Chapter 2: The First Game

CW: violence, blood, body horror

 

            “You can’t be fucking serious.”  Hook raised an eyebrow.

            The boy’s smirk didn’t waver.  “But I am.”

            “You think you can come onto my ship and order me to walk the plank?” he snapped, “Not bloody happening.”

            “You agreed to play the game.  These are the terms,” Pan shrugged, “So go on.  I’m very much looking forward to the show, captain.”

            The pirate bared his teeth in his “shark grin”, at least that’s what the crew called it when they thought he was out of earshot.  Normally it was enough to make his opponents start shitting themselves and wishing they hadn’t crossed him.  But Pan, well he was many things but “normal” certainly didn’t make the list of words describing Peter Pan.  The demon king of Neverland merely returned with his own deranged smirk, having no reservations about meeting the captain’s steely glare.

            “I agreed before you added such a condition,” Hook snapped, “I-”

            He stopped himself, realizing the chance he’d been given.  He’d be a fool not to take it.

            “So if I go along with it, then it’s only fair that I get to add my own rule.”

            Pan’s smile became more genuine.  “So what do you want, captain?”

            There was a teasing innocence in his voice, as if they were playing a real game instead of some demented torment that the demon had devised.  It stung Hook in a place that he’d forgotten he could feel.  He averted his eyes, drawing his pistol. 

            “Well, knowing you, I’m gonna want to be able to use this.  Problem is, these don’t work wet.  Much less underwater.  Reloading also seems like a bitch so, you fix mine and make it work and I’ll walk the bloody plank for you,” Hook said, extending the gun, butt first out of habit.  Not that he’d have minded pointing it at the boy.

            Peter Pan chuckled, a truly delighted look on his face.  “Clever, my darling captain, very clever.”

            He closed the distance between them, seizing the captain’s wrist with one hand.  Hook tried not to flinch, instead focusing on Pan’s other hand.  He’d raised it above the flintlock, a red glow now emanating from it.  The glow enveloped the gun, soaking into the weapon like water seeping into unfinished wood.  Hook shifted, the barrel growing warm to the point of being just uncomfortable.  Only his pride kept him hanging on until the spell was finished.  Pan lowered his hand but didn’t release the pirate.

            “The spell will last as long as the game does. Now don’t go trying to shoot me,” his grip tightened, “I don’t forgive people who break their promises and you, captain, promised me a game.”  He let go of Hook’s wrist, hand coming up to rest on his cheek instead.  “Do entertain me, I’ve been so bored.”

            Hook snorted, moving anyway from the boy’s hand.  “I guess you can have a bit of fun right before you die.”

            “So confident that you’ll win.”  Pan chuckled and shook his head.  “It’s adorable.”

            The pirate didn’t deign that with a response, instead walking over to the blasted plank.  Resting on the rail, he turned to face his crew, looking for one man in particular.  Morris was never difficult to find, half-a-head taller than most of the men and always wearing a vibrant red bandana in lieu of a hat.

            “Take care of the men while I’m out,” he addressed the quartermaster, “Should be back by morning.”

            “Aye cap’n,” Morris said with an affirming nod.

            He gave his men a “what can you do” shrug before walking out onto the plank.  Below him, the waters of Neverland’s sea were dark and murky but thankfully rather still.  Under normal circumstances, he would never drown.  But like its master, Neverland was far from normal.  Hook fingered the trigger of his gun, wondering if he was a fool for trusting Pan’s sense of sportsmanship.  Well if all else failed, he still had his sword.  And his hook.

            With those commiserating thoughts, Captain Hook took the plunge.

            The freefall was actually quite nice.  But the damn impact ached all the way to his bones, the height of the Jolly Roger’s deck making for a very unpretty landing.  Water enveloped him and he desperately kicked his legs until he surfaced.  Hook spit out the water that’d managed to get into his mouth.  Just his luck, it tasted like shit.  But he didn’t have time to worry about that.

            Pan was definitely plotting something and he needed to make as much progress as possible before it came to fruition.

            Hook began swimming to shore, but he quickly realized how rash he’d been when accepting the contest.  As a sailor, it was only natural that he was adept at swimming.  But that had been before he had lost his hand.  And that made all the difference.  One-handed, he couldn’t properly balance.  His hook merely cut through the water unsatisfyingly, providing no forward force.  The most he could do was use his legs to propel himself, his remaining hand helping to steer him vaguely on the correct course.

            It was slow going, but the cheers of his crew told him that he was making some sort of progress towards the strip of beach that he could just see in the distance.  The sand didn’t seem to be getting any closer, but he pushed aside the frustration.  He couldn’t afford to get discouraged.  Not that quickly.  Not when facing Pan.

            He’d just established a good rhythm to the strange one-handed stroke when he felt the water move around him.

            The pirate froze, treading water as he cast hurried glances around him.  The murky water did a good job of concealing its secrets.  But a flash of violet scales caught his eye, the tail far too big to be a fish.

            “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.

            Mermaids.

            Naïve sailors thought that appeasing the hags was the key to safe sailing.  Hook knew better.  The cunts were nothing more than tricksters who delighted in human suffering.  One would think that they’d get along famously with Pan, what with their similar hobbies.  But, of course, the demon was far too much of a megalomaniac to have anything resembling friends.

            The pirate gripped his flintlock tightly.  Time to find out how good the little bastard really was with magic.

            A blonde reached for him and he jerked away, taking the opening to fire.  The resulting explosion of smoke made it impossible to see anything below the surface.  There wasn’t even a scream to tell him that he’d hit his mark.

            Claw-like fingernails tore into his shoulder.  Hook bit his lip to avoid crying out, unable to see his attacker through the smoke.  Fucking hell, he should’ve asked the demon to get rid of the explosions too.

            More claws dug into his thigh.  Another pair of arms wrapped around his waist.  The salt water made his cuts scream in agony, the liquid dyed a violent color.  They dragged him down and down and down despite his struggles.  His mouth was flooded with water, his nose just barely above the surface.

            Hook shot blindly at the area around his legs.  Once.  Twice.  The only sign that he’d hit her was the terrible shriek that accompanied one set of claws ripping out of his skin.  He cried out only to take in another mouthful of water.  The remaining two didn’t stop pulling and he had to shut his eyes so they wouldn’t sting from the salt water.

            He couldn’t see.  He couldn’t breathe.  Couldn’t feel anything but claws and water stinging against his cuts.  The arms kept dragging.  Down and down and down and down.  He needed to free himself.  How?  He couldn’t aim.  Couldn’t breathe.

            He lashed out with his free hand, well hook, the hag shrieking when it pierced her skin.  She let go of his shoulder for a second.  The mermaid holding his waist dug her nails into his sides.  But the pain didn’t compare to the shrieking of his lungs.  Needed to breathe.  He brought his gun up against his shoulder, firing to where she had been.  There was another scream.

            Only one left.  The pirate drove the tip of his hook into the back of her hand.  She released him and he forced himself to turn around, to shoot.

            He was free.  But he couldn’t breathe.  Hook kicked desperately, feeling every square inch of pressure vanish one by one.  But it wasn’t enough until he broke the surface and finally, finally he could breathe.  He spit the water from his mouth, chest heaving as he took long, heavy breaths.  His objective forgotten, all he could focus on was bringing more air into his starved lungs.

            But the mermaids were not generous creatures.  The smoke had cleared some and he could just see them circling below.  Had he the air to, he would’ve cursed, but as it was he just started shooting at the creatures haphazardly.  It was bloody impossible to get a hit off, what with how fast the damn things were swimming.

            His biceps exploded in pain as two mermaids wrenched his arms behind his back.  He couldn’t help crying out as another slashed at his chest.  She returned to her friends, shoulders shaking with laughter.  Another closed in, claws digging into his left thigh.  They continued shredding his clothes and skin with little distinction between the two, evidently revenge for their comrades.  With his arms pinned, he could do little more than take it, biting his lip so hard it drew yet more blood.

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            Only once his ears were ringing from blood loss, having created his own personal oil-spill of crimson, were the hags sated.  They latched onto his legs and again began to pull him downwards.

            He was buried in the now-too familiar sensation of having water press in on all sides, his battered limbs too exhausted to put up any real fight.  The water burned against his cuts, but he couldn’t cry out lest he lose the precious air in his mouth.  Hook knew he had to end things quickly.  Otherwise there would be no winning.

            But even if he could free himself, could he even swim with that many injuries?  But even those thoughts evaporated, leaving only one.  I can’t breathe.  He flailed desperately, but their grip didn’t falter.  He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe.  He may have been submerged in water, but his lungs were pure fire.  Screaming for anything that wasn’t the too-salty water filling his mouth and stinging his wounds.

            And then one of the mermaids began to sing.

            That delicate tune soothed his panic, telling of a grand palace built of coral, hidden deep under the sea.  She sang of a man from the world above the surface and how he met a beautiful mermaid princess.  And how she showed him pleasures far beyond anything he had known.

            The captain knew them to be empty promises.

            But that didn’t stop the longing taking root in his heart.

            He knew it was all lies, he knew that he wouldn’t want such a princess if even she existed.

            But that meant nothing.

            His muscles relaxed.

            Everything was a lie.  He knew that.  But it was hard to resist when he knew that the fate the mermaids would give him was so much less cruel than the one that was waiting for him with Pan.

            The song stopped.  His back met something solid and there was air.  All around him.  He sat up abruptly, hacking out cough after cough, expelling his lung’s worth of water.  Something coarse dug into his wounds, drawing tears from his eyes.  But he was too far gone to care.  Breathing, actually being able to breathe, was far more important. 

            “Easy now, captain,” a maddeningly familiar voice said, hand on his shoulder.

            But he didn’t hate that voice.  At least, not at the moment.

            Hook wiped the water out of his eyes with his existent hand before opening them to meet the startling green of Pan’s.  The boy was frowning.  Why?  He had won, right?  Was it not enough?  Had he not been entertained?  Was the demented king going to put him through another round to appease his sadism?

            “What?” Hook snapped.

            A grin slowly spread over the demon’s face.  “Looks like it’s my win.”

            “Shut up,” the captain grumbled, averting his eyes.

            Right.  He’d lost.  Which meant he was Pan’s toy for the night.  Fuck.

            Pan started giggling, expression lighting up in almost tangible glee.  There it was, the reaction that Hook had been expecting.

            “But first…” he trailed off.

            The mermaids, the lot of them, materialized on the beach flapping their tails erratically.  Hook got a full view of the carnage he’d wrought on them, stab wounds and bullet holes dripping blood onto the white sand of Neverland’s beach.

            “What’s the meaning of this, Pan?  Why have you brought us here?” a golden-tailed mermaid demanded.  Hook recognized her voice, though it had been far sweeter in singing.  She flipped her hair over her shoulder.  “We had a deal.”

            “And what deal was that exactly?” the demon asked, completely devoid of the warmth he affected for Hook.

            “In return for cooperating with your game, you promised to leave the mermaids alone,” she said.  The pirate had to give her credit for not showing any weakness in front of the boy.

            Pan stood and stalked over to where they were gathered.  “I suppose I did.  But you see, there’s just one problem.”

            “And what’s that?”  Her eyes narrowed.

            “Hook is mine.  And I won’t forgive anyone who touches him.”

            “You told us to try and drown him!”

            “But I didn’t give you permission to touch, now did I?”  Pan’s tone of voice made even Hook shiver.

            The mermaids looked up at him with utter terror.  Everyone knew the price of upsetting Pan.

            Those terrified expressions froze in place, eyes darting around in wooden sockets, unable to even widen.  Mouths thoroughly petrified, the only sound of the mermaids’ struggle was that of their tails hitting sand.  Their panicking eyes splintered, hardening as their movements ceased.  The curse spread, hair no longer whipping around in time with the erratic movements of their heads.  It seized their shoulders and arms, chests rising and falling rapidly before stilling all at once.  Their tails contorted in unnatural shapes before finally, finally the mermaids moved no more.  Even the droplets of blood dripping from the wounded had frozen, now indistinguishable from tears or drops of ocean water.

            An amber liquid began to secrete from the woodified mermaids, coating them in a thin film.

            “Oil,” Pan said, glancing over his shoulder back at the captain.

            A box of matches appeared in his hands and he made a show of selecting one with painstaking movements.  Hook’s eyes widened as the reality of what he was about to do really sank in.  He may have been a pirate with ships-worth of blood on his hands, but it seemed there were some things that could shock even him.  The boy struck the match, expression never changing from one of terrible glee.

            “Pan, wait-” Hook was thoroughly ignored, the king of Neverland taking three steps before flinging the match onto the nearest mermaid.

            She burst into flame, the inferno spreading from tailfin to tailfin until all of the mermaids were engulfed.

            Pan turned back to him, face painted by the backlight of the fire.

            “Like I said, my darling captain, you’re mine and I won’t allow anyone else to have you.”

            He walked back over to Hook, kneeling in front of him.  Those emerald green eyes scanned over his wounds, smile fading into a frown.

            “Now captain, take off your shirt.”

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