A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)

Chapter 1.4 - Capt. J. Hook

Hooks POV

Everything happens somewhere.
What an apt paraphrase of fate, of one's powerlessness in the face of the influence of higher destiny. James often wondered to what extent he could influence his own life and whether there was such a thing as providence - a power that ensured that everyone fulfilled their destiny. Peter is the hero and James is the terror and villain.
But who knew the other side of the coin? Who asked whether Peter had so much regard for his followers, whether the lost brats were doing well in their freedom? The hero could only be a hero if others stood in his shadow in return...
And Hook knew some of the lice-ridden fellows who called themselves Lost. Ha... lost. Without parents, without discipline and rules, without boundaries and prohibitions. They laughed, they played, they joked, they pushed each other around and fought.... they hurt and killed - all for what?

 
The entertainment, the fun of the one they all followed and who was their sun, the centre of their cosmos. How many times had he led them to their doom for a joke? But he was not the terror - James Hook was. And by all the gods, James stood by his reputation. The stories they told about him alone kept cowardly attackers away and apart from that.... he took responsibility for his actions, he knew the price of killing someone, knew the stains on the soul and also the broken hearts that were often left behind. Perhaps that was what made him so different from Pan. He knew what he was doing, at all times and in all moments.... he did it to protect his crew, his ship and his property. Peter... wanted to laugh, to enjoy himself and it was easy for him to look the other way as children choked screaming for their blood. For him, there was no remorse, no 'no'.

And so everything eventually happened as it had to happen. No one could escape Neverland's endlessly trickling hourglass. It was unstoppable, inescapable... and sealed all their lives. Even his. The grains of sand did not fall at random, James knew that in this desert, despite the chaos, everything had its order. Games and attacks, raids and revenge - it all had to balance out somewhere, for the scales could not lose their equilibrium. Lately, it had been surprisingly quiet, too quiet for Hook's taste, so he had instructed the men to be more vigilant days ago. But the longer a thread was stretched, the more it wore out and so the pirates' vigilance also dropped when they thought they were safe. Except for James Hook, who continued to let his gaze roam over the Jolly Roger like a watchful eagle.

Perhaps that was why the first crow of the night did not have too shocking an effect on the captain. The sound was soft at first, more blown in by the wind, but a second cry followed shortly afterwards accompanied by the bright sound of childish laughter. Gurgling amusement from the bow of the ship and James thought he saw something roll on board.... somersaulting off the rail and leaping onto its nimble legs.

"It's an attack!" the captain roared across the deck and unsheathed his sabre.

He was not the only one who noticed the intruders and his reputation was carried further. With a silent but no less incensed curse, James placed the half-charred cigars on a barrel - carefully, so as not to damage the holder. Then he turned on his heel and, much faster now, James pulled a pistol from the holster on his belt. Golden metalwork adorned the wooden grip, which was brightly polished and smooth as a polished gemstone, lying perfectly in his hand. His initials were engraved in the metal attachment, the sweeping inscription Capt. J. Hook. All he had to do was pull the metal hammer back with his thumb, a light squeeze of the trigger and.... whoever got in front of his barrel would bitterly regret it.