An Endless Tale
Part 1
A man sat perched on a stool at the bar counter, one hand clutching the handle of a half-full mug. He stared blankly into the amber liquid with kohl-rimmed eyes, his mind obviously somewhere else. He wore the casual grab of a sailor, his loose white shirt draped over his slumped shoulders. His free hand was unnaturally still, lying motionless on the stone counter. Several strands of beads intertwined with rough braids adorned his hair; even his beard was done up in two small beaded braids. His cutlass and pistol were faithfully strapped to his side, looking almost innocent when combined with the man's inactivity. The seats beside him were vacant, his strange appearance and silence unnerving any who would have taken residence on the stools.
Across the tavern, two others sat together at a table, speaking in hushed voices. One was a tall, lanky male with dark hair and a goatee. He wore the garments of a merchant captain and his dark blue eyes danced over the rim of his mug. The other was a medium-skinned female with thick, dark hair done up in a bun. She wore a low-cut, figure-fitting burgundy dress. Her intense coffee-colored eyes were locked on her accomplice's gaze.
"Where's this man ye told me about?" The woman whispered.
The man nodded towards the eccentric-looking figure slumped at the bar. The woman glanced over her shoulder, quickly memorizing the man before turning back.
"Him?" she asked, her lip curling slightly in disgust.
"Him." The other replied with a nod and a sadistic grin.
"Alright," she agreed, more than slightly reluctantly.
"'Member, once th' job is done, bring it t' me an' keep anythin' else ye want fer yerself."
"In addition to the fee ye promised me, aye?"
The man nodded slowly, obviously displeased at the reminder. "Aye. Fifty pounds an' a boat. Now git goin'."
With a curt nod, the woman stood. As she turned her back on him, the skirt of her dress swirled around her ankles before falling straight once more.
"Have yer fun while ye can lass." The man whispered into his mug. Although the statement was addressed to her, it was not meant to be heard. The man took a long drink of his liquor.
Ana sauntered casually over to the bar and paused behind the man in question. She took a deep breath to establish her concentration and cool composure. As much as she despised this act, this was not the first time she had lured a sailor into giving her what she wanted.
"Move on lass. I'm in no mood fer company." The man before her growled, not even glancing over his shoulder to fully acknowledge her.
A familiar phrase from her past echoed through her mind, reminding her that 'no' was not an acceptable answer.
Get in, get close, destroy.
"Why so gruff, sir?"
"None o' yer business." The man snapped, clutching the handle of his mug tighter.
"So be it," Ana huffed, turning on her heel and making sure her skirt brushed the back side of his leg. From what she had heard of the man, Jack Sparrow was soft-hearted and never turned down company.
A few steps later, her suspicions were confirmed.
"Lass, wait."
She stopped mid-step, slowly looking over her shoulder at him and allowing her most innocent pout to surface. Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Come 'ere."
Ana complied, attempting to reach goal number one. She placed herself gracefully on the stool to Jack's right and casually placed a hand on his right arm.
"There was no need fer me t' be so rude," Jack began, his tone adding sincerity to the words. "Let me buy you a drink? I'll need yer name, though."
Ana smiled widely and nodded. "Jus' a light ale, if ye please."
"And your name?"
"Joanna."
~*~
"Cap'n Sparrow,"
"Aye?"
"I need t' talk t' ye…in private." Ana slurred lightly, running her hands down his arms while standing behind his swaying form.
Jack clumsily glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes revealing just how much he had had to drink. "'lright, luv. Le's take it upstairs, aye?"
Ana nodded and chuckled, attempting to act in a drunken manner and still make it believable.
The two stumbled toward the stairs of the tavern, Jack more so, and they ineptly made their way up the back stairs.
"Thi' way," Jack mumbled, staggering to the right and down a narrow corridor.
Ana followed him slowly, many thoughts running through her slightly hazed mind, but always keeping her sights on the prize. Jack came to a halt at the third door down, and, after releasing the tip of the bolt, he lightly kicked the baseboard and the door opened with a creak.
Jack stepped back from the open door and turned to Ana. He bowed, stunningly stretching his arms at shoulder height. "After ye, milady."
Ana giggled in a high-pitched voice as she had heard many a wench do from her multiple stays in Tortuga. She then strutted grandly into the room, sitting in a chair on her way. Jack followed immediately after, closing the door firmly. He shrugged off his shirt casually, revealing the various marks on his tan skin. He tossed the shift on the floor near the worn wooden desk and went to stand before Ana.
"Now wha', cap'n?" Ana asked, purposefully slurring her words.
"Wha' e'er ye like, luv." Jack replied with a sloppy grin that, to her dismay, caused her heart to flutter. She returned the grin and rose to her own feet before placing her fingertips on his chest, momentarily reveling at how muscular the man really was. She recovered quickly and put weight behind the command. Given his highly inebriated state, the task of getting him on the bed proved itself quite simple. Jack moved back from the pressure and, a few steps later, found himself on his back, cushioned by the bed's mattress. He looked up at Ana somewhat quizzically, to which she slowly, slyly, grinned.
Jack shifted his position so that he was lying on half the bed, instead of taking up the foot space, then patted the open half.
Ana regarded the drunken, shirtless pirate on the bed before her. He was very muscular indeed, but his body was marred by several scars. Some were obviously from sword nicks and bullets, while others proved to have more mysterious origins. Such as the one running like a bolt of lightning along his left forearm.
"Was th' matter, luv?" Jack drawled, his brown, slightly glazed eyes reflecting mischief.
Ana snapped out of her reverie and regained her composure. She sauntered to the bed and climbed onto the mattress beside Jack. She braced herself over him, ignoring the fact that the right strap of her dress slid off her shoulder in the process. "Nothin'." She purred into his ear, her voice seductive.
Jack placed his hands on her waist, gently running them up and down her sides. Ana chuckled ever so slightly as his hands hit a ticklish spot. Jack grinned up at her, gold teeth shining and eyes half closed as an effect of the drinks he had consumed earlier.
Ana's hand traveled unnoticed to the pillow beside Jack's head. She returned the grin to ensure no suspicions were raised, doing her best to imitate his drunken condition.
"So luv, wha's yer name?"
"I tol' ye, 's Joanna."
"Nay, tell me yer real name." Jack persisted, his eyes becoming much more focused than they had been a moment ago.
Ana took in a sharp breath, realizing he had been toying with her at least half as much as she was with him. With a frown of anger, she lifted the pillow up and quickly placed it over his face. Using both hands, she kept the pillow pinned firmly in place. She had to call on all her strength to keep the pillow over his head as the man thrashed wildly in an attempt to get a breath. Ana gritted her teeth as one of his fists connected with her elbow, almost causing her to lose her grip on the pillow. Much to her relief, his movements soon became sluggish, then slowed until they were only the occasional twitch. Finally, the man laid still.
Ana cautiously lifted the pillow from his face and looked down. His eyes were shut and his mouth slightly ajar. His skin had a slight bluish tint from the oxygen deprivation, but so far as anyone else could tell, he was simply asleep.
She returned the pillow to its rightful place on the bed, then slipped off the man's motionless body. She pulled the strap of her dress back onto her shoulder and took her hair from its bun. Most had fallen out during the struggle and she didn't feel the need to put it back up. Glancing around the room, she silently searched for his belongings. She spotted them laid carelessly on a chair parallel to the bed. Truthfully, it was too close to the bed for her liking, but she had a job to do. Steeling herself, she stepped up to the chair, sorted through the objects until she found her prize, then straightened. Unable to stand being in the same room as the man she had just killed, she dashed out, leaving the door only half closed in her wake.
~*~
The next morning dawned bright and early, allowing the forenoon rays of sunlight to flood through the un-curtained windows. The tendrils of light gently caressed the bronzed skin of the man lying stationary on the bed.
Outside, sitting on a tree branch was a small, scruffy-looking bird. Brown, black, and white splotches of color decorated the small creature's feathers and its dark, beady eyes caught the sunlight as it tilted its head. The bird hopped down to a lower branch, then edged its way toward the open window. It peered curiously through the porthole at the sleeping man and cocked it's head inquiringly.
Jack jumped into consciousness at a loud screech from just outside the window. His rapid heartbeat reverberated through his skull as he faced the direction from whence the sound had come. The most he caught of the vocal intruder was the beating of wings and a flash of dark feathers. He sighed to himself and ran his hands down his face wearily.
It was then that memories of the previous night exploded through his mind and his hands dropped. Details and possible explanations flitted through his thoughts and his eyes widened.
"No…" he muttered with dread, springing to his feet. He crossed the room in three large steps to where he had discarded his effects the night before. He dropped to his knees right away and began frantically sorting through his belongings. Not finding the article for which he was searching, he looked up with defeat written across his features at the partially open door.
"No."
~*~
Jack listlessly stumbled down the tavern's back stairs, ignoring the various scattered bottles and mugs that littered his way. He had donned his shirt before leaving his room, but he hadn't had the presence of mind to strap on his cutlass or pistol.
His mind was focused on other, more pressing matters.
His compass was now missing, no doubt stolen by that woman. But what could she have wanted with a compass that doesn't point north? He seriously doubted she knew of the compass's origins—he was almost positive that the only ones who knew its secret were himself and his mutinous crew. What did she want it for then?
His musings were cut short as his body connected with a tall, sturdy figure. His eyes snapped back into focus as he stepped back to get a good look at this roadblock. At a quick glance, the man before him was tall, dark-haired, and friendly-faced.
Jack placed his hands together, palm-to-palm, and ducked his head briefly. "Apologies, I wasn't paying attention."
The taller man smiled warmly. "No worries, mate. It were my fault as well. Excuse me if I seem t' be prying, but ye seem upset. May I ask why?"
"Possession issues with someone. We didn't exactly see eye t' eye…I saw it as mine an' they saw it as theirs." Jack replied with an indifferent shrug.
"Ah, a bit o' a theft, eh?" The other said with a knowing grin.
Jack nodded. "Wha's yer name?"
"Muent, Captain John Muent. An' ye?"
"Jack Sparrow." Jack replied, extending his right hand.
Muent nodded and grasped Jack's proffered hand. "Pleasure. Care fer a drink?"
Jack pondered the offer for only a moment before nodding. "Much obliged. A rum if ye please."
Muent nodded. "You git th' table an' I'll git the drinks."
Jack turned from his newfound companion and sauntered over to one of the many empty tables. Muent joined him a few minutes later, two full mugs in hand. He placed the mugs on the table, sat, then slid one of the drinks across to Jack. Jack caught the mug, then raised it to face level, enjoying the scent of the amber liquid. Muent raised his own mug, signaling a toast.
"T' new tales, aye?"
"Aye, t' new tales." Jack repeated with a nod before the two men clanked their mugs together and took long, deep drinks.
Muent lowered his mug first and watched as Jack continued to greedily drink his liquor down. Finally, Jack's mug met the table, the contents almost gone. Jack swallowed dramatically before bringing the rim of the mug to his lips once more. Muent noted with some interest that Jack's motions were becoming more sluggish and his eyelids seemed heavier.
The mug returned to the tabletop once more, this time remaining as it was empty. Moments later, the change in the pirate's posture was unmistakable: he was slouching, almost to the point of laying on the table, and looking down at the mug through glazed eyes half-hidden beneath heavily hooded eyelids.
"You feelin' alright, mate?" Muent asked, not even bothering to hide his sadistic smile.
"Wha' ye do?" Jack asked slowly, having to force the slurred words from a leaden tongue.
"Best think twice about acceptin' drink offers from now on, mate." Muent replied simply, reveling at how jerkily Jack dragged himself to his feet. "Impressive. I'm surprised you're still awake after that large a dose."
Jack staggered on his feet, the effects of the drug causing the room to tilt and spin violently.
"Ye b-"
The simple sounds were all Jack was able to say before a sudden wave of blackness rose up, squelching the room's light into unyielding darkness.
Muent watched with a cruel grin as the pirate staggered once more before finally succumbing to the effects of the potent drug. He waited a few minutes, sipping at his mug of rum, making absolutely sure the poison had taken full effect. The last thing he needed to deal with now was a thrashing, drugged pirate.
After taking a last swig of rum, Muent stood, stretched, and turned his attention to the man lying unconscious on the floor. A dark smile tugged at the corners of his lips, even as he heard the front door of the tavern creak open. The soles of worn boots plodded across the worn wood floor, echoing through the muggy silence of the tavern.
Ana stepped up beside her accomplice, now dressed in a loose shirt and breeches. When her gaze fell on the motionless form by Muent's feet, she took in a sharp breath.
"What is it?" Muent asked, not taking his eyes off Jack's body. He noted casually that the pirate's breathing seemed labored. "Hmm…that's interesting."
"Wha—how's he alive?" Ana asked in dumbfound manner, staring wide-eyed at the pirate lying before her.
"Why does this surprise you?"
"Well he—last night I—he was…"
Muent nodded. "Thought ye killed him, huh? Well, hate t' burst your bubble lass, but knowing this sack of filth, it'll take a lot more than being smothered with a pillow."
"How do ye know 'bout-"
"Not important. What is important is that we deal with this lowlife…and soon. Can't have anyone askin' questions, now can we?"
Ana quickly drew herself back into the present, stepping casually over the body on the floor, her eyes taking on a stony glint. "Ne'er mind 'im. I'm here t' collect my reward."
Muent's smile dropped and he nodded shortly. He pulled a large pouch from his vest pocket and dropped it into her waiting palm. She bounced the pouch in her hand, expertly testing the weight of the contents to its value. She glanced at Muent, then at the pouch, then nodded. Spinning on her heel, she departed from the tavern and headed for the docks.
"I expect t' see my boat t'morrow." Her voice echoed back before the tavern door swung closed behind her.
Muent's temper flared unexpectedly and he released his vexation on the closest object—Jack's nearly lifeless body. He drew back his foot and viciously jabbed the solid heel into Jack's side, drawing a satisfying crunch as the boot connected with Jack's ribs. The smile returned as no reaction was forthcoming.
