Okay, here's the deal: I know I've written a horribly short chapter. My internet turns off in two hours. Be there. You have two hours to read, review and spur me on to complete this chapter. I'm evil, I know. (I've been doing assignments all day; you have to give me some sort of incentive to keep writing).
Jack strode - off-balance and tottering as always - out of the ramshackle hotel after easily charming the toothless landlady out of another key to their room, so he wouldn't awaken Will and Elsey when he returned later. Guided by an almost internal radar, Jack wound his way through the maze of darkened streets until he came across a rowdy and raucous bar. That was the good thing about Tortuga; you didn't have to walk very far to find an establishment serving spirits. It wasn't the one he commonly frequented when he made port in Tortuga, but he figured with his escape from the gaol, it was best if his actions were unpredictable for the time being.
Before Jack could take another step towards the bar, a voice leered out of the shadows, and he felt the cold steel barrel of a gun digging into his stomach.
"Ye know what I be after." The voice hissed.
"A pint of Madame Zalks's finest?" Jack suggested mildly, nodding towards the sign hanging over the bar's doors, featuring the painted picture a woman almost bursting out of her bodice, two flagons of frothy beer overflowing from each hand, "Those jugs are looking really good about now." Jack added, referring once more to the painted likeness. He really had hoped that he could have settled their affair and been able to slip away from the stranger; even more so now than before. He wanted to see what the proprietor of the bar, Madame Zalks, looked like in person.
"Nay, that's not what I'm after," the stranger hissed, backhanding Jack with his rusted flintlock pistol.
"Ouch," Jack murmured, rubbing his cheek. While Jack was not the tallest nor the most muscular of men - in the bulging muscle sense - he certainly was no weakling. But this stranger had him by many inches and pounds. Jack decided to do what was only fair for someone of his size and stature in this situation; he took a leaf out of Alex's book and kneed the man briskly in the groin. The man didn't flinch. Jack took a step backwards in horror.
"What are you?" Jack asked in wonder. Obviously he wasn't fully human; what sort of man doesn't baulk when he gets one to the balls?
"Eunuch." The man replied simply, aiming his gun at Jack's face.
"Really?" Jack's voice was suddenly full of interest, "I've never actually met a real eunuch. Well, in all honesty I'm not one hundred percent sure; the jury's still out over William…" Jack trailed off, flashing one of his famous uncertain grins, trying to distract his adversary and gain some more time to gather his thoughts. What he had here was a major snag in his modus opperandi.
"Really?" The stranger asked in mock-interest. "You've never met a eunuch?" Jack shook his head innocently, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, trying to play along. Then the stranger stopped playing nicely by the rules. He cocked his pistol and lowered it to point at Jack's lower half, "Well, you're about to become one yourself," He smirked. And with no further warning, the eunuch pulled the trigger.
Okay, here's your chance to save Jack. Convince me to write more, and not to curl up and go to bed as I orginially planned.