Disclaimer:
I, FickleFriend, the author of this fanfiction, hereby declare that I do not gain any profit from this story and that all creative rights to the characters (with the exception of all OCs) belong to their original creator(s).
"You may call me Percillian Fyoon Errol Dahc. Lord Percillian Fyoon Errol Dahc."
Jack stared at the young man for a while. His hair (like his clothes) was black. His eyes were also black. Not even 'so-dark-brown-they-almost-look-black sort of black'. Just black. There was only one explanation. He must be a demon. Although, he didn't really look demonic…
"I think I'd rather not," Jack stated. Percillian's eyes widened maliciously and his thin lips clamped together to form an even thinner line. After a few moments, his expression relaxed.
"So be it. I intend to join your crew."
"Oh really? I thought you didn't want to," Jack said childishly.
"But I must."
"Why?"
"It is necessary."
"Okay."
Percillian's lips curled into a sinister smile, "Excellent," he drawled.
And with a flap of his long black coat, he walked away.
"I need some rum," Jack thought, traumatised by Strange Man's strangeness.
He headed down below deck, glad that he would now have at least one hundred and twenty bottles of rum. As he turned a corner, he heard hushed voices and whispering. Jack frowned. By Hercules, he would not stand for another mutiny.
He leaned against one of the creaky doors where the voices were loudest. They were uneasy to decipher and all that he understood from the conversation was the word 'food'. Who were these people? Jack was certain that all the crew, save for Strange Man, were on deck. He pushed open the door, walked in and saw roughly ten men sitting around a table, drinking and playing board games.
"Who are you?" questioned Jack suspiciously. The men leaped off their chairs and scurried around, trying to hide behind the fattest of them. (failing miserably, of course but the fat man did hide two of them with ease.) They all wore sheepish expressions on their face.
"You don't have the rum, do you?" Jack asked, walking past them to inspect the old shelves that used to store the crew's items. Usually rum.
The out-of-place men just shook their heads and stood together in their clump, shuffling constantly. As Jack walked around them, searching for the rum, they moved around, trying not to be the one at the front.
"No, I don't think there's any here. Damn Gibbs. Always drinking, the filthy drunk. Fancy leather bottle. Always empty anyway. Why? Because he drunk it all! Honestly-Hey!" Jack stopped his rambling at a short man with a familiar goatee who had sarcastically muttered that "you can talk".
"I know you!" Jack exclaimed, "You're the short man! The unnaturally short man. Why are you here and not there?" he asked, gesturing to the ceiling.
"I didn't realise you wanted me dead." the short man said.
"What?" Jack said, confused, "You need to lay of the rum, mate."
He then reached out and snatched the rum out of the small man's hands, who said,
"But at least you didn't say down there, which would be Hell..."
"What?"
"I'll go up there, as you command..." the little man said, sighing, as he took out his knife and pressed it to his heart. "But no guarantees that I'll end up up there, in Heaven..."
Then realisation dawned on his face. "If I give you me 'at, there'll be no 'ell! Just Heaven!" he said, taking his hat off.
Jack rolled his eyes, "I mean on deck. Up there. I know all of you," he continued in a know-it-all sort of way, "You were my crew not long ago. So you thought you could just take a free ride in a fancy carriage, hm? Not doing any work?"
The men reeled in guilt.
"Drinking my rum?" Jack bellowed. "Ah!" he said as he found one of the rum cupboards and flittered towards it, waving his hands about.
"At least you haven't touched the rum that the good men have brought. Get up there and scrub, you naughty children."
"Aye, cap'n," they all grumbled like disappointed school children. This was one of the truly wonderful things about being a captain.
Jack followed them all up and then called for everyone's attention.
"I have something very exciting to tell you,"
The crew groaned. Some cried in anguish. Some declared that they would be rich if they had a penny every time Jack lied.
"Save me, Lord! Save me from this fabricated devilry! His manipulation is surely the epitome of evil deeds! DELIVER US FROM THIS HELLISH ERA!"
The whole crew fell silent and stared at the obese member that had hid few of them earlier. His name was Bob Sheruncle. He was religious. Minutes, hours, days and weeks passed while the crew stood in silence, observing this peculiar, large fellow.
"Right, well if we're lucky, his praying shall stop us from running into any trouble," Jack said hopefully.
"Are ye goin t'tell us where we be sailin' te? Is now the Chosen Hour of Revealin'?"
Gibbs asked gravely.
"Well I for one hope that we will be going somewhere. I can't stand sailing without a purpose," Tessa said snottily.
"Yes to Gibbs and shut up to Tessa."
"How rude!" Tessa gasped.
"Will you not just tell us to where we will be going?" droned Percillian, who had mysteriously appeared.
"We are going to find some sort of treasure - a sword, specifically. A sword so deadly that they say no other sword can beat it. The NonBeatable Sword as it is called in legend."
"You just made that up." pointed out Tessa condescendingly. She was right, for once. Jack had no idea of what nature this treasure was, but experience told him that if the crew knew what they were looking for and where they were going, the cooperated better. You see, Jack was hitting his mid-life pirate crisis and he desperately wanted to go anywhere other than Tortuga. He wouldn't admit it but he missed the whelp and his strumpet, because danger always seemed to follow them. As well as boo-hoo sob stories about a bride being thrown in jail and something about righteous, heroics to restore someone's father's life. It was all a bit ridiculous and foolish but at least he got some interesting experiences.
"No, I didn't. It's Swordus Foreverus in Latin. Look it up. Go on. Do your research. Now. Do it. Now."
Tessa looked startled and quietened down.
"Yes so, I don't really know where it is but there is a clue to where a map could be to find it. Problem is I don't really know if the clue is the clue so..."
"Why not use your compass, Jack?" Gibbs asked
"Because."
"Okay, so just to be clear, we are finding a clue to find a map to find a sword?"
"Yes. We have the clue... Perhaps"
"I see," said Percillian. "So you mean to say that the map shall be found with a clue, and once we find the clue we will find the map, the map to the sword?"
Jack frowned and paused. "Stop confusing things even further, Strange Man."
"You needn't call me Strange Man any longer, I have revealed to you my name."
"So you're saying that telling me your name makes you no longer strange and no longer a man?"
"No."
"Then shut up and stop confusing my crew."
"We aren't confused, Jack," said Gibbs.
"You sir, are a mongrel ,"replied Jack. Gibbs raised his hand menacingly, with a murderous expression on his face as if to slap Jack, but then just shrugged and made a face as it to say 'fair enough'.
"So, we be findin' some treasure? What be in it for us?" At this most atrociously selfish question, Jack rolled his eyes.
"Listen, these historical people don't just hide treasure without surrounding the item with extravagant riches. They want every part of the pirating crew of thieves to get an equal share, savvy?"
"Aye, cap'n!"
"So...what be our clue?" asked Gibbs. Jack handed some parchment to Gibbs.
"Tell the crew where we're heading," Jack ordered. Gibbs unrolled the parchment dramatically, and once it was unrolled he cried out in shock.
The crew waited patiently for him to stop making faces of shock and ecstasy. When he'd finally finished, he yelled, "Phantom waters, that be our path!"
Jack looked confused and snatched the parchment from Gibbs. He too let out a shout. Then he paused, sighed, rolled his eyes and turned the map upside down.
"No, Gibbs, that is our path!" he said. Gibbs looked at it and sighed.
"Aye, I see it now," he said dejectedly. "But how d'ye know that it isn't-" Gibbs took the parchment and turned it upside down again, and let out another shout, "that!"
"Because, if it was that, then THAT-" Jack said, pointing to a spot on the parchment, "would be THERE."
"ARGH, just tell us where we be headin' to!" said the fat man. Gibbs and Jack ignored him and continued debating over which way the parchment was meant to be.
"This way, Jack!"
"No, Gibbs! This way!" And it went on and on until Pintel walked over, slowly removed the parchment from Jack's hand (Jack was busy telling Gibbs how rude he was) and crept away into a corner with it, chuckling idiotically.
"Now, I can figure out where we-" he said.
"You are not intelligent enough to work that out," thundered an utterly satanic voice. Pintel didn't dare look back as his eyes were fixed upon the ground, which was becoming dark with the huge shadow looming over him.
Sorry it's been such a long time. My life just descended into a cruel and viscous spiral of sleeping and sleeping only. Leave a review, if you wouldn't mind. Thank you for reading!
Your FickleFriend