and concerns he couldn't afford to dwell on, he nearly committed the ultimate sin of a warrior. He had let his guard down, it wasn't immediate but the moment he took a step it hit him like a blast of wind. A voice, distant but close enough to be audible, training kicked in like an instinct. Basilone threw himself to the ground carbine raised listening intently. It a single voice loud and joyous, he could have sworn he heard laughing as well. Deciding to get closer John crawled forward inching ever so carefully toward the source. The closer he got the louder the voices grew, he swore he could make out two voices. That's when he could hear it, the loudest voice was beginning to sing a sudden tune.

"It's time to go now, Haul away your anchor, Haul away your anchor, It's our sailing time!"

Basilone took some solace that the voice was speaking english. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with no idea where he was at least his only company was someone he could perhaps talk too. The age old lesson of don't talk to strangers rang through his mind but he had little other choice in the matter. It was either go mad surviving inside a tropical forest alone. Or make contact with new faces, besides if he had a pair of trusty friends to protect him in things went south.

The marine stood up and approached the clearing in the forest, what awaited him was perhaps the most shocking sight of the day. Like a scene out of a children's storybook, an ancient looking wooden ship was resting on the sand trapped in the shallow waters. The sails were gently flapping in the wind and the hull rocked ever so slightly when the gentle waves brushed against it. The voices were louder still the singer had seemingly lost the melody he was sing instead settling for loud musical grunting.

What Basilone noticed above all else was the black flag that showed a skeleton with a spear dangling it over a bright red bleeding heart. The vessel was not particularly large, especially compared to the giant US naval ships that John was familiar with but it was clearly built for combat, though he was no naval expert he could identify the familiar sight of cannons sticking out of the side. It was a pirate ship straight out of a story, or one of comics many of his fellow marines were fond of reading. After a moment of staring dumbstruck at the bizarre sight, he decided to press on with making contact standing around wouldn't do him any good.

"Hey!" Basilone called out.

The voices fell silent but John kept approaching feeling the slightest urge to tighten the grip on his carbine if they wanted a fight he'd give 'em hell. As he grew closer he saw movement up ahead, he kept his weapon at the ready but lowered just in case. A large figure appeared stepping unto the highest part of the deck. Basilone was almost expecting it but it still surprised him to see the large man staring in his direction with clothing straight out of a history book and sporting a massive black beard. He couldn't tell the man's expression but when he began waving the tension seemed to die down.

"Well don't just stand there lad," The man said. "Get over here! I could use more guest!"

John took that as a good signed and began jogging toward the wooden vessel. When he got to the side he saw a name written in recognizable, if somewhat strange, looking letters 'Adventure' in dark bold paint stood out against the brown hull. A rope ladder descended toward him dropping into the water with a splash. John sighed it was a familiar process but not a comfortable one. Gripping tight he ascended as skillfully as he could in his wounded state, when he got close to the edge a pair of two arms hoisted him onto the deck of the Adventure.

There John was met with the owners of the two voices, the first was the tall bearded man, his height all the more imposing when up close and personal. The other 'guest' that John could assume he was referring too was also wearing archaic clothing but far different from the pirate getup. This other man was wearing ancient-looking knight armor with a helmet sitting not far from where they stood. He too was tall with dark hair but with a much smaller beard but a noticeable mustache.

It was a bizarre sight as the men helped him aboard, and they moved back toward the center of the deck. John noticed several empty bottles laying around and realized that this odd pair were in the middle of a drinking session. At first the pirate-looking man turned and left disappearing to a place within the ship, before quickly returning with three more bottles in hand. He tossed one to the knight, and the other to John before motioning toward the floor to sit somewhere.

"Well lad," The pirate said. "I welcome ya to the Adventure. She's a fine enough sloop if ya ignore the damage, she's seen the horrors battle not too long ago."

His accent was strange, it sounded British but quite unlike the accents he had heard from British people on the radio. John had to listen carefully to catch everything he was saying but caught the jist of it. The pirate didn't seem to be drunk but he was certainly buzzed and upon closer inspection he too had seen battle. His clothes were ragged and down and he swore there were a few bullet holes. The man fell quiet for a moment before speaking.

"Ah hell, I've been damn rude. Introductions are in order. The name's Edward, Edward Teach. A pleasure. If ya don't mind me asking lad, your clothes look military. Who might you be?"

John nodded. "You're right. John Basilone, I'm a Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps."

"Marine?" Teach repeated. "Don't look like any marine I've ever seen. Don't look like a dressed up bird... What's this 'United States' anyway?"

Basilone raised an eyebrow. "The United States of America, ring any bells old man?"

"Watch who ya call old man lad," He warned. "You're from the colonies? Never heard of them being united except under the crown of course."

"The colonies? Now I don't know what you're talking about."

The pirate sighed. "You're from America and you speak english lad. That means you're from the colonies, but you don't look like any royal marine."

That statement struck a chord with John. Something was starting to tell him there was more to their communications error than simple misunderstanding.

"Wait, wait, tell me something," John said. "How did you get here?"

Edward nodded. "I was out on an island with my crew. Sailing had been good lately so we decided to have a little celebration me and the lads. But the damn royals caught us unaware. Fought long as we could the ole Adventure gave it her best but it wasn't good enough. We got boarded and they cut us down one by one. Fought long as I could before I finally fell. Next thing I know I'm in a white hall with the Adventure chasing after me. Some pipe smoking bastard was staring at me like a prick and I threatened to gut him unless he told me what happened. The bastard just wrote something down and then a damn door sucked me up like Davy Jones himself."

"So you saw him too," John said. "What year was it? When it happened?"

"Year?" Edward mumbled. "Damn well must've been 1718. Hard to say, I've been stuck on this island for god knows how long by myself. That moody bastard over there's been my only company for the last few days. Then you showed up."

"I see," John motioned toward the knight. "What's your story?"

The man simply stared at him. He muttered something quietly before returning to his drink.

"Don't bother," Teach said. "Bastard doesn't speak a lick of english. He's been babbling god knows what for a while but I keep telling him I don't know a damn thing of what he's trying to say. Only been able to catch his name or something keeps calling himself 'Vlad'."

At the sound of his name the knight looked toward them and nodded as if reintroducing himself. The name Vlad sounded familiar to John but what exactly was familiar about it avoided him for some time. He decided in honest fairness to recall his own story of how he fought at Iwo Jima and died, likewise seeing the strange man at the desk. The marine and pirate came to the conclusion that Vlad had a similar experience he seemed to grow tense at the mention of the hallway and man.

"Well I'd say we're in an odd spot lad," Edward said after a pause. "But I still want to know how'd the colonies leave the crown?"

John shrugged. "During the revolution. Everyone knows it, colonist rebelled and fought the crown."

"Fought the crown?" Edward mused before laughing. "And how'd that go for them?"

"Well I'm here," John said. "I'm no history teacher. Something about the French helping made the British give it up and gave us independence. Makes no difference to me how It happened, my family didn't move to America till long after it happened from Italy."

"Well I'll be damned.. Beating the crown and being free. Sounds like Nassau, much cleaner I reckon."

The pirate and marine sat in silence for a long moment. Vlad stood up and began pacing around the deck muttering something only too himself. Edward followed him for a moment when a sly smile suddenly crossed his face.

"Well then, Basilone. Since you got nowhere to go how about I make ya a business proposal?"

"Proposal?" John asked.

"How'd you like to get off this damn island?" Edward said. "I couldn't do it with just me and ole Vlad over there, but between the three of us I reckon we can get the ole Adventure moving again. How's that sound to ya lad?"

John fell silent for a moment. Musing on what to do next he looked back toward the island, filled with life yet barren. Then he looked out into the sea ahead of them, it would be dangerous and he still couldn't be sure if it was safe traveling with a pirate and the strange knight. But what other choice was there? He couldn't rely on orders, or suggestions anymore. It was a familiar choice between safety and throwing himself back into the fray. If it meant finding answers, perhaps danger was the only real choice after all.

"Alright, I'm in. What's the plan Teach?"