The Assasin's Code

Never look them in the eye,

Never turn your back,

Never care for who you kill . . . or anyone at all

Disclaimer; I don't own Pirates, but i do own Tudor. I'm not making any money off this, but if Jerry Bruckheimer decided he wanted to use it as the sequal, that would be okay by me . . .

Will Turner drunkenly staggered into a dark ally way in Port Royal, Elizabeth's words echoing in his head. It's not fair to you Will! His arse it wasn't fair! He tripped in the darkness over a barrel, landing flat on his bum in the cold wetness in the street. He sat there, lifting his bottle of rum, taking a swig, then throwing it away, shattering it against the wall opposite to the one he leaned against.
He sat there dejectedly, staring into the inky night, his blurred vision unable to detect anything in the pitch-blackness. He slowly pulled his pistol out of his belt, cocked it and held it to his head. He squinted, his finger not on the trigger but looming over it ominously. He sat there contemplating.
Before any coherent thought on suicide could enter his head, he heard an unfamiliar voice in the darkness. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate. Bloody horrible mess. Yeah, it's quick and painless, but someone's got to clean up after you, don't they."
"What?" He questioned the voice, not sure whether he was just hearing things or even if he comprehended what the voice said.
"Trust me. I know death in all it's grisly and gory. If you want quick, painless and clean, go for an icicle through the ear. Of course that might not work here." Slowly, like a cat, a shadowy figure leapt of the pile of crates it was perched upon and crouched down to Will's level. "What's got you so looking so knackered that your ready to French kiss a pistol."
Between the swimming of his sight and the giant cannon ball like pounding in his head, Will could barely get a sentence out. "Elizabeth . . . "
"Should have figured. Ah, what women will do to men." The voice said resignedly. "Here mate," A bottle was thrust in his face. "Drink yourself sober. Or if you have one too many, drown you liver, thus getting the effect of the bullet through the head without the nasty blood over everything."
He grunted. "Thanks." He said taking the bottle. "Normally I don't drink. Elizabeth doesn't like it." He hiccuped then took a swig. 'This isn't rum?" He said in amazed wonderment.
"Of course not. So this Elizabeth. . ."
"Oh let's not talk about her." He said, taking another draught.
"Alright then."
"It's like this," He said, turning more fully to his company. "She is the most wonderful girl on earth, y'know . . ."
"They always seem to be."
"I mean, she was the one. The ONE. And then she hands me this line that 'it's not going to work. This relationship can't function like this. It's not fair to you'. How is it not fair to me?" He mocked in a falsetto and then questioned drunkenly. "I mean, I've loved her since we were 10 years old! Not fair to me."
"Ah one of those."
"Hey . . ." Will paused for a minute. "Who are you anyway?"
"Tudor Smith, at your service . . ."
"I'm Will . . . Smith . . . no . . . Tudor Turner . . . no wait a minute . . ."
"Will Turner?" Tudor suggested.
"Huh?"
Tudor stood and pulled Will up from the ground. "Come on, Will, let's find you a home. You do have one don't you?"
"I'm staying at the inn at the dock, that's where I'm staying." He mumbled as his head flopped back.
"Right." Tudor wasn't very tall, only coming up to about Will's shoulder, so it was an incredibly humorous sight to see the shorter figure leading on the towering one.
By the time they got to the Inn, Will was all but unconscious, making gurgling noises as they went along.
Tudor was surprised when a dark man dressed in worn clothes sitting in a chair, feet propped up on wall, tri-cornered hat covering his eyes was found in Will's room. "Please, come right on in. Have a seat, a swig of rum or two. Just don't bother yourself with any preliminaries . . . like knocking."
Tudor sneered at his tone. "Delivery for you chum."
The man shifted in his chair, apparently looking in Tudor and Will's direction, but he also might have also been trying to get more comfortable. "What's this then?"
"I found him half drunk in an alleyway about to make a new short term acquaintance with a bad sidearm." Tudor said dropping Will on the bed. "Apparently all over some bit of stuff named Elizabeth."
"She isn't a bit of Stuff!" Will protested loudly and vehemently, sitting up, then groaning and flopping back down.
"I thought I'd let him finish the boozing up properly so he could sleep it off."
Jack grunted his approval. "He'll have one bloody hell of a headache when he wakes up. He never drinks." He mimicked Will's accent. "Elizabeth doesn't liikke eiit."
Tudor Laughed. "Sounds like this Elizabeth has his balls in a vice." She muttered to herself.
Jack leaned over his inebriated friend and seeming not altogether sober himself, spoke loudly into his ear. "There's a bit of rum here. Would you fancy having a bit?"
Will rolled over and spewed on the floor in response to Jack's kind offer. "Well, I'll leave you to it." Tudor turned to the door.
"Before you make your exit do ye think I could have the privilege of striking an acquaintance with ye?"
"Tudor Smith, at your service." The name was repeated, this time with a flourish of a hat, a cascade of red, shoulder length curls falling down.
Completely unfazed, he made an equally showy if less graceful flourish of his own hat. "Please to met ye, and I'd be Captain Jack Sparrow, at your disposal missy."
Tudor quirked an eyebrow, as she threw her hat down onto an empty part of the bed. "Captain?" She asked. He certainly didn't look like he was in the navy.
"Independent business man, as it were. My ship is anchored somewhat away from here."
"Right, independent business, good for you." She said. "Well, must be going . . ." Tudor said, bowing with a grand gesture. And with that, Tudor walked back out the door, Jack was left with the feeling that he missed something and Will was left with the feeling of Nausea.

"Mornin' Sunshine!" Jack said as he leaned into Will's face.
Will groaned as he sat up. "Jack? Is that you? Who's with you, or am I seeing double? When did you get here?"
"Yes, it's probably two of me. I wouldn't miss your wedding, now would I?"
Will groaned again and flopped back down on the mattress. "There isn't going to be a wedding. Elizabeth said she didn't want to get married any more." Jack shrugged and Will sat up again.
"Take heart lad, I brought ye a drink to take the edge off that headache ye've got yourself there."
Will groaned, his stomach violently jolting with the thought of more alcohol. "What exactly happened last night?" He asked as he buried his face in the dirty pillow, trying to block out all light.
"Seems you were toted home by some woman. Don't worry, I won't tell." The last part was whispered conspiratorially.
Sitting up in a panic, Will was pale faced. "I was with a woman? What kind of Woman? A whore? What if Elizabeth finds out?" He groaned as the room started to spin and flopped back down onto the mattress.
"Ye'd better just sit back and nurse that head for a bit. As for the woman, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have mistaken her for a whore. In your state, I'm not even sure you would have even realised she was of the female variety at all, mate." He said, grinning.
Will tried to get comfortable, but couldn't as he was lying on something bulgy. "Jack, get that damned hat of yours out from under my neck!" He said, testy and moody.
"Fetch the hat, the man says." Jack grumbled, as he obliged by harshly tugging the offending head ware from beneath his disoriented friend, earning him another moan. "Well Mate, just so happens you're mistaken. This isn't my hat, but the lass's that hauled you through the streets last night."
Will moaned yet again, this time not because of the hangover, but of the blank in his memory that was last night. "Elizabeth will never take me back if she finds out about this!"
"Who says she needs to bloody know anything. I thought she jilted you, anyway."
"You right." Will said resignedly, reaching for Jack's bottle that was resting on a small table next to the bed. "What are you going to do about the hat?" he asked.
"Gather I should return it. S'not right for a bloke to be without their hat." Jack said as he looked inquisitively at the hat he held.
"You do that." Will uncorked the heavy bottle and was preparing to take a swig.
Jack picked up his own hat and placed it on his head and headed for the door. "Don't drink to much of that mate or you'll be right back where you started and this time there'll be no woman nearby to help you."
Will quickly corked the bottle and put it back on the table, and winced when Jack closed the door loudly.

Jack had been strolling about Port Royal for sometime before he spotted who he was looking for. He saw the small redhead dart into an alley and instinctively followed. He found himself in a deserted passage. Glancing about revealed that he was alone. Then suddenly, he heard a gun cock at his left temple.
"You're late." A low voice muttered. It sounded familiar.
"Terribly sorry. I do hate to keep someone waiting."
"So, where is my money?" The disembodied voice with a gun insisted.
"Uh, money? Well, here mate, how 'bout you hold this here hat while I search for some?"
"What the bloody hell are you talking about . . . I want my 500 pounds in gold and I want it in the next ten seconds or . . . wait, where did you get that hat?"
"Eh, some lady. What was her name? Smith . . . Smithy? No, not right. Two Smith? Two Door Smith? Smith . . ."
Tudor appeared out of the shadows, Dutch army officer's pistol cocked and in tow. "Oh, Sparrow, wasn't it?" She asked, her tone changed, no longer low and threatening, but more of the cheeky manner it had held last night.
"Captain Sparrow, if you don't mind. I've come to restore your hat to you Miss Smith. Now what is this about money? Do you charge for hauling drunken fools home?
She smiled, took her hat out of his hand and winked. "I should y'know. Good business that. You'd be surprised how many drunks I come across in my line of work." She said, smiled, and nodded. "Ta." And she started to saunter back down the alley after uncocking the pistol and replacing it at the broad leather belt, resting at her shapely hips.
"And what line of work t'would that be?" He called after her, hurrying to catch up.
"Call it 'independent business' she said with a smirk, copying his answer to her question the night before. They came to the end of the alleyway, and she put her hat on and looked both ways into the main street.
"Now, just out of curiosity, who the blazes did you think I was back there?"
"A client of mine." She said simply. "You are a curious little man, aren't ye? Well, you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat, and as you definitely are hairy enough to be misconstrued as a cat, I'd be a bit more careful." She grinned widely, then ducked into the crowds on the main street.

Will sat across from Jack at a small, dirty table at the back of a tavern, trying to sip from the rum Jack had placed in front of him.
"Ye see," Jack began setting his tumbler down with a thump, "The way I see it. Ye've really got nothing to tie you to this piece of land, so how's about ye just cast off with the Black Pearl as planned?"
"I have to try and get Elizabeth back." Will said with a whine. "I can't live without her anymore. Have you ever been in love Jack?" He asked desperate for some understanding.
Jack just gave a frustrated groan of disgust. "Oh! Forget Elizabeth! She jilted you mate! And she's certainly not going to take you back like this." He gestured toward Will just as he threw the rest of his rum down his throat and grimaced.
He looked so forlorn as the realisation of this truth registered. "Oh good lord – YOU'RE RIGHT!" He cried despairingly. "Why did you buy me that drink?" He said as he tried to tidy his hair and straighten his clothes.
"Oh, so it's my fault now. Ye weren't complaining when that rum was drowning your sorrows in that there tumbler." He watched Will try to finger comb his hair back into his usually neat ponytail, "Oh, just put a hat on it, mate!"
He instead continued to frantically finger comb. "Y'know, she didn't really jilt me. She just didn't think we should get married, but she didn't say that she didn't love me." He rationalised.
Jack rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. "Just give it a rest, mate. It's the same thing! Either way, it means ye're not going to be together."
Will sniffed and pawed at his eyes, manly trying not to cry. "I guess I'll sail with The Pearl then."
"That's the spirit mate! We'll heave anchor tomorrow morning!" He thumped him heartily on the back.