Fanfic: Submerged, Chapter 4
I'm in a fricken' roll at the moment. LOL. More developments, and lots of silliness from our friend here.
There are chapters coming through thick and fast at the moment...but I really must clean all the crap out of my room so I can make way for a new desk and an easel...kinda hard to paint pirates when there's no effing room in the place! T_______T
Here's chapter 4...there'll be another chapter before a good ol' flashback methinks.
Title: Submerged
Author: ShaleSubaru / Shale
Rating: PG-R ...once again, pirates are not polite people. Oh...the extra R is for a bit of mild nudity ;)
Pairing: None so far. *whistles innocently*
Disclaimer: I don't own PotC or any characters within. Disney does. I don't own any Tekken characters either, Namco does. Oh yeah. Broke as a joke and earn NOTHING from this folly!
Warnings: Some AWE spoilers, as it is WAY post-AWE. Might want to hold off reading til' you've watched. Also, this is a crossover...modern-day for the most part...you have been warned.
Summary: Another drabbler really...but you just KNOW that good stuff is going to happen now! Jack takes a bath, cooks a meal, and goes job-hunting...one would almost think he's been brainwashed into becoming yet another one of us. But you know Jack...and you know that's just not the case ;)
"Hold your fire, prepare to broadside!" Captain Sparrow screamed over the roar of crashing waves and yelling men.
"Aye, captain!" The First Officer cried, changing the Black Pearl's course accordingly.
The Pearl came about and pulled herself parallel with the enemy vessel, the Mellow Yellow. It was a sturdy, robust ship, but the crew was flighty and Sparrow highly doubted they had the skills to outmatch the Pearl. A ship is nothing without a good crew.
Time seemed to stand still as the two vessels fought their way amongst immense ice caps; these were treacherous waters, and sometimes no amount of skill could navigate a ship free of its razor-sharp grasp.
The enemy was lined up perfectly. It was time.
"FIRE!"
Echoes of the same order rang through the ship, followed swiftly by enthusiastic cannon fire.
The Pearl passed range of the Mellow; she was not sinking but her crew was panicking. "Come about, we'll be going in for another round. It ain't over until it's over!" Sparrow barked orders as he marched across the deck.
It seemed, however, that he had no need to go in for a second round. Out of nowhere, a massive whirlpool appeared beneath the Mellow; the smaller ship found itself swirling around, around, being sucked into the vast vortex. Was it a work of the infamous sea goddess?
"Keep us away from that thing! We don't need to be joining her in the Locker!" Sparrow shuddered just thinking about that place. Heck no, he'd never go back there.
Just as the Mellow disappeared from the water's surface, the vortex suddenly disappeared completely. But where had the Mellow gone?
SPLOK!
With the force of the Gods, the Mellow was launched high into the air; it came down with a deafening splash, sending a torrent of waves crashing against the hull of the Pearl.
"Blast." Announced the Pearl's captain half-heartedly. "I've lost half me bathwater."
He reached to turn the tap back on, hot water gushing forth and pounding down on the little rubber boat floating precariously below it. It popped free, bumping into a yellow rubber duck a few inches away.
On second thought...he paused to turn the tap off. Time to get out of here anyway.
He curled his toes around the plug chain and pulled it out once more, letting the swirling, belching vortex suck the warm water and mountains of frothy bubbles away. Jack stepped out of the bath and straight into a large fluffy towel...he was starting to get used to this 'technology' thing.
Towel biffed aside, Jack stood himself in front of the full-length mirror and observed the reflection staring back at him. He had been in this hellish new existence for three months now - but at least he was regaining his original appearance. Months of intense exercise outdoors had earned him his muscle tone and his tan, though this time around he seemed a little bigger. His diet was far more healthy these days and he spent more time moving about than he used to. After all - hard work was for crewmen, not captains.
His beard had fully grown back now too, though he had foregone the beads and braids on his chin. Added to that was his hair, finally brushing his shoulders in thick, dark brown locks. He'd decided that he'd wait until it was long enough to put it right - back the way it used to be. Further down his body had regained the hair it should have had earlier - gone was the boyishly-smooth skin he'd grown to loathe. At least...between the waist and the knees. Jack was not a particularly hairy man, and women seemed to prefer it that way, but there's a minimum amount that makes one a boy or a man!
At least he had one thing to be content with. His looks.
Once done gazing at his reflection Jack grabbed his clothes and proceeded to get dressed. A pair of boxers (apparently it's taboo to 'go commando' in this era), a pair of black trousers, a white shirt (which only made it half way up the length of buttons before it was left open), and of course, a red bandanna. Not quite the look he was used to, but it would do. He'd learned to ditch the bandanna when leaving the house - it got too many strange looks.
Breakfast time!
Something he'd quickly grown to like was the Fridge. Days worth of good food, kept in brand new condition...who could argue the good purpose of such a contraption? Still, he had only used the cooking equipment in the kitchen a few times...he had discovered a good bit of 'kiwiana' in his own backyard. The 'barbeque' was one thing that reminded him of home; it was not one of the modern gas-fired or electric BBQs, but rather, an old coal-heated stand-alone unit with a simple grille and a box of metal utensils.
As usual, Jack grabbed whatever was of interest in the fridge and dumped it on the bench. After pouring himself a glass of juice, he took a tray of goodies to be cooked outdoors; he was fond of a cooked, hearty breakfast, and what better way to do it than the old-fashioned way?
Within no time the BBQ was lit and breakfast was cooking away happily. Jack had parked himself by the table outside, devouring the uncooked portion of his meal. Sure, it was a lengthy procedure for the start of any day, but almost every morning he did it - it was something remotely familiar. That, and a good breakfast kept him going most of the day...until it was time to break into the rum.
Not that modern rum was any match for the original stuff. It was candy-water nowadays! As he devoured the tasty, piping-hot morsels, Jack found his mind reliving the delicious taste of his favourite beverage. Many found it too strong, too unrefined...but that was the landlubbers' opinion. This 'Coruba' stuff claimed to be Caribbean Rum, but it hardly fit the description in his opinion.
Breakfast demolished and BBQ cleaned the 'Heinekin way' - that is, a stubby poured over the hot grille to remove all residues...a waste of good booze but an effective cleaner - Jack had the rest of the day to entertain himself.
But with what?
As usual, there were no crewmen to order around. No ship's chores to be done. No treasure to hunt, no enemy ships to plunder...what an empty existence.
Jack knew he had to find something to do, permanently, to occupy himself. Perhaps there was the old-fashioned way of getting what he desired most...sneak in the back door through seemingly honest proceedings to land himself a ship and a crew, and be done with it. Perhaps there would be something modern he could do.
But how would he find such things?
Oh hell...why hadn't he thought of that before? The computer would tell him!
Smirking, he plunked down in the computer chair and placed his hand on the mouse. He remembered that the little grey contraption was what controlled the little 'cursor' on the screen - he thought of it as his finger inside the little box in front of him. Clever, really.
But the screen was black...not doing anything!
Power...wretched power...why couldn't things run the easy way, the old way! He knew there was a button...a button with a circle, cut by a vertical line...that would bring almost any modern device to life. Brain of the computer...big box. Big box...under the table! What the heck was it doing under there? Oh well.
Jack hit the button and the computer swung into action. A short boot sequence later, it had logged itself in and was presenting Jack with a photo of the harbour filled with yachts...icons lined the left side of the image. Great...maybe he shouldn't have left it so long before he fired the wretched machine up. He'd almost forgotten how to use it.
"Blimey. Why are you such a clever little thing, but you can't simply obey orders? That would make it far easier, you know." He muttered at the screen. A wiggle of the mouse jogged his memory though...to make the computer tell him things he wanted to know, he had to find that blue 'e' with a line through it. Internet, wasn't it? He thought of it as a library he could access without having to find, search through and read the books themselves.
Bingo! It was hiding by a button labelled 'start'. He navigated the cursor over to it awkwardly, thought a moment, then stabbed the left button on the mouse. Within a moment, a Google window popped up...fantastic.
Now...what did he want the computer to tell him?
"Boats...ships...jobs...bugger. What DO I want?"
After a spectacular display of slow hunt-and-peck typing, he'd typed in all three terms - minus the bugger - and hit the search button. Once again, modern technology proved itself to be more than a pretty trinket; the search page was littered with results regarding boat building, working on a ship, selling boats, working in the navy...you name it.
Jack smirked. It seemed that treasure didn't necessarily need to be a tangible object.
***
The Domain in Newmarket - why hadn't he found this glorious place before? It was a field of green carved into the likeness of a lovely English garden, the highest hill in the world of foliage topped with an immense building whose building style was remarkably reminiscent of those that existed in Jack's time. The Auckland War Memorial Museum, it was labelled...but Jack thought 'just like home' suited it just as well. Parked under a tree with a handful of paper, he'd enjoyed the latter half of the day relaxing in the sunshine, away from almost anything resembling modern technology.
It was late in the afternoon by now, but the sun was still high. He'd spent the earlier half of the day on a treasure hunt - hunting for a career through all the sources he'd found. After an interview, it seemed he would make an excellent boat salesman - if only he could fulfil a few extra requirements.
He would like the job by the sounds of it - telling people how wonderful these boats were, give them examples of their performance (his favourite part), and keeping a good portion of the sale for himself once they'd bought it (his second favourite part). Only problem - he needed to learn to drive.
Eek.
He hated the bus, he hated cars, he hated traffic. He'd have walked to Newmarket if it wasn't ten kilometres from where he lived! Curse it all.
Oh well...yet another task for him to learn before he could capture the moment and make it his own. Time to get back home. Hungry, tired and somewhat overwhelmed, it was time for this little pirate to get some rest and some good tucker.
As he headed down the slope toward the bus stop, a pair of hauntingly blue eyes watched him from a distance. Their disbelief was almost completely masked as they followed the man; could it be? Could that be Jack Sparrow? Or perhaps someone that looked remarkably like him?
The visage of the larger, red-headed man had all but melted into the shadows of a large willow tree. He was youthful, but those pale blue eyes seemed wiser than their years. Far wiser. Ginger, nearly blonde locks of hair fell about the man's shoulders, fluttering lightly in the wind - despite being dressed and groomed to a perfectly normal standard, anyone passing him by would probably dare to look twice.
Determination washed over the striking blue orbs as Sparrow disappeared. He would get to the bottom of this mystery even if it killed him.
Hmm. I'll leave you all thinking what you wish about that one ;)
There are chapters coming through thick and fast at the moment...but I really must clean all the crap out of my room so I can make way for a new desk and an easel...kinda hard to paint pirates when there's no effing room in the place! T_______T
Here's chapter 4...there'll be another chapter before a good ol' flashback methinks.
Title: Submerged
Author: ShaleSubaru / Shale
Rating: PG-R ...once again, pirates are not polite people. Oh...the extra R is for a bit of mild nudity ;)
Pairing: None so far. *whistles innocently*
Disclaimer: I don't own PotC or any characters within. Disney does. I don't own any Tekken characters either, Namco does. Oh yeah. Broke as a joke and earn NOTHING from this folly!
Warnings: Some AWE spoilers, as it is WAY post-AWE. Might want to hold off reading til' you've watched. Also, this is a crossover...modern-day for the most part...you have been warned.
Summary: Another drabbler really...but you just KNOW that good stuff is going to happen now! Jack takes a bath, cooks a meal, and goes job-hunting...one would almost think he's been brainwashed into becoming yet another one of us. But you know Jack...and you know that's just not the case ;)
"Hold your fire, prepare to broadside!" Captain Sparrow screamed over the roar of crashing waves and yelling men.
"Aye, captain!" The First Officer cried, changing the Black Pearl's course accordingly.
The Pearl came about and pulled herself parallel with the enemy vessel, the Mellow Yellow. It was a sturdy, robust ship, but the crew was flighty and Sparrow highly doubted they had the skills to outmatch the Pearl. A ship is nothing without a good crew.
Time seemed to stand still as the two vessels fought their way amongst immense ice caps; these were treacherous waters, and sometimes no amount of skill could navigate a ship free of its razor-sharp grasp.
The enemy was lined up perfectly. It was time.
"FIRE!"
Echoes of the same order rang through the ship, followed swiftly by enthusiastic cannon fire.
The Pearl passed range of the Mellow; she was not sinking but her crew was panicking. "Come about, we'll be going in for another round. It ain't over until it's over!" Sparrow barked orders as he marched across the deck.
It seemed, however, that he had no need to go in for a second round. Out of nowhere, a massive whirlpool appeared beneath the Mellow; the smaller ship found itself swirling around, around, being sucked into the vast vortex. Was it a work of the infamous sea goddess?
"Keep us away from that thing! We don't need to be joining her in the Locker!" Sparrow shuddered just thinking about that place. Heck no, he'd never go back there.
Just as the Mellow disappeared from the water's surface, the vortex suddenly disappeared completely. But where had the Mellow gone?
SPLOK!
With the force of the Gods, the Mellow was launched high into the air; it came down with a deafening splash, sending a torrent of waves crashing against the hull of the Pearl.
"Blast." Announced the Pearl's captain half-heartedly. "I've lost half me bathwater."
He reached to turn the tap back on, hot water gushing forth and pounding down on the little rubber boat floating precariously below it. It popped free, bumping into a yellow rubber duck a few inches away.
On second thought...he paused to turn the tap off. Time to get out of here anyway.
He curled his toes around the plug chain and pulled it out once more, letting the swirling, belching vortex suck the warm water and mountains of frothy bubbles away. Jack stepped out of the bath and straight into a large fluffy towel...he was starting to get used to this 'technology' thing.
Towel biffed aside, Jack stood himself in front of the full-length mirror and observed the reflection staring back at him. He had been in this hellish new existence for three months now - but at least he was regaining his original appearance. Months of intense exercise outdoors had earned him his muscle tone and his tan, though this time around he seemed a little bigger. His diet was far more healthy these days and he spent more time moving about than he used to. After all - hard work was for crewmen, not captains.
His beard had fully grown back now too, though he had foregone the beads and braids on his chin. Added to that was his hair, finally brushing his shoulders in thick, dark brown locks. He'd decided that he'd wait until it was long enough to put it right - back the way it used to be. Further down his body had regained the hair it should have had earlier - gone was the boyishly-smooth skin he'd grown to loathe. At least...between the waist and the knees. Jack was not a particularly hairy man, and women seemed to prefer it that way, but there's a minimum amount that makes one a boy or a man!
At least he had one thing to be content with. His looks.
Once done gazing at his reflection Jack grabbed his clothes and proceeded to get dressed. A pair of boxers (apparently it's taboo to 'go commando' in this era), a pair of black trousers, a white shirt (which only made it half way up the length of buttons before it was left open), and of course, a red bandanna. Not quite the look he was used to, but it would do. He'd learned to ditch the bandanna when leaving the house - it got too many strange looks.
Breakfast time!
Something he'd quickly grown to like was the Fridge. Days worth of good food, kept in brand new condition...who could argue the good purpose of such a contraption? Still, he had only used the cooking equipment in the kitchen a few times...he had discovered a good bit of 'kiwiana' in his own backyard. The 'barbeque' was one thing that reminded him of home; it was not one of the modern gas-fired or electric BBQs, but rather, an old coal-heated stand-alone unit with a simple grille and a box of metal utensils.
As usual, Jack grabbed whatever was of interest in the fridge and dumped it on the bench. After pouring himself a glass of juice, he took a tray of goodies to be cooked outdoors; he was fond of a cooked, hearty breakfast, and what better way to do it than the old-fashioned way?
Within no time the BBQ was lit and breakfast was cooking away happily. Jack had parked himself by the table outside, devouring the uncooked portion of his meal. Sure, it was a lengthy procedure for the start of any day, but almost every morning he did it - it was something remotely familiar. That, and a good breakfast kept him going most of the day...until it was time to break into the rum.
Not that modern rum was any match for the original stuff. It was candy-water nowadays! As he devoured the tasty, piping-hot morsels, Jack found his mind reliving the delicious taste of his favourite beverage. Many found it too strong, too unrefined...but that was the landlubbers' opinion. This 'Coruba' stuff claimed to be Caribbean Rum, but it hardly fit the description in his opinion.
Breakfast demolished and BBQ cleaned the 'Heinekin way' - that is, a stubby poured over the hot grille to remove all residues...a waste of good booze but an effective cleaner - Jack had the rest of the day to entertain himself.
But with what?
As usual, there were no crewmen to order around. No ship's chores to be done. No treasure to hunt, no enemy ships to plunder...what an empty existence.
Jack knew he had to find something to do, permanently, to occupy himself. Perhaps there was the old-fashioned way of getting what he desired most...sneak in the back door through seemingly honest proceedings to land himself a ship and a crew, and be done with it. Perhaps there would be something modern he could do.
But how would he find such things?
Oh hell...why hadn't he thought of that before? The computer would tell him!
Smirking, he plunked down in the computer chair and placed his hand on the mouse. He remembered that the little grey contraption was what controlled the little 'cursor' on the screen - he thought of it as his finger inside the little box in front of him. Clever, really.
But the screen was black...not doing anything!
Power...wretched power...why couldn't things run the easy way, the old way! He knew there was a button...a button with a circle, cut by a vertical line...that would bring almost any modern device to life. Brain of the computer...big box. Big box...under the table! What the heck was it doing under there? Oh well.
Jack hit the button and the computer swung into action. A short boot sequence later, it had logged itself in and was presenting Jack with a photo of the harbour filled with yachts...icons lined the left side of the image. Great...maybe he shouldn't have left it so long before he fired the wretched machine up. He'd almost forgotten how to use it.
"Blimey. Why are you such a clever little thing, but you can't simply obey orders? That would make it far easier, you know." He muttered at the screen. A wiggle of the mouse jogged his memory though...to make the computer tell him things he wanted to know, he had to find that blue 'e' with a line through it. Internet, wasn't it? He thought of it as a library he could access without having to find, search through and read the books themselves.
Bingo! It was hiding by a button labelled 'start'. He navigated the cursor over to it awkwardly, thought a moment, then stabbed the left button on the mouse. Within a moment, a Google window popped up...fantastic.
Now...what did he want the computer to tell him?
"Boats...ships...jobs...bugger. What DO I want?"
After a spectacular display of slow hunt-and-peck typing, he'd typed in all three terms - minus the bugger - and hit the search button. Once again, modern technology proved itself to be more than a pretty trinket; the search page was littered with results regarding boat building, working on a ship, selling boats, working in the navy...you name it.
Jack smirked. It seemed that treasure didn't necessarily need to be a tangible object.
***
The Domain in Newmarket - why hadn't he found this glorious place before? It was a field of green carved into the likeness of a lovely English garden, the highest hill in the world of foliage topped with an immense building whose building style was remarkably reminiscent of those that existed in Jack's time. The Auckland War Memorial Museum, it was labelled...but Jack thought 'just like home' suited it just as well. Parked under a tree with a handful of paper, he'd enjoyed the latter half of the day relaxing in the sunshine, away from almost anything resembling modern technology.
It was late in the afternoon by now, but the sun was still high. He'd spent the earlier half of the day on a treasure hunt - hunting for a career through all the sources he'd found. After an interview, it seemed he would make an excellent boat salesman - if only he could fulfil a few extra requirements.
He would like the job by the sounds of it - telling people how wonderful these boats were, give them examples of their performance (his favourite part), and keeping a good portion of the sale for himself once they'd bought it (his second favourite part). Only problem - he needed to learn to drive.
Eek.
He hated the bus, he hated cars, he hated traffic. He'd have walked to Newmarket if it wasn't ten kilometres from where he lived! Curse it all.
Oh well...yet another task for him to learn before he could capture the moment and make it his own. Time to get back home. Hungry, tired and somewhat overwhelmed, it was time for this little pirate to get some rest and some good tucker.
As he headed down the slope toward the bus stop, a pair of hauntingly blue eyes watched him from a distance. Their disbelief was almost completely masked as they followed the man; could it be? Could that be Jack Sparrow? Or perhaps someone that looked remarkably like him?
The visage of the larger, red-headed man had all but melted into the shadows of a large willow tree. He was youthful, but those pale blue eyes seemed wiser than their years. Far wiser. Ginger, nearly blonde locks of hair fell about the man's shoulders, fluttering lightly in the wind - despite being dressed and groomed to a perfectly normal standard, anyone passing him by would probably dare to look twice.
Determination washed over the striking blue orbs as Sparrow disappeared. He would get to the bottom of this mystery even if it killed him.
Hmm. I'll leave you all thinking what you wish about that one ;)