Jack Sparrow meandered through the streets of Port Royal, window shopping and occasionally pick-pocketing. Redcoats were scrambling all over the place, but Jack didn't notice them, and they didn't notice Jack. It wasn't until after buying a chocolate ice cream from a street vendor that he took note of the frantic movements of the Royal Navy. Curious, he walked over to an officer, who was lifting up a rock, and asked, "Pardon me, sir, but what in bloody 'ell is going on here?"
The officer sighed and put the rock down. "Not here." He then turned to Jack and explained, "We're looking for a pirate. He goes by the name of Jack Sparrow. Have you seen him?"
Jack licked his ice cream cone before shaking his head. "Sorry, haven't seen any Jack Sparrow."
The man nodded grimly, but quickly stopped when he saw someone with braided brown hair walk by. "Stop, pirate!" he said, tackling the poor pedestrian. "Jack Sparrow, you're coming down to the fort with me."
"But I'm not Jack Sparrow!" the horrified woman cried. But the officer had many years of duty behind him, and knew at once this was a trick, so he brought her into custody. Jack just took another lick of his ice cream and continued walking.
Jack soon had finished his delicious dessert, but when he went to throw away the paper that comes around the cone, he found that there were no trashcans on the street. Not one to litter, Jack walked in to the nearest store, grumbling about having to write to the Governor about the lack of proper waste disposal units. He closed the door and turned to examine the store he just entered. He guessed it was a blacksmith shop, for there were a large variety of weapons on the walls; so many that if T.H. White was given the task to list it all, he would have thought Christmas had come early. There were swords, guns, cannons, maces, axes, cutlasses, battle hammers, spears…
-(five minutes later)-
… TNT, grenades, tanks, an A-Bomb, some antimatter…
-(another five minutes later)-
… scythes, fresh pepper, educational films, extra greasy bacon, and a white rabbit that looked suspiciously like the one from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Basically, this store had anything you would need to kill someone. Anyway, Jack walked over to the trash bin and threw his wrapper away. As he started walking out, he noticed a man passed out on the floor with a bottle next to him. Jack quickly walked over to the man and poked him to see if he was awake. Fortunately, the man was unconscious, allowing Jack to take the bottle. He swished the liquid around in the container and sniffed the aroma wafting out. Then, he took a small sip and smacked his lips noisily together. "Ale. Not too bitter. Good year, but I personally prefer rum."
He set the drink back down by its unconscious owner and was making his way for the door, when it opened and a young man entered the shop. The audience gasped; it was the same blacksmith from earlier in the story. The one with the flaming batons. He walked straight past Jack without noticing him and began making what appeared to be nun chucks.
Jack decided to let the man work and quietly began to leave, but he caught a glimpse of the young man's face. He immediately stopped. It couldn't be, could it? "Turner?" he called to the man.
Will looked up, surprise written all over his face. He took a cloth and quickly wiped the letters off. "Hello. Do I know you?"
Okay, so he wasn't who Jack thought he was. "No," he said, the disappointment apparent in his voice. "We've never met."
"Then how do you know my name?" he asked.
"Um…." The pirate thought quickly. "I'm psychic."
The blacksmith's eyes lit up. "Really? Does that mean you can tell the future?"
"Why yes I can," he answered proudly, puffing his chest out. Jack was always the little actor.
"Can you tell me my future?" Will bounced on the balls of his feet and couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Your future?" Jack tried not to look too worried. "Sure I can. Let me just get warmed up." He moved his head from side to side, an audible crack issuing from his neck. He then stretched out his fingers and rotated his shoulders back. Will watched the whole thing, completely enraptured. Jack closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Will Turner," he began. "In the future, you…" he paused as he searched himself for the right answer, "… will be blonde."
Will stood there dumbfounded for a second. "Blonde? What kind of prediction is that?"
Jack held his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry, mate, but I'm rather new at this kind of thing."
"How long have you been a psychic?"
Jack consulted his Mickey Mouse watch. "About a minute."
"So you lied to me?" Will could feel the anger growing inside of him. When Jack didn't deny it, the young man lost it. "No one lies to Will Turner and gets away with it!" He reached out and grabbed the closest weapon: a long wooden pole. He swung it at Jack's head, who ducked just in time. The stick made contact with the wall right behind him, making a large dent. Will pulled the pole back to him and pointed it at Jack. Jack, who was a master at Kali, grabbed another stick and twirled it over his head before standing at the ready. Will lunged forward with a blow aimed towards Jack's stomach, but he quickly deflected it. Jack countered with a swing to Will's legs, but the blacksmith brought his weapon down to protect himself. The two of them were soon in a very heated battle, the sound of bamboo on bamboo echoing around the shop. Their skills were practically equal; whenever Will would strike, Jack would block, and vice versa.
"You're really good," Jack said, jumping back as Will tried to swipe him.
"Thank you. I practice with the different weapons every day."
"Wow. You really have a lot of spare time on your hands."
Will just shrugged, and then moved to the right to avoid getting his head hit. "Recently, the amount of weapons sold has dropped. People are finding more humane and creative ways to torture their victims. The most popular form nowadays is playing bad country music." Jack and Will both paused for a second to shudder at the thought. They then continued to try to whack the other with their wooden sticks.
Jack could tell that this wasn't going to end soon unless he thought of something quick. He was a pirate for crying out loud. He needed to come up with something cunning. All he had to do was remember the most important rule on how to win a fight. Don't die. And the second most important rule was to use your surroundings to gain an advantage. But what advantage was there in a smithy? Suddenly, it dawned on him. He quickly scanned the room, looking for the object that every blacksmith's shop couldn't live without. There it was, to his left. The fire cracked merrily in its brick pit in the ground. But, his plan was dependent on one factor. Hopefully they hadn't run out. He'd have to risk it.
Quickly, Jack swung hard at Will, who had to lean to the side to avoid it. It was while Will was regaining his center of gravity that Jack ran to the fire pit and situated himself so the flames were between him and Will. He looked on the floor and almost sighed with relief when he saw the plastic bag. He picked it up and gingerly reached his hand in. He came back up with three gooey marshmallows in his hand. Perfect. He knew they couldn't have the s'mores pit without the marshmallows. He jammed them on the end of his stick and stuck them in the center of the fire.
By this time, Will had stabilized himself and watched the whole thing. He couldn't help but wonder if this guy had just escaped from his comfortably padded room and had somehow torn through his form fitting white jacket. Will ran up to the fire pit and swung over it to try and hit the seemingly deranged man. Jack effortlessly ducked but couldn't strike back, because his stick was still in the flames. Will started to run over to Jack's side, but Jack quickly moved in the other direction, so the young blacksmith couldn't get near him. Jack looked down at his marshmallows, hoping they would be done. Will decided to try another blow, but Jack saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and dodged that one as well.
Finally, Jack looked down and saw his marshmallows were ready. He pulled them out and brandished his wooden stick, the gooey dessert pointed at Will. They didn't seem all that appetizing, though, because instead of being surrounded by chocolate and graham crackers, the marshmallows were engulfed in flames. Jack, now armed with a more dangerous weapon, ran towards Will and swung his pole of doom at him. Will barely stopped it from making contact with his face. Bits of marshmallow rained down on the floor, threatening to burn someone with its hot goo. Will tried to retreat, but Jack noticed and swung as hard as he could at the poor young man. It would had killed him too, if it wasn't for the fact that the fire had started to eat Jack's bamboo, and now it was half the size it used to be. The wind caused by Jack's swing was also so great the fire went out. So, instead of death, Will was met by a charred piece of wood covered in bits of white. Both men stared at the useless twig now in Jack's hand.
Jack's eyes went wide when he realized he now defenseless. He started to back up in hopes of either stalling the fight or finding a quick exit, but his retreat was soon thwarted by a wall covered in shelves. It was at this moment that Will realized his opponent was without a weapon, and he started to make his way towards Jack, his bamboo pole firmly in his hand. Soon he was in range. "Well, you can sure whack someone with a stick like nobody's business," Will said. "But I can't have you running around Port Royal. Nothing personal." He lifted his arms over his head. Jack, in desperation, reached out to the side of him and seized an object from the racks. Will brought his stick down just as Jack raised his new item to protect his head.
A loud snap reverberated all over the room. Then Jack felt something bump him on the head. He reached up and grasped the small thing that had hit him in the palm of his hand. When he opened it, he saw the projectile was a piece of bamboo. He looked at the object he had grabbed to protect himself. It was a katana. The blade was so sharp that it had cut through Will's stick and saved Jack from a very bad headache. Will looked down quizzically at his pole. He swung at Jack again, but Jack quickly brought his sword up to deflect it. Another piece of the bamboo pole was severed. They continued this cycle, the katana cutting through the bamboo like warm butter, until all that Will was left with was a five inch piece of pole, which wouldn't even bruise Jack if he threw it at the pirate's head. He dropped the piece to the floor and closed his eyes.
"Please make this as quick and painless as you can," the blacksmith requested.
Jack looked at the man inquisitively. "Quick and painless? What in bloody 'ell are you talkin' about?"
Will opened his eyes and stared at Jack. "Well, you're a pirate. Aren't you going to kill me?"
"Nah," Jack said as he sheathed the katana. "Though I do think I'm going to take this sword. Thanks for the fight, but now I must be heading off."
Jack started walking towards the door, but Will started talking again. "But I was about to kill you. Why not do the same to me?"
"Well I don't know. I really don't like excessive killing, especially with a sword. There's always so much blood you need to clean up. And I also have this feeling that you're important to the plot of this story. It would be a shame to kill you and then realize I need you later on." By now Jack had reached the door. He turned around to give one last farewell to Will. "Well Mr. Turner, it's been fun. Next time –"
But Will never found out what he should do next time. At that moment, the door of the smithy swung open, hitting Jack square in the face and knocking him unconscious. Commodore James Norrington walked into the shop, a bit of paper crumpled in his fist, muttering under his breath about the necessity for more rubbish bins in the city. He stopped his complaining, however, at the sight of the pirate sprawled out on the floor. "Aha! If it isn't Jack Sparrow. It seems like I have once again foiled your attempt to escape." He called over some of his fellow redcoats, and the group of them hoisted Jack away to the fort.
Will went back to work, but his mind was preoccupied. He never did find out what Jack was going to suggest.
Hey everyone! Sorry it has taken me five months (the number makes me cringe) to get this chapter out, but first it was hard to find time to write and then this chapter was sitting on my desktop for a month, waiting to be betaed…. Well, you don't want my whole sob story so I'll make this short and sweet. I don't know when the next update will be, but hopefully it will be much sooner than this one. And thanks to Chelles, as always, for proofing this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Mickey Mouse, Pirates of the Caribbean, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Angels and Demons, and anything else I might have borrowed.
Please review! They feed my muse.