Chapter 7

The late Captain Jack Sparrow...no. The resurrected Captain Jack Sparrow...no that didn't sound quite right either. The Legendary Captain Jack Sparrow sounded grand and all, but it didn't seem to quite fit his current situation. It needed something more. Well he could work that out later.

Jack was not a bad man. Oh sure he could be selfish, dishonest, manipulative and cowardly. He cheated, he stole, he'd corrupted. He was certainly unethical. By some people's standards anyway. But he always made good in the end. It was amazing (to others, and even to himself sometimes) that he'd been as successful a pirate as he had, given his tendency to make, and actually care for friends, and his abominably charitable nature.

The trick, he'd learned, was to keep everyone guessing. So that no one, friend and foe alike, could tell right up until the very last moment what he would do, or which side he would take. Let's face it, sometimes even he had no idea from one moment to the next what he would do. He was impulsive, and incredibly good at improvising.

So no, he had no current plan as to what to do with this new body of his. All he knew just now was that he wanted a closer look at this ship that dared to call itself the Flying Dutchman.

There was a sign hanging across the gangplank that said it was closed until further notice. Good, no pesky tourists to get in his way. Almost immediately upon stepping on deck, he could tell that not only was the ship seaworthy, but that it had been at sea recently. His seasoned eye recognized a ship that was well taken care of, but weathered.

He could smell the sea everywhere. But oddly, no sweat. Surely a hard working crew would leave that kind of trace. Also not a whiff of rum. Sad. But what was this? Something else hung in the air. Something familiar, and not fondly.

It was a simple matter to jimmy one of the hatches open and descend below-decks. Ah yes, that was it. The smell of death. There was definitely something wrong on board this ship. In which case he should leave. Why wasn't he leaving? Stop going further into the dark death ship mate!

"Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you'd got to."

Jack could always tell when things were getting just a little out of hand, when he began talking to himself.

We've just got back from wherever it was we went. I for one am not keen on going back just yet.

"Yes but what shall we do eh? The Slayer wants to send us back. Which might be for the best but really there's still so much to be done. And if we're going to commandeer this ship, it'd be best if we knew why it smelled like death eh?"

Fair point mate. Carry on, I'll watch our back.

"Hey!"

"What?!" Jack spun, facing the man who'd spoken. You were supposed to be watching our back!

Don't blame me mate, that one came from the side.

He was hard to make out in the deep gloom below decks, particularly since he was shining one of those fancy magic torches. Okay not magic but close enough.

"You're not supposed to be here." the man growled.

"Yes I am."

Clearly that was not the response the guard had expected. He hesitated, but recovered. "No, you're not."

"Am so."

"No, you're not. You see..." the man stepped out of the shadows, revealing a demonic visage. "You're alive."

"Aaaaahhh!" Never let it be said that Jack was too proud to scream when the situation called for it. He turned to flee, only to feel a hand clamp down on the back of his neck. "Bugger."

The crew of the Dutchman had been in operation since the early 1800's. But it's captain had been around for much longer. Kidd had been a pirate in life, never quite reaching the peak of that trade. He'd been a captain sure enough, even gotten a small fleet together. But he never reached the rank of lord. It wasn't until he met his sire on a lonely pacific island that his potential had truly been unlocked.

He and his crew were anachronisms of course, but what vampire wasn't in some way? Even those who outright hated mortals, or felt contempt for their mortal selves felt a longing for the days of their pre-vampire life. For him it was the days of 18th and 19th century sailing ships. When the world was still filled with wonder. That was one of the things he loved about the sea. No matter how advanced mankind became, the sea held onto it's mystery.

It was one of the reasons he had named his ship the Flying Dutchman. It was a name that not only still inspired terror in those who heard it, but it carried with it all that was magical about his world.

His Dutchman had been responsible for countless missing vessels and even some coastal or island communities. But as time went on, the crew had had to use more stealth in their attacks to avoid too much attention. And now they were going to attempt the sacking of San Francisco. Well, that was perhaps over stating it. What they actually planned was a quiet rampage. A subtle reign of terror including larceny (petty and grand), murder, kidnapping and general horrificness.

But they needed their beauty sleep. Even for Vampires, looting and pillaging was hard work. Especially when you had to do it carefully. So when you wake a vampire, and a pirate captain to boot, you'd better have a damn good reason. Breakfast in bed wasn't bad.

"There shouldn't be any screaming onboard this ship yet." The captain said, eyeing the prisoner curiously.

Jack squinted at the 'man'. "You seem somewhat familiar, have you threatened me before?"

Well this was not how meetings like this generally went. There was usually begging, denials of the reality of the situation. Sometimes even posturing. Not curiosity and well, a bit of deja vu. Like the young man had said, there was something oddly familiar about him. The way he spoke, and how he held himself. Particularly the arms and hands.

No...it couldn't be.

"Who are you?"

The grin was unmistakable. "Who am I? Mate regardless of the body I'm currently residing within, I am, have been, and always will be, Captain, Jack, Sparrow."

Kidd had only ever seen Sparrow once. But had been a day he would always remember. He had been there, in Shipwreck, when the last of the pirates gathered for a final stand against the forces of Law, Order, and Oppression. He had been a captain under the Pirate Lord Jocard, witness to not only the meeting of the Lords, but of the battle between the Pearl and the original Dutchman.

There was stunned silence which Jack used to his advantage. Before anyone could react, he'd snatched a wooden stake from the inside pocket of Xander's jacket (the boy apparently never went anywhere without one) and plunged it into his captor's heart.

Kidd stumbled back from the impact, looked down at the shaft protruding from his chest, and calmly pulled it out.

Now it was Jack's turn to gape. No one stopped him as he stepped close to Kidd, peered carefully at the swiftly closing wound, then up at his face.

"Missed?"

Kidd grinned. "Nope."

Once again Sparrow surprised him. Instead of fear, he saw greed in the man's eye. Jack matched his grin. "That's very interesting."

To Be Continued...