23: [Action/Video] Pirates

[dashboardlite]

Who'll make his mark
The captain cried
To the devil drink a toast
We'll glut the hold
With cups of gold
And we'll feed the sea with ghosts
I see your hunger for a fortune
Could be better
Served beneath my flag
If you've the stomach
For a broadside
Come aboard my pretty boys
I will take you and make you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

Obscenely loud music is blaring from one of the first floor parlors, and it possesses a remarkable nautical quality that borders on the fucking epic.  You might be wondering the reason for these festive tunes, curious resident.  If you happen to be peering through your communicator or walking down the hall, venturing into the nearest open door, your vision is assaulted by a swath of colorful fabrics draped over the furniture, from the ceilings, along the walls.  The alluring glitter of gold winks up at you from piles on the floor, and a bust of someone who looks suspiciously like Edward Teach is bedecked in jewelry and scarves.

The captain rose from a silk divan
With a pistol in his fist
And shot the lock from an iron box
And a blood red ruby kissed
I give you jewelry of turquoise
A crucifix of solid gold
One hundred thousand silver pieces
It is just as I foretold
You, you see there before you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

You might even see Dean Winchester, sporting an eyepatch and a large, plumed hat, lounging on a silk divan.  His jeans are tucked into heavy leather boots and he's wielding a flintlock pistol, cleaning the barrel with a chamois rag.  Pausing for one moment, he sets the gun aside and reaches over to pick up one of the gold doubloons scattered across the floor.  He then peels away the leafing and pops the chocolate money into his mouth, enjoying it with obvious relish.  Turning the music down as soon as it breaks to an instrumental interlude, Dean crosses his legs on the divan, getting comfortable.

He pulls out a hip flask, taking a swig and saluting the camera with his left hand - observant residents might notice that he appears to have only four fingers now.  Then he spreads his arms to welcome the adoring audience.

"All aboard, bitches."

Comments

ask and ye shall receive

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Turn that crap down! Jesus christ! Friggin' kids.

AND THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[He turns it down enough to talk at a normal volume and be heard.]

Hey man, it's either this or I put on the entire Pirates of the Caribbean movie trilogy, and I don't think I can stand the Keith Richards impersonation for eight hours straight.

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

[Movies what, what are you talking about.]

Frankly, I'd rather ya played the Stones.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...the Stones.

[He deadpans for a second, confused.]

Wait, you- you know the Stones? The Rolling Stones?

[BUT...BUT YOU'RE AN OLDER DUDE. WHAT. WHAT.]

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Yeah, they're kinda the new big thing, ya know? Not too bad, I guess, for a buncha hoodlums.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...dude, what year are you from?

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

'69.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...oh. Hey, cool. I can totally change it to the Stones.

[He does so.]

What's your name?

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

[Well. Well. Hmm. He should probably object to loud music more than he does, but he finds that he's okay with it as long as it's something he understands.]

Benny Stango. How 'bout you?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean Winchester. You sure as Hell aren't a killjoy like the rest of the people ringin' in.

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Aw, yeah? I gotta step up my game, then.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean laughs.]

You sound like you're from New York, man.

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

[He laughs right back.]

I am from New York, man! I was a cop back home, so I'm supposed to be a killjoy.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[ROLLING IN LAUGHS]

A cop, seriously? Dude, I used to skip outta the way of guys like you. My line-a work ain't exactly legal.

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

[NO LONGER LAUGHING.]

Oh yeah, whaddya do?

[Not that he hasn't been dating a hit-lady for quite some time now.]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

I hunt monsters.

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Are you--

[Wait, what a stupid question, of course he's serious. Monsters are real, and this is Wonderland.]

...How come it ain't legal?

[Sounds perfectly legit to him.]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

People don't exactly smile on grave desecration, y'know?

[Deans shrugs.]

Credit card scams and unregistered firearms are all part of the job, though.

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Oh, I getcha. You're good in my book.

If that's really what ya do.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

S'my civic duty, man!

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Sure, sure. Heh.

[Sliiightly suspicious. But not too much.]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

So what's a New York cop do around here?

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Not a hell of a lot! I play poker sometimes. Got killed one time. Got wings one time.

[The mansion is stupid.]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Poker, huh? S'been a while since I got to lay my hands on some cards. We should play sometime.

[Dean knocks back a hearty swig from his flask.]

Yeah, got killed, too. Shit sucks. How'd it happen for ya?

STORYTIEM

[playingbadcop.livejournal.com]

Well, this crazy broad comes over from the other side of the mirror, right? And she shoots me up with all these drugs, which make me go just...just fast like you wouldn't believe, but a little bit nuts, too.

And there's this guy, and me and this guy, we don't like each other much. He's a nut, ya know? Totally psycho. And he's always buggin' this kid, Jay, who's a friend of mine, and I tell him to quit--real nice and all, right?

But he doesn't wanna do it my way, and I'm ridin' pretty high on this stuff the dame shot me up with, so I figure, okay, we'll play it his way. I can play rough. So I check my gun, and I go find him.

Now, this guy's pretty fast all on his own. I don't have no kinda chance without these drugs. Hell, he caught me one time, carved my neck up pretty good. But I gotta surprise for him: this time, I'm faster. So I run at him, and we kinda dodge around for a little bit, and I get out my gun.

And as I'm aimin', he runs at me, and he's got a friggin' scalpel! And he's goin' so fast I can just barely get a bead. But I do, and I shoot the asshole, but he gets me in the leg with the scalpel. So he died I guess, of the gunshot, and I bled out right there.

How about you?