A bit of a slow update. Forgive me! Enjoy the chapter and big THANK YOU to my reviewers!

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Tortugan Beginnings

A Storm's Brewing

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The lightning cracked overhead and Jack looked sharply upward at the illuminated sky. The clouds, heavy with water, began to rain. The kohl on his eyes smudged and leaked down his cheeks giving him the appearance of insanity as the lightning flashed in his black eyes. The Black Pearl rocked uneasily, but he held onto the helm tightly and securely. He did not stagger forward, nor even flinch from the ship's sudden lurches. With accuracy and experience, he brought the black-sailed ship about so the Abaddon was on the starboard side, sailing towards them.

It was curious that the sky had drastically changed its shade of color to a disturbing grey that suggested the storms that brewed ahead. The sea was violent and water splashed onto the deck as the waves crashed into the hull of the black ship.

Why does it seem, Jack mused silently, that every time an event of great significance occurs, the bloody rain gets in the way?

With the slightest bit of irritation, he clutched the helm tighter. His dreads flew about him, his eyes crazed and excited at the meeting that was to come. Jack Sparrow would finally meet the horrifying and grotesque Captain Marcus Addison.

Honestly, he was rather excited. He had met the man once but he no longer remembered the encounter. However, Addison had. In fact, he loathed Jack Sparrow. And Jack, of course, knew nothing of this. And Addison couldn't quite explain his feelings either, it was just a pestering annoyance targeted at the supposedly drunken, yet remarkably clever pirate captain. So, in truth, they were both excited to meet each other once more. And oddly, they both wanted to kill each other for completely different reasons.

Gibbs approached Jack with apprehension evident on his face. "Jack," he started, his voice wavering. "A storm's a brewin'. I be havin' this nasty feeling, if there ever was one."

Jack glanced at his first mate. "Well, Mister Gibbs, evidently a storm is, in fact, brewing."

"A battle is to commence, aye?" he asked.

Jack was quiet for a few moments, contemplating his answer. "Aye. Run up our colors, Mister Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded, visibly worried at the prospect of a battle, but he didn't dare fight Jack in his decision. Gibbs knew what respect was and he didn't dare disrespect his friend and his Captain. "Aye, aye. A red, I'm pressumin'?"

Jack nodded with a slightly wild smile on his face. "Aye! Dead men tell no tales, eh, mate?"

"Aye! Feed the fishes, eh, Jack?"

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Lucas rushed into Angelina's small and dimly lit cabin. She sat on the bunk, unaware of his arrival in her cabin. She stared out her small window, her eyes wide. Lucas was bemused at what frightened her so, and as he neared the window, he gazed out of it only to see the nearing ship. The Abaddon. He looked at her with sympathy. He compassionately placed his hand upon her frail arm to soothe her. Angelina immediately jumped from his sudden touch. She looked at him for the first time and sheepishly forced a smile, embarrassed at her previous fear.

"Sorry, you frightened me," she said softly. "We're going to fight them, aren't we?"

Lucas nodded regretfully. "Unfortunately so."

"Why do you think it is unfortunate, Lucas?" she asked, surprising him.

Lucas frowned at her. He always seemed to be frowning, always disagreeing with the world around him. "Violence doesn't end violence, Angel."

Angelina moved her eyes away from his nervously. Then, with just as much apprehension, she shook her head. "No," she said merely above a whisper. "Violence, unfortunately, does end violence." She looked into his eyes. As the ship lurched without warning, she steadied herself and grabbed hold of the nearest stable object. "The master will never cease hurting people. He will never end this. It will continue until he dies with old age, Lucas. Men like him never stop. Death ends it and only death."

Lucas simply stared at her. It seemed implausible for those words to leave her lips. Her mouse-like demeanor simply did not allow it to be plausible. Yet, he felt as if she had persuaded him. The use of the word 'master' riveted him and made his blood run cold and the hairs of his neck stand up. To think that a man, as human as he, had made another living being call him master. It seemed absurd to Lucas, and it saddened him as well. He blinked as if in shock and suddenly smiled as if it all made sense. Angelina wanted him dead, and in a way, so did Lucas. But still, he did not condone violence -- and neither did Angelina, in fact. They simply had different views on it, as they had experienced it in different ways.

As the ship lurched again and as the waves crashed into the hull, he grabbed hold of her. "Maybe what you say is true," he murmured.

Angelina's eyes suddenly grew wide. "I'm sorry," she professed, the usual, nervous waver present in her voice again. "I did not mean to insult your beliefs."

Lucas laughed. It seemed inappropriate to laugh at that time, as blood would soon be shed. But her fear of him made him laugh. Lucas Hart, he couldn't even hurt a fly. Willingly, that is. She seemed confused. "No, don't apologize. You have just as much right as I. Those are your beliefs and these are mine."

Angelina smiled softly. "All right."

Lucas helped her up from the bunk and steadied her with his arm around her waist. She blushed from the intimacy of the position. "We have to get you into the Captain's Quarters. You will stay with Audrina. Jack insists both of you are not to leave, ever -- until the battle is over, that is."

Angelina nodded in response, too afraid that if she spoke, her fear would be evident in her voice.

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The Abaddon grew closer to them; Jack could make out Marcus Addison's form clutching the helm. The red flag blew fiercely in the high speed winds. They had pledged the same things, Jack noticed: no mercy. He thought he could he even see the sadistic smirk upon the old pirate captain's face. Jack narrowed his eyes upon him and he felt a surge of rage rush throughout his body. His blood and heart quickened and in his irritation, he clutched the helm even tighter, his knuckles turning white with the pressure.

After a few minutes, he noticed that the Abaddon was finally close enough to board. He smiled at Gibbs, who clearly understood. As Jack locked eyes with Marcus Addison from across the other ship, he faintly heard Gibbs's voice ring throughout the deck. The ship shuddered as the guns fired. The satisfying crack of broken wood and breaking masts and the tearing of the sails came to Jack's ears.

The battle had begun.

Jack abandoned the helm as the Abaddon prepared to fire. Moments later, the boom of a gun rang throughout the deck; he could hardly hear the voices of his crew. The Black Pearl shook violently as the cannon balls ripped throughout the hull. As the waves shook the black ship like a toy, Jack struggled to keep upright.

With relish, he turned to Gibbs and screamed above the uproar, "Make ready to board!"

Gibbs carried on the message. As the ships were roped together, Jack unsheathed the cutlass hanging at his hip. With ropes, the pirates swung over to the Abaddon. Gunshots, the sound of slicing flesh, screams, steel against steel -- it was all too familiar with Jack. He hardly paid attention to anyone around him, only what was running towards him in anger.

The unfamiliar pirate charged at him in fury. Jack did not even lay his eyes upon his face. He didn't want to see his face. He didn't want to see who he was going to kill. And he was fairly confident that this man was to die by his blade. Their swords clashed together. The enemy screamed a curse above the din. Jack didn't even pay attention at the vulgarity leaving his lips. He stepped back, the enemy stepped forward. The swords clashed together again and again. Right, left, forwards, backwards, side stepping and sliding. They both marginally evaded each other's attacks.

As they continually attacked each other, receiving minor wounds from each slip of a blade, the time ticked on. Adrenaline kept Jack surging on. He never faltered. He never flinched as the sky illuminated with light. His concentration never wavered when the thunder rang throughout the sky and when bodies dropped lifelessly all around him. He simply continued fighting as the other pirate had.

A flash of silver came from the corner of Jack's eye. The pirate was now on his right side, trying to catch him unprepared. Jack whirled around and smirked at the pitiful pirate. The enemy's blade hand only scratched his forearm. He blinked from the sudden throb of pain. It was nothing really, but the salt water made the wound sting horribly. Jack winced.

The pirate's face was still a question mark to him. He simply fought as his muscles ached after every minute. Jack rushed towards him and leaned his weight against the blade. The cutlasses clashed together and the other pirate slipped. Jack's blade found his enemy's arm. It scratched it, drawing a tinge of blood. The pirate snarled in anger, but Jack couldn't even hear it above the roar of battle.

Jack did, however, notice that this pirate was a remarkably good swordsman. As his muscles ached, he finally moved his eyes to the pirate's face. He finally saw his enemy. Jack smiled inwardly to himself, he saw a rapist in those hateful eyes. He sidestepped too quickly, the enemy slipped forward in a panic. Jack slipped the cutlass into his abdomen swiftly and left the scene before even seeing the look of death upon the enemy's face. Jack didn't want to. He didn't want to see anything else.

Jack constantly moved forward towards Marcus Addison that stood at the helm. His face was stained with blood and rain, his face darkened as he sliced down man after man. Jack growled with hatred.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another black-skinned pirate running towards him. He withdrew the pistol from his hip and aimed it. He shot him clear between the eyes. The body fell to the deck immediately. The blood created a halo around his head. Blood had stained Jack himself. He grimaced. He could almost taste the blood upon him. It sickened him, even. Jack Sparrow never liked killing.

But he had a goal in mind. He vaguely saw Lucas fighting with fervor somewhere near the helm. Jack moved forward, the wind howling in his ears. The sound of slicing flesh was all around him. Impassioned screams of pain and agony flew about his ears. He could smell the death, the blood, and the sea water. Jack felt the deck vibrate with bodies hitting the wood. He felt the deck vibrate as the guns went off.

He moved up the stairs, only feet from Marcus Addison. Lucas beat him to it; Jack hadn't even noticed his advancements.

Lucas snarled in anger as Addison moved to pierce him with his cutlass. But he had evaded it. Jack watched in horror as the cutlasses clashed together. They danced around each other. The blades were always only just missing their target. Both were growing irritated and tired from the constant movement. Jack ran towards them, he was afraid. Lucas could, and Jack felt a possibility, that he would die. Marcus Addison was nearing sixty-years-old. Although he was somewhat slower, he had experience. Lucas Hart was merely twenty-seven. He knew nothing.

Marcus withdrew a pistol. Jack felt his heart stop in his chest. Lucas stopped. He made no sudden movements. He did nothing to entice the pirate captain. Jack ran towards the feuding pirates. He swallowed in anxiety. Jack and Lucas both saw Addison's mouth move but they heard no sound about the uproar.

Jack saw him cock the pistol. It seemed to happen in slow motion. The shot rang out. It seemed to boom above the cracks of wood, the thuds of bodies, snarls and screams. It seemed to boom above the battle itself.

Jack saw the blood on Lucas's bare chest first and he ran to his side. Marcus didn't even spare the young boy another look. He didn't even know the boy was his son. Neither did Jack.

Jack ordered the nearest Black Pearl pirate to move Lucas's body to their own ship. If Lucas was going to die -- if he did die -- he was to die in his home, and not in this hell. He vaguely saw his own crew carry the boy's limp body off. He didn't see where the bullet had torn through him. He didn't even know if he was alive or not.

Jack Sparrow heard his voice screaming above the ruckus. He turned and smirked to see Marcus Addison. He looked demonic in battle. His eyes were narrowed, his face slick with sweat, blood and rain. The wind blew about his black hair. He smiled in a sickly way that sent chills throughout Jack's body.

The sky flashed with lightening, causing the battle to become visible even within the darkness and rain. For the first time, Jack saw the battle around him in the mere second of light. He swallowed. He thought he could even see the bodies hit the floor.

"Jack Sparrow," he simply said. "Jack bloody Sparrow. Pity we meet under such horrible conditions."

Jack smirked at him. "Really now?" he started. "I wouldn't call this," he motioned to the scene around him, "horrible conditions."

"Like death do you?" Addison roared. "Suppose I can acquaint you with it!"

"Oh, Marcus, ya should really stop soundin' so acrimonious," Jack replied with a tinge of humor within his tone. "I don't believe it suits ya. Ya do seem like an ebullient man, no sarcasm intended."

Marcus frowned and his eyes brightened with the prospect of killing the exasperating pirate forever. He ran towards him, his cutlass bared. Jack evaded the attack swiftly. The ship lurched once more, causing Marcus to fall against the rail of the ship. Jack laughed. That only fueled the bastard's anger. He regained his balance. He threw himself at Jack. Their cutlasses collided together. As Addison shifted his weight upon the lean pirate, Jack faltered. Addison's cutlass slipped. Jack winced in pain as he felt the blade collide with his flesh. He felt the blood drip from his wound. It stung but he ignored it. Merely a flesh wound.

Addison smiled sickly when he saw the fresh blood upon Jack's arm. For a moment, he looked like Satan himself. His face was dark with anger and fervor. Jack swung his cutlass towards Addison's leg. Marcus was too slow. The blade slid into his flesh. He moved his eyes to look at the wound. When he lifted them back up to snarl at Jack, he realized Jack was gone.

Jack was a coward, simply put. Addison had strength. But Jack had intelligence. At the moment, his intelligence was telling him to get out of that unfortunate predicament.

His eyes widened when he saw the deck. It was slick with blood, lifeless bodies strewn about the deck. When he averted his eyes to his own ship, he saw pirates there as well. The battle was just as violent there as it was on this ship.

As he prepared to swing back to his ship, he again heard his name. He turned, slightly afraid that it might be the demonic Captain Marcus Addison. But it was not. It was the darkened, disturbed face of Napoleon Basset. Jack Sparrow was almost relieved. Almost, but he unfortunately was rather annoyed that his arrival at his own ship was to be delayed.

Napoleon glowered at the scene around him. "I can't live with this, Cap'n Sparrow," he drawled with sadness. "I be askin' ter join yer glorious ship."

Jack studied Napoleon for a moment. No cutlass, no pistol. The man was unarmed. Blood stained the front of his clothes. He was evidently disturbed. His face was dark with revulsion; his tone was strained as if he resisted the urge to scream. Jack knew at once that the Pearl would be complete with Napoleon Basset, a man of good morals and character, as he served upon it.

He nodded, "Yer welcomed. Well, excuse me as I go to my own ship and maim and injure all the unwelcome gentlemen of fortune."

Clutching a rope, he swung over to his home. He didn't like the prospect of unfamiliar pirates gallivanting upon the decks of his ship.

Jack eyed a pirate moving towards the Captain's Quarters. He was upon him in a flash. He grabbed hold of his shoulder and whirled him about. As the pirate realized they were going to fight, his cutlass was in his hand in less than a second. The pirate moved back as Jack moved forward. Their cutlasses clashed together and Jack caught his weak spot. They circled each other. The pirate was not used to the slippery decks. Jack saw his legs go weak underneath him. The pirate stumbled. Jack grinned. The pirate snarled in pain as he felt Jack's cutlass go through his heart.

Jack pulled away, his blade slick with blood. He no longer heard the sounds around him. The ringing in his ears did not cease. The storm did not cease. The killing did not cease.

Not yet, at least.

But slowly, the foreign, unfamiliar pirates began to retreat. Jack could faintly see words being formed upon Marcus Addison's face. Jack could hear no words, but he supposed he was surrendering. The Black Pearl was slowly, but surely, slaughtering the opposite crew.

Soon, the Black Pearl was almost void of any enemy crew members. Only lifeless bodies littered the deck now. Jack saw many of his own on the deck. He saw Gibbs, Francis Owen, as well as others swinging from the other side. The battle was over. Jack was relieved.

Jack rushed into his cabin at once. Audrina and Angelina sat huddled upon the bunk. The blonde's eyes were wide, but Audrina was indifferent to it. They simply stared at Jack, waiting for him to speak. Jack could not form the words he wanted to.

Angelina looked at him with large, forlorn eyes. "Is it over?" she asked calmly.

Jack felt himself nodding. "Lucas has been shot," he blurted out. He hadn't meant to, it just left his lips. He was surprised at how he just said it. He actually regretted it, he didn't like leaving himself unguarded. He didn't like not knowing what was going to happen next. He never blurted things out, but this time he did. He should have said something clever like, 'My apologies but yer sweet, dear brother has been in fact shot. Well, actually, technically, yer not his sister, Angel. Yer his…..I don't know what the word for yer relationship is, but he has been shot.'

He should have said that instead. It wouldn't have sunk in so fast. They could have been prepared.

Audrina leapt to her feet, her eyes wild now. "What?" she shouted, in pure and utter hysteria. "Is it fatal!?" she roared.

Angelina's mouth parted a little in shock, her heart beating in her chest at rapid speeds. She couldn't form any words. "Who," she stuttered, "who did it?"

Jack closed his eyes and opened them. Seeing in his mind, the young boy shot: the blood pouring from the wound, the sulfuric smell of gun powder, the sound of his lean body hitting the deck. "Marcus Addison, the demonic bastard himself."

Neither of them noticed how Audrina's eyes widened with shock. They both stared at her as she uttered a single sentence, "Our own father."