WHO: Davy Jones, Agent of W&H WHAT: Retribution WHERE: Olvera St. WHEN: Sunday afteroon RATED: PG with some scary elements STATUS: CLOSED
Davy had roamed the city for days without meaning. He had done what he was supposed to do and had still managed to fail. He was at a dead end- without his ship and crew... what else was there for him? He knew the next step was to find William Turner, but that proved to be far more difficult on land (without said ship) than what was considered, once upon a time, normal. Nobody dared to attack him or speak to him- word had traveled among most groups of evil and humans believed him to be a cranky street performer who had no desire for pictures of autographs. This was no longer his world. Fear was mocked and ignored during the day. Life was empty. Davy was empty. His wandering eventually brought him to Olvera Street, a tourist attraction for the Mexican missions of Southern California. He stopped and looked around, feeling somewhat nostalgic for the old missions and time of the conquistadors. He sighed and sat down for a moment for a smoke from his pipe. Lost in thought, he paid no attention to the soul walking straight towards him.
The man was dressed in an Armani suit, making him stick out amongst the locals quite a bit. He didn't seem to notice, though. In fact, if anyone were to look close enough, they'd realize the man was focused on one thing and one thing only - the tentacled creature sitting nearby. He paid no attention to the car that very nearly hit him as he crossed the street, nor to the handful of men who heckled him from the mouth of a nearby alley for his attire. He simply made a direct line for Davy Jones, one hand shoved in the pocket of his suit and a look of pure determination on his face. _ _"Davy Jones," he spoke when he drew near, coming to a stop less than a foot away. He said nothing else, just continued to stare at the Captain with a curiously blank look in his eyes as he waited for a reply.
Davy inhaled from his pipe before looking up. "What." He wasn't in the mood to kill anymore. It was rather fruitless nowadays.... it wasn't going to change anything. Even without a heart, he still understood logic.
"I have a message, from the Senior Partners," the man said, his voice oddly lacking any real feeling behind the words. Then he drew his hand from his pocket and revealed what part of that message happened to be. _ _It was a heart. But not just any heart. The heart of Davy Jones himself. _ _There was a swirl of magic that seemed to burst from the man's chest, then, twisting down his arm until it covered the heart itself. Faster than could really be followed by the human eye, the man's arm shot forward and, with a muffled grunt, he shoved both the heart and his fist directly into Davy's chest. _ _He yanked his arm free a second later, the heart nowhere to be seen, and took a step back as he allowed the magic to do what it was designed to do. Restore Davy Jones to the living, breathing human he'd once been.
At the sight of the heart, Davy gasped and tried to scramble away but the entire effort went without success. The man's fist was shoved into his heart. In a swirl of warmth that was all but familiar, the thing within his chest began to beat. At first, it was all he could hear: the loud thumping of a deep drum slowly coming to life. He gasped, emerging from his watery grave once again. The transformation was complete. He looked to the man in shock, not quite having processed the events. He opened his mouth to speak then promptly folded in half to cough up the saltwater from his lungs. "No!" He said, unable to move from his body's uncontrollable spasms. "No, please!" He begged through his coughs again.
It wasn't until Davy said 'please' that something akin to remorse flashed across the man's face. The emptiness in his eyes disappeared as a flicker of something akin to sorrow shone in his brown orbs. "Sorry, man," he murmured. "Business is business." Then the humanity died out and once more he became little more than a shell of a human being - a tool for the Senior Partners' bidding - and turned on his heel and strode away without so much as a backwards glance.
Davy sank to his knees and outstretched his hands to the man- his own eyes swelling with tears at the sight of his human hands. He was human again. "I feel everything!" He wailed as the grief and guilt began to overwhelm his soul with the years of interest he had accumulated. As the man left, the rest of his body crumbled to the ground. He rolled to his back and stared, gasping for air like a fish out of water. "I feel everything...." He whispered to the sky. "I feel...." He said again, the tears streaming from his eyes and onto the pavement below.