Sombra slipped into the hill of the ghost ship, slapping the jumble of disrepaired parts that made something of a crane within the boat's hull, sitting overtop a hole in the floor that overlooked the depths of the ocean. Her Hans's fierce strike seemed to bring the contorted machine to life, and she quickly hopped up and down in excitement as the crane's winch began to whir to life, sending its ghastly looking into straight toward the water at a snail's pace.

"Hee hee! Arise, my abstract assortment of brothers and sisters!" she exclaimed happily, suddenly turning toward the stairway that led into the frigid room, her jaw falling in shock, "What are you doing down here?!"

Strolling down the stairs with a regal zeal came another being, though not skeletal in nature. This woman was a assortment of fabric strung around an ethereal, slender body that was more ghost than skeleton, the dark form stepping down the steps with only her blue eyes giving off any sort of light behind the eclectic collection of fabrics, "He had me come down here in case you need help."

"Help?!" Sombra exclaimed with incredulous resentment, "You can't even lift an oar; how'd he figure you could help?!"

The shade made a dismissive motion, noticed only by the wafting of fabric over her darkened, empty frame, "Mon Capitaine has requested one of the more foul beasts to enter this world. I wouldn't doubt an assortment of bones couldn't handle such an assignment."

"Hey puta, I don't give two shits what Capitán thinks I am or am not capable of, you got that?!" Sombra declared as the crane's tether slowly reached to the water, weakly creaking its way along as a sudden pool of sickingly purple water began to swirl at the empty square in the floor of the ship, the slab of water disappearing behind the thick void of purple vapor.

Sombra excitedly declared, "I believe you say voila, do you not? Well, voila!"

The shade refrained from answering, though remained to watch as Sombra jumped down onto all-fours, lowering her head to follow the crane's hook as it vanished into the ghastly portal, "And he thought I couldn't handle this! Pshaw!"

She excitedly began to cackle, her head rousing from its station atop her spine, suddenly rocking its way off its single hinge before falling off her skeletal body entirely, careening downward into the twisting vortex of death. Sombra's arms immediately flew outward, trying to grasp her skull, though being unable to see, they merely flailed wildly with no purpose until her skull disappeared into the purple pool, the skeleton's arms falling to their body's side in defeat.

The shade muttered poigniently, "Imagine that. Such pleasant silence without that thing."

Sombra's skeletal body slowly leaned forward, reaching out into the sickly colored pool as if in knowing, her skull slowly reemerging from the vile portal, a demonic collection of hands handling it graciously until the skeletal was body managed to retrieve it, slamming the empty headspace back onto her spine before giving a thankful high-five to a few of the arms before they vanished once again into the neather.

She peered up toward the shade, speaking angrily, "I heard that, puta!"

"I spoke nothing but the truth," the ghost replied monotonously, "It seems as though you constantly losing your head isn't the worst thing in need of adjustment; your mouth might take the cake."

Sombra cackled lowly, "I'm the liveliest thing on this ship; no way am I sacrificing whatever humanity I have left. Unlike some people…"

The shade refused to answer, which played into Sombra's next question as a crooked voice left her unmoving jaw, "You haven't a body or a name. One can't help but wonder what it was that killed you, maker of widows."

"Just finish up," the shade answered, "If you're as good as you claim, you shouldn't have too much of an issue shutting your trap and finishing this quickly."

Sombra turned down to the sick pool, "Hey, you can't rush these things. Fishing for demons ain't simple, pendejo; 'specially if Capitán is wanting a reel biggun'."

She cackled at her own joke, reaching a steady hand of bone over the pool, grabbing the rope and swirling it around the viscous soup below as if attempting to entice a kitten with a string, "C'mon mamón, you know you want to join us up-"

"Sure you don't need help..?" spoke the shade with a droll air, leaving Sombra to shoot an unamused glance.

She turned up toward the shade with a sneer, "Listen, puta, I don't wanna hear it. I've been walking around like this far longer than you have; I think I've learned a bit more respe-"

As she spoke, the entire ship swayed to the side as a massive CRRRASH tore through the side of its hull, almost as if it were sliding along the side of a gigantic rock. The boat rocked violently as Sombra desperately clutched the edge of the open floor, hanging in between her hand-hold and the rope from the crane, her skull suddenly breaking free from her torso once again as the ship began to calm its movement, sending her skull flying toward the pool of viscous liquid.

At the last second, the shade threw her torso to the side, a thin vapor shooting out from her side and shredding through the fabric that had rested there, a pole-like extension shooting out from her void-like body, flying through the eye socket of the skull and its bottom, leaving it dangling from the dark arm that extending through most of the hull, keeping it from falling into the pool below.

"This changes nothing…" the skull muttered.

The shade replied with a droll voice, "A thanks would be nice. Otherwise I might forget how this ghost of a body works."

The skeletal body dropped its shoulders in defeat as the skull's jaw dropped, "Fine, fine. Thank you, okay?"

Almost as if mulling the apologize, the shade remained motionless for a few moments before lowering her lengthy 'arm', allowing the skull to slide down until rolling off its edge, rolling on the wooden floor until Sombra's bony torso could collect it and return it to her shoulders. She gave a dismissive look toward the shade, though appreciated her effort nonetheless.

"Nice catch…" she allowed, defeatedly.

The extended arm retracted into the shade's body with a curious blur, "Even without a body, I seem to have the same reflexes I had while among the living. Still, I must head up onto the deck and find out what all it happening to send the ship into such a frenzy."

"H-Hang on," Sombra muttered lowly, turning her head away to hide the shame that might have covered her face had she possessed one, "Just- Just help me get this thing, alright? If Capitán is in need of this beast, he'll want it before either of us."

The shade gave a weak sort of shrug through its darkening frame before spinning in place toward Sombra, floating listlessly toward the opposite side of the hole in the floor. Suddenly, as if in an evaporation in reverse, a bundle of pellets appeared in something of a shadowy hand. In a moments' time, the pellets blossomed into bundles of skittering spiders, crawling up and down the shades shadow arm until, in a split second, it disappeared, leaving the hundreds of tiny spiders collapsing into the void like an assortment of black raindrops.

"Entice him with the living," the maker of widows instructed, "He'll come for more."

"Huh," Sombra shrugged, reaching out to wiggle the cord some more, "Makes sense, I suppose."

She lowered her head in thought for a moment, thinking to herself before mumbling quietly, "Hey, uh, I always have been curious. Why haven't you a body?"

Despite lacking eyes, the shade was clearly peering in Sombra's direction, sending a rattle along the skeleton's spine, gradually coming to decide upon answering, "Somebody who does not wish to posess a body in life is rarely offered one in death."

The rattle continued, though Sombra merely gave a wonderous sigh, "Whew, that's crazy, puta. All that happened to me was I was hunted down, accused of being a witch, hanged, and my corpse burned alive. I could have done without the hanging; I hadn't a clue the condition would last."

Sombra hummed to herself, almost with a ghastly happiness, as she entertained herself with the wiggling cord, the shade refraining from movement as she watched, finally speaking up as silence descended upon the hold, "…well?"

"Well, what?"

The shade asked, "Were you a witch?"

Sombra's body curled up in a manner that seemed to demonstrate amusement, her voice appearing as something rather sinister, "Let's just say they couldn't kill me fast enough."

With a curious motion, the shade swayed to the side, her dark body jolting at a massive CRUUUNCH came from the sheer hulk as it was nearly torn away from its base attached to the ship, Sombra happily bounding around the pool toward the crane in disrepair, singing happily, "We got us a deemooon~! We got us a deemooon~!"

She smacked the crane, returning it to life as the winch shook in reversal, the rope beginning to spin upward as the sheer hulk brought up the ghoul it was meant to catch. As it whirred, hand and arms of the damned clung to the cord, desperately clinging to their final chance at tasting the world of the living, though Sombra was quick to poke at them with her boney feet, forcing them back into the void.

"Hold up! You had your chances; back in there!" she ordered viciously, "Even we have nary a chance remaining here!"

The dark portal began to whir with a sickly motion as the demon approached, Sombra growing more and more giddy at the idea of eyeing such a horrible being, speculating early as she exuded excitement, "Maybe it's a banshee! or maybe a a draugr! Oooh, how exciting!"

The wood of the ship began to crunch with tension, the air surrounding the two growing thick with tension, forcing even the shade to creep up closer to Sombra with worry. The lumbered bars that made up the floor began to warp, the void shook uncontrollably as the winch gradually retained the near-length of its line, the demon approaching at a mad pace.

Suddenly, from the evil portal, a massive, thick green arm tore into the world of the living, grasping the edge of the ship as the line emerged, the paired green hand connected to its chained end, the two ghastly women staring with surprise at the two green arms, both covered with maggoted streaks of scarred skin.

"A ghoul…" Sombra surmised darkly, her head turning in admiration, "Must be that tipo with the fists of doom Capitán wouldn't quit talking about."

Jack's face turned pale as the approaching ship vanished, slowly, as though becoming dark vapor along the sea, though the dark clouds above it remained, still wafting through the sky toward the Splitstream. The crew gasped in astonishment, silenced only by the heavy THUD of Lena hitting the deck, though even she peered off toward the ocean with a look of awe. Junkrat was the first to turn toward the rest of the crew, his arms splayed out wide with disbelief.

"Welp! It was nice knowin' ya all!" he offered before turning to dash down the starboard side of the ship, heading for one of the wash tubs used to clear debris off the side of the ship, the Aussie latching onto a means of escape, though Hana threw out a leg to trip the man up, Junkrat slamming into the wooden floor head-first and sliding to a stop.

"Nobody's leaving!" Hana shouted authoritatively, eyeing her Captain, "Right?!"

Jack remained still, his mind churning like gears as the phantom ship approached with reckless abandon, finally turning toward Hana with a distant look, "No."

"See?! Nobody's going- Wait, What?!" Hana cries out, watching helplessly as Captain Morrison turned on his heel, stepping toward the center of the ship.

He spoke up with the voice of a Captain indeed, "Lena, get on the wheel. Hana, that thing you did with the Hanamura's plating, have you refined it?"

"W- I mean, no, but it's just sound waves bouncing off stuff- it's not exactly complex aside from catching them off the right frequency," Hana explained with a shrug, "Wait, are you-?"

"Yes," he nodded, "If that ship thinks it can break through us like an iceberg, it's got another thing coming. You direct me, and I'll direct Lena- Oxton, if at any point we're boarded, make yourself scarce. You make well along the side of the ship as well; latch on and feel the room, you'll know what to do."

Lena looked aghast, "What?! When have I ever known what to do?!"

"Up," Jack instructed, pointing her toward the wheel, which she begrudgingly made her way off toward, leaving Morrison to return to the crew, "Junkrat, man the cannons. Aim Croc and Taz-Man up toward the top deck; of at any point you hear either of those words, fire them. Taz-man up deck and Croc near mid-deck."

Normally excited for such conversation, Junkrat answered with uncharacteristic disgust, "Gah, Cap'n, whatcha even got planned?!"

"That's for me to know and for those fiends to find out," Jack answered, "And I don't think I stuttered. Both of you, move."

Lena caught a quicker pace as Junkrat mumbled worriedly to himself, leaving Jack with Lucio and Jesse, the chef more concerned than the second mate. He gazed off into the distance where the clouds were gaining quicker upon them, nearly half the distance they once were, jumping back to attention as Jack spoke up again.

"Lucio, I need you on deck, with McCree as well. Make it look like it's not a set-up with just a single man aboard," Jack ordered, noticing his chef's fidgety pose, "You afraid?"

"Only of the idea of not seein' my kids again," Lucio admitted with a gulp, "That's, like, not of this world out there!"

Jack gave a weakly confident smile, reaching out to pat his crewman on the shoulder, "Don't worry. Whatever transpires, I have nothing but the safety of my crew in mind. Remember that."

"Y-Yes sir…"

"I'd give up my life before sacrificing any one of you," Jack confirmed, earning him a pleading stare from Lucio, "Now, head over to the crates and scratch some words out or something- Look busy, and hang on tight."

Lucio nodded, shuffling off as Jack turned to Jesse, "You do the-"

"You say you have the safety of this crew at your utmost portion of your mind," Jesse accuses with a defiant glance, "I know what's truly driving you."

"Get busy," Jack ordered coldly, turning to open the slit upon the wall that would allow for Hana to order him.

Jesse kept in step, "What about your daughter?"

Jack eyed him, "That stowaway might have given me a chance I never thought I'd have. I don't intend to throw it away."

"Your revenge will doom us all, Jack," Jesse seethed, "You might have little regard for your crewmen, but goddamn, some of us have families to go back to!"

Jack's lips pursed in thought, though he hadn't a reply. Jesse reaches out and took his shoulder, pushing him backward until he stumbled, desperate to get his point across.

"If you have a choice- If that thing out there is chasing after our stowaway, give her up. But don't send us all to our deaths because of my sister's demise," Jesse pleaded with a cold voice, but to seemingly no avail.

Jack simply ordered once again, "Get busy, McCree."

Jesse bit his teeth, but stepped away nonetheless, leaving Jack to his spot along the interior wall of the ship, opening up the slot that led down a hollow vent to Hana's communication's closet, closing his eyes in focus, knowing his life now relied on two crewmen, thought it should have been one. He knew he should be where Lena was now, manning the wheel, of his own ship no less.

Revenge was the only thing holding him back from that duty.

"IT'S CLOSING IN!" cried Hana from within the hole in the wall, "HARD STARBOARD, NOW!"

Jack threw his head up, shouting as loud as his lungs would allow, "HARD STARBOARD!"

At that, Lena's hands clutched the handles of the wheel, gripping them hard enough that her knuckles felt afire, nearly about to burst, and she threw her body to the side, spinning the wheel with all her might, staring over her shoulder where the ship had come from. She watched with wide eyes as she ship swung to the right, swaying uncontrollably from the sudden motion. She hadn't a clue whether it had worked, though in a split second, the ship shook violently, a sick CRRRASH blaring out as though the port side where sliding along a massive object, tearing lumber and railing from the Splitstream as the phantom ship materialized, sailing side to side along the ship, having just missed its target.

At the point of friction, sparks flew along the length of the ship, and green flames atop the ghost ship instantly scorched the Splitstream's wooden frame, leaving Lena scampering backward as sparks and wayward flames tore through the air toward her. As the sickly purple ship cruises past the Splitstream, Lena noticed the massive, thick plumes of smoke bellowing up into the sky along the entire port side, the phantom boat not having passed without some sort of damage.

Lena gasped, covering her face as the smoke began overtaking the stern side, forcing her away as she remembered her orders to literally hang out on the side of the ship, catching a glimpse of the ghost ship spinning around like a top, slowing up as if to link up with the Splitstream. She quickly headed to the side, though slid to a stop, noticing the smoke rising from the grates leading into the lower portions of the ship, particularly the hold.

"Fuck, Angela," she muttered to herself, eyeing a siphon hose nearby.

Jack stood with broadened shoulders, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, atop his ship that had come aflame, the lapping licks of orange having started on the port side were now rumbling throughout the back of the ship with not much of anything in between to cease its advance. Even still, Jack's eyes remained fixed on the sickly ship that glided toward the Splitstream's starboard side as the dark clouds encompasses the sky above even this ship, mixing with the dusky atmosphere to create a purplish-orange tint over the scene.

The ghost ship slowed to a halt, nearly meeting the opposite side of the Splitstream, giving Jack and his two up-top crewmen their first look of the pilot of the vessel: a black-cloaked figures, face hidden behind a pale white mask, sickening vapor rushing out beneath the bottom of his shawl of quaint hellishness. The figure stepped over from one ship to the other, watching Jack carefully, quickly identifying him by the pauldrons upon his coat, his seething voice like near-silent howls of the damned.

"Where's the woman?" he asked plainly.

Jack watched him with critiquing eyes, "On her way, I assure you."

The Reaper nodded, his mask not at all wavering from its intense stare upon Captain Morrison's face. Lucio kept a freakish stare upon the demonic being as well, crawling back behind a nearby barrel for any sort of protection, terrified by the idea of switching positions with his Captain, who stood toe to toe with that thing.

Not merely remaining toe to toe, Jack quickly demanded, "That's my ship you have burning to a crisp, sir."

"Bring me the woman in a timely manner and I might find it within me to quench those flames," replied the Reaper.

Jack shrugged, "Pardon me if I don't find that convincing. You don't seem to have much of anything within you."

Without a sound, the Reaper seemed to shake at his shoulders, probably in amusement, "Such a wit, Captain-…"

"Call me Jack," he replied.

"Captain Jack," The Reaper acknowledged, "You're a difficult man to catch."

Jack nodded, "Well, I have deadlines."

"And I have the dead," the Reaper muttered, trying to get Jack to fully understand his position.

Lucio shivered with fright, huddling further behind his barrel before a sudden BANG arose his suspension. He stepped back to where he could see, his eyes widening as Angela appeared, her head down to watch their footing as she helped the stowaway out from the inside of the ship, thin plumes of smoke emerging from the doorway as well. Lucio flinched as Jesse stepped toward the two, grabbing hold of Angela's arm and yanking her away from the stowaway with such force that she left the woman she'd clung onto, Fareeha falling weakly to her knees as she turned to watch Angela disappear, the Captain's daughter unable to speak from the shock of it all.

"Stowaway," Captain Morrison spoke.

Fareeha raised a weak head, "Jack."

"I don't need to tell you why my ship of burning right into the sea, do I?"

The stowaway leaned to the side, catching a glimpse of the dark figure that stood half the ship's length beyond the Captain, her tone nearly still as her voice broke, "Blacktalon."

"Sorry," Jack shrugged, "I don't care what my daughter says; this ship is my life. If I have to give up a stowaway to save it, that's what I'm gonna do."

Jesse's arms wrapped fully around Angela, as though expecting her sudden outburst, the Captain's daughter immediately putting up a struggle as she fought to kick her way out of his clutches, ""Father! NO! NO!"

Her father only shook his head slowly, speaking evenly, "Sorry sweetheart. Stowaways'll tell you the same- we all got to pay the piper at some point. Just so happens that hers has come a-callin' on my Lady. My Splitstream."

The Reaper's mask tilted only slightly.

Jack's boots rattled as she stomped his way toward Fareeha, reaching down and grabbing her by the collar, crouching down to her ear, and whispering quickly as he merely appeared as though preparing to drag her along, "Show me your mettle."

Fareeha's brow spun upward with confusion as Jack stood, dragging her along the deck, her body too weak to resist, the Captain eyeing the Reaper as he did so.

"FAREEHA!" Angela cried out, "NO! HE'LL KILL YOU!"

As Jack dragged her near-lifeless body past Jesse's struggling frame, the stowaway's voice emerged with a snarky sort of tone, "Better me than you, Angie."

"N-NO!" Angela shouted aloud, furiously doing everything she could to escape Jesse's arms, kicking his legs as hard as she could.

Not a moment later, the Reaper's voice broke the air like an icicle tearing through the atmosphere and planting into each of their ears, "I see you've returned to me…"

"Call it what you want," Fareeha muttered defiantly as Jack dropped her close enough to the ghostly figure's vapored feet, the stowaway groaning with exhaustion, "You had to chase me down."

Devoid of any emotion, much less shame, the Reaper only continued, "Have you what you've stolen from me?"

Fareeha sighed, reaching into her shirt and pulling out her necklace, though failing to remove it from her neck, "Yeah, I have it."

The very air around her spun unward, almost as though taking the shape of this dark being's grin, though it soon came to tingle Fareeha's skin, her eyes narrowing as her body began to levitate in compensation for her simply lying there, her frame spinning to match the Reaper's, leaving the few people on deck in total awe. Soon enough, the vial at her neck began to shiver to life as well, floating forward, nearly meeting the white mask of the invader.

Angela's eyes widened as a sudden, furious shiver ran throughout her body, causing Jesse some concern as he looked down at her, "Now quit that shakin', girl; to think you've caught a cold out here-"

"You don't feel it?!" she asked.

Jesse's shoulders fell with concern, his eyes retuning to the sight before him. The vial began to shimmer with a pale blue light, matching a faint, awestruck glow at the eyes of the Reaper's mask, the sleeve of his cloack rising toward the necklace's end.

"Yes," he muttered with a slightly musing voice, his first show of emotion, "So beautiful she is."

Suddenly he stopped. His darklit frame began to tremble, leaving Fareeha watching him with an increasingly pale face. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the vial as the pale blue orb within its glass confines began to spin with a noticeably purple tinge to it, as if two different colors had swirled into one. Fareeha gave a silent gasp before her body suddenly fell, collapsing into a weak form atop the deck as the Reaper's eyes began to glow with a red-hot intensity that stared down at the stowaway's limp body.

"Wh-What have you done?!" he demanded to know, shakily, "What have you DONE?!"

Fareeha stared at the wooden deck beneath her with confusion, unsure of what he was asking; unless, of course, she truly had stolen his lover's vial, only to have included Thal-… Her breath's hollowed, feeling a cold vapor closing in on her worn body, though by now, the frigid ice of atmosphere had numbed her to the point where she couldn't even make a weakened effort to escape.

Jesse's eyes widened, turning toward his Captain, whose hand remained steadfast within his pockets, the second mate muttering with a desperately low tone, "Jack, don't you dare- This isn't your fight!"

Angela's ears perked up, her head spinning toward her father, though by the time her eyes could rest upon him, his hand had left his coat, revealing one of the duelist pistols from the box within his quarters, Jack aiming it square at the dark collection of vapor that descended upon their stowaway, his voice emerging as a commanding sort of shout.

"Hands off!" he shouted, the Reaper's mask suddenly shooting upward to stare at him.

The pistol clicked as Jack armed its hammer, his eyes darkening with a pent up fury throughout seventeen years of existence, "I recognized your mask the moment you side-swiped my ship."

Now intrigued, the ghastly form began to retreat from surrounding Fareeha's unmoving body, the Reaper cocking its head sideways as though to examine the man before him, "Splitstream…"

"Seventeen years ago. August twenty-seventh, around two in the morning. I remember it so vividly," Jack muttered lowly, "My wife being torn from this ship's deck, lost in the dark of night. and the pale white mask that flashed in my mind at the sight of it all."

The Reaper shook its head, "When death itself forgets names, events; you should have let it go, Captain."

"Her name was Emmy. Emmy Morrison," Jack spoke with a shaking voice, his fury beginning to build, "And I've been trying to hunt you down for seventeen years."

With a devilish cackle, the Reaper mused, staring down at Fareeha, "The one running from my chase, comes aboard the one ship interested in hunting me. I'm not buying your story, Captain; call back your bluff."

"Why not find out?" Jack challenged, waving his gun slightly, "These bullets have been blessed by the holy waters of Our Lady of Mercy's chapel; I'm sure you're familiar with it."

Angela's chest began to rush, knowing the bullets he was referring to were, in fact, blanks. He was bluffing, she knew; a thought that terrified her, having no idea what her father's game was in challenging this agent of evil.

Still, the Reaper seemed to cringe at the mention of the chapel, one that had accompanied Angela's bedtime stories as the place where Blacktalon had met his earthly fate. Her eyes hollowed as she watched the Reaper take a step back, seemingly in retreat, though his visage merely darkened before he spoke again.

"You want a battle," the Reaper spoke coldly, "You should know, I have an army."

A/N: Hey, we caught up with the prologue! and with only a couple of retcons!