//------------------------------//
// I Don't Think Now Is The Best Time! 
// Story: Over the Edge and Over Again 
// by Perpetual Motion 
//------------------------------//

Over the Edge and Over Again: Chapter 18
I Don't Think Now Is the Best Time!

 


 

Twilight led her friends through the dank backstreets of Canterlot. The distinct lack of front doors and shiny desirables on display gave them a relative peace from the pirates; the men seemed far more interested in what they could steal rather than whom they could attack.
 
The city wasn't faring well against the onslaught of humans, even without the addition of violence into the equation. Barbossa’s cannon fodder had seen to that. Homes had become broken and tarnished shells of their former selves, most of them nothing more than smouldering ruins. Even those that hadn't been destroyed seemed almost as badly damaged on the inside.
 
Everything from solid gold to tacky knick-knacks was up for grabs, apparently. It seemed the men stole to sate their curiosity just as much as their greed.
 
But the pirates weren't the only thing terrorising the city and that only proved to become more obvious as time went on. Everything, from the ground at their hooves to the grassy hills on the far horizon, was changing in disturbingly bright and worrying ways.
 
Looking back to the last time Discord was free; he was never truly in more than one place at any single time. He couldn’t see it all. Sure, he ravaged reality wherever as he saw fit and played around with those he deemed boring, but he seemed content with leaving Twilight and the others well enough alone as long as they didn't spoil his fun.
 
For the most part, at least.
 
The dominating light in the sky continued to change in an ever so random cycle, going from sunshine to moonbeams and back again in anything from a few seconds to just over ten minutes. And the sky no longer held its painted veneer; it now seemed happy to roll with the times. The colour and appearance of the vast empty space and the clouds within it were changing just as rapidly as the position of the sun and moon. Patterns and greens mixed with vibrant blues. Textures that didn’t belong were quickly becoming commonplace.
 
The weather followed in the example, coming to and from the city in random bursts. It came in many sizes and variations though smaller, isolated storms seemed to be more common. Especially over lone ponies who found themselves scampering out in the open.
 
It wasn't chocolate rain either, something Pinkie had quickly noted with a rather pouty frown slapped across her face, only for it to bounce back into a wide grin the second she realised it was cherryade instead. Even Rarity found the drink somewhat palatable to her taste.
 
Not that she’d ever admit to it, of course.
 
The only constant in the city now seemed to be the dark mark of the pirate ship floating in the sky, though even that appeared subject to Discord's whims. It now sported his smiling visage in gaudy pink paint, smeared across the aged black sails like a child’s poor attempt at a painting.
 
“So...what’s our plan, exactly?” Rainbow casually asked out of the silence. “If we have one at all, that is.”
 
Wandering past a house as it soundlessly rose a few dozen feet into the air, Twilight sighed. Her head lowered as she turned back to face her friends.
 
“I don't really know. Heading to the castle would be the safest bet, seeing as both the Princesses and the Elements are there. If Discord's there too, that would put everything into one place for us.”
 
“Ain't that makin' it a little too easy? Discord don't seem like the type to give us an easy time. Especially after what we did to him last time.”
 
Twilight pondered the thought, admitting to herself that it was outright strange that the draconequus hadn't so much as approached them since their initial encounter in the castle hallway. There were no games, no puzzles to solve and no challenges for them to overcome.
 
“I know, but I can't think of anything else. The only way to get rid of him is using the Elements of Harmony, and Celestia keeps them locked away. And with her missing...”
 
“Shouldn't we go find her first then?” Pinkie asked, cocking her head to the side.
 
“We could, but if Celestia's with Discord I'm not sure how well that would turn out for us. Without the Elements we don't stand all that big a chance against him.”
 
Discord wasn't omnipotent; he didn't know where everything was and what they were doing. If he did, then he wouldn't have been defeated last time, or the time before that. But dealing with something that could bend reality to the point it was unrecognisable was still a massive hurdle to overcome.
 
“Besides, we don't know where Fluttershy is. Without her, even if we did have the Elements, we wouldn't be able to use them.”
 
All of them had a good enough idea of where she was, though. Hector wasn't the best at lying, though he didn’t try very hard to cover it up.
 
“Why don't we just teleport up there and give Hector a good thrashin'!” Applejack asked, receiving an eager nod from Rainbow. “Or fix up his noggin' nice and tidy with that spell of yours?”
 
As much as Twilight appreciated the suggestions her friends were making, it only proved to make her mood worsen when she realised each of them still posed issues.
 
“There's too many of them,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “If our magic affected the Hectors I think we'd come out on top. But as it is, I don't like the idea of being outnumbered up there with a bleeding pegasus and very little in the way of an offence. And no magic means the spell probably won’t work anyway.”
 
Twilight kept walking, hoping to hear more suggestion. Or at least some that hadn't occurred to her already. Their current plan of action wasn't the best, but it would have to do for the time being. Especially since there was no way of knowing how the Elements or the Princesses were actually faring.
 
And then there was Spike. He was still somewhere inside the castle as well. She hoped from the very bottom of her heart that he was okay.
 
“Couldn't you throw things at the ship? Like, some big boxes or something? That'd get rid of the copies” Rainbow asked, wincing as she leant against her leg harder than she wanted to.
 
“But you said it yourself; Fluttershy might be up there. They could easily pull her somewhere where we could hit her once they realise what we're doing. And what if we somehow bring the ship down? What if we really hurt Fluttershy or Hector in the process?”
 
The rest of the group nodded, none too happy that each of their plans were being shot down one by one. Even if the plans weren't all that good to begin with.
 
“So, we're just going to wander into the castle where Discord's hanging around, hope we find the Princess to unlock the Elements, or hope even harder we can get to them ourselves before he gets to us first?” Rainbow asked.
 
“More or less,” Twilight blandly answered without a moment of hesitation, “Do you have a better one?”

The comment came out less curious and much cockier than she’d meant to, but the injured pegasus still shook her head. Rarity sighed at the conversation, rather annoyed that there wasn't a feasible alternative.
 
“I fear it will have to do, dear,” she said, sighing. “But what do we do once we get to the castle?”
 
Twilight smiled, hopping in her stride for a moment before slowing to a walk alongside the rest of her friends.
 
“Discord may be a god, but he's not an all seeing one. If I turn myself invisible I should still be able to have a look around some of the castle before he even knows I’m there.” Twilight tried her best to ignore the doubt in her friends’ eyes. “It's not perfect, I know. But it should be enough to find out what the situation is with the Princesses and still give me plenty of time to leave should I have to check on the Elements without her.”
 
The reluctant nodding of the others was enough to lift Twilight’s mood, and her friends were happy enough that the plan was more fleshed out than it first appeared to be. It was only then that the others caught note of Twilight’s plan and how she seemed to be the only one taking part.
 
“And the rest of us?” Rainbow asked.
 
“Keep a safe distance from the castle. If something happens to me that still leaves all of you to help Hector and Fluttershy.”
 
“But if we couldn't do anythin’ together,” Applejack began, “what are we gonna do with one more pony down?”
 
“Something might change; this is Discord's world we're talking about and there isn't any point risking all our tails when we don't all need to be in there. It's not perfect, I said that, but it still gives us a fighting chance if something goes wrong.”
 
Rarity eyed the rest of her friends, Rainbow in particular, before nodding with a confident smile on her face. Twilight was right; the plan wasn't perfect, far from it, but it was better than nothing. Even if they couldn’t use the Elements of Harmony without Fluttershy, the Elements were still the only way to deal with Discord.
 
Reaching the outskirts of the castle grounds and a small path leading towards the Royal Gardens, Twilight turned to face all her friends. There wasn't anything stopping all five of them heading up there but she didn't want to jinx the situation any more than she needed to.
 
“I take it we should make ourselves scarce?” Rarity asked, receiving a nod for her answer.
 
“It would be smart, yes. But if you find a way to save Fluttershy or Hector, take it. We could use all the help we can get. And even if you can’t get Hector back to normal we’ll still have Fluttershy back.”
 
Nodding at the purple unicorn, Rarity moved to wander away with the others close behind her. She stopped only to speak one last thing to her friend.
 
“Good luck,” she said smiling.
 
And with that, they all separated.
 
 

☠


 


 

Fluttershy sat on the floor in the corner of the room, sipping from the chilled bottle of cider Barbossa had thrown her way in the wake of his freewill returning. She didn't mind the stuff, and given what she'd been through, a drink of any sort was welcome.
 
The alcohol was, perhaps, slightly more than welcome.
 
She just sat there, flexing her wings in and out in a small attempt to get the blood flowing again. While flying had never been her particular speciality, having her wings restrained reminded her just how nice it was to actually move them, even if it was only to ruffle her feathers every now and then.
 
Her neck still felt sore; the small cut at the base feeling just that little bit too tight as she moved her head around. The tightness proved it was healing - that was good - but it also remained as a reminder that a knife had scored her neck just hours earlier.
 
Hector had apologised too, in his own way. She could tell it was sincere, even if he'd only said sorry as an off-the-hoof comment rather than a lengthy acknowledgement of what he'd done.
 
That suited him though, she guessed. And it was likely the best she, or anypony else, would receive from him. It was a long way away from the sarcastic replies and sly remarks he usually gave as an apology.
 
Not that she blamed him for what happened. Not really. Given how she'd acted under Discord’s influence, she'd be a hypocrite to say everything that happened to her was truly Hector's fault. He was making up for it now, for the most part, and that was all that mattered.
 
The two new humans weren't doing very much though. They just sat around the table at the centre of the room, watching Barbossa and occasionally glancing over at her in an attempt to find something to do.
 
Hector was the only one actively trying to make a difference, though he had yet to tell anyone what his marvellous plan actually was. Everyone appeared to be curious but given how much his idea apparently seemed to revolve around her, Fluttershy couldn't decide if she was eager or anxious to hear it
 
The most he'd done in the ten minutes since his initial announcement was move the big barrel closer to the table and rummage through the creates and cases stored around the room. Jack the monkey sat as a constant ally on his shoulder, perched over to see whatever it was his master saw.
 
It was kind of cute when Fluttershy thought about it. It was strange seeing Hector with a pet, even more so when he occasionally leaned around to scratch the little thing under the chin. She also swore she’d heard him coo to the little creature. That couldn’t have been right.
 
Perhaps the alcohol was stronger that she had first suspected, she mused, as she took another light sip from the bottle.
 
Coming out of her inner reflections, Fluttershy jumped in place at the clatter and crash of metal scraping against the table. Looking up, she saw the two humans suitably shocked as well. Barbossa was stood at the far end of the table, hands at his waist and smile threatening to pull is face in two. Jack sat leaning over his master, screeching and smiling along with him.
 
Fluttershy moved towards the table. She stood on her hind legs, leaning her forelegs on the table as she joined the pirates in their impromptu meeting. There were several swords piled up in front of her, and a good few pistols littered amongst them.
 
“Enough weapons for the both o' ye! Triple if need be,” he announced, looking primarily to the two human crewmen on his right. He turned to Fluttershy before adding, “Ye too, little Fluttershy.”
 
She didn't bother nodding in agreement. Her eyes were still transfixed on the weapons.
 
“I-I can't use a...a sword.”
 
“Ye can hold it in yer maw. Like an axe. Ye said ponies did that.”
 
“No...” she began, “I meant that I  don't know how to use one.”
 
“Best be learnin' fast then. If ye want te leave the ship unscathed, I ain't havin' ye unarmed when we toss ye over.”
 

 ☠


 

 
Ragetti and Pintel shrugged their shoulders, trying their best to ignore the conversation their captain was having with a sheared, yellow horse sporting a pair of wings. They found it best just to accept the reality of their situation, no matter how unrealistic that reality actually seemed; if Barbossa had dealt with it, he'd likely expect them to as well.
 
That was easier said than done, but they could make a good go of it. The horses weren't as strange as the Barbossa duplicates and the flying pirate ship anyway.
 
“And how are we leavin' the ship unscathed?” Pintel asked, “Ye ain't told us nothin' of what we're doin'.”
 
Barbossa moved from his position at the end of the table, taking careful and precise steps over to the asker of the question, staring him down the whole way. The captain eventually stopped, laying a hand on Pintel's shoulder.
 
“What be yer main concern o' gettin' off this fine vessel?”
 
Pintel paused for a moment in response, furrowing his brow.
 
“Gettin'...te the ground?”
 
“No. Gettin' te the ground be easier than the rest o' our problems, Mister Pintel. It's slowin' our descent te the bottom that causes need for concern.”
 
Ragetti nodded eagerly with his captain. Pintel scolded himself for getting an easy enough question wrong. Straitening his face and shaking away the embarrassment, he looked back up to Barbossa.
 
“And how we doin' that?”
 
Showing off his less than clean teeth, Barbossa chuckled in his throat as he slowly turned his head towards the yellow mare stood opposite Pintel at the table. The two deckhands followed his line of sight, catching the pegasi's attention as she looked up from the swords.
 
“Wi' a set o' wings.”
 
Attention switched from the obvious back to the captain as the two human members of the crew pulled their eyes away from the pegasus and back to Barbossa before repeating the pattern. Each had an eyebrow raised, flabbergasted.
 
“Beg yer pardon?” Ragetti mumbled.
 
“Fluttershy has a set o' wings, and we do not,” he said, laying one hand on his chest and motioning the other towards the pirates. “Seems only fair she should be sharin' her talents wi' the rest o' us.”
 
Looking down at Fluttershy, Ragetti turned back to Barbossa one last time and raised a hand into the air. His captain didn't bother to acknowledge the idiocy of the gesture, nor how immature it was.
 
“How we doin' that? She ain't big enough te ride”
 
“I know that,” Barbossa chided. “We'll be grabbin' her ankles. Problem solved.”
 
But that idiocy was something Barbossa had become accustomed to, especially in the last few years of his life. Loyalty often proved more comforting, and in the end, infinitely more useful than intelligence. Despite how much a choice in the matter would have been welcome.
 
He could even think of better men than Pintel and Ragetti to have by his side; Gibbs for one, and William for another, if he was feeling generous. Even Jack if the times called for it, as dire as they'd likely need to be.
 
Right now, however, that idiocy would help keep them by his side. If they were as idiotic as they often implied – though he wished to believed that no one could be as idiotic as they implied – he was lucky to have them; who else would jump out of a flying ship whilst grabbing on to a yellow pony with wings?
 
“’Ere, what about the yous that's outside?” Ragetti asked, lowering his hand from the air. “They wasn't happy havin' us up here.”
 
“Hence, Mister Ragetti, why you have the swords for companionship. If they ain't goin' te let us go, we'll bloody well make 'em!”
 
“How are we going to get outside?”
 
The three humans turned to face Fluttershy, who crumpled back into a nervous heap under their gazes. She felt disheartened that she had already lost her short lived burst of courage. Scary new ponies were bad enough, but two scary new aliens was something terrifying all on its own.
 
“The little things got a point; ye said they barred the doors?”
 
Answering Pintel's comment with a mere sway of his hand, Barbossa pointed towards the powder keg, wandering back over to it. Jack leapt from his shoulder and onto the barrel, circling the surface until he eventually sat in place.
 
“I did. We'll just need te blow them back off te compensate,” he exclaimed, smiling to his mismatched crew and slamming his hand down onto the wooden lid of the barrel. Jack snapped to quick attention. “A load at the door'll blow it and any man foolish te stand by te smithereens!”
 
In unhinged smile snaking its way onto Barbossa’s face deterred the humans for the slightest of moments before they remembered that, yes, he was their captain; they didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.
 
Regardless, Pintel still had something to say.
 
“But...why bother wi' the door?” he asked. “We got the windows at the back. Just blow the bars off them instead and we're 'ome free.”
 
Barbossa lifted his hand of the barrel, letting his palms meet slowly and carefully in several, loud claps.
 
“Fantastic plan, Mister Pintel. Ingenious. Ye'd have surpassed yersel' if ye hadn't forgot one little, insignificant detail.”
 
“...What?”
 
“We have te wait between trips for our ride down te return and, when we are, how long are we goin' te hold back against the horde outside when they eventually choose te come through that door?”
 
“But they ain't comin' in,” Ragetti said.
 
“Not now, but how long do ye think it'll take 'em te notice that we've blown a hole in the back o' their bloody ship!”
 
Barbossa had thought about those options, of course. If Barbossa was being honest, they were the first that had occurred to him when looking for an escape route. But the bars covering the windows weren't made by mortal hands.
 
They...bled into the wall. No screws or bolts, nor couplings of any sort. He'd even spent a good two or three minutes chipping his sword into the walls in a desperate attempt to splinter the wood around them. It did next to nothing, and even if it had, it would take longer to remove the grates than he felt comfortable with on a flying prison ship.
 
Blowing them off was also part of his original plan, but a gaping hole in the back of the ship posed more a threat than a solution to their current predicament.
 
Sure, it would give them an exit, as well as space for Fluttershy to land or let the men jump out. The only problem was it also boxed them into the room itself with only one way out. The men outside had weapons and powder of their own, and if blowing a large chunk out of the stern didn't give them the urge to charge in, Barbossa didn't know what would.
 
The hole was also directly at the back of the ship. If the demonic copies outside wanted to, they could swing their way in through the hole with little difficulty, assuming they didn't care about losing a few of their endless numbers through trial and error.
 
Even if they didn't come in themselves, they could easily throw grenades inside. Or stand around at the edge and shoot anyone that dared to venture out.
 
Not that the bullets could really bother him, of course; the bastard of a chimera, Discord, had seen to that.
 
“We ain't goin' out the window, we're using the door. That's me final word, and as the name implies, it's not bound te change.”
 
Nodding in what could only be acceptance, Pintel gruffly lowered his head into his hand, not one to go against an order Barbossa declared immune to change. He would never go against the man's orders, unless something took importance over their loyalty.
 
In hindsight, it was somewhat foolish to question his captain's ideals.
 
“What about when we're on deck?” Ragetti asked, “How we goin' about..." he struggled, "jumpin'?”
 
“One by one. Unless our young escort can afford te carry more than a single man at once?” he added, glancing to Fluttershy with a brief hope.
 
Fluttershy wandered around the table and stood closer to them than she had before, albeit with her head still lowered slightly. A sword was tucked, very carefully, under her wing.
 
“I-I...” she mumbled, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I don't think I could carry two of you at once...You're pretty big, and I don't fly very often.”
 
“There ye go; one by one it shall have te be.”
 
“What about the other Hectors outside?” Fluttershy asked.
 
“They'll need te be dealt with. Any not caught in the blast'll get what's comin' te 'em. That's why we have weapons, Fluttershy. We get them before they get us.”
 
The little pegasus lowered her head again, glancing towards the door and then to the sword she had been handed. She dropped it on the floor, giving it a slight nudge that didn't go unnoticed by the captain.
 
“Yer goin' under the hull where ye can't be seen,” he began. “That way ye ain't in range o' any shots, unfriendly or otherwise, and ye have time te see us comin' overboard. Out of all of us, if ye kick the bucket, we ain't got any hope o' leavin' the ship in single pieces.”
 
“Who's going first then?” Fluttershy asked, curious, only for one of the men to answer as the chance was given.
 
“Ragetti. ‘E's goin' first.”
 
Barbossa looked over Pintel, and then to Ragetti who stood there, looking unsure whether to be happy he was first to go, or fearful for the very same reason. Barbossa patted Pintel on the shoulder, smiling at the thicker man before doing towards his nephew.
 
“Good man!” he said with a flicker of pride and patted Pintel on the shoulder once more. He then turned to Ragetti. “In that case, ye'll be gettin' yer arse over the edge the second Fluttershy does.”
 
He nodded at the order, though Barbossa suspected the man was quaking in his boots, especially with the sea of cobbles and stone layering the city below.
 
Barbossa couldn't deny he felt somewhat proud of Pintel's demand. The captain himself would be last to go over; he wouldn't have it any other way. But offering to let Ragetti go first made him glad he had such a man on his crew, even if he was a blithering idiot a good deal of the time.
 
Then again, it could have been out of fear and cowardice, and if that was the case, Pintel would get a beating the moment he was found out. For the time though, pride still took its place.
 
“Pintel, yer stuck on the deck fightin' wi' me then. Be there a greater honour?” Barbossa said, adding the last out of humour more than serious want of glory.
 
“Of course not, captain!”
 
“Then we'll ready for the fight!” he cheered, raising an arm to punch the air as he watched his men and Fluttershy do the same. “Ready men?!”
 
“AYE!” the two cheered, their vigour restored. Each followed their captain and punched their air hard and fast.
 
“A-aye!” Fluttershy whispered with a muted smile, joining the small crowd after they'd all but finished.
 
Ignoring Fluttershy's low enthusiasm, but acknowledging that it was definitely there, Barbossa moved back from the table, once again leaning over the keg of powder that held his attention.
 
“Right, you two, shift the table. Lean it on its side and shove it against that wall,” he said, pointing towards the wall dominated with windows and steel bars.
 
Both men responded with a content “Aye, Cap'n,” as they got up from their chairs and began the job assigned to them. They took no notice of the artefacts and objects that littered the table as they all ended up on the floor.
 
The crack and clang of all the gathered items hit the floor, and spare for the fact the cooler was now leaking its icy content onto the floor, none of the artefacts fared too badly. Both men briefly glanced over the items laying on the floor, looking at each other with giddy smiles as they saw two items in particular that caught their eye.
 
Barbossa busied himself with shifting the barrel, using both his arms to tilt it every few steps so it slowly, but surely, moved across the floor. The weight wasn't something he had to struggle with; it wasn't that heavy. The shape, on the other hand, made it awkward to carry. Rolling would likely have been easier, but he couldn't be bothered changing his methods part-way through a job that was almost done.
 
Fluttershy just sat on the floor, shifting the sword she had been given around, pushing it this way and that with her right forehoof. Picking it up in her mouth, she slowly swished it around in the air, occasionally watching the humans ready their plan.
 
Barbossa glanced back at her as he struggled past, bending down as he dragged the powder keg across the wooden floor boards of the cabin. Fluttershy once again sliced the sword through the air, hoping he got the message that she was trying to practise.
 
 

☠

 
 
The practise wasn't going to change anything, she briefly thought to herself. The blade was awkward to hold in her teeth, unless she bit down over the guard, which itself strained her jaw. Human swords didn't seem too pony-friendly, and Hector's had a big guard over anything she could grab on to. All the swords appeared identical too, so she doubted that asking for another would really help her situation.
 
Looking back to Pintel and Ragetti, who were pushing the table into where there captain had advised them, she stared at their heads. She blinked more than once, trying to process what she saw them wearing.
 
The two unicorn helmets the Hectors had brought on board were now worn atop their heads, with what seemed like pride on their faces. They didn't sit on the humans as perfectly as they would have on a pony, with their skulls being slightly smaller. The two men didn’t seem overly bothered by the fact.
 
It was quite a funny sight to see, if Fluttershy was being honest. At least when she compared it to the rest of her day.
 
“Barrel's in place!”
 
She turned her attention back to Hector who now stood over the barrel, nudging it into place against the door with his foot and holding the bar that had once been on the wooden frame loosely in his hands. He let it fall to the floor from his grasp, allowing Jack crawl back onto his shoulder now that the bulk of the work was complete.
 
He offered a finger to the monkey, letting the little creature shake it before the man wandered over to Fluttershy first. He crossed arms and hunched his back down towards her. Jack promptly fell off and scrambled his way across the floor.
 
“If yer quick, ye won't be needin' the sword. When the door's clear, just go up and over,” he explained, pointing into the air and then to the floor at his feet.
 
“You said I needed to learn.”
 
“I were yankin' what's left o' yer tail. Can't go wrong wi' weapon when faced with the likes o' those outside,” he explained, “Leave it if need be. Just be quick if ye do.”
 
Moving away from the mare, Barbossa went back to where the table had once been, inspecting the table in its new home against the far wall. The large, flat portion of the table was facing the door whilst the underside offered a small chance at protection.
 
A blast from a powder keg was going to be large. The keg they had wasn’t full, nor was it even half full, but the resulting explosion wouldn't leave them unscathed if they got too close.
 
They might not have even needed the table, given the size of the room. However, an explosion was still an explosion. And if all was to go right it would be better if those inside the room actually survived the escape attempt.
 
“Table's in place, Cap’n,” Pintel said, leaning against the piece of furniture in question.
 
There was a brief moment of silence as Barbossa finally took note that his men were now wearing something new.
 
“What in the name of Mary's hairy thighs have ye got on yer head?” Barbossa sighed, the act of a job well done replaced, once again, by something that forced him to question the intelligence of his men.
 
“Horny helmets,” Ragetti answered.
 
“Fer protection,” Pintel added.
 
Surprised to find the answer was actually a sensible one, Barbossa decided it was best not to question the pair on the helms. If it made them feel safer, or even succeeded in actually helping them, so be it. They looked to be of decent make, regardless.
 
“Line some powder along the floorboards from the keg te the table,” he asked both men, watching as Pintel complied and set off to do the task.
 
The room suddenly darkened, coating the room in one almighty shadow as the sunlight from the windows was exchanged for that of the moon.
 
Barbossa once again looked down to his hands, expecting to see them already malformed into their skeletal counterparts.
 
A gasp from Fluttershy offered the captain a chance to turn around, expecting her to somehow see him as an undead monster, only to realise that, of course, it was Jack rather than him. The little monkey was on the floor, scooting around in a square of light let in by the glass and patterned with the shadows of the bars guarding them. It made for an odd sight, with a single vertical bar of shadow keeping the curse at bay while the rest of the monkey rotted away.
 
Clicking his teeth together and ushering the little undead monkey towards his shoulder with a wave of his hand, Barbossa watched as his pet hopped away from the squeamish mare and clambered up his torso and out of the moonlight.
 
“Ain't so adorable now, is he?” Barbossa said, laughing as he shook the little monkey's hand.
 
Fluttershy followed the monkey over, stopping at Barbossa's feet to raise a hoof in Jack's direction. The moons light didn't pour to where they stood, and their bodies were as normal as they had always appeared.
 
“He wasn't as bad as you were,” she said, still reaching out for the animal and hoping the comment wouldn't be taken the wrong way.
 
“I wonder about that...”
 
Barbossa could be revealed in the moonlight, and his skin rotted away. His clothes tattered and aged and his body decayed in every manner of the word, in both feeling and appearance.
 
But that was it. And it shouldn't be.
 
In the light of the moon, this time, he didn't remember ever feeling completely empty, and he struggled with the kegs and shape; his breath had wavered and the struggle had made him tired. Neither of those things should have happened under the curse.
 
They just shouldn't have.
 
And Pintel had hit him in the face. The forgiven incident aside, Barbossa shouldn't have felt it, visibly under the curse or not. It shouldn't have hurt him, and while the pain had vanished rather quickly, it had still been there to begin with.
 
Jack felt nothing, all day and every night. He felt no wind against his fur, no drink in his throat, and no flavour on his tongue. Even the little acts of kindness his master and shipmen did for him were all but wasted on his senses.
 
So why had Barbossa himself been so different from his pet? Why had the experience been different from those torturous ten years spent at sea? It had been a while since that grim decade, but he still knew what it was supposed to feel like. It felt like nothing.
 
And that wasn't what Barbossa felt right now.
 
“Have I got a black eye?” the captain casually asked Fluttershy, trying to sound as natural as possible.
 
The little pony stood on the tips of her hooves, looking up at the human’s face until he got the message and bent his knees to match her own efforts. The medical check ended with nothing more than a shake from the mares head.
 
“No, it looks fine.”
 
Blinking his right eye, as if to test if she was telling the truth, Barbossa nodded to her and turned back to Ragetti who still seemed happy wearing the horned helmet which sat ever so slightly askew on his head.
 
“How is yer head?” Ragetti asked his captain. “Took a beatin'.”
 
“I did, but it’s fine. Ain't nothin' worth worryin' about,” or so Barbossa hoped.
 
He didn't even know how to break the curse, not without the chest. But if it was activated using magic from the Ponylands, then perhaps it could be broken with the same powers. Twilight and the princess would be his port of call when the chance offered itself, as well as for a few other things.
 
Getting off the ship was the first priority right now, however. Without his feet on the ground, he couldn't do anything worthwhile. There were things he wanted to get done and eldritch creatures he wanted words with.
 
“Line's done,” Pintel said as he wandered up to Barbossa, “Got a flint 'n steel too.”
 
“Good. We can be off then,” Barbossa announced forcing a smile and clapping his hands. “Fluttershy, get yersel' behind the table. The both of ye too.”
 
Motioning to each of the beings named in turn, the pirate captain watched as each member of his crew wandered and climbed their way over the table. Or in Fluttershy's case, she did a small, pseudo flying hop before landing on the other side.
 
Two of the three men sat against the table itself, with Fluttershy and Ragetti leaning against the wall opposite them. Jack still sat atop his master's shoulder, leaning towards the pony as she smiled back at him.
 
“Come on then!” Barbossa urged Pintel, watching the oaf struggle to light a spark against the line of powder scattered on the floor.
 
The gunpowder trailed all the way from the barrel to the table, as par requested of the captain, and detoured around the table itself, allowing a slither of the explosives to reach the man trying to light it.
 
Trying being the operative word.
 
“It ain't lightin'!” Pintel said with teeth held together, “I'm tryin' to do it,” still clicking the flint and steel together, creating no more that a flicker of sparks.
 
Forcing his thumb and forefinger to rub the sockets of his eyes, Barbossa groaned under his breath before muttering, “Oh, give me the bloody thing,” and attempted the act for himself.
 
Despite his lack of patience with the tool, it took the captain as many attempts as Pintel before the thing finally began creating sparks big enough. Finally getting a hang of the sparks, and how to make them big enough, the captain cracked the flint and steel together one last time and watched as the little specks of flame fell through the air and onto the obsidian black powder trailing to the door. A little plume of fire resulted thereafter.
 
“YES!” the captain exclaimed.
 
He lost his smile at the sight of the little ember growing and racing down the line much faster than any flame he had ever seen before. Much, much faster than any powder would – no, faster than powder should – alight.
 
“NO!”

It just wasn't natural. The powder burned faster, and what Barbossa had assumed would be undera minute of waiting for the explosion, turned into a sharp collection of seconds; the ship shattering kaboom was clearly coming a lot sooner than it rightfully should have done. 
 
The light was storming down the powder, leaving nothing of anything behind. Not even a scorch on the wood in left behind.
 
“GET DOWN!”
 
He swung his hand through the air, practically commanding the air to bring his comrades to the floor. The piece of furniture itself didn't even feel safe anymore; if the powder burnt that fast, how big was the result at the end going to be?
 
He had very little time to think on the matter. Just as they hit the floor, an intense heat burst forth into existence. The world seemed to break down around them as all of their senses were commanded by the pained roar of the ship as it was torn apart from the inside. The table shunted back towards them, forcing their bodies much closer to the back wall.

The crackle of tiny flames and the fact that he could hear them was enough for Barbossa to brave looking over at the table and the destruction his poorly calculated explosion had caused. A black mass of charred wood now existed around the space the door had once occupied, spreading in every direction on the wall around it, or what was left.
 
It seemed the poor door had taken much of the surrounding room along with it.
 
The captain's quarters were in ruins, faring no better than the door that had once stood guard over it. The chairs were snapped and broken, and the windows were cracked and smashed into so many small pieces, leaving only stiff bars in place. The trinkets and curiosities gathered by his copies lay on the floor too, smouldering under perfect orange flames.
 
Their precious table even sported several small plumes of fire crackling against the surface.
 
Glancing back to the sizable hole in their prison, the captain suddenly remembered why they had caused such destruction in the first place. The rest of his companions peeked their heads gingerly over the table.
 
“Move!” the captain commanded, throwing his arms forward and grabbing hold of his sword. “Get yer arses outside!”
 
Standing to both his feet, and forcing the table onto its back, Barbossa leapt over and ran to their new ‘door’. He peered around the edge, and pushing his way outside avoiding a sizable hole in the floor their explosion had also caused.
 
It really had been a terrible plan, now that he thought about it.
 
The scene outside was the only thing going right, it seemed, and frankly, Barbossa was glad for it. The door sat half way up the deck, laying a top a limp body clothed in Barbossa’s garb.
 
Several more lay slumped over around the door, their bodies in various states of hideous disrepair. What caught Barbossa’s attention were the ones that weren’t dead, however; the ones clinging to their blackened injuries or simply dazed by the situation.
 
He wasn't really counting, hoping more that the first of his men could get away without consequence, but there couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven left alive on deck. Those still standing just stared slack-jawed at the blackened rupture in their already black ship.
 
Turning his neck to assess the situation behind him, he smiled a devilish grin at the sight of Fluttershy rapidly flapping her wings through the door, and then after a short spell spent hovering the air above his head, Barbossa nodded as he watched her disappear overboard.
 
Ragetti was still making his way outside, much to the chagrin of Pintel pushing him out the door in a fit to get him onto the deck and out of enclosed quarters. The shoving did its job though; the lankier of the two men made his way onto the deck, and as per the plan, pushed his way towards the guard rails encircling the ships side.
 
He just looked over, turning back to face Barbossa then focusing his gaze on what could only be Fluttershy as he followed something with his head, still peering overboard. Jack the monkey stood on deck with them all, screeching and howling.
 
Beastly roars coming from the demons commanding the ship were enough to bring all three men back to reality, convincing them that what was happening wasn't a dream, or an obtuse fantasy.
 
It was real.
 
So Barbossa pulled out one of his two pistols, holding both sword in one hand and firing into the crowd, and swiftly marked one of his other selves with a new orifice in the middle of his forehead.
 
“Go!” he bellowed.
 
And just like, Ragetti was gone, existing only as a squeal befitting a small child more than a fully grown pirate. The little monkey was gone too. Both men left only hoped their new winged comrade knew what she was doing. With the scream all but disappearing, they assumed it to be true.
 
“Hold nothin' back,” the real Barbossa announced, forcing his pistol back to its resting place and both swords into their own hands.
 
Pintel did the same, letting his pistol slide into his pocket and swinging one sword clumsily in the right hand, almost dropping it in the process. “Take no prisoners!”
 
The other Barbossas ran forward, own swords raised high. A lone clone stood at the far end oif the deck, fumbling with its pistol and powder.
 
The one and only captain Barbossa went for him first, slashing at another's neck as he stormed past, watching as Pintel spent his own time just cutting at the air at whichever copy happened to be at hand.
 
The lone gunman didn't succeed in his task, gasping a wordless plead as he fell to floor as lifeless as the men nearest to the door. Even if Barbossa knew the torment wouldn't end any time soon, he hoped to every God he knew that they’d killed enough to last them a few minutes, at least.
 
More duplicates charged up from different directions, though there only appeared to be two gateways that birthed them. The guard for the lower decks in the middle of the ship held them back, their hands reaching up through the grates whilst the rest came charging up through the door that led downstairs.
 
At the very least, it confirmed that they come from within the ship, and not out in the open. Barbossa was thankful they didn’t magically spawn wherever they pleased.
 
Slicing at another imposter as it charged forward, Barbossa pierced the man's chest, pulling the blade back and kicking him with the heel of his foot. Making his way towards the magical door they all seemed to be coming from, Barbossa searched for anything that would help close it, grinding his teeth together as nothing immediate seemed to help.
 
There wasn’t even a way to try and block it.
 
The heave of the ship and the shifting of its sails did nothing to help the captain's mood, as he paused in his tirade and turned to see another of his copies at the helm, twisting the wheel and pulling in a direction he knew for a fact wheel couldn't go; up.
 
The copy was laughing, cheering with a sword raised in the air as he spun the ships wheel, pulling the entire thing in a swift upward motion. The steering mechanism didn't come free from its place, and instead moved the ship in the very direction it implied.
 
“Damn you, Discord!” Barbossa roared, pushing both swords in front of him at once, cutting into two other clones and pulling them out to cut another at the neck.
 
Despite the fight erupting on deck, all men present swayed in their step, struggling to keep upright as the ship tossed and turned from side to side, continuously soaring higher into the sky in the process. More men attempted to come from below deck to join the rest, but the original captain did his best striking them down as they came through the door one by one.
 
Even he knew such a tactic wouldn’t last, but now wasn’t the time to lament on that fact.
 
How hadn't he considered the ships steering? It was so obvious a thing to check, and it hadn't even crossed his mind. Steering usually wasn't an issue, a man at the wheel could only shift the boat from side to side, but doing so was an idiotic tactic; not only did it ruin your enemies chances, it also stopped your own men as well.
 
But the men on board didn't care! There were too many to care about missed shots and lost lives; they could just summon more as they were needed.
 
And this ship wasn't on the water, it was in the air. Of course it wouldn't move the same way as any boat he'd sailed on before! It had to go up and down as well as from side to side if it flew in the air, else ways how would it ever land?
 
It didn’t change much, but it was an oversight nonetheless. One man was free from the ship and only two more remained; that was the plan, and he was sticking to it, no matter how absurd the situation was.
 
Hearing a gunshot and a yell from on high, Barbossa grinned as he saw the man at the wheel had fallen to his knees and Pintel with a smoking pistol in his hand.
 
“Good man!”
 
Pleased that Pintel appeared to at least have some wits about him, Barbossa went back to his duty, and continued to fight back any men that came up through the door.
 
The act was growing old, however. More and more men were coming, and too many were there to keep fighting off the second they left the doorway. He couldn't even see an end to the men as the queued up in a wild rabble at the door, some with weapons ready as the neared the exit.
 
And he began to falter soon after. More pushed out than he could deal with, and Barbossa moved back to compensate. He used the skills he’d learned at sea to the best of his ability, taking care to miss as few precious openings as he could possibly manage.
 
He was still inevitably pushed back as more men came out, adding to the numbers already gathering on the deck. The appearance of Pintel at Barbossa's side only helped so much, with the man's own sword skills not matching up to his captain's.
 
Barbossa was happy for the assistance all the same.
 
“How many are there?!” Pintel yelped, “There ain't no end to 'em.”
 
“There ain't!” Barbossa affirmed, kicking one back when his sword failed him. The copy fell back through the door and onto the waiting crowd. “But we don't need them all dead; we just need te live 'till our safe passage returns!”
 
Too many were in front of them too keep up now. There couldn't have been more than twelve on deck, but that was becoming too many. With every one they downed another rose up in their place. And even if the process was slow and arduous, the sheer amount of the creatures rushing on board through the door wasn't an easy thing to handle.
 
A few steep steps backwards allowed them more room to fight, and keep up with the numbers, but the control the captain had over the spawning door was gone. Pintel didn't bother speaking up, concentrating as much as he could on his enemies.
 
The floor beneath them tilted again, violently to starboard, forcing both men on to their knees, and a good deal of the demons they were facing alongside them. Or so Barbossa had assumed. The one's he could see had fallen. The others out of his sight moved through the door, pushing passed and marching over the fallen before charging at their mark.
 
It wasn't them that concerned him; he could deal with them. It was faint wail of a grown man growing ever quieter. Barbossa turned and it dawned on him that Pintel was no longer on board the ship.
 
Pintel was gone.
 
 

☠


 

 
The rotund man flailed his arms in air, attempting the impossible, and trying to fly himself to safety. He flapped his arms through the air in the hopes he could grasp it, and hold on for dear life.
 
It didn't work.
 
The ground was impossibly far away. He didn't know how high he was, or if there was even a way of telling how high he was. The houses looked like children toys, in both appearance and relative distance and even if this was part of his captain's almighty plan, he still felt a shiver run down his spine.
 
He couldn't even find the courage to close his eyes, as if the fall itself was forcing them open. Whilst the ship had been close to the ground when he initially boarded, being in line with debris and just above the level of the grounded buildings, he was now at least ten or twenty times higher.
 
Running out of breath, and still falling aimlessly through the air, Pintel cackled and coughed from the bottom of his throat, growing tired of constantly screaming as he plummeted towards the ground. He took a deep breath and continued to wail regardless, hoping it would somehow help his situation.
 
Wondering if praying would actually help, the man held his hand at his chest, doing his best to take up the form of a man kneeling to God. He was never a huge lover the big man upstairs, but there couldn't have been a better time to get acquainted with him.
 
Salvation came without call, however. Closing his eyes, the faint speak of, “No!” being continuously uttered over and over again brought him back to his senses. “No no no no no no no no!”
 
Twisting his head in every direction, unconsciously swivelling about in the middle of the air, Pintel cracked the biggest smile he thought possible at the sight of the magical flying horse coming towards him.
 
She was coming slowly. Or slower than he would have preferred given his current predicament, but she was getting closer none the less. From directly below him too.
 
“Quicker please!” still seemed like an appropriate thing to yell at her, despite already falling in her direction.
 
Fluttershy continued to flap and push her wings as fast as they would go. She hadn't expected to see one of them coming from the ship so soon. It had took her long enough to take Ragetti down at a slow enough speed to begin with.
 
It was a lot harder than she had thought. Taking him down was one thing, but he was heavy. Slowing down the speed they were falling proved harder than she initially assumed it would.
 
But she was anything if not determined. She found an easier, safer way to take Ragetti down. Rather than doing a direct vertical drop with her wings flapping mercilessly and the human hanging on to her legs, she slowly glided down towards the ground. She picked up speed for most of the way down, before letting up and covering a bigger length of ground at a slower speed.
 
He just had to run a little when his feet touched the ground before he let go and she was on her way back up again. He still fell over after a few steps, but he was off the ship, safe and sound.
 
Catching him had been planned out, for the most part. The initial attempt at flying with him hanging on proved somewhat arduous, and the tiniest bit painful. It was only after falling for a short spell with him hanging on that she began the glide.
 
“I'm coming!” she squeaked, wondering why he'd chosen to jump from the deck when she hadn’t even finished with the other human's rescue.
 
Wishing she had Rainbow's strength more than her own, Fluttershy moved towards the human falling from above, moving in the direction he was falling in. He wasn't directly above her, but he would need to be if she wanted to slow him down.
 
Holding both her front hooves forward, she sped up once again, moving forward towards the point where she and Pintel would meet in the air, and finally down when he passed her. Still planning on the same tactic she'd used with Ragetti, Fluttershy began her glide when the human beside her began shouting and squealing.
 
“The ground! The ground!”
 
Still aiming for the human, Fluttershy looked directly ahead of her; which happened to be down. The houses where she'd dropped Ragetti were far closer than they should have been. So was Ragetti himself, for that matter.
 
Holding her forelegs out for the human, Fluttershy stretched her wings as far as they would go, pushing the force of the air through her wings. Pintel grabbed hold of one of her fore and hind legs, holding tight as the ground drew ever nearer. Hoping to slow their fall, the pegasus began flapping her wings, only for a new probably to reveal itself.
 
“You're really heavy!” the little mare squealed, flapping her wings harder to compensate, and watching the streets and buildings below appearing clearer as she slowly began to level herself out
 
“Me fingers are slippin'!”
 
Still pushing her wings harder, ready grab hold of Pintel to control the newest problem, the man's grip came loose of her hind leg, shifting more weight than she could possibly have been wanted. He managed to grab hold of her other foreleg, but it was already too late.
 
“What' goin' on?!” was Pintel's only response to the pained sound that came from the pony's mouth.
 
They were forced down, and rather than the straight trajectory Fluttershy had attempted to employ, they were now veering off to her left, her right wing no longer abiding by her command.
 
The ground was close, and going past increasingly fast as they flew directly down towards it, passing a waving Ragetti as a frown suddenly rushed onto his face. Her teeth were grinding together, and her eyes were welded shut, not even wanting to see what they were about to hit if it only kept them in the air for just a few more seconds.
 
Pintel hit the ground first, or rather, the branch of the tree that had gotten in his way. His fall through said tree and onto the cobbled streets were what warranted his landing being the first. Fluttershy abruptly followed soon after.
 
She'd not hit the tree. Rather, she’d stormed straight through. Even if it did slow her fall, the grunts she made when she did sounded harsh to even the skinny pirate chasing after the pair.
 
He briefly peered back to make sure Jack the monkey was still nearby. The little thing was just staring blankly up at the sky.
 
Fluttershy and the newest escapee had hit one of many trees planted throughout the city streets. Despite the situation as it turned out, Ragetti was relieved more than he could describe; any later in pulling up, the result could have been a good deal messier.
 
“Ye's alright?!” Ragetti said, running up to his uncle first. He glanced over at the escort a second later.
 
“I think so,” he replied, shaking his arms and legs, wincing at the movement his right shoulder offered. “Maybe.”
 
He slowly got to his feet, softly clutching his shoulder and spinning it around in smooth, small circles. The two ushered each other over to Fluttershy, who was barely two legs up from the ground.
 
“What 'appened up there?” Pintel asked the mare, continuously pushing at his shoulder blade with his free palm.
 
Letting Ragetti help her onto all four hooves, Fluttershy reluctantly thanked the man. She copyied the motions Pintel had followed upon standing, albeit with her own network of body parts.
 
“You came down too early,” she muttered in an all but whispered voice, once again wincing as she attempted to move her wing. “A-and I think I hurt my...wing.”
 
Though they weren’t the injuries the mare was talking about, Ragetti let out a sympathetic moan as he saw the newest collection of grazes on her coat and face. Pintel hadn't fared much better from the landing; he had more than a few cuts and pricks on his face and hands from where he'd hit the tree.
 
“A-and you were heavier than I thought...” she added, sheepishly trying to avoid Pintel's eyes as the sky suddenly went from day to night. “Just a tad.”
 
“Yer wing alright?” both men asked at the same time, albeit with slightly different terms of phrase.
 
“I-I don't know,” she said, flapping both wings at once before letting out another squeak, “I think I sprained it.”
 
Both men nodded, slowly opening their eyes wide and then turning to face the ship they had daringly escaped from just moments before. It was disappearing above the clouds and heading away from the large castle moulded into the mountain side. It was also a good deal of a distance away from where all three currently stood.
 
“Barbossa!” Pintel’s pupils shrunk small. He turned to Fluttershy. “Ye have te go an' get Barbossa! He's still up there wi' 'imself!”
 
Fluttershy only responded with a determined snort through her nostril, looking back towards her wing and then to the men staring down at her. Moving her wings as much as she could, the little mare shook and strained to get even a few feet of the air.  Her weight shifted heavily to matching her weakened wing before she gracelessly landed back on the ground.
 
“I c-can't; my wing’s sprained!”
 
Audibly breathing and pushing his hands through what little hair he had left, Pintel stared out towards the flying ship and the little black specks that now continuously fell from it. They littered the air like beads of obsidian black rain against the ever changing colours of the sky.
 
 

☠


 


 

Barbossa stood on the deck of the ship, swords branded in both his shaking hands as the men continued to swarm all around him. He'd found solace and ease with the battle as it had gone, forcing whomever he could over the edge and using his skill and power with whatever cretins happened to be left over. It left him less men to fight and more energy to fight them with.
 
The guard over the hold in the middle of the ship had been broken. Smashed in battle or with a purpose he didn't know, but now they bled from the belly of the ship rather than just the lone door he had taken to lashing out at.
 
Now the men came from all side, attacking the man with his bare bones showing in the moonlight, revealing his newly returned curse to the world. The men still in mortal guise continually pushed him towards the port side, forming a tight circle around him.
 
But Hector Barbossa didn’t give a damn.
 
“If there be days worth livin',” he heaved, forcing his swords through four men in swift secession, elbowing another back into the crowd as he let a ghoulish cackle clambering from deep within his rotten throat, “then this be the day worth dyin' for!”
 
Any men he sent to the grave – or over the side of the blasted ship – came back with a rejuvenated vigour from within the belly of the beastly vessel he was standing on. He didn't know if the same men were returning to continue the fight or if new men were being born from Discord's magic, but they all acted on the same desire, the same order; attack.
 
No more were they jumping from the ships sides and into the houses of the ponies below, and no more were the obsessed with the riches and wonders they could find in the city. All they did was attack him.
 
And he couldn’t work out why! They’d listened to him just fine hours before!
 
Cutting the throats of two other men, using both his arms and the occasional kick to keep them at bay, he waited for the call that would let him just run from the ships edge like an almighty eagle, or something equally as majestic and untamed.
 
Wait until Jack Sparrow heard word of his efforts. A ship filled to the brim with himself, fighting an everlasting mutiny on a sea made from the skies and clouds themselves. There was no way Jack had done anything remotely similar. In Jones’ Locker or anywhere else.
 
Stick that in yer pipe, Jack!
 
The number of men stayed constant enough for him to count. Twenty in all, at all times. For any man lost or sent overboard, another came in his place. But never any more than that; always twenty. Barbossa couldn't tell why he'd had the time to count, but in his struggle to fight the good fight, he'd bloody well found it.
 
And he'd found time to count the men he'd downed after a while. Fifty eight he'd counted. He'd defeated almost sixty men on his own, with no allies beside him, and with only two swords to hold down the horde. The pistols still sat at his side, with no time suitable enough to pull them out, lest he give the opposition their chance to strike. There certainly wasn’t anytime to refill the damned things afterwards.
 
A sudden kick from the side forced Barbossa into the arms of the crowd. The copied man that caught him found both swords buried deep within his ribs as Barbossa forced his way back out again.
 
“Bastards...” the original swore under his breath, pulling his swords back from the, now, lifeless body. The blades came back slower than they had before.
 
Despite his skeletal form bearing it's presence on the ship, he still felt tired. He couldn't escape that fallacy, and it would be his downfall if there ever was one. Even he wasn't a god; he couldn't fight a fight for the rest of time.
 
Pain, however. That was still numbed in the moonlight.
 
“Hurry up Fluttershy!” he bellowed at the heavens. He waved his swords in violent circles, each man stupid enough to stand close earning  deep gashes into their faces.
 
As the fight raged on, the ship was grew higher and higher into the clouds. The mast was already lost to the multicoloured madness that was now the norm of Discord’s Equestria, and the rest of the ship following in its example.
 
He couldn't take much more of this, let alone in the darkness of the clouds. Even if their colour was bright and vibrant, his sight wouldn't be once he was immersed. If being in the clouds was anything like a fog, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance against so many.
 
The ship was still growing ever higher, with a man at the helm cackling and screeching as he turned the wheel this way and that. Another Hector was fighting him for the privilege, turning it in whatever way that the other wasn't.
 
But the vertical direction was always at a constant, and that was up.
 
Watching as the atmosphere travelled down the length of the ships tall mast, Barbossa continued on, using every inch of the sword he could against whatever weakness revealed itself. The imposters didn't have his skill, nor his intelligence, but their numbers more than made up for the stupidity.
 
The hilt of his sword connected with the skulls of three men in quick secession, knocking each free from the crowd as his enemies parted and allowed them to fall free from the ship, clearing their path to the captain.
 
Then the sun came up.
 
In another blast of strength, Barbossa forced the men that had parted back, using their glances to their fallen partners as a chance. He elbowed the one most central to the group and forced him into the others, pushing a few of them back towards the banister. Four of them fell from the ship’s deck, towards the practically endless drop below.
 
But one grabbed hold of Barbossa’s arms. The copy dug his nails into cloth of Barbossa’s jacket as a wicked smile etched into the his maw.
 
Shifting himself in a bid to get free, Barbossa swivelled the sword in his grasp. He caught his captor in the face, only for another to knee Barbossa in his stomach and forcing out what little wind was left inside him.
 
The others joined in, taking hold of one arm as Barbossa struggled to fight with the other. Cutting the air and whipping whatever he could with the blade of his rapier, he lost it in the struggle as his other arm was ceased by two more demonic duplicates.
 
Another had seen fit to assist the others with his opposite arm, bringing the number of men holding him by the limbs up to four. Barbossa watched as they picked up his blades and effortlessly tossed hem overboard to join the many men they'd lost.
 
Another two grasped hold of his legs, receiving sturdy kicks to both their faces for their efforts. They took hold regardless as the real Barbossa found them suddenly heavy. Another couple of copies joined them, finalising the capture.
 
“Ye better go an’ warn yer serpentine master,” Barbossa spat, shaking and jutting his limbs in any direction he could, “Because in this life, or the next, I will have his head for this!”
 
The pirates continued their barrage, punching him the visible parts of his body, his face and chest primarily. All the while they simply laughed in a mirthless, demonic chorus, looking down on the man who once held them under his every command.
 
Then as a single body, every one of them moved towards the rail. They left space at the edge for their final act of battle. Those not holding Barbossa down crossed their arms and watched.
 
Then the captors swung their arms back and forth, crying out timed grunts until, with one final step backward, every one of the men let go.
 
Frantically grasping out on all sides, Barbossa reached out and, in some divine miracle, his hand wrapped around one of his enemies’ jackets.
 
But the men on board didn't see it as a iracle. As Barbossa himself reached his other hand out to grab hold, they struck out at his arms with their own weapons, slicing the skin along his knuckles and carving down to the bone of his fore arm.
 
A horrid, unnatural wail of pain left Barbossa as he left the safety of the ship, announced only by the hysterical laughter of those who looked just like him. His grip was lost, and his reward was the nostalgic feeling of the daylight sun and the heavy rush of air as it hit his face.
 
But even that was taken from him and in Discord's will of cruel chance the sun vanished once more, bringing out the moon in all its cold, cursed glory. The pain in his hand went with it. That was good, he thought. At least something was going right or him.
 
“Fluttershy?!” he begged out to the open sky, searching for any glimpse of the little pony.
 
No reply came back for him. He continued to fall down to the ground below and to the harsh, unforgiving cobblestone that would surely greet him. His hat was gone too, which only seemed to make the whole ordeal that little bit more painful.
 
After all, he liked his hat. He wasn’t quite sure when he’d lost it either, which only proved to aggravate him further.
 
The buildings were surely getting larger, and the streets below were growing clearer to his eye, as were the many number of himself wandering the through the alien world. He couldn't see many ponies. At least, he didn't think he did. It was still dark down there.
 
But what did it matter? He'd all but commanded an army of soldiers with weapons held high – and no honour to speak of – to steal from their homes and scare them half to death. Whether it was truly his fault or not, there weren’t going to be any kind words said by the ponies about him.
 
Then again he could survive. It couldn't be taken for granted; the curse wasn't as it should have been, and that was all that worried him. How far would his pain be able to go? How far could he stretch the power of the coin before whatever bastardised spell he was under gave way?
 
“Rainbow Dash?!” he eventually begged. He stared helplessly into the night sky, long passed the technicolour clouds and shimmering stars.
 
She didn't reply.
 
No one did.
 
It was a silly thought, really. How could she have saved him? Rainbow might not have even been alive after what he'd commanded his crew to do. A small part of him hoped she was.
 
At least he'd scared Rarity though; that was one silver lining, he supposed. Not that he really wanted her dead either, mind you; the little ones would probably cry about it and make it his fault.
 
Still...
 
Closing his eyes as the ground drew its final few feet towards him, Barbossa let his body go limp. He was ready for the heavy collision with the hard ground when it eventually met him.