Captain James Hook stood tall and proud, red doublet tapping wildly in the wind, on the high deck of the 'Second Star', his massive ship. He scrutinized the crew with a sneering, watchful eye, but softened his gaze a bit when it rested on his son.

"Morgan! Good to see you're home. I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Good day, old man. Glad to see your motor's still running." breathed 18-year-old Morgan, with a cold lift of an eyebrow.

"If your mother could only hear you speak that way! But God rest her soul!" He pulled off his black feathered hat and, with a mock solemn expression, continued too quickly, "Well anyway, I need your help worm."

"Let me guess. You're trying to conquer all of Neverland so that 'Hook's Crew' will be known and spoken in reverie from shore to shore, and Peter Pan will forever kneel to you." recited Morgan in a monotonous singsong voice. "With all due respect, sir, you're beginning to become a tad bit predictable in you old age, codfish."

"Boy, you've got your facts wrong." Hook muttered darkly. "This time, this time, I've got something, something I've never had before, something that may just be the leverage I've always needed. I will rise to the occasion and smack Monsieur Smarty-Tights hard in the rear end. But, you see, none of this is possible without you, my dear Morgan. Tell the crew the prepare for attack." He finished with a scowl.

Morgan eyed his aging father skeptically, then broke out into a half-grin. "I suppose there's no use asking what your 'leverage might be?"

"Of course not. If I start confiding in you, who knows what the world will come to. Now move!" He barked sharply.

Morgan turned on his heel and yelled to the crew.

"Damn offspring. If only he wasn't so thick all the time." He muttered kicking a beer bottle off the edge of the ship, and stepping into his office. His eyes darted to a shadow behind his desk, where a sprig of red curly hair poked above the wood. He pull on it and growled to find it was attached to a young girl.

"You, girl. Get back to work!"

"Yes, sir." The girl uttered, her pretty freckled face taking on a fake smile to match the fake tone of her voice. Her skinny legs carried her out of the room as quickly as they could move.

"And damn slaves. Don't know why I bother with them. Not worth their salt." He stalked over to the door and slammed it shut.