kippurbird | Three short drabbles (Reply)

One Drunken Night...

Captain Jack Sparrow walked down the street of Tortuga, but only if you considered walking as being defined as putting one foot in front of the other in an effort to move you forward. Other words to describe his movement would be staggered, wobbled and at times even pranced. He had just come from a lovely bar where he had some lovely rum and some lovely company with a lovely woman. Or so he thought. He wasn't too sure, because he was a bit to drunk to remember. He knew, for certain, that he had a good time, nonetheless.

As he made his way down to the docks, he felt someone brush up against him. It wasn't the tender touch of a lady interested in a night of enjoying his company but instead the quick fingers of a pick pocket. Turning in a speed that belayed his drunkenness, he snagged the collar of the sneak thief. The thief was a boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old looking like he hadn't had a decent meal in a long time.

"You know lad, that's a rather easy way to get yourself killed."

The boy glared at him, "I didn't do nothing."

"Sure you didn't, why don't you give back what you took and everything will be all right. We could say that I'm being generous."

"And if I don't?"

Jack leaned over and whispered, "Well, you wouldn't want to know, but it'll be something you'll never forget."

Sullenly, the boy handed over his compass.

"Good lad, now, off you go. Try to be more careful next time." He let go of the boy and watched him scamper off into an alley. It was only a few minutes later that he realized that his money pouch was missing.

So Sweet Revenge?

Sawyer took a large gasping of air after hurling out the contents of his stomach. He didn't think would feel this way. After all these years of waiting, of anticipating, of running it over and over again in his head, he never once thought that he would meet the original Sawyer like this. Chained up and still oh so cocky. Oh so unremorseful. He didn't even read the letter! The letter he had managed to keep even after the plane crash.

The man just didn't care. And perhaps in revenge for his parents, for the life that he had led, the lost opportunities he had strangled the man. Or perhaps just because he wanted to shut that arrogant bastard up.

It didn't matter now. The deed was done. That chapter of his life was over. He had his revenge.

So, why didn't he feel any better about it?

Because we all wanted to do it.

"I will help you rescue Katrina," Eragon declared to his cousin. Just as he finished saying that, something hit him on the back of his head, sending him sprawling. Scrambling up, ready for a fight, he saw a man dressed in leather armor wielding what looked like an oar. He had dark hair that blended into the shadows, brown eyes like the ground after the rain. He seemed self assured and confident.

"Bad Eragon, no cookie."

Eragon gaped. This was the last thing he expected the person to say. Roran had recovered his senses and swinging his hammer attacked the man. The oar flashed and solidly connected with Roran's head. His cousin folded up like a deck chair.

"Who are you, what do you want?" Eragon demanded, trying to draw upon reserves of energy that he must have somewhere.

"I," the man said, "am the voice of logic and reasoning. Every time you do something idiotic I shall whack you with my clue-by-oar. Hopefully by using this method, you will gain some sense."

"What are you talking about? I'm perfectly logical!"

"WRONG!" and the oar hit him again. Eragon didn't even see it coming, the man was just that fast. "You are not. For instance, the Varden have just fought off the Galbatorix's army and are in desperate need of help healing their wounded. And not only that but it's likely that the king will plan a counter attack. By leaving the Varden, you are neglecting your responsibilities. Do you really think that the Varden could withstand another attack, especially if Murtagh showed up again?"

"But I have to save Katrina!" Eragon protested. The oar cracked against his head.

"No. You don't. She is bait in a trap. If you go and rescue her it's likely that you'll be seriously injured and she will be killed. As long as they need her as bait for you to come and get her, she'll stay alive. And defeating Galbatorix is more important than rescuing here. After all, do you have any clue as to how to do that?"

"Um..." he hesitated.

"Exactly. I want you to think about that for a while." And the man vanished, leaving Eragon with a massive headache.