Of all the places for Jack Sparrow to wash up, Hector figured London would be the very last. And yet...here he was. Navigating the crowded, grey streets of the massive city. Though Barbossa did not travel too far from the Thames, knowing Jack would always stay near water if he could help it.
Dark was already fallen, though it had been mid-afternoon when Hector first arrived at the docks. Still no sign of Captain Jack Sparrow anywhere, and for all Barbossa’s influence among the scalawags and ne’re-do-wells, he could find no information on the pirate, save a few rumors of sightings about a fortnight ago. But this was hardly enough to go on, even if it had been that long since Sparrow had flown from him.
Everyone he spoke to seemed preoccupied with other, darker rumors. That a killer of a rare and monsterous kind had come to London; leaving victims scattered here and there, drained of their blood. At times the scenes were gory; the victim’s throats torn and maimed as though they had been in a struggle with an animal. And others, were more clean, the victim’s found in their beds in brothels and taverns. It was all strange and terrifying.
Barbossa however, was not much interested in whatever demon the town had angered and set upon themselves. He had to find Sparrow before he ended up at the end of a noose or a firing squad.
The sun had just set behind the thatched and shingled roofs above him, dousing him in deep blue and purple twilight. The old sailor did not fail to notice the way the streets emptied of even it’s common night dwellers. Men and women rushing to get home, or ducking into doorways to escape being seen. Barbossa ignored them all, wondering where Jack could have gone to, when he became aware of soft footsteps following him in the dark.
He tensed only momentarily, giving a quiet sigh in the dark as he reached for his pistol. He was so very not in the mood for this. “I wouldn’t try it, lad. Pickin’ a Captain’s pocket will earn ye more than few broken fingers and some time in the stocks. I’m just as likely to shoot ye where ye stand. So it might behoove ye to reconsider yer mark.” He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes widened in surprise.
