The Pale Tower:
(1911 A.D., The Pale Tower, South-Western Province, the Neverlands, the Realm of Ishrakie)
Hook once again finds himself crawling from a choppy sea onto a beach. Before him, the Pale Tower glows a faint glistening white. Murphy lumbers to his side, shards of wood sticking out of his shoulders like porcupine quills. Smee, Blickstein, and Noodler join them, bearing their own battle-scars. The mangled lifeless bodies of Mr. Mason, Bill Jukes, Cookson, and Cecco litter the surrounding beach. Hook dares not look, dares not feel, dares not acknowledge the loss for risk of emotional hesitation. Hook knows there will be a time to mourn, but not now, not this moment.
The Pale Tower's glistening door stands before them. The door is composed of a radiant white metal, somehow untarnished by the sea from which it emerged. Hook scans it closely, finding no recognizable locking mechanism. Hook ghosts his fingers over the door's warm smooth surface, eliciting a mysterious phantom song to ring out from it.
"What is this place, Captain? How did you know about it?" asks Smee, stepping toward Hook.
"I cannot explain it, Mr. Smee. All I can tell you is big changes are coming to the Neverlands, and we will be the ones to make them," responds Hook, more confident and more sure than Smee has seen him for a long time.
"With respect, Captain, this is all happening so fast. After that last battle with Pan and we lost the Jolly Roger, things haven't felt right. I mean, what is that black stuff all over your right arm? Why did we sail off into waters we never dared go into before, losing our ship and most of our men in the process? What happened to you in that croc, sir?"
The past whirls through Hook's head once more. Smee as usual pulls questions out of his own head and makes them solid. He lets his mind stroll back to his encounter with the Piper. The memory is fuzzy, but he remembers the man's bizarre suit, his jovial air, and the tremendous aura of power that he exuded. Hook tries to think of a way to explain it all to his men, but it seems too big. Something is missing.
"I'll be honest with you, men… I don't have the answers for you. What I do know is I made a bargain for my life back on that beach, and Captain Hook always keeps his side of a bargain. I was told to find this tower and the only way we will learn the truth is by getting inside. There will be a time to mourn our fallen comrades, but now is not that moment. You men have endured much as my crew and it has not gone unnoticed, but now we must push onward," declares Hook to his downtrodden men, desperate to reassure them and protect their drive from the paralyzation of grief.
His men nod understandingly.
"Smee, what exactly is the state of our vessel?" asks Hook, turning his attention to his first mate.
"Afloat, but like a chunk of Swiss cheese, Captain," reports Smee, regaining his proper composure.
"Very well. If she can stay afloat, I want Murphy, Blickstein, and Noodler to anchor her. If not, beach her on the west side. Smee, you will come with me into the tower," orders Hook firmly.
Hook pushes open the doors of the tower, causing strange inter-connected rings embedded in the door to slowly twist and melt away. The elegant song of the door builds to its crescendo, peaking as the massive doors swing smoothly inward and the song fades into silence. The luminous interior ground floor of the tower is made of the same iridescent stone as the exterior. There are no adornments on the walls and no doorways. The ground floor is a vast open circular foyer with a magnificent spiral stairway that seemingly ascends into infinity. Each stone on this level is massive, perhaps three feet thick and taller than the average man. In awe, they stare up the massive central spiralling staircase as their jaws drop. The men stare at each other for a moment, finding reassurance in each other's eyes before proceeding together up the stairs. As they climb, they expect to encounter landings or rooms along the way, but the walls never break as the spiral staircase continues to climb ever-higher.
"Bloody stairs! I'd gut a child if they would end!" utters Smee, grimacing.
A wound on Smee's left side bleeds through his shirt. His breathing becomes heavy as he leans against the wall to support himself. Hook places a loving hand on his shoulder. They lock eyes for a moment. Smee breathes deep, blocking out the pain. Hook wraps his arm around his lover and together they press onward.
After feeling like they have been walking for a lifetime, the stairs, at last, open up into a grand chamber shaped like a closed lotus. The walls of the great circular room are lined with many tall, skinny windows, the shape of lizard pupils all parallel to and evenly spaced from each other. Placed atop a large smooth pillar in the centre of the chamber looms a tall throne. The pillar and the throne seem to be made of the same iridescent white stone as the rest of the structure. The throne fascinates Hook with its many odd details. Hook and Smee climb the second set of stairs that ascend the central pillar. Upon reaching the top, they examine the throne even closer. Hook runs his fingers over the many strange symbols covering the armrests and backrest of the throne.
Floating above the throne near the peak of the ceiling is a large black sphere emanating wisps of silver energy. Hook longs for a closer look at the radiant sphere. The desire crystallises in his mind, causing floating white stone steps to suddenly rise from the floor before them, creating a levitating staircase leading from the throne up to the sphere. The two men ascend the floating staircase. The sphere is sleek and polished to an immaculate shine. To Hook's surprise, the sphere is engraved with the same style of symbols as the throne. The huge sphere seems to be perpetually rotating, the movement is slow and subtle but it is there. Hook feels a slight buzzing throughout all the black carapace in his body. Quiet whispers dance through his blood from the black lattice growing out of his flesh. The whispers chant to him in a language he doesn't know. Hook feels himself sink into the whispers.
"Cap… you al…" Smee's voice is faint and far away. "Sn… ow… uh… i."
Smee shakes Hook frantically by the shoulders as Hook continues to stare transfixed at the sphere. Hook's face becomes strained, like the face of a man trying to understand the politics of mermaids. When Smee gets no reaction for several minutes, he puts a controlling hand on Hook's good wrist and reaches for Hook's sword hilt with the other. When he grasps the captain's sword, Hook's eyes jolt back to a malicious clarity. His good hand jerks toward Smee's belly, but Smee dodges.
"What are you doing, Smee?" snarls Hook.
"Sorry, Captain, but it was the only thing I could think of to snap you out of it. I was afraid you were having your wits taken from you," replies Smee softly stroking the back of Hook's head.
Hook casts his eyes to the still bleeding wound in Smee's side. Hook kisses Smee on the forehead, realising once again how much Smee endures regularly for him.
Hook glances up at the sphere for a moment. "We should proceed back down to the throne to see if we can activate this thing, but first how bad is that wound? Can you make it?" Hook continues looking back to Smee concerned.
Smee nods and they proceed. Hook moves in close, wrapping his arms around Smee to help steady him as they descend back down to the throne. Suddenly the sound of tearing canvas fills the room. They turn to the source of the ruckus and see an ethereal black rift spewing energy up from out of the floor nearby. The two men watch in shock as narrow gloved fingers poke through the rift, forcing it to open wider. From out of the howling black rift steps The Piper. He lets the fabric of reality zip closed behind him. Today he wears a yellow tunic with yellow and brown striped pants. He doffs his pointed cap with a twirl of his wrist, bowing slightly to the two men.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm quite tickled in my jellies to see that you have finally arrived at the Pale Tower."
The Piper glides forward on his spindly legs and extends a hand. Smee stiffens, putting a hand on his sword.
"What manner of devil are you?" growls Smee.
Hook places a soft hand on Smee's shoulder and awkwardly shakes the Piper's hand with his bad hand. Smee looks at Hook confused.
"Do not worry, Smee. This is the man who gave me my life back after we lost the Roger."
Smee relaxes but doesn't release his sword. The Piper, unperturbed, continues to smile.
"I've fulfilled the first part of our bargain. It's time you gave me some answers," demands Hook in a polite but firm tone.
The Piper chuckles.
"Quite right, quite right. Don't worry. I can probably guess your questions. Let's start with, who am I?" replies the Piper as the two men nod in unison. "Splendid!" The Piper turns and strolls around the room looking up at the sphere. "I assume you remember the tale of the man with a flute who led the rats from the village of Hamelin? Well, that tale originates from one of my more mundane business ventures. You see, I've always had a gift for making people follow me. If my temperament had been more agreeable, perhaps I would have been remembered as a great General, but I was never one for blood and battlefields. Eventually, I was given a gift, much the way I gave you one. This gift brought me out of my world and into a larger one." The Piper ascends the floating stairs leading up to the stone.
"Now I am sure your next question would be something like what this place is? This stone is a nexus point which connects the world of the Neverlands to many other worlds. This includes the world where you were both born. Now the Pale Tower itself also has many special abilities. This tower is my gift to you, Hook, and by making it here you have proved your worthiness to possess it. This tower was built when this world was first created and thus holds many secrets and powers. However, you will need some time to master them. You must stay here for a while and practice using the abilities of this tower in order for you to achieve your dream of becoming god of all the Neverlands," continues the Piper, finally reaching the sphere.
"Pray tell, what hoops must I jump through now?" muses Hook sarcastically.
The Piper pauses for a moment as he looks deep into Hook's eyes, filling Hook with more fear than he has ever felt in his life.
"I don't appreciate your tone, James. I've been nothing but a humble guide to you thus far. I did not design your obstacles to watch you as a man of science watches his mice. If I could do this myself, I would, but unfortunately, I cannot. If you do not want my assistance…" presses the Piper with a tone of subtle menace.
"My apologies. I'm just not accustomed to being on the receiving end of orders," replies Hook apologetically.
The Piper grins. "Trust me, my friend, these are orders you will be all too willing to follow. May I continue?" The Piper softly dances his hand across the surface of the sphere for a moment.
Hooks nods and gestures for the Piper to continue talking.
"It is like I said. Your next objective is to learn what you can from this tower. Sit on the throne and listen to its many songs and whispers. As you learn, you will grow in power. The tower also contains many treasures, so you will need to find them and learn to utilise them for your own benefit and the benefit of what crew you have left. Speaking of which-" The Piper gestures from his current position to Smee's wound, causing it to instantaneously heal itself leaving no traces of injury.
"Once you have done all this, you will be ready to take your rightful place and reshape the Neverlands as you see fit," continues the Piper.
The strange devil leans in and whispers something unknown to the sphere before placing a soft kiss upon its surface, causing the runes on the stone to flicker with a deep blue flame. The silver energy erupts from the sphere and starts to flow around the men, wrapping around their arms and legs like a blind person learning to see faces with fingertips.
The Piper pulls out a long, silver crystal that was tucked in his belt. He points it at the sphere, peering around its surface, searching for something. Smee leans around slightly for a better look.
"What exactly are you looking for?" asks Smee.
"Let's just say I'm trying to give you some shortcuts. Ahh!" replies the Piper with a chuckle.
The Piper leaps up, clambering onto the stone. Halfway to the top, he stops next to a rune and lifts the crystal above his head. He stabs it down hard into the stone. A powerful shudder ripples out of the sphere, making the entire world quake as a deep boom follows with a descending rumble. A rich red hue slowly contaminates the silver plasmatic energy swirling around the sphere. Ghostly green tendrils emanate from the wound in the sphere created by the crystal. The tendrils pull the crystal in deeper, consuming it. The blue flames coming from the runes of the sphere turn to a dull maroon colour. The Piper jumps back down to the throne and puts a hand on Hook's shoulder.
"It's time for you to become the true king of the Neverlands, my boy. I look forward to our next meeting, I truly do." And with that, the Piper vanishes in a brilliant flash of light.
Hook stares at the throne, and deep down he can feel the throne staring back at him. He sees now that the throne, the pillar and the floor are one solid piece. He hesitates to sit. Two sides of him battle with each other. One is his old, familiar mind; patient and calculating. It wants to be prepared for whatever will happen. The other side is this new set of instincts that grow stronger with each passing day, compelling him forward. There is an odd feeling inside Hook, a feeling akin to curiosity and déjà vu mixed together. After standing before the tall stone chair for several minutes, he decides that both parts of him want the power and power he shall have.
Captain Hook spins around and lowers himself onto the throne. Lightning drills into his bones. His muscles seize, freezing him in place. The runes of the throne glow the same deep red as the sphere. Three of the runes at the top of the backrest send a beam of crimson light cascading down onto Hook's head, filling his mind with an intruding pressure.
Hook feels a great cosmic inhale as the throne breathes in energy from the whole of the Neverlands and sends it like an invading blitzkrieg into Hook's psyche. The determined captain feels himself expanding into the chair, then up and out, into the sphere, into the walls and then out further still. Hook looks down at himself from above while simultaneously looking up at himself from below as his mind propels out in all directions like a fountain. There is his ship, and his crew making repairs. Schools of fish swim by in the millions through the open ocean. Hook's mind locks on to one and invades.
Companions shift on the left. Turn right. Return to centre. Stay close to the others. Safety in numbers. Incoming Vibrations. Something large is approaching. Group shifts up and right. Sudden cold. Return to Center. Swim. Find food. Swim. Hook's mind breaks free and detaches, leaving him feeling very wet as if he has been dunked in the sea. The sensation confuses Hook. I'm not a fish, am I? No, impossible, thinks Hook to himself, but then again he is sure he just was one for at least a moment.
Hook's mind lurches back into the sky again as all the memories of his life crash down upon him like a tidal wave. Too much… too fast. His mind expands further, blasting all the way back to the Neverlands proper, back to the forests. He becomes a Fairy, a Warbling Monkey, a Keejo, a Frog Batross. The sands lecture him on the finer merits of submissiveness. Clouds teach him how to be weightless and rise above his own inner troubles. For several hours, he finds himself trapped deep in the minds of trees, becoming tangled in their pecking order of root system politics.
The astral arrow of his mind strikes Blackfrost Port, the concussive reverberations of the teeming minds scurrying around him build into a powerful squall that strains his already stretched thin consciousness. Back on the throne, his body thrashes with the effort. His good hand carves thin gashes into the side of the throne. Unable to endure anymore, his mind wrenches free. Hook topples to the floor. Sweat covers his spasming body. Every muscle aches as his head throbs with overwhelming agony. He tries to sit up but doesn't have the strength. One thought passes through his mind before it shuts down; Pan did not die on the misty island. Pan is alive…
After days of becoming exhausted from only spending a few minutes on the throne, Hook finally determines through trial and error how best to control the expansion of his mind. The exertion it requires to maintain control fatigues him, but he does not give up. His mornings are spent sweating in the chair, and in the evenings, he takes walks downstairs to feel the ocean spray on his face.
Although he has no mirrors, he can tell the black carapace is spreading faster than before. However, to his relief, the stuff doesn't seem to want to swallow him completely. Tendrils of the dark carapace have started spreading from his right eye, growing up into his hair, creating bald trenches in his long, black waves.
After wandering the tower for a bit, Hook strolls down the stairs to spend the evening with Smee, feeling ten years younger and even stronger than he actually was ten years ago. Forty-two steps down from the throne room, Hook stops. One of the sections of the wall-stone looks different. Upon close inspection, he observes there is a faint etching of a door-like arch. When Hook touches the small etching, the stone wall-section swings inward smoothly, with only a whisper of scraping stone.
Inside the room, there is a forest. Thick roots spread out across the white stone floors. Vines and moss cling to the walls. Hook walks up to the closest tree, a tree that is unlike any tree he has ever seen before. It has thin, dangling branches like a weeping willow, but it shines like metal. The bark is dappled and smooth. Too smooth, Hook thinks. It feels warm yet hard as steel. Hook traces his fingers across the surface of the tree, causing the areas where he touches it to shutter and squirm. He continues deeper into the artificial glen. As he creeps his way through the thick foliage and trees, one of the nearby branches gently slides across his cheek, causing images to burst into Hook's head. Open books. Runes. Out of focus figures pointing toward a chalkboard. Runes on the chalkboard are organised into columns. Pairs of symbols and pictures. A pear with a rune. A strawberry with two runes. Hook shakes his head and the images fade.
Deep in the forest, Hook finds a tree speckled with many knots sticking out of its trunk. There is almost no space between the protrusions. Some of the gnarled knots are big while others are small. The branches of the tree reach upward and are adorned with tiny, perfectly circular leaves. He touches one of the shallow knots. Soldiers in grey uniforms pack bullets into their musket barrels. Gunsmoke hangs in the air like Halloween mist. Shouts. Cannon blasts. The scared cries of horses and men. The deep cold touch of death. Hook pulls his hand back, and the scene dissolves.
He touches a large knot. A black sky filled with unfamiliar stars. On the right, a great cloud of viridian, yellow, and grass green vapours spreads wide as a large dark ship slowly eclipses the nebula. Smaller ships move around the larger ship in all directions. He feels a frigid floating sensation and the buzzing sound of true silence. Every few seconds, one of the smaller ships turns black as though burnt, or melts halfway and fades into the distance. He pulls his hand back again. This is beyond me, he decides. I need Smee for such an endeavour. Where is he? Hook gets up to go look for Smee, but as soon as he does, time and space shift around him, moving back past the trees and out onto the stairs once again, bringing him face to face with Smee; still wet from a swim.
"Just the man I wanted to see." declares Hook, grabbing Smee by the shoulder. "How goes matters with the men and the ship, Smee?"
"With all due respect, Captain, everything is so kooky nowadays, I can hardly keep up. I expect I'll wake up any day now in Cannibal Cove, head pounding from the bottles of rum I drank."
Hook guffaws at Smee's words, nodding understandingly. Smee chuckles playfully back.
"I notice the men have not come into the tower. Have their bellies gone yellow?" continues Hook.
"They say that the place gives them the creeps. They say their dreams are being haunted by an evil white witch. They think she lives at the top of the tower. I told them there was no witch, but they still won't come up."
"Well, Smee, I'm glad you are made of nails and not sewn together by a maiden. Come and see this."
He steps back into the room of trees. Smee follows. Despite no change in his facial expression, Hook can tell his old friend is just as surprised as he was.
"Choose a tree and put your hand on it."
Smee walks toward the weeping willow that Hook first touched. He brushes aside a branch and freezes. His back goes rigid and his knees lock. For several minutes he sways. Small groans come out now and then. Some sound like agreement, others like confusion. Then, he faints. Hook crouches below the branches and pulls his friend out from under them. Smee recovers quickly. He looks up at the captain with wide, confused eyes. After a moment, this too passes. He grins and sits up.
"I've just been to kindergarten."
"What? Speak sense, Mr. Smee."
"It is a lesson. I've learned some of this bizarre language."
For the next week, Hook and Smee stay in the room of trees. He and Smee learn to read the runic language and then move onto other subjects. They study the history of many worlds; they read alien legends. Smee learns advanced mathematics. Hook deciphers instruction manuals for wondrous devices. On the eighth day, while heading downstairs, he finds a new doorway. Reading the runes above the doorway, a childlike excitement runs down his spine. The runes say, "Armoury."
Smee spends the next two weeks upgrading the ship, rendering it nigh unrecognisable as the Stille Jager. Hook uses this time to master the throne's power of astral projection, allowing him to move his attention anywhere in the Neverlands as though simply stepping between two rooms. During this time, he also discovers a new power of the throne that makes him burn with malicious anticipation. Hook has discovered the throne can cause the tower to project a powerful beam of energy capable of striking anywhere in the Neverlands. He discovered it accidentally by disintegrating a seagull while trying to refocus himself.
Seeking to relax from his practice on the throne, he returns to the tree room. He touches a periwinkle leaf. Snow and ice span out in all directions. Mountains of intertwined stone and ice jut out from the landscape's frozen surface. The sounds of thundering, heavy stomping and battle cries reverberate all around. This is a world at war. Hook explores the chaos going around him. Camouflaged white cannons guard underground bases. Giant, four-legged machines tramping through the arctic tundra like camels. Their heads swivel back and forth searching for enemies; fanged with unknown energy weapons. Hook enters caves filled with icy stalagmites, and across vast plains of the blank white horizon. He lets go of the leaf as his body shivers violently from the cold. Hook's vision refocuses to find Smee crouching down next to him beneath the leaves.
"Would you like to see your ship, Captain?" asks Smee, pulling Hook up to his feet.
*****
Hook steps into sunlit sea spray for the first time in weeks. Glare off the ocean sears his unaccustomed eyes. He puts up his bad hand to shade his eyes, making his stale joints creak. He feels as if unseen tethers stretch, anchoring him to the tower's power as he walks away from it. His nerves ache with the urge to return. Sunlight and fresh air find his exposed skin invigorating the still human parts of his body.
"Here she is, Captain. I've rechristened her 'The White Witch'. In honour of the old boogie plaguing the crew." Hook laughs and Smee smirks.
The holes in the hull had been patched by a dull grey substance that not only filled the holes but also seems to have seeped into the nearby seams of the surrounding wood.
"The stuff I used for the patching up was labelled 'The essence of structure.' I wedged a square of it into a gap, and as I went to grab another glob of the stuff it went and filled in the hole all on its own!" explains Smee, rather amused.
"Very nice, Mr. Smee, please continue."
Smee's proud smile fades slightly.
"Follow me aboard then, sir. Notice anything different with the sails?"
Hook scrutinises the canvas, "Well for one it seems a bit stiffer, and to my eyes, it reflects the light a bit like polished leather," responds Hook, examining the sails with his discerning gaze.
"The material was called 'Poly-Glass Weave'. It was described as being incredibly primitive, but it is entirely waterproof, sturdy and yet still quite supple. It won't stop grapeshot but should withstand any squalls."
Smee directs Hook towards the seaward railing. Hook's eyes become silver platters. They walk up the aft stairs to a cylindrical contraption moulded to the railing with the same dull, grey material that was used to repair the hull. Hook eyes the mysterious mounted contraption excitedly.
"Say howdy do to your new cannons," muses Smee, gesturing for Hook to give it a try."
"Have you gone potty, Mr. Smee? What manner of shot can this fire? It's as thin as our late Mr. Mason's porridge," retorts Hook.
The gun freely swivels on a sleek silver mount. Its barrel is three feet long with two handles that curve down on the operator's side, coming up parallel six inches apart at chest height. At the top of the left handle is a trigger.
"Give her a go, Captain. I floated some targets out aways on the water."
Bobbing on some nearby waves are several jumbles of scrap wood and broken barrels lashed together with kelp. Hook grasps one handle with his bad hand, his finger poised above the trigger. His good hand digs into the handle for stability. He aims at a target and presses the trigger. Fire growls from the cannon in a tight stream. It swallows the target in a roaring flame. Hook releases the trigger, and the flame stops.
"Dashingly good, Mr. Smee. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"
"Thank you, Captain, and now these over here are the secondary cannons." Smee guides Hook as they descend into the mid-ship level where three different devices are spaced evenly along both the Port and Starboard walls of the ship. Each device is mounted on a silver base like the other cannon but is three times as big. The cannon is a solid metal bar with a spherical tip. Around the main shaft, thick wires spiral, creating an ornate cage around it. The handles are the same design as the primary cannons Hook used above deck, except these handles are coated in some sort of rubber.
"These need a minute to ready," explains Smee, stepping on a button on the weapon's base, causing the weapon to emit a dull humming tone. After a few seconds, arcs of electricity undulate down the wires and disappear into the ball at the tip. The hum intensifies and the arcs become more frequent until it sounds like an angry beehive.
"There we are, Captain. Try for that far one," Smee gestures at one of the more distant targets.
Hook takes hold of the cannon and fires. The weapon erupts with the sound of a great thunderclap as lightning jags from the cannon, hitting one of the floating targets a hundred feet away. The target explodes into nothingness. The hum goes quiet for a second, then builds again.
"The instructions say this gun can fire every thirty seconds and can fire twenty times before needing a short rest for cooling." Hook smiles with satisfaction, causing Smee's heart to skip a beat.
Hook doesn't respond. Instead, he waits for the cannon to charge, aims, and fires at another target. It explodes, sending flaming bits into the waves. He fires three more times before stepping away.
"Bloody good show! Good form, Mr. Smee. Have the men operated these weapons?" asks Hook.
"Not yet. Upon your approval, I will begin their training," replies Smee with a respectful bow.
"Make it so. But before that, bring them and yourself to the armoury. I have some upgrades to bestow as well," orders Hook.
One wall of the armoury glints with specimens of every handheld weapon conceivable. The other showcases firearms from all periods of history. In the middle of the room, organised in a grid, are armour stands with full suits or pedestals with single pieces. As Smee, Murphy, Blickstein, and Noodler walk down the aisles of the armoury, the weapons go from simple and familiar to complex and intimidating. The room expands impossibly further back, growing larger as they move. Soon, there are vehicles, enormous machines with tracks and built-in cannons and eight-legged robots designed after spiders with blades covering the legs. Past that, the machines get bigger and more daunting.
Among the vehicles is a half-moon of workbenches. The walls on either side are filled with tools. Hook stands in the middle of the benches fiddling with a pistol. Several items lay on the table in front of him.
"Greetings, gentlemen. Please join me."
Smee glances around bewildered, "Captain, this isn't what the armoury was like when I was here."
"That's because you weren't looking for this one but never mind that. Noodler!"
"Sir!" Noodler steps up to the table.
Hanging the gun from his good hand, Hook fits a cartridge into the chamber of a break action-style pistol. He points it at Noodler. Noodler stares back unafraid. Hook swivels and shoots at a thick-skinned truck with huge wheels. The shot hits and splatters acid across the front grill. The thin grid of metal sags and drips onto the bumper. The drips eat slowly into the hardened steel of the vehicle.
Hook presents the pistol to Noodler, "For you, Mr. Noodler, a special pistol. That round is one of many specialised rounds that you can utilise with this weapon. There will be times however that call for a more personal touch, so I also want you to take that weapon there." He gestures to a wood-handled axe. Noodler takes both of the weapons in his backward hands and turns them over, feeling their weight and balance. He is stunned by the extremely lightweight but sturdy feeling of the ax.
"Murphy." the giant man steps up silently.
"You'll find this fits you perfectly." Hook taps a plate mail combat suit.
"Rest assured, I am not playing favourites. Yours may seem primitive, but I assure you that metal is nothing you've ever seen before. It will bend your enemy's blades and deflect heavy-shot yet weighs the same as a dinner fork."
Murphy slips on the armour and nods in approval.
"To match your new ensemble, I've also found you this," Hook presents him a magnificent four-foot scimitar of the same metal. The blade's polished surface reflects the man's white-toothed grin. The sword whistles as he twirls it through imaginary bodies.
"Blickstein."
"Aye, sir" replies Blickstein, stepping forward.
"You are a man who has an amazing eye for precision, and do not think it has gone unnoticed. That is why I present you with this rifle. Its range and its power are immense, and I know in your hands, its potential will be even greater." Hook smiles at Blickstein warmly and hands him the rifle.
"Thank you, Captain."
"Last but not least, Mr. Smee. Now, it is also a new blade made of the same God-like metal as Murphy's, but do not be sad. I assure you yours is special in its own ways. First, I took the liberty of choosing a traditional cutlass in honour of your heritage. Second, the button on the handle will make the blade turn red with heat for some extra fun."
He presents the blade to Smee, who slides it from its scabbard, inspecting the angle of the edge, the straightness of the blade, and the indexing of the handle.
"Perfection, sir. Obviously crafted by a master."
"Crafted with love," whispers Hook into Smee's mind, grateful for the fact that his training with the tower has gifted him with at least a basic form of telepathy.
Hook raises his good hand and begins to pace.
"Listen up, men. I am ready, the ship is ready, and now all of you are ready. The time has come for us to enter the next phase of my plan."
"What's that, Cap'n?" Noodler flips his dagger between his hands.
"We return to Blackfrost Port. We establish dominance. We claim the Neverlands as our own and prepare for the greatest battle of all time."