A/N: Thank you soooo much for your reviews! If you haven't yet commented, even if it's the tiniest thing ever please do so other people will miraculously mistake this for a masterpiece andget a giggle:) Unless it's me and about 4 other people clicking back and forth like a maniac, there's at least 100 people who could post something :p Oh and if you'd like a reply to your posts (sorry I haven't been doing that until recently) then please make it a signed review! Uh, one more thing, there's been some question about why I chose to call Mr Wonka "William". Explanation I figured his father wanted him to be named after him butIbelieveat some point his mother stepped in and said she wanted the name to be slightly different, even if it was just so the right guy got the right mail. If there's anything unclear, apologies mates, I shall endeavour to merit you with the explanation goin' on in my fuzzy English brain.
Jack and Mort were scrapping like wolves at the top of the riverbank, teeth bared and fingers clawed. It was impossible to tell which had the upper hand in a show of strength, but at the moment the pirate was pinned down. This was remedied easily by pressing Mort's glasses firmly back into his face.
As Mr Rainey arched back in pain he was distracted by a loud whistle in his ear. He turned just as Ichabod cracked the cane across his forehead. Mort stayed focused long enough to give the constable a withering glare, and then lay still.
Jack shoved his unconscious attacker aside and allowed Ichabod to help him up.
"Well this is just wonderful," the constable exclaimed, wiping his hand on his sleeve. "After being slammed into another world full of abnormal parallels of myself, shocked out of my wits, attacked by strange little orange dwarfs and threatened by Mr Hyde, I'd say things can't possibly get any worse."
On cue, there was a small explosion over the hill.
Sparrow glowered at Ichabod.
"It's all down'ill until someone comes out with something as stupid as that."
Smoke streamed out of the debris, flashing every colour but the expected grey.
"Nonsense," said Crane. "You don't truly believe in the superstitions of a simple phrase?"
"By all means, mate. I don't care for the fancies of old wives' tales," Jack replied, "but what I do believe in is irony."
William strode over and snatched back his cane, flashing a similar glare at the constable. He pressed his hat down firmly and hurried over to his rainbow-vomiting machine. He ducked as various buttons glowed white-hot before shooting like comets over his head. The contraption's body was shaking.
The others neared warily.
"What's wrong with it?" Ichabod cried over the rumbling din.
"It's overheating!" Mr Wonka shouted.
"I can see that!"
William dodged yet another button's flight for freedom before diving for the remnants of the underside chamber.
"There's something in here!" he called. He scrabbled around with one arm in the belly of the machine and took hold of the thing. He pulled it out and stood, holding it aloft.
"That's my pistol!" Ichabod gasped. "It must've landed in there when…a-ha!" He whirled on Jack who was retrieving his armaments. "When you were fighting Mr Rainey. Youmust've thrown it. This is your fault!" His eyes shone with a hysterical jubilance.
Jack gave a wry smile.
"How ironic."
The machine sighed and ground to a halt. Another wave of silence splashed the room. Then came a new sound – sharp, like a fork on china.
"Did anyone else hear that?" said Wonka.
Everyone began to back away from the broken machine. The sound happened again, a screeching of metal inside the apparatus itself. A thin wisp of steam rose from the top of the body then, without warning; a thin shaft of steel sliced up through the machine and tore down the sides like paper.
The machine groaned. All the bulbs in the Chocolate Room shorted, flickering out until the only light remaining came from a few lampposts scattered around the meadow. To the uncanniest audience, the metal body split apart and a dark shape leapt out of the core. A horse squealed, its hooves striking the counterfeit earth only feet away from the retreating men. On its back was a figure, armoured in leathers and a shining black cuirass of twin dragons. The horse was even blacker.
Everyone screamed.
Not everyone stopped. Ichabod spun Jack to confront him and struck him across the face with his palm.
"OW! What was that for?" Jack growled, for it was he who had been screaming the longest.
"I don't know," said Ichabod. "But it seemed like the right thing to do."
"Now that's what it looks like when someone has no head!" Mr Wonka declared.
The headless horseman's steed snorted and advanced slowly. The doppelgangers continued to back away.
"Everybody stay calm," Crane murmured, his voice strained.
"What does it want?" said William.
"Revenge on his last barber, perhaps?"
Ichabod was exasperated by Jack's calmness.
"It wants our heads!" he yelled.
"What? All of them?" said Jack.
"I like my head where it is!" Wonka wailed.
The constable took back his pistol from the chocolatier and fired at the horseman. It barely even jolted at the shot. Ichabod swallowed. The horseman reached to his side and unsheathed his sword.
"Not good! Not good!" Sparrow cried.
The stallion reared above their heads. That was more than enough for any of them. William and Edward dashed over the hill and lifted the Oompa Loompa trapdoor in the grass. They dove headfirst – Edward first – into the tunnel.
Jack and Ichabod had fled to the riverbank. With perfect timing, the pink sweet boat arrived on its next round. Jack leapt onto the deck and seized the oar from the Oompa Loompa captain's hands, promptly batting the little man into the river. He turned to the others.
"Anyone else want to quarrel with me?"
The Oompa Loompas shook their heads vigorously.
"Uh, Mr Sparrow!" came an urgent voice.
Jack spun to see Ichabod scrabbling frantically to climb on board.
"A little help?" the constable yelped, nodding towards the horseman who was picking up speed towards him.
Jack folded his arms and smirked.
"Now wouldn't that be a kind gesture from a lowlife like me?"
Crane slipped and landed in the shallows. He staggered up again, panting with fear.
"Mr Sparrow, this is no time to-."
"I would say it was the perfect time to, dear constable. If you can't learn your basic rules of social etiquette, you're little more than a swine in the mud."
Ichabod snarled, dripping with the cocoa substance.
"Fine!" he screeched. "Whatever you want, just help me up for pity's sake!"
The horseman was swinging his blade, only yards away.
Jack reached down and lifted Crane halfway up.
"Call me Captain, and we're square."
"Are you insane?" Ichabod whimpered.
The horseman's axe sang as it was drawn from his belt.
Jack did nothing.
"All right!" the constable cried. "Captain. Captain!"
The axe flew from the hand of the horseman. Jack hauled Ichabod onto the deck just as the blade buried itself in the side of the boat. At once, the Oompa Loompas began to row downstream, carrying them safely out of harm's way.
The pirate looked down at Crane who lay breathless on the floor.
"Now what do you say?"
"Th-thank you," Ichabod answered, and fainted.
