And one to another you'll hear them all say

[drinkupmehearties]

Who| Captain Jack Sparrow & You!
What| His arrival
Where| Training Center Suites & Central Commons
When| Shortly after the latest Arena ended
Warnings/Notes| Nothing besides drinking and pirate-y stuff, because yep it's Jack.

(A. Suites)

The heat of the Caribbean sun above, the taste of salt on the cool wind, the bounce of his dinghy on the ocean's waves, rum bottle in hand -- these were the last wispy traces of memory that Jack had before the hard metal of a cot and terse words of the Peacekeepers disrupted it. A map had been shoved in his hands after their brief explanation, then the men had exited the room and left the pirate to his own devices.

It was a dream. Had to be, right? An incredibly vivid one, at that, sure, but not real in the least. Because, really, how else to explain any of this? How else to fully absorb the fact that he'd been kidnapped by some mysterious and powerful force, then dropped into some bizarre, alien place where he'd be forced to fight for his life? So. Nope. Didn't make sense otherwise.

(Yet. Even a small part of him worried that it wasn't one. He'd experienced strange things in his life, in the past, hadn't he?)

"Tributes. A battle to the death. Bugger. Not entirely the best dream I could've come up with on me own." He ran a couple fingers down his goatee, grimacing. "And honestly, it could do much better with more rum in it. At the very least." After a cursory survey of his strange surroundings, Jack roamed with unsteady steps towards the kitchen, intent on exploration. The gadgets and devices on the counters were wholly foreign and incomprehensible, and the pirate furrowed his brow. He prodded a finger against one in particular -- a metallic box, its front side adorned with a square piece of glass -- then noticed the numbers and words printed on it. "Popcorn. Potato. Pie-zah." His eyebrows raised. "... What on this earth is any of that supposed to mean?"

A considering pause. Then Jack experimentally pressed a finger against one of the numbered buttons, flinching back in surprise when a short beep accompanied it. A few more pushes, each followed by its own beep, and the pirate slowly lost interest -- what use, ultimately, was there in some weird magic number-display device that made noise at him.

And thus, if someone hadn't stopped him by now, the pirate would move on to explore more of the kitchen.


(B. Central Commons)

Some time later, once he'd figured out how to operate the elevators, Jack would make his way down into the Central Commons. There was a flurry of excited activity, murmurs of 'the latest Arena finishing' and its victor, all of which Jack took brief note of, then ignored. He lingered at the entrance to take in the intensity of it all instead, to stare at the unusual costumes and hairstyles these people wore, the wholly unnatural way this entire place was built and decorated, then his attention snagged on the word 'bar'. His expression brightened, "Ah!"

Navigating his way through the area -- but poorly, that is, and by bumping against a few too many people -- Jack settled into a seat. Minutes later he'd have a glass of rum in hand, and would take a long, long swig of it. If someone happened to sit next to him, the pirate would eventually throw a glance in their direction, then not-so-subtly lean towards them.

"Oi. Do you happen to know what, exactly, all this bustle and -- " he waved his hand, "-- noise and what have you is about?"

Comments

[drinkupmehearties]

It doesn't bother Jack all that much that the other man doesn't return the courtesy, particularly because he's marginally more interested in feeling out Joel's story.

"Boston. Never found meself that far north too many times." It was a flourishing port town by Jack's time, but hadn't held much interest beyond that to him. "Never was too keen on all the smallpox, truth be told." His arms fold across his chest, settling back against the counter as Joel pulls food out of the fridge.

"Not too many monsters there, either, I'd wager."

[aintyourdad]

Smallpox and monsters. Oh, if only he knew.

"You might be surprised," Joel mutters with a snort. "There are worse things than smallpox."

[drinkupmehearties]

Because of Joel's familiarity the weird contraptions in this place, Jack's tentatively assumed the man is from sometime in the future. So when he makes that remark, the pirate is thinking something along the lines of some futuristic, technological problem like one would find in the Capitol.

"Aye? What would that be?"

[aintyourdad]

"If smallpox ate your brain and turned you into a mindless monster," he says flatly.

[drinkupmehearties]

An eyebrow lifts in sync with the corner of his upper lip, all in clear disgust. "... That'd about do it."

His head cranes to the side a little. "What on earth possessed you to live there?"

[aintyourdad]

"Uh, the infection spread everywhere. There's nowhere to live that doesn't have it," Joel says flatly.

[drinkupmehearties]

He looks taken aback and a touch horrified.

"That is -- " A pause, because what even to say to that. "-- incredibly unfortunate, mate. What brought that about?"

[aintyourdad]

"Your guess is as good as mine," Joel says with a shrug. "It got into the food, and then it was in people, and then there was nothin' anyone could do to stop it."

[drinkupmehearties]

Oh. Welp. He's more than glad that he'd never encountered that in his life. There was enough horror -- supernatural or otherwise -- to live with in his time.

"Blimey, that's horrible."

[aintyourdad]

"About right," Joel says with a sigh. "These people don't know how good they got it." Or they wouldn't be wasting all these technological wonders on blood sports.