Chapter Four: The Kick
"Ten years ye carry that pistol-,"
In a fluid motion, almost impossible for the naked eye to follow, Jack drew his sword and spun towards that voice, his voice. He halted his blade, barely half an inch from a lovely neck not three feet away from him. He paused, appalled.
"-and now ye waste yer shot," Maren's eyes were empty, never registering the sword upon her throat. Instead she turned her face and cocked her ear as if listening to some silent statement. Her expression, so like his, altered from pleasure to pain. A graceful hand rose to her left breast and moved an invisible lapel. Her vision fell down to her chest then lifted to Jack, almost relieved, "I feel…cold."
Just as Maren should've fallen, body rigid, she caught herself and blinked away the haze, listening to Kristy's soothing assurances that she was not in a cave covered in treasure, a handsome boy was not standing magnificently by a stone chest behind her, a beautiful girl was not strangely dressed in an officer's uniform, and Jack was not her murderer with his pistol in hand, hating her so passionately. She rejoined reality only to discover Jack indeed had a blade pointed at her. His eyes were severe, full of amazement, and a thin sheen of sweat had dampened his brow while his arm held the sword stiff and ready.
"I know I ask'd for that," Jack said quietly, sheathing his sword, "But never be doin' that again. Anyone dead 'round me, stays dead, savvy?"
Maren mutely nodded, allowing herself to release a anxious breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. She felt nauseous, whoever that spirit was he was an evil man and her whole soul felt like scouring itself clean. The shaking of her nerves was testament that she was ill practiced with her unique skills, but even rusty she sensed something…odd. And then there was Jack, she might have just insulted him in someway, she felt timid and guilty about it. If he was offended, he was the type to never reconcile, holding grudges forever. Her friendship with the great Captain Sparrow was over before it ever really begun and for reasons she wasn't willing to admit to herself, she was regretful.
Jack kept silent. Maren was preparing herself for another borage. Freak, witch, devil…she endured that and more many times prior. But the attack she received was not what she was expecting…
As graceful as his swordplay had been, Jack pounced on Maren yet again. One of his arms surrounded her waist and the opposite grasped her back. There was a second of bewilderment when her body crashed against Jack's, warm and strong. That familiar gasp of surprise spilled from her lips and Jack's mouth descended like a bird of prey. Wet heat engulfed her senses, lighting fires down her limbs and freeing fresh desires. His talented tongue ravaged her mouth like his presence ravaged her confidence, caressing and stroking her own, till she responded meekly flicking at his teeth. A base moan vibrated from his throat. Regarding this as encouragement, she grew bolder, tasting the gold of his teeth before instinctually invading his mouth. He responded with an aggressive nip at her lips. A strange tingling began to burn somewhere by her stomach and moisture dampened her knickers. Without her consent, a wanton groan sounded from her own throat, her hands grasping desperately to his shoulders. Hearing her pleasure, Jack shifted his hold on her. He ran his fingers through her flaxen hair, which he discovered to be soft like a rabbit's, before taking a secure hold of her scalp, deepening the kiss, assaulting her mouth anew. His other hand, took a generous handful of that backside he'd been so admiring, pressing her quivering hips to his swollen organ. The friction this caused was exquisite for them both.
"Now that be a twist'd motherfucker!" Kristy reappeared, the lines that defined her ghostly form fuzzier than usual. "Was it jus-whoa!" she shrieked at the embracing couple, "Jesus, what I miss!"
Maren's world reeled back into focus. This new craving was akin to her second sight, in that she was utterly consumed by Jack's charisma, completely lost as to where he started and she stopped. Yet, with the embarrassment of Kristy witnessing her wanton behavior, though Kristy certainly wasn't one to judge, Maren lurched away, bracing her arms against his chest and pushing with all her might. "Eh, I said no sportin'!" she breathlessly growled.
Securing his grip around her waist, Jack heaved her up, spinning merrily, that drunken grin usurping his face, "And I said no promises!" Maren squealed, dizzy from his twirling, her feet dangling like a rag doll, searching for floor. "Miracles be thy name Maren!" without warning Jack relinquished his hold, sprawling Maren into the wall. If Jack registered the heavy thud or her pained cry as she caught herself on the dresser, he didn't bother acknowledging it. He sang blithely instead, "WE PILLAGE! WE PLUNDER! WE RIFLE! WE DON'T GIVE A HOOT!" His footfalls were light considering he wore boots, as he danced about like a heathen worshipper, still humming that infernal song and conducting an unseen orchestra that he alone heard.
"He's drunk!"
"He's mad!"
"Aye that I am," he beckoned to Maren, she pinned herself to the wall, wary of his wild mood swings. "But ever notice the correlation between madness and brilliance? And I be so bloody brilliant even I be impressed with meself!" Jack howled at the ceiling. "This is goin' to work, it's really goin' to work and you-," grasping her by the hand and pulling her away from the safety of the wall, Jack forced her into a careless waltz, "-you be the key to the puzzle, the final piece! Me bonnie, beautiful, bitch o' a barmaid!" Maren intended to reciprocate, but was too preoccupied with avoiding tripping over Jack's florid feet.
"If I was a religious man Maren," Jack cupped her face, her cheeks squishing upwards like a demented chipmunk and Jack bowed his head to rest his temple upon hers, "You be the answer to me prayers," he said still insanely happy. He chastely kissed the top of her crown, puckering his lips noisily. Then, like a cat distracted with string, he dropped her chin and paced to the door.
"Where…where are ye goin'?" dazed Maren followed.
"Have to go luv," flinging the door open, Jack existed backwards, "things to do and all."
"But what 'bouts-," Maren longed to say 'that kiss? That extraordinary, life-alterin', seducin', blood-boilin', divine enigma of sexuality that ye, Cap'n Jack Sparrow, and me, Miss Maren Attle, generat'd together not sixty seconds ago?' but her modesty obliged her to say, "-What 'bouts me money?"
"Aye, o' course," striding down the meager hallway, Jack slapped his brow and Maren raised her skirts to keep speed behind Jack. "Next I return, I'll bring ye the dead man's favorite possession and for ye," Jack halted at the top of the stairs, faking deep contemplation, his fingers stroking his beard. "Suppose one hundred crowns should do quite nicely," clambering down the stairs, he abandoned her to astonishment.
"One hundred crowns…" her heart pounding, Maren muttered flabbergasted, before sprinting after Jack, "Jack wait!"
"Well I be mount'd by a dog…" had Kristy technically still had a bladder, she probably would have wet herself. She compensated by sinking through the floor, "Wouldn't ye know it? I'm finally wealthy and too bleedin' dead to appreciate it proper!"
"Yes me gel?" Jack turned at the entrance to the pub arms spread to her.
She paused, suddenly shy to address him so directly, "I…I guess I be wishin' to thank ye. And Kristy thanks ye too," Maren noticed Kristy performing a jig among the local drunks. "And…and when will I sees ye again?" her blush blazed like flame upon her skin, Jack's smile was as devious as an incubus.
"I imagin' we be meetin' 'gain very soon," Jack gracefully claimed her hand, pressing a warm kiss with the slightest touch of his nimble tongue upon her wrist. His dark eyes never left her lighted ones and she shivered, mouth agape. "Escort me out, Maren?" he proffered his elbow and in numb bliss, she accepted.
"All right ye pissers!" he bellowed, entering the pub with lady in tow. Gibbs and the three pirates bounced to their feet from their table, "Good news lads, I be callin' it a night, shore leave for everyone!" Delight and trouble dripped from every grin and jeer the crew of the Black Pearl expressed at this generous news. "But 'fore ye go burnin' Tortuga to the ground," even Jack couldn't veil the mischief in his voice, "we best fetch the blacksmith to fix the brig." Instantly, the merriment faded and the pirates, now serious, trailed behind Jack and Maren to the street door.
A prickly vibe coursed through Kristy's shade. She stopped her leaping to wonder at the pirate's demeanor, "I reckons them sea fags just used some sort o' pirate code, eh Pet?"
Maren ignored her, which one was apt to do with a personally permanent life commentator, focusing all her awestruck attention on the pirate captain who beamed down on her. 'Cap'n Jack Sparrow,' she pondered girlishly, 'who would have dream'd he'd end up bein' me savior from this swallow…me benefactor definitely…me knight in shinin' armor perhaps?'
"Eh Pet?"
"Just one more thing, Maren," Jack stepped between her and the exit, finger pressed against his pursed lips, as if some revelation had just dictated itself. Maren peered up at him, engrossed and attentive, "Would ye happen to be interest'd in an epic adventure o' infamy and mystery, existin' moment for moment upon the wind in the sails, bravin' quests as deadly as they be dangerous, laughin' at lightenin' storms upon the horizon, seizin' the present like a sword, survivin' by the hiss of a cannonball, stealin' the very fruit of temptation straight from the tree and tastin' its sweet juices, all to conquer and claim the final destination of a legendary treasure and eminence beyond ye wildest fantasies?" He calmly said this, straight in one breath.
Reality and practicality rudely crashed, awakening Maren from her enchantment. "Not a chance in hell Cap'n Sparrow," her blue eyes rolled.
Jack sneered, but not cruelly, "Thought ye might say that." His gaze shifted over Maren's shoulder, "Boys?" he inquired politely.
Maren's forehead furrowed in confusion for a split second-
Before the pirate behind her gagged her with a filthy rag. Another clamped her arms in one powerful fist, binding them together roughly behind her back with chafing twine. She finally screamed, but failed, muffled by the gag. Panic muted the desperate yells of Kristy, shrieking to fight, to fight for her life! Vainly she thrust her weight against the pirate that captured her, attempting to run, but was shaken warningly.
"Forgot to tell ye, luv," Jack leered gleefully "Not a bloody thing that ever belong'd to the late Cap'n Romulus is above twenty leagues under the sea! There's no personal affects o' his left. So-," forcing a demanding kiss against her restrained lips, Jack whispered, hot breath caressing her mouth, "I have no choice but to insist upon ye presence aboard the Black Pearl and her sequential voyage to Rommie's hauntin' place, savvy?" His smug chortle made her face burn with humiliation.
'Watch this now, Kristy,' Maren bit out soundlessly, the vengeance in her thoughts pacified the wailing ghost who quieted.
In later years, locals referred to the historic incident with foreboding as 'the Kick Heard Round the World'.
Maren was successful in swinging her foot backward, gaining a considerable amount of leverage before hoisting her frame forward, her leg speeding with propulsion from gravity, mass, and every muscle her body could muster, and colliding solidly with a heavenly "oof!" bulls eyed directly into Jack's prized, if not lengthy, manhood.
As Kristy would have said, right in the sociables!
No one made a sound.
To Jack's credit, he didn't collapse and refused to cry, but both prospects were sorely tempting. He compromised with doubling over, wheezing in agonizing misery. Black spots sprouted before his eyes and vaguely he heard that damned woman chuckling, satisfied from behind her gag. "…" he choked out, his throat sealed shut, lest he scream in pain. One hand tucked securely around his crotch, the other waving at the stupid pirate with the sack, Jack's face paled eerily and he felt nauseous. He solemnly vowed that if he were sick, he'd retch all over that pretty face of hers!
Blessedly, Gibbs took charge. "Get the sack on her, ye daft bastard! And Christ's sake, beware o' them legs!" Maren tried to renew her assault, but a smelly sack blackened her vision and covered her from head to toe. Her world flipped upside down, literally, when the largest of the three crewmembers hoisted the bag upward and over his shoulder. Disoriented and in the dark, Maren discovered, with sinking hopes, that she had no room to maneuver. Panic spawned with her fear, until Kristy's voice spoke in her ear, calming and focusing, keeping her temper sparked like an angry, familiar fire. Maren surrendered herself to the only thing she could, screeching like an irate banshee around her gag.
Eventually, Jack inched himself into a standing position. His color returned and the grin, but his strut wasn't as flamboyant as before, mindful of a certain tenderness at his core. Gibbs and the others looked at him expectantly. "I'm not sure I deserv'd that," Jack finally spoke and the crew, very much relieved that there was no permanent damage, laughed loudly.
"Quits your daydreamin' and lets get movin'!" Cap'n Sparrow ordered gruffly, immediately the pirates filed out. Jack was the last to leave and he spun about, removing his hat and saluted grandly to the ancient tamers of the sea, before taking his leave of the 'Siren's Drink'. Echoing, his voice belted along the alleyway, "YO HO! A PIRATE'S LIFE FOR ME!" truth be told, it was a little more tenor than before.
There was a few minutes of absolute silence, until Old Buckman, who had waited the fiasco out in a dark corner of the pub, shuffled uncertainly, eyes darting this way and that, before sneaking behind the bar and reaching one shaky spotted hand towards a whiskey bottle.
"Buck, get out o' there!" the barmaid known as Helen arrived to start her shift. "I should skin ye alive for showin' ye face here, for all the money ye o' the tab! Get ye daft bugger, get!" Old Buckman returned to his corner shame-faced. Helen began her routine of chores, but abruptly halted… "Where's Maren?"
The elderly sailors dutifully stared at their drinks.
