Greetings, Friends…sorry once again for the delay, but I have been suffering greatly from the dreaded curse of writer's block. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this latest offering! I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to review this story, and I want to give a shout out to my new Beta, Wakizashi, who has become a wonderful friend and has been given the task of poking me with a very sharp stick should I procrastinate too much in getting these chapters out!

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney's POTC or any of its characters; I just like to drag them out and play with them every once in a while, and I promise to put them back when I'm through….well, most of them anyway…think I might hold on to Jack Sparrow for a while..hehehehe.

Enjoy!

Chapter 21: Make Ready For War

1:00 am…

Max could best be described as looking tall, dark and lethal as he leaned against the counter in Jo's kitchen, a set of infrared photos in one hand and a half full coffee mug in the other. Following Misty's precise directions, he had gone out on a reconnaissance mission to scope out the building they believed Jo was being held in. His special ops training and techy toys were definitely paying off as he managed to get close enough to the building to actually get detailed photos. He had not spotted their missing friend, but had managed to overhear some of the goons positioned inside the warehouse discussing what they'd like to do if they got their hands on the woman being held prisoner. Satisfied that the priestess's location charm had been dead on, Max had been forced to leave the scene using the utmost stealth, as he knew he when he was outnumbered and couldn't possibly free Jo on his own. Fortunately, Jo had recently invested in one of those digital photo home processing systems….it saved them the trouble of going to a 1 hr photo. Infrared photographs would be hard to explain, even in a wild town like Las Vegas.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Bethany called out as she entered the apartment to Nicodemus's excited yips. "Here ya go, pal." Dropping her keys into their special pocket, she pulled a new rawhide chew from her shoulder bag and tossed it through the open bedroom door. She glanced over and saw Misty kneeling before the coffee table turned makeshift altar, packing up her working tools. Murmuring a greeting, she strolled past the priestess and entered the kitchen, grinning when she saw Max in his spy gear. Setting down the wooden box containing the item she had been sent in search of, she grabbed a mug of her own, hoping a cup of java would be enough to keep her alert for their upcoming adventure.

Pouring herself a healthy measure of the beverage, she noted that it was exceptionally dark, just the way she liked it. What she wasn't prepared for was the extreme bitter kick and the funny aftertaste, and she had to restrain herself from slapping the grin of Max's face when she grimaced.

"Merlin's brass balls, Max, what the hell is this shit you're passing off as coffee?"

The man in black just smirked. "Triple strength expresso with some chickory added for flavor. It's a time honored recipe one of my former comrade in arms gave me…I figured we could use the extra kick."

Well, beggin' your pardon, but it tastes like a possum crawled up inside the pot and died, like two weeks ago. Hell, forget knives, guns and spells…let's just throw this coffee at them---it's strong enough to knock over a buffalo." Bethany's grinned as she reached for the cream and sugar.

"That stuff will kill you someday." Misty shook her head at her two friends, her gray robe fluttering gently as she picked up the empty tea kettle and went to the sink to fill it. "All that caffeine isn't good for you….tea is much more natural and better on your system than that poison." She smiled as she reached for the tin of her own special blend of tea from her bag, hanging on the chair back.

Bethany snorted. "We all have our vices, m'dear, so hop down off your pedestal, Miss "I love natural foods but have a secret cupboard stashed full of M & M's, Hershey's Kisses with Almonds and Reece's Peanut Butter Cups."

"I'll have you know that I only have that on hand for dire emergencies."

"Oh, and since when does watching Gone With The Wind or a Jane Austen sappy romantic mini series on A & E constitute an emergency?" Misty couldn't refrain from blushing and busied herself with the tea kettle on the stove.

Max raised his eyebrows as he looked askance at the two women. Bethany had to chuckle at his confused expression. "Trust me, you don't want to know….it's a woman thing." Bethany took another sip of the still bitterly strong brew, then swung around as she noticed Max's eyes widening as he looked at something over her shoulder.

Jack emerged from the bedroom looking as if he had just been plucked from the deck of The Black Pearl. His hair was once again adorned with an odd assortment of beads, coins and the odd fishbone or two beneath his worn red bandana. He wore his customary white shirt open halfway to his waist, dark vest, faded charcoal leggings, faded red and white sash covered by a wide buckled belt, and brown square-toed bucket boots. Tucked into the sash was the cutlass he'd been wearing when they left the museum, now sharpened to battle worthiness thanks to the whetstone that Max had provided. Misty turned when she heard his booted footsteps, and the teaspoon she'd been holding made a tinkling sound as both it and her jaw hit the floor.

Jack's kohl-lined eyes lacked their customary twinkle as he walked past the trio and into the pantry, emerging moments later with an unopened bottle of Captain Morgan's. Making quick work of the cap, he tilted the bottle up and observed the group from beneath his half closed lids as the fiery liquid burned a path to his stomach. Lowering the bottle, he strolled casually to the kitchen table and seated himself, propping his boots on the table edge as he took another healthy swallow of the liquor. "What're you all gawking at, eh?" He smirked at their dumbfounded expressions. " You didn't think I'd face the most feared, depraved, blood-thirsty, loathsome pirate in the Spanish Main, next to meself of course, sober as a newly ordained priest, did you?" Jack grinned as he raised the bottle to his lips once more. "You're forgetting one very important thing, mates….I'm Captain Jack Sparrow…I do m'best thinkin' and fightin' with a pistol or sword in one hand and a bottle in the other. Speakin' o'pistols." Jack was suddenly on his feet and face to face with Bethany. "Beth, m'lovely, were you able to locate that special welcoming gift for me old crewmate?"

Bethany sighed and turned back to the box she had left on the counter. "You're lucky that Vegas is home to so many 24 hour pawn shops, pirate. I had to hit 5 of them that specialize in firearms before I found anything that even vaguely resembles what you described. It cost you an extra ten grand to get him to backdate the purchase so as to forego the 3 day waiting period, though—I had to convince him that it was a birthday gift for my gun crazy hubby, and that you had no intention of firing such a pricey antiquity." She slid the box toward Jack and flipped the catch, grinning at the sighs of appreciation that escaped the group as they gazed at the beautiful but deadly looking weapon.

Resting on a bed of dark blue velvet, the rare flintlock pistol was a work of art. Jack whistled softly as he reverently lifted the gun with its carved walnut fullstock, admiring the gold inlay and raised carvings along the barrel tang. "Aaaaah, now this looks familiar….Dutch made, if I'm right?"

Bethany nodded. "An 18th Century Brass Lock Colonial Period Dutch long holster pistol, Circa 1715 or thereabouts, or so the dealer assured me. It's in near mint and fireable condition, although he couldn't guarantee accuracy over 30 yards or so. I told him that distance wasn't an issue."

She had to fight down the urge to shiver when she saw the feral gleam in Jack's eyes as they met her own as he held the gun up and stroked it with his be-ringed hand, smirking as he spoke the words that chilled her to her soul.

"A truer statement than that has ne'er been made, luv. Last time I sighted him down a gun barrel, t'was involving a chest of gold, my ship and a curse. Those things I expect a respectable pirate to fight over…comes with the territory. But takin' a man's flesh and blood treasure…that's against the Code, and no pirate defies the code without retribution. This time" he sighted down the barrel of the gun, his hand steady and his eyes betraying cold fury. "It's personal."

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At that moment, Jack's "flesh and blood treasure" was in a most uncomfortable position….seated on the floor of the limousine with her left cheek resting on Barbossa's left thigh. She shuddered as he ran his rough hand through her shorn hair in a motion that would have been considered soothing if it had it been coming from anyone else but him. Her eyes were shut and she said nothing, hoping beyond hope that he had given up his crude attempts at seduction. She had learned quickly in the short time that they had been together in the car that any sign or sound of fear was a definite turn on for the aging pirate.

Michael sat tensely on the bench seat adjacent to the Captain. "I've been thinking about our "arrangement", Barbossa….and I realize now that I'm getting the short end of the stick here. So far, all I've done is spend my time and money helping you get your revenge on Jack Sparrow, and I've yet to see any benefit. I think now would be an excellent time for me to collect my share of this transaction." He leaned over and caught hold of Jo's bound hands, only to find the blade of his partner's cutlass beneath his chin.

"There'll be no partaking of any spoils of this here war until I'm standing over the cold, dead carcass of Jack Sparrow, Dixon, unless you care to join him. As for our terms, I've been thinking on that as well. Matter o'fact, you might say I've had a change o'heart, now that I've seen this little morsel here." He took a moment to raise Jo's face up, and cackled when she glared at him silently before jerking her head away defiantly. "She's a spirited thing, and far to fine to waste on a gutless bastard like yourself. No, I'm thinkin' that it would suit me fine if she accompanies me when we conclude this here business."

"That wasn't our agreement, you..:" His words were cut short as the blade moved ever so slightly, causing blood to begin dripping slowly from the tiny cut beneath his chin. "You can't hurt me…the spell forbids it!"

Barbossa only chuckled. "The spell forbids me from doing you life threatening harm and from killing you, scum, but not all injuries are life threatening. I needed you to be my connection to this plane and to assist me in getting my revenge, but know this; once Sparrow is dead and I regain the treasure from the Isle de Muerta, your position at my side will be tenuous at best. As long as you are alive, I am impervious to any injury, just as I was under Cortez's curse. So you'd best be thinking of ways to make yourself useful, Mr. Dixon. I may have to keep you alive, but you'd be surprised how long a man can live in a cave with naught but stale bread and water to sustain him." With that, he reached over to the wet bar and removed a round green sphere and pressed it into Michael's hands. "Enjoy this apple, Mr. Dixon…..it may be the last one you see for a long, long time."

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