Hell.

At least Jack assumed it was. He'd never been there before, so he couldn't tell for sure.

It was hot. Hotter than the Caribbean summer's mid day sun, and oppressively stifling. It reminded Jack of a burning building just as it was about to fall in and crush everybody inside. Not that the pirate had much experience with burning buildings, mind. Just that one time, but that wasn't his fault, honest.

The air rang with screams from what must—if his initial hypothesis was correct—be the damned.


He looked around.


On one side, a polished black gate stood open—vast, looming and menacing—through which lava pools and gouts of flame could be seen through the haze.


Swivelling theatrically, he inspected the alternative.


A twisting path stretched out behind him, plummeting to endless oblivion on both sides. It would have looked like a long walk, if there had not been a great chunk of the path torn away just before his feet. As it was, it looked like Not-an-option.


He turned back to the gate.


The guard—if it was a guard, and Jack suspected not—was all silver, tall and slender.

Black wings looked so much like shadows that one less observant would not have observed them. The air of arrogance he carried—power, confidence, darkness—seemed independent of his body language, which conveyed nothing.


"Enter and your soul is mine forever."

It wasn't as if he had a choice. He swaggered in. "Lucifer, I presume," he said, his whole attitude positively screaming cheerful disrespect. He swept off a piratical hat, and bowed. Then, considering, he held out his hand. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

"Indeed." A cool hand closed over his and pulled. The Devil's expression flashed from smug to furious in a heartbeat.

"Where is it?" he demanded.

"Where is what?"

"Your soul."

"Oh that," he said dismissively. "Well, if you really do insist upon knowing, mate, I gave it away."

"You. Gave. It. Away?" Lucifer sounded faintly appalled.

"It was worth it. She was very, very pretty, mate. Still is, for that matter."

"You gave your soul to a girl, because she was pretty."

"She's not a girl she's a ship," Jack said indignantly. "The most beautiful ship ever in the whole world."

The Devil's lips curved in scimitar-cruel anger. "I see. If I can't take your soul, I'll at least take your heart and your body.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, mate," Jack warned.

"Why not?" Without waiting for an answer, the Devil slid his hand into Jack's chest, twisted and pulled. Emerald fire clawed at his hand in burning streaks of pain, infinitely distracting, until the pirate lightly plucked the source from his grip. But how...?

"It's not mine." Jack tilted his heart until the curling golden script could be seen. James Lysander Norrington. "And before you do anything stupid—or even more stupid, perhaps is the better phrase—he'll never be one of yours." Putting his heart back where it belonged, the pirate grinned at him, hellfire reflecting merrily from his gold teeth. "He's too good for that."


He was cautious enough to ask first, this time. "Your body?"

"My body belongs to the sea, if and when she chooses to claim it."

The truth, he was certain. The Devil knew lies well enough to recognise them.


"And yet you have no way out." Lucifer tugged Jack closer, sealing their lips together until the pirate melted against him with a soft sigh and allowed himself to be ravished.

This was too easy. Lucifer pulled back, suddenly suspicious.

Jack's eyes were open, a smile creasing the edges of them. "You're forgetting one very important thing here, love."

"What?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

He vanished.