Peter Pan and the War of Evils

Chapter Fourteen

 Chapter Fourteen

"Now, now, boy," said Hook, raising his lit cigar in greeting, "that's not any way to greet an old friend."

A beat passed. The darkness seemed to thicken, nothing making a sound except the distant waves crashing onto the purple shore. Only the light from the cigar's embers lit Hook's face as he took a deep drag, puffing up twin circles into a shaft of moonlight. Besides his hook for a hand, there were no weapons held in defense. In fact, he seemed perfectly at ease.

That didn't lessen Peter's tension. Instead, he tightened his grip on his sword and planted his feet firmly on the ground.

"Friend?" Peter said only just above a whisper, "I don't think that's the right word for you."

"And I don't think the term boy quite fits you, as well." Hook rumbled, his voice dry and leathery like a snake's, "You have grown. I thought Jude was exaggerating it. It seems you've turned into quite a fine man. I assume you've just come from Mermaid Lagoon?"

Peter gave no reply to this, opening his ears to the jungle surrounding them, waiting for Hook's crew to swarm him. He was an idiot to come here alone, an idiot to not tell anyone first... the others would have no warning if he was captured now.

"They won't be joining us. Not tonight," Hook commented, guessing the reason for Peter's hesitancy. Hook shifted his weight to the other leg, puffing his cigar once more, "I value privacy on my midnight strolls. It's good for reflection and all that. For instance, tonight I was reminiscing on the time I crawled out of that crocodile's dead carcass so many moons ago... truly a gift to be given, resurrection. Puts things into...perspective."

Peter swallowed and took two more breaths. Then, he straightened and lowered his weapons to his sides. From the glow of the embers, Peter saw a corner of Hook's mouth rise just slightly.

"How did you kill it?" Peter asked, the question leaving his mouth before he could stop it. His curiosity was too strong to ignore. The smirk fell into a scowl as Hook flicked ash off the cigar.

"If one drop of my red poison can kill a fully grown man," the outline of Hook's form shrugged, "I'm sure you can imagine what a whole vial does to a croc. All I had to do was wait out my time before I crawled out."

The image of sitting trapped in the pit of a monster's stomach, waiting for it to grow still before retching your way free through its dead mouth clawed at Peter's will to remain indifferent. He spat in disgust.

"Poison," Peter hissed with a sneer, "a coward's weapon."

"That seems a bit unfair coming from the boy who let a reptile finish what he started." Hook replied breezily, and then titled his head, "Let us agree on one thing, though, Peter: no games next time. No tricks, no poison or crocodiles or magic kisses. I'll give you three days to get your effects in order. When the sun is highest on the third, we will meet on the shore."

"Why not just fight me now?" Peter growled lowly, flipping his dagger in his hand. "Why wait?"

"Because I haven't finished my stroll." Hook chortled, beginning to turn, "And you'd never run me through the back, now would you? That would be the true coward's way."

Hook took a few steps forward, stopping in a ray of moonlight just peeking through the trees. He turned over his shoulder and finally, Peter could meet his eyes. Gone were the forget-me-not blues that had haunted his nightmares not too long ago. Now, in their place, were twins of red, the color of menace and hate and blood. The color of his poison. The skin around them was burned, scarred and marred by the stomach acid of the crocodile's stomach. Hook had been half-digested before the poison had worked on the beast.