RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL

Yes! Another post! I'm the Master of the Universe!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: And so modest, too.


Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued

Will strode through the crowded streets of Port Royal, one hand clenching the letter, the other in a fist.

He had had a year to absorb the fact that his father had been—and apparently still was—a pirate, buccaneer, all-around scallywag, but although his brain could process that bit of information, some secret layer he buried deep beneath fragile memories of his father and more recent memories of Jack could still not put the "pirate" and the good man he remembered as his father together. Jack had said, then proven, that pirates could be good people, that Bootstrap was one of those. But, Will thought, he's Captain Jack Sparrow. He doesn't tell the truth even when he's telling the truth. In coming to know Jack, Will had come to serious doubts concerning Jack's ability to tell the truth. Even if he was telling the truth about Bootstrap, his view of things, him being Jack Sparrow, would be seriously skewered. Perhaps Jack had seen nothing wrong in Bootstrap's behavior, but a normal person might disagree.

Without thinking about it, Will's feet took him along the way to the blacksmith's shop automatically. He passed a tannery, three shops, a tavern. Lost in thoughts that were taking him to a place he didn't especially want to go, Will didn't register the rapidly-moving blur that soared gracefully through the glass window of the tavern, placing Will in the direct trajectory of the temporary human missile.

THUD. The impact knocked Will off his feet and the air out of his lungs. He lay quite still, trying to suck air back in his lungs, trying to clear his eyes of the dust that had blown into them. When he thought he could manage it, he opened his eyes.

Obviously the human cannonball had suffered less than Will, for he had rolled off him and stood up, brushing dust and bits of shattered glass off clothing that, from what Will could see, was more in need of a good washing. He turned out to be a skinny, dirty man with dark hair, including facial, that hung down to his shoulders. From behind, he looked like...

Then the man turned around, beady dark eyes flickering nervously back and forth. Will felt an overwhelming surge of disappointment roll over him, so great that he could barely stand up. It couldn't have been him, but it was the kind of entrance that Will would have expected from Jack.

Will abruptly noticed a mob of angry men swarming from the tavern that the man next to him had appeared from. They didn't seem to be favorably inclined. Inclined to lynching, maybe. Will's tackler turned pale, or as pale as the filth and grime on his face would allow him to, and spun around, so obviously searching for a way to run that Will followed suit. There was none.

Oops, thought Will. Without giving the matter another thought, he drew the sword hanging in a scabbard by his side. His tackler yanked a cutlass from the sash tied around his waist, jagged and with dried blood on the blade. Then the mob was upon them.

Will fought using the flat of his blade to knock out several drunken but still (or maybe more) dangerous men, not wanting to kill those who were probably neighbors. The man—who by now Will had realized had to be a pirate—seemed to have no such reservations. Will saw him run his filthy blade through two men at once. The mob's size had significantly shrunk by this time.

Will heard a shout come from behind him and turned to see a squad of marines running towards him and the pirate, somehow still in step. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the pirate take down the last of his attackers by seizing the man's almost-empty bottle, drain the last drops from it, and bringing it down hard on the man's head. The bottle didn't break, but the man's eyes glazed over and then rolled back into his head, knees buckling.

Will wasn't watching as the pirate turned away from his fallen opponent, crossed the distance from him to Will, and casually whacked him across the back of his head with an empty bottle of rum.

Glass flew everywhere, but Will didn't notice. He wasn't noticing much at the moment.


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