FIC: The Long Con 3/3
Title:The Long Con
Part: 3/3 - The Prestige
Author: miss_drea_fic
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/Will, Will/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fusion with the BBC television show “Hustle”. Jack Sparrow, con artist, plays a local bank and its occupants for a fool.
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns it all.
Everyone started screaming when Joshamee Gibbs raised his arm and fired two warning shots into the ceiling. The leader, Jack Sparrow shouted, “everyone on the ground.” Everyone dropped like a stone, desperate to get away from the bullets.
Ana Maria pulled her own gun out and gestured to Elizabeth in warning. “Open your vault,” the tough Brit ordered, but Elizabeth shook her head. “No?” She pointed her gun at Will in the corner. “Then I’ll shoot him.”
“I can’t,” Elizabeth whined breathlessly. “I don’t have the key.” She looked wildly around at her father who crouched in the doorway, to James in Josh’s hands to Will huddled in the corner. “Dave has it.”
“And which one is Davey, m’dear?” Jack asked sinuously, glancing around at the few workers. “The whelp in the corner?”
Weatherby, in order to save his daughter from the double guns pointed at her face, stood abruptly, wincing- expecting the gunshots. Instead just the guns swivelled towards him and he said tremulously, “David Jones is our C.E.O, and he has his own office at home. He doesn’t come in.”
Jack nodded once, mulling the bit of information over. He turned to Will in the corner. “Call him,” he ordered.
Will stood, nodding. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, reaching for the phone. He pressed a few numbers and then said, “hey Dave...it’s William Turner, from the Bank on 32nd. Uh huh...yes there’s a problem sir. Yes, sir. What, sir?” Suddenly Jack darted forward and hung up the phone.
He smiled dangerously. “Slick, Willie-boy. But 999 is pretty easy to see from across the room. Besides they won’t do you any good. Now, call Davey Jones and everything will be all right.”
Will swallowed noisily, then dialed a different number. Jack leaned over and pressed loudspeaker. “Jones here,” came the gravelly voice.
“Dave?” Will questioned. “It’s Will.”
“Will, boy. What’s wrong?” The voice deepened in displeasure at being disturbed.
“You need to come down to the Bank, Dave. There’s a problem with the vaults.”
There was a pause on the line. “They’re after my diamond, aren’t they,” Dave said rhetorically. Will shrugged even though Dave couldn’t see him. “I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead.
“Smart bugger,” Jack commented. “Too bad for him.”
“You’re not going to kill him...are you?” Will asked, sinking back towards his chair. Jack smiled brightly at him, waving the gun about like a toy. Will cringed.
“Not unless he does anything stupid,” came the ominous answer and then Jack turned away back towards James where Joshamee had his gun trained. “Gibbs, why don’t we tie our Security friend up here, there’s a nice comfy chair with his name on it. Oh yeah, take the gun too.”
Five minutes later Jones hadn’t arrived and Jack was getting restless. He opened his mouth to speak but was drowned out by:
“This is the police!” shouted a man from the street over a megaphone. Jack just rolled his eyes, and helped Joshamee tie the last knot on James’s hands. Then: the phone on William’s desk began to rang. Almost reflexively, Will reached out to pick up the shrill device. Jack inwardly rolled his eyes and pulled his gun back out and shot the area between Will and the phone. Will leapt backward as though burnt.
Jack walked lazily over to the phone and picked up. “Dutch Banks,” he said pleasantly.
“Mr. Sparrow,” said a voice on the other side. “I’d suggest you let your hostages go.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Aww...they had to send you, didn’t they Beckett?! God, you know I ain’t givin’ you nothing.” Jack mostly aimed for the receiver and Will scrambled to hang the phone properly. The older man smiled at the youth in thanks then wandered off. He turned to the group. “All right, everyone. Go sit against the wall over there.” He gestured to the wall closest to Will. “Well, everyone except our dear officer of the law here, seeing as he’s a bit tied up.” Slowly, Weatherby, Elizabeth, and Will all leaned against the wall.
Joshamee grinned. “So, when your boss-man gets here, he opens the vault, and then we leave.”
Annie rolled her eyes at the simple man. “You’re forgetting the police, dumb-arse.” Joshamee furrowed his brow trying to figure out where to go from there. “We take a hostage and leave.” She glanced around. “You.”
Will squeaked when the brown-skinned woman pointed at him. “Me? Why?”
She grinned wolfishly at him. “You look too damn innocent for your own good. Now, shut up. Sparrow! Get Beckett back on the line, you’re going to need him with Jones shows up with the key.”
“Yeah...yeah...” Jack went back towards the phone and hit *69, causing Beckett’s cell phone to ring just outside. “Beckett!” he cried, “I still hate you but you’re going to have to let in David Jones. He’s the something-or-other of this bank and he has a key that I want, savvy?”
“Sorry Jack,” the smooth voice said back, “but I can’t do that.”
Jack shrugged although he knew the officer couldn’t see him. “Kay,” he said. “Sorry ‘bout this chap,” he said to James, and then he shot him in the shoulder. “Beckett,” he said seriously into the phone, “I’m not joking.” Then he hung up.
Elizabeth was screaming, her head buried in her father’s chest. Will sat numbly, staring at the blood running down James’s arm to pool on the floor. He turned to the group against the wall. Ana Maria glanced at him. “What’s the plan, boss?”
Jack leveled his glaze at the terrified form of William Turner. “I’m going to take that one in there...” he jerked his head towards Weatherby’s office, and grinned. “And I’m going to teach him a lesson for callin’ them cops.”
Will tried to struggle, but he really wasn’t cut out for fighting. Jack roughly threw him into the desk, and smirked at him. “Bad whelp, bad,” he teased lightly as Will stood up, brushing his suit off.
“I thought I told you not to call me that, Jack?” the youth flashed a grin at the older man. Jack smirked back and hauled the younger man to him, sealing his lips over Wills.
Jack knocked the things from Weatherby’s desk, pushing a non-resisting Will on top of it. He plundered Will’s mouth ruthlessly, grinding against the younger man’s wanton body. Will hooked one leg over his lover’s waist, pulling their bodies closer together. Unable to fully strip from his position, Will settled for undoing the button on Jack’s pants.
“Saucy whelp,” ground out the Cockney as his lover dove his hands into the black jeans that the bank robber wore. When his path wasn’t hindered by any sort of underpants, Will glanced up and raised an eyebrow at him. “Faster that way. You’re not going...” he nudged his hips into Will’s hand and in turn the other man pulled the long, thin, and rather aching erection out of the too tight jeans.
“Little eager are we?” the Brit asked, pushing himself off the desk and onto the floor. Jack may have replied but the strangled sound that came out of his throat was unintelligible, as Will swallowed his throat around his cock.
“Agh, God, Will..” Jack let go of the side of the desk to bite into the inside of his wrist, to keep his shouts down. “God, where did you learn that tongue thing?” the con artist mumbled through his mouthful of wrist. Will grinned around his lover’s cock, and only sucked harder. When Jack felt enough time had gone by, he lifted Will by his neck and ripped his jeans down.
He spun the younger man around and without any preparation, plunged into the heated depths. This time it was Will who bit down on Jack’s wrist, muffling his scream of painful pleasure.
Fisting his lovers erection while pounding into him, Jack tried to make it good while being quick, unable to spend more time and care with the man he loved.
Will came with a muffled scream that could easily be disguised as one of pain, and Jack too, completed, filling his lover with a hot stream of liquid. They leaned against each other, panting, sharing sloppy kisses before reality set in.
Will cleaned himself and his lover up as best he could. Then he turned to Jack with a stoic look on his face. “Hit me,” he said quietly. Jack nodded once, kissed Will gently and then back handed his lover across the face. Will spat out a tooth and some blood. “Hit me again,” he demanded.
Jack continued to rain blows upon his lovers face until Will’s nose was bleeding, his right eye shadowed with a bruise to come, his left cheek cut from eye to chin - from Jack’s wedding ring - and a long cut down his arm where he had accidently broken the chair when he spun around.
Just before they ventured into the lobby together, Jack kissed Will’s bruised, swollen lips, and squeezed his hands once. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know.” Will let himself be shoved into the lobby where he collapsed, wheezing next to Elizabeth. When she tried to hug him he waved her off, wincing theatrically and holding his ribs. “Ow...” he said, not untruthfully. His face certainly hurt like a bitch. Just as Elizabeth tried to turn his face towards hers - none to gently- the phone on Will’s desk rang again.
Jack sauntered over to the ringing accessory and answered it with a quick grin. “‘Ello?”
Coming in tinily through the speaker, Commander Beckett could be heard saying, “David Jones is here Sparrow. What do you want now?”
“I want him to come in here, give me the key, and then join the other hostages. Savvy?” he hung up before the officer could shout a reply. The con artist turned quickly, almost losing his footing and Will had to hide a smile at his wayward lover. “S’allright! ‘M good!” David Jones strode into the bank lobby glancing around. “Jones!” Jack cried, throwing his arms up for good measure.
“Sparrow,” the big, burly man said dryly.
“Now,” the playful look that Jack had been wearing, melted away. “Give me my diamond.”
“Or what?” the C.E.O. asked, his face and voice a deadpan. For the first time since the beginning of the Long Con, William felt a frisson of fear. Jack lifted his gun and aimed it at Will’s face.
“Or I shoot the whelp.” When Jones showed no signs of relenting, Jack cocked the gun, aiming for the space between Will’s head and the adjoining wall. “Fine,” he said tightly, and fired.
Screams reverberated around the room, and Will glanced over, horror stricken at the hole in the wall, mere inches from his cheek. David Jones stared stonily at Jack. “You missed.”
“And next time...I might not. Give me the key, Davey.” Slowly, David took the key out of his inside breast pocket, and handed it to Jack.
Sparrow in turn tossed it to Ana Maria who opened the vault. Once the large diamond had been located, Jack untied James Norrington, who immediately clasped his free hand to his bleeding shoulder. He leaned heavily on Elizabeth, who nearly buckled under the larger man’s weight. She turned to Will only to find him hauled up and pressed against the body of Jack Sparrow. A gun pressed to his head.
“Will!” she cried, trying to throw herself at him. Norrington caught her, wincing. “Will, no! You can’t take him!”
“Sorry, pet,” Jack said, nosing at Will’s bloody cheek. “He’s mine now.” He gave her a condescending smile. “Shoo.”
The Con Artists followed them out and Cotton pulled up a van which they hopped into. The Fixer sped them off to under a bridge where another car was waiting. They shifted cars quickly and headed for the edge of London, Cotton’s scanner crackling only once, when they found the empty van.
Jack smirked, kissing his diamond lightly, and pocketing it. The con was successful, and they were going to head out of the country by the end of the week.
-
Will whirled on Jack the minute they were in the safe house designed by Cotton, their fixer. “Jack Sparrow!” he roared. “You shot at me!”
“I had to!” the other man shouted back.
Joshamee stepped in between the two. “Come on! Stop fighting. You know it had to be done and there wasn’t much else we could do. Jones outwitted us at every turn. This con went to shit before the end! You know it!”
Ana Maria fixated her hands upon her hips. “Will, get yer arse in that bathroom and clean yerself up! Yer drippin’ on me carpet!” Throwing his hands in the air, Will stomped off to the bathroom.
Jack slumped onto the couch. “Can we go back to doing Short Cons, just for a while, do you think?”
“No,” Cotton, Ana Maria, and Josh all said together. Jack made a face, and pulled out the diamond.
“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he asked Josh as he admired the diamond. “I’ll run to the bank tomorrow, and put it in the box.”
Will strode out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. “I can’t BELIEVE you, Jack Sparrow!” He huffed himself over to the couch, sulking prettily.
“Oh Will, I didn’t hit you, and that’s what counts! Now c’mon! We’re taking a flight out of the country in a week. Gotta get you fixed up and pretty ‘gain!” Jack clambered into Will’s lap, gazing imploringly into his eyes. “Please?”
“Oh, fuck you,” Will mumbled before kissing him. He ignored everyone’s cheers.
-
James Norrington pointed at the screen. “This is Ana Maria Hawkins. She’s the Lure, she uses her body to get what she wants. This is Jack Sparrow, he’s the Head of their operations, and an Inside man. He’s eccentric and can play himself off as crazy, but don’t be fooled. This is William Turner. He’s the acting Inside Man. Just last week, he conned an entire group of people into thinking he was a victim of circumstance. Even me. This is Cotton, no last name given, the Fixer, he is the technician of the group. And lastly, Joshamee Gibbs, the Roper, he finds the marks, befriends the marks, and cons the marks. Any questions?”
A man raised his hand and James nodded at him. “How do we find them?”
“We don’t. They come to you.”
-
The End
Part: 3/3 - The Prestige
Author: miss_drea_fic
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/Will, Will/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fusion with the BBC television show “Hustle”. Jack Sparrow, con artist, plays a local bank and its occupants for a fool.
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns it all.
Everyone started screaming when Joshamee Gibbs raised his arm and fired two warning shots into the ceiling. The leader, Jack Sparrow shouted, “everyone on the ground.” Everyone dropped like a stone, desperate to get away from the bullets.
Ana Maria pulled her own gun out and gestured to Elizabeth in warning. “Open your vault,” the tough Brit ordered, but Elizabeth shook her head. “No?” She pointed her gun at Will in the corner. “Then I’ll shoot him.”
“I can’t,” Elizabeth whined breathlessly. “I don’t have the key.” She looked wildly around at her father who crouched in the doorway, to James in Josh’s hands to Will huddled in the corner. “Dave has it.”
“And which one is Davey, m’dear?” Jack asked sinuously, glancing around at the few workers. “The whelp in the corner?”
Weatherby, in order to save his daughter from the double guns pointed at her face, stood abruptly, wincing- expecting the gunshots. Instead just the guns swivelled towards him and he said tremulously, “David Jones is our C.E.O, and he has his own office at home. He doesn’t come in.”
Jack nodded once, mulling the bit of information over. He turned to Will in the corner. “Call him,” he ordered.
Will stood, nodding. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, reaching for the phone. He pressed a few numbers and then said, “hey Dave...it’s William Turner, from the Bank on 32nd. Uh huh...yes there’s a problem sir. Yes, sir. What, sir?” Suddenly Jack darted forward and hung up the phone.
He smiled dangerously. “Slick, Willie-boy. But 999 is pretty easy to see from across the room. Besides they won’t do you any good. Now, call Davey Jones and everything will be all right.”
Will swallowed noisily, then dialed a different number. Jack leaned over and pressed loudspeaker. “Jones here,” came the gravelly voice.
“Dave?” Will questioned. “It’s Will.”
“Will, boy. What’s wrong?” The voice deepened in displeasure at being disturbed.
“You need to come down to the Bank, Dave. There’s a problem with the vaults.”
There was a pause on the line. “They’re after my diamond, aren’t they,” Dave said rhetorically. Will shrugged even though Dave couldn’t see him. “I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead.
“Smart bugger,” Jack commented. “Too bad for him.”
“You’re not going to kill him...are you?” Will asked, sinking back towards his chair. Jack smiled brightly at him, waving the gun about like a toy. Will cringed.
“Not unless he does anything stupid,” came the ominous answer and then Jack turned away back towards James where Joshamee had his gun trained. “Gibbs, why don’t we tie our Security friend up here, there’s a nice comfy chair with his name on it. Oh yeah, take the gun too.”
Five minutes later Jones hadn’t arrived and Jack was getting restless. He opened his mouth to speak but was drowned out by:
“This is the police!” shouted a man from the street over a megaphone. Jack just rolled his eyes, and helped Joshamee tie the last knot on James’s hands. Then: the phone on William’s desk began to rang. Almost reflexively, Will reached out to pick up the shrill device. Jack inwardly rolled his eyes and pulled his gun back out and shot the area between Will and the phone. Will leapt backward as though burnt.
Jack walked lazily over to the phone and picked up. “Dutch Banks,” he said pleasantly.
“Mr. Sparrow,” said a voice on the other side. “I’d suggest you let your hostages go.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Aww...they had to send you, didn’t they Beckett?! God, you know I ain’t givin’ you nothing.” Jack mostly aimed for the receiver and Will scrambled to hang the phone properly. The older man smiled at the youth in thanks then wandered off. He turned to the group. “All right, everyone. Go sit against the wall over there.” He gestured to the wall closest to Will. “Well, everyone except our dear officer of the law here, seeing as he’s a bit tied up.” Slowly, Weatherby, Elizabeth, and Will all leaned against the wall.
Joshamee grinned. “So, when your boss-man gets here, he opens the vault, and then we leave.”
Annie rolled her eyes at the simple man. “You’re forgetting the police, dumb-arse.” Joshamee furrowed his brow trying to figure out where to go from there. “We take a hostage and leave.” She glanced around. “You.”
Will squeaked when the brown-skinned woman pointed at him. “Me? Why?”
She grinned wolfishly at him. “You look too damn innocent for your own good. Now, shut up. Sparrow! Get Beckett back on the line, you’re going to need him with Jones shows up with the key.”
“Yeah...yeah...” Jack went back towards the phone and hit *69, causing Beckett’s cell phone to ring just outside. “Beckett!” he cried, “I still hate you but you’re going to have to let in David Jones. He’s the something-or-other of this bank and he has a key that I want, savvy?”
“Sorry Jack,” the smooth voice said back, “but I can’t do that.”
Jack shrugged although he knew the officer couldn’t see him. “Kay,” he said. “Sorry ‘bout this chap,” he said to James, and then he shot him in the shoulder. “Beckett,” he said seriously into the phone, “I’m not joking.” Then he hung up.
Elizabeth was screaming, her head buried in her father’s chest. Will sat numbly, staring at the blood running down James’s arm to pool on the floor. He turned to the group against the wall. Ana Maria glanced at him. “What’s the plan, boss?”
Jack leveled his glaze at the terrified form of William Turner. “I’m going to take that one in there...” he jerked his head towards Weatherby’s office, and grinned. “And I’m going to teach him a lesson for callin’ them cops.”
Will tried to struggle, but he really wasn’t cut out for fighting. Jack roughly threw him into the desk, and smirked at him. “Bad whelp, bad,” he teased lightly as Will stood up, brushing his suit off.
“I thought I told you not to call me that, Jack?” the youth flashed a grin at the older man. Jack smirked back and hauled the younger man to him, sealing his lips over Wills.
Jack knocked the things from Weatherby’s desk, pushing a non-resisting Will on top of it. He plundered Will’s mouth ruthlessly, grinding against the younger man’s wanton body. Will hooked one leg over his lover’s waist, pulling their bodies closer together. Unable to fully strip from his position, Will settled for undoing the button on Jack’s pants.
“Saucy whelp,” ground out the Cockney as his lover dove his hands into the black jeans that the bank robber wore. When his path wasn’t hindered by any sort of underpants, Will glanced up and raised an eyebrow at him. “Faster that way. You’re not going...” he nudged his hips into Will’s hand and in turn the other man pulled the long, thin, and rather aching erection out of the too tight jeans.
“Little eager are we?” the Brit asked, pushing himself off the desk and onto the floor. Jack may have replied but the strangled sound that came out of his throat was unintelligible, as Will swallowed his throat around his cock.
“Agh, God, Will..” Jack let go of the side of the desk to bite into the inside of his wrist, to keep his shouts down. “God, where did you learn that tongue thing?” the con artist mumbled through his mouthful of wrist. Will grinned around his lover’s cock, and only sucked harder. When Jack felt enough time had gone by, he lifted Will by his neck and ripped his jeans down.
He spun the younger man around and without any preparation, plunged into the heated depths. This time it was Will who bit down on Jack’s wrist, muffling his scream of painful pleasure.
Fisting his lovers erection while pounding into him, Jack tried to make it good while being quick, unable to spend more time and care with the man he loved.
Will came with a muffled scream that could easily be disguised as one of pain, and Jack too, completed, filling his lover with a hot stream of liquid. They leaned against each other, panting, sharing sloppy kisses before reality set in.
Will cleaned himself and his lover up as best he could. Then he turned to Jack with a stoic look on his face. “Hit me,” he said quietly. Jack nodded once, kissed Will gently and then back handed his lover across the face. Will spat out a tooth and some blood. “Hit me again,” he demanded.
Jack continued to rain blows upon his lovers face until Will’s nose was bleeding, his right eye shadowed with a bruise to come, his left cheek cut from eye to chin - from Jack’s wedding ring - and a long cut down his arm where he had accidently broken the chair when he spun around.
Just before they ventured into the lobby together, Jack kissed Will’s bruised, swollen lips, and squeezed his hands once. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know.” Will let himself be shoved into the lobby where he collapsed, wheezing next to Elizabeth. When she tried to hug him he waved her off, wincing theatrically and holding his ribs. “Ow...” he said, not untruthfully. His face certainly hurt like a bitch. Just as Elizabeth tried to turn his face towards hers - none to gently- the phone on Will’s desk rang again.
Jack sauntered over to the ringing accessory and answered it with a quick grin. “‘Ello?”
Coming in tinily through the speaker, Commander Beckett could be heard saying, “David Jones is here Sparrow. What do you want now?”
“I want him to come in here, give me the key, and then join the other hostages. Savvy?” he hung up before the officer could shout a reply. The con artist turned quickly, almost losing his footing and Will had to hide a smile at his wayward lover. “S’allright! ‘M good!” David Jones strode into the bank lobby glancing around. “Jones!” Jack cried, throwing his arms up for good measure.
“Sparrow,” the big, burly man said dryly.
“Now,” the playful look that Jack had been wearing, melted away. “Give me my diamond.”
“Or what?” the C.E.O. asked, his face and voice a deadpan. For the first time since the beginning of the Long Con, William felt a frisson of fear. Jack lifted his gun and aimed it at Will’s face.
“Or I shoot the whelp.” When Jones showed no signs of relenting, Jack cocked the gun, aiming for the space between Will’s head and the adjoining wall. “Fine,” he said tightly, and fired.
Screams reverberated around the room, and Will glanced over, horror stricken at the hole in the wall, mere inches from his cheek. David Jones stared stonily at Jack. “You missed.”
“And next time...I might not. Give me the key, Davey.” Slowly, David took the key out of his inside breast pocket, and handed it to Jack.
Sparrow in turn tossed it to Ana Maria who opened the vault. Once the large diamond had been located, Jack untied James Norrington, who immediately clasped his free hand to his bleeding shoulder. He leaned heavily on Elizabeth, who nearly buckled under the larger man’s weight. She turned to Will only to find him hauled up and pressed against the body of Jack Sparrow. A gun pressed to his head.
“Will!” she cried, trying to throw herself at him. Norrington caught her, wincing. “Will, no! You can’t take him!”
“Sorry, pet,” Jack said, nosing at Will’s bloody cheek. “He’s mine now.” He gave her a condescending smile. “Shoo.”
The Con Artists followed them out and Cotton pulled up a van which they hopped into. The Fixer sped them off to under a bridge where another car was waiting. They shifted cars quickly and headed for the edge of London, Cotton’s scanner crackling only once, when they found the empty van.
Jack smirked, kissing his diamond lightly, and pocketing it. The con was successful, and they were going to head out of the country by the end of the week.
-
Will whirled on Jack the minute they were in the safe house designed by Cotton, their fixer. “Jack Sparrow!” he roared. “You shot at me!”
“I had to!” the other man shouted back.
Joshamee stepped in between the two. “Come on! Stop fighting. You know it had to be done and there wasn’t much else we could do. Jones outwitted us at every turn. This con went to shit before the end! You know it!”
Ana Maria fixated her hands upon her hips. “Will, get yer arse in that bathroom and clean yerself up! Yer drippin’ on me carpet!” Throwing his hands in the air, Will stomped off to the bathroom.
Jack slumped onto the couch. “Can we go back to doing Short Cons, just for a while, do you think?”
“No,” Cotton, Ana Maria, and Josh all said together. Jack made a face, and pulled out the diamond.
“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he asked Josh as he admired the diamond. “I’ll run to the bank tomorrow, and put it in the box.”
Will strode out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. “I can’t BELIEVE you, Jack Sparrow!” He huffed himself over to the couch, sulking prettily.
“Oh Will, I didn’t hit you, and that’s what counts! Now c’mon! We’re taking a flight out of the country in a week. Gotta get you fixed up and pretty ‘gain!” Jack clambered into Will’s lap, gazing imploringly into his eyes. “Please?”
“Oh, fuck you,” Will mumbled before kissing him. He ignored everyone’s cheers.
-
James Norrington pointed at the screen. “This is Ana Maria Hawkins. She’s the Lure, she uses her body to get what she wants. This is Jack Sparrow, he’s the Head of their operations, and an Inside man. He’s eccentric and can play himself off as crazy, but don’t be fooled. This is William Turner. He’s the acting Inside Man. Just last week, he conned an entire group of people into thinking he was a victim of circumstance. Even me. This is Cotton, no last name given, the Fixer, he is the technician of the group. And lastly, Joshamee Gibbs, the Roper, he finds the marks, befriends the marks, and cons the marks. Any questions?”
A man raised his hand and James nodded at him. “How do we find them?”
“We don’t. They come to you.”
-
The End