tampered | Log:Complete

Log:Complete

When; Night of sept.1st into the 2nd
Rating; PG13
Characters; Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa
Summary; Barbossa's arrival in the city, if it had to happen at all, couldn't have come at a better time as far as Jack's concerned. Thanks to the power switching curse.
Log;

Jack leaves the door to room thirteen open, that the salt air and warm breeze might waft out into the hall and show his former first-mate the way. The door opens on a boardwalk over the sand that stretches out into the water as the large dock; the harbour serving three ships. One is a grand man-of-war with the wood darkened from time spend below the waves -nearly as dark as the Pearl- and sails all in black, the second is a small and oddly shaped vessel with a smiling sheep as the figure head, and the third...well..she's below the waters and rises only when the Captain sees fit.

To make his own ship even more obvious, Jack stands proudly on deck awaiting Barbossa's arrival. It should be a marvelous reunion, really. This shall be even more enjoyable than shooting that blasted monkey.

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Building eight, he'd said, room number thirteen. It was a petty superstition, but an unfortunent number nonetheless. He could smell the familiar air, growing in strength as he approached. A breeze caught at one of his cheeks, almost playfully, as he carefully peeked around the door-frame, wary as he usually was.

His eyes widened. He'd thought it all a joke, but there was surely and ocean spread out from the frame, shore and dock and all. Jack's ship was easiest to spot, huge and dark, with far too many guns. Barbossa was willing to bet that it looked far more dangerous than it actually was. He could already see Jack's tricorn, bobbing atop his head, from where he stood.

Rolling his eyes, he stepped into the world-in-a-room. His heavy boots were soon thumping against the deck. He wasn't going for surprises; that was Jack's game, apparently. Up the gangplack to face the lilting man with a straight back. He didn't look remotely impressed. "What's this you're meaning to show me, Jack?"

The monkey hopped from his shoulder, finding amusement in climbing as he clung to one of the ship's many, hanging ropes. "I do hope it's as nice as your makin' it to be."

Red eyes watch Barbossa's approach. Jack's mind has not, in many years, been anything a person could call 'sound', and this city has done nothing to help it. In the last few days, things have only gotten worse. The Captain has a great deal of aggression to work out.

His attentions drift as his gaze follows his namesake up into the rigging. "Bloody awful monkey." Then Jack snaps back to face Hector and a grin spreads on his lips.

"I believe it's far better, even, than I've made it sound... though 'nice' may not be the proper word, eh?"
What could have passed for a mere crimson tinge to his brown eyes takes on a glow and becomes an unmistakable red as demonic energies gather in sparking, glowing violet around Jack's hands.

This is strange, and he doesn't hold still for it. Hector stepped forward, eyeing Jack closely, the changes something that he hadn't been expecting. He side-stepped, debating with himself for only a moment before reaching to his side and drawing his sword.

He kept moving, all side-steps, keeping a careful eye on Jack. "I should've suspected. 'Nice' rarely comes from exchanges with the likes of you." He was at the ready. If Jack wanted to try some sort of trickery, Barbossa would certainly allow him that thought. He wouldn't be taken anywhere without a fight, though.

"This is a new trick, though, Jack. Aquired it just recently, I assume? Ye sure ye know how to handle it?" Hopefully, this was another of Jack's mislaid plans. If the other man so much as slipped, Barbossa had a weapon handy. Lucky shots when he wasn't looking was one thing, but Barbossa was certain that he was the better swordsman. Most of the time, Jack teetered too much to do any proper fighting.

It's so hurtful to suggest that Jack never does a good and 'nice' thing for his fellow man. Hurtful, but not entirely unfounded with most, and so Jack shrugs it off. He's far more interested, at present, with displaying his new powers. It was not even so long ago he had said himself that any man given sufficient enough power goes mad with it and loses the better part of his wits. Apparently, he's out to prove himself right.

"Oh, newly acquired, most certainly. And quite strong as well. I do think, however, that I have a good handle on it. I suppose there's naught left but to see, eh?"
With a wicked grin, Jack turns an eye to the shore. The glowing aura around one hand grows brighter and expands until he chooses a single, curving palm tree for his demonstration and reduces it to ash and a small mushroom cloud. The other hand is kept in front of him, a guard against any advance made by Hector and his blade.
"Thing my aim's about perfect. Wouldn't you say?"

Perfect. Jack could shoot... Fire, or something, from his hands? All too perfect. Glorious. Now, how to get himself out of this? Force? Trickery.

Jack had a hand aimed at him, in attempt to keep him from adavancing. With an oh-so resolute sigh, looking with vague disinterest at the once-palm. "Aye, perhaps." He'd lifted his pistol from its holster, pulling the hammer back as it was pointed to the other's face. "Care to venture how good my aim is?"

At this distance, it was bound to be pretty good.

What it is, exactly (fire or some other force?) is unknown to the wielder as well. It reeks of brimstone, but Jack's not one to let odor bother him. It isn't even the full extent of his powers. He's fairly convinced that a pistol's shot would have little effect on him at present.

'Fairly convinced', however, is not solid enough confidence to take a blast to the face. Not this close, for certain. He lowers his hand and and the 'fires' extinguish. Brows furrowed and lower lip slightly pouted, he does an excellent impression of defeat.
"Now now, mate. No call for rash action. If I'd wanted you dead, surely it would have been wiser and by far more simple to simply char you to cinders on the sand before you even made way down the docks to my ship. Now any move I make risks my own vessel and her crew as well. Would hardly be a sensible plan, now would it? Not at all the opportune time or place."
His head is tilted and lowered. Another show of resignation from the fight, though the implication of a present crew to avenge him has been made. A small safety precaution.

There were plenty of people who would find themselves easily taken with Jack's bull. Barbossa wasn't one of them. This was a farce to get him to lower his gun; something like that. He wasn't going to fall for it, he knew Jack too well.

Instead, he stepped forward, slipping his sword away awkwardly with his less-agile hand. The barrel of his pistol reached for Sparrow's chin, tapping to assure that the oddball-man look up. It pressed on, resting almost comfortably on his jawline. "None of that."

A light smirk, "Shame on you, Jack, takin' advantage of a man's confusion in a new place. Lucky me, I'm no absolute fool." He pushed the gun forward, making it keenly known that the gun was, indeed, pressed at his throat. "Now, what you'll be doin' is escortin' me to the door. Ye've yer scores to settle, and I've mine, but I'm one to agree with you on issues of time and place. Not here, not now." His smile grew, and he, quite mockingly, added, "Savvy?"

Sparrow's eyes widen and and his brows raise as the gun is pressed up against him. Damn Barbossa. Never was the trusting sort. You'd think there was reason to doubt Jack's honesty, or something. A careful hand raises ever-so-slow to hover just inches from the barrel, wanting to move it away.

Once he's accepted that attempted escape will likely leave a mess of his former brains strewn over his deck, Jack meets Hector's eyes. The sickeningly sweet grin he's able to manage with a pistol complicating both swallowing and breathing does the job of masking the torrent of obscenities playing in his head.

"Nnng.... Yes... well... more gently, please?"
He tilts his back just a little further (which is to say, as far as it will go) to lessen the pressure. It isn't all that firmly crushing upon him, but the nature of the thing is...upsetting.
"Another time, than..Shall we away to the waiting egress and be done with....pleasantries?"

He rolled his eyes at Jack's initial words. Honestly, you'd think that a man with a gun to his throat would learn to stop complaining. With a slight huff, he withdrew some of the pressure with which he pressed the metal to the flesh.

Away? "Please." Making sure to keep his hold on Jack's immediate safety, he began to move from the large vessel.

"Ah..far more better."
With a careful walk, Jack leads the way down from the ship and to the dock. This walk is wholly demeaning. Jack keeps his smile, though, and simply plots how better to destroy Hector later. Waste of a day of power. He abhors the waste.

"And see? There lies the door. This would be where we part ways, yes?"
They're several good feet from the door, but Jack stops walking.

He was suspicious of stopping a ways from the door, but only lightly. He paused, as well, "Just a minute. I've forgotten something." Jack (the monkey) had left his shoulder, but was now scurrying across the sand towards them. With a number of small noises that sounded vaguely accusing, the creature climbed up Barbossa's coat and settled once again on his shoulder. He was chewing on a large, newly-aquired ring with great interest.

Now that Hector was sure he wasn't leaving his pet behind, he returned his attention to Jack (the man). "Pleasure seeing you again, Jack." He put on an equally sarcastic face of pleasantness, but it fell quickly. He started for the door, keeping the gun on Sparrow until he rounded the frame and was again in a hallway.

He finally put his gun away safely, sure that Jack had enough of a conscious to not blast his fire-or-whatever beams into the complexes hallway. Bystanders were sure to be around here somewhere.

Any time Jack can not readily see his simian counterpart, he likes to imagine the thing simply does not exist. So, when mention is made of forgetting something, Jack's brows furrow in confusion. The chittering soon clears that up though and he sneers and hisses at the thieving little animal. (Really, what sort of awful beast just forages about in another's property and arbitrarily wanders off with small baubles?)

The grin returns quick as he inclines his head to formalities. "Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure. Shame we don't do this more often." His expression falters as he realizes just how much more often he'll be seeing Barbossa if they're both to be trapped here.

As the man and his monkey round their way out the door, Jack's hands flare with that explosive energy. He would like so very much to utterly destroy Hector down to nothing, simply to see how it is the city resurrects him, but the are of effect would likely reach to other people...people Jack knows.
He spends his energy on another innocent and unassuming tree.
"Bugger."

His first instincts, it would seem, were right: Hector Barbossa's arrival in the City is dreadfully awful news.

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Log:Complete

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