The silence was pierced by ominous thumping. Shivering sailors, near death, huddled at the foot of their captors, who seemed more sea than human. The thudding got louder, as though stamping out the final beats of the survivors' hearts. A figure emerged from the mist, looming out of the darkness. An outline of devil's horns crowned his head, and with each second step came the thump, like a gong signaling death. Approaching the group, he stopped, his face in shadows, studying the men before him. The sailor nearest to him cowered, sweat and blood pouring from his face. The captain took another step, reaching out with his left arm, flexing a crustacean claw in front of his victim. Then he bent down to the sailor, his face catching the dim light of the moon. The man gasped in terror, petrified by the sight before him. The Sea Devil was out to claim yet another innocent soul.

Davy Jones gazed at the man through merciless, icy eyes. His tentacles writhed slowly, glistening. Another one. Another faceless victim. Another spirit to break and torture, if he decided to join.

"Do you fear death?" The sailor started to shake. "Do you fear that dark abyss?" The man was nodding desperately, gasping, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish's. "All your deeds laid bare, all your sins punished." Davy felt a sadistic pleasure at causing such fear. It was all he had left. "I can offer you…an escape. Join my crew, and postpone the judgment-uh. 100 years before the mast, will ye serve-uh?"

"…aye." It was all he needed to hear. Davy moved on, questioning the rest. He stopped at the second to last crouching form. Something was different about this one. He grabbed the sailor's neck with his claw, turning the victim's face up into full view…then let go as if he had been burned. A woman!
Davy's eyes widened slightly. This was certainly…unexpected. Then he scowled. A woman caused his pain and problems. Because of her he had suffered. He felt no remorse over hurting innocent souls, this one shouldn't be any different. Now, he felt a boiling hatred in his chest. He hated her, because she stood for what had caused him such harm, what once was, what could never have been, what he loathed. He would enjoy taking out his fury on her.

He grabbed the barnacle encrusted handle of his broadsword, pulling it up and out of the sheath. Despite being covered with sea life, the blade was in superb condition. Davy felt that she was to be touched with a weapon only. He would not physically make contact with any female. Taking the point of the weapon to her throat, he asked, "Do you fear death?"

"Oh yes…please, don't kill me, I don't want to die…I- I have a family to go back to." The woman pleaded. Unfortunately for her, that was completely the wrong thing to say.

Family…Davy Jones loathed the word. It left a bitter taste of memories and sorrow. He stared at the woman, feeling anger rising up as she continued to beg him for her life. "Hah, so much for yer fear-uh. You're finding out just how cruel life is, wretch." He leaned in. "Die." He smiled cruelly as her fearful eyes leaked tears, and a scream of panic tore out of her mouth. With one liquid movement, Davy stabbed the sword through her chest. He didn't even bother driving it up to the hilt. Her wound oozed with blood, and crimson streaks staining her shirt. The doomed heart gave a few more struggling beats, pumping out the blood onto the floor. Her eyes went blank, and he gave her frozen face one last glance before turning away, wiping his bloodied sword on some seaweed from the Dutchman's mast. A stifled gasp made him turn sharply back. There, clutching onto her fallen companion, was another woman. Younger than the first, her black eyes stared fearfully into his own.

"I'll serve." She mumbled.

"What?" said Davy in disbelief. Never, in many years of sailing the seas had a woman offered her soul to him! At first he was tempted to drive his sword through her as well, but then he stopped and considered it. He'd have a woman on his ship, and be able to truly show her his wrath, to break and torture her spirit. It was a sadistic kind of fun. An evil grin spread across his face. "Ah accept yer offer."