In black, thunder sounded just before one came even louder. Lightning flashed until there was a singing female voice in the vicious wind.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me...

The thunder came again as the voice continued with a British flag blowing in the wind.

We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo ho. We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot, drink up me hearties, yo ho.

This time, rain began to fall over a town which looked like a harbor.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me...

The singing faded as thunder striked once more as a pirate flag was being carried by the wind, before landing in the water of the harbor. A male voice began to narrate. It was John Silver.

Those were almost the first words she spoke to us. We remembered her name, her idea, but we did not remember the man who invented it.

The gallows appeared, as a man in shackles was forced to stand on the platform with the noose being snugged around his neck. The platform was released, forcing him to die.

Because of that man's failure, he was killed, and forgotten.

Cannon fire sounded as it dueled with another ship, causing explosions on the sea craft. The ship began to sink as its flag blew in the wind. The flag sank into the depths.

But as the years passed, an idea could still change the world. People killed in the name of it...and died defending them.

A figure of a boy floated to the surface of the water until he laid on a piece of the ship, drifting to a shore nearby.

But you cannot kiss an idea. Cannot touch it or hold it

Jamaican peasants ran to the water as they saw the figure drifting, being able to pull him ashore.

They do not feel pain or show love

Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann run over to the group as they see the unconscious boy before them. "Get a doctor!", Norrington told his lieutenant, Theodore.

But it wasn't the idea that was missed

A gold glimmer shined near them, but they didn't notice.

It was a woman. A woman that made us remember. A woman, we pirates will never forget

The story title appeared in the darkness of the screen.

Chocolate brown orbs revealed from before the owners lids, having noticed the new day had arrived. A groan came from the same owner of the chocolate brown eyes. A male young male on a cot covering his face with hands, realizing that he had a dream of the past, of when he was only a child. Looking around at his surroundings to find that he was within the shelter of his forge. Looking at the closed windows that gave little sunlight to the building within. getting up, Will Turner, went to water basin to splash water to his face. Drying his face, he remembered about his important delivery today. A sword that was going to be presented to the Commodore at his promotion ceremony. Wearing roughly formal attire, typical for a commoner of his status while sitting withing a transporting carriage that was making it's way toward a wealthy mansion. Sitting in Will's lap was a large presentation case that had the sword within and safe.

Having arrived the estate from the way they stopped and the opening of the carriage door from the rider that had stepped down from his perch, Will thanked him before looking to the estate, already feeling small. Out of place. Knocking on the expensive looking door, he was welcomed by a upperclassman who steps aside and allowing him to enter. Waiting ever so patiently for the host of the household, Will looks at his surroundings in the meantime, his eyes spotting a fancy looking candleholder with some intricate disigns. Fiddling with it lightly at first only to realize that he had accidently applied too much pressure to it as it breaks from the wall like it barely anything had kept it in place at all. This worried Will for he was looking quickly as he had panicked, William places it in a umbrella case next to him and moving away from that spot like nothing happened at all. Holding the presentation case more securely.

"Sir, you have a visitor", one of the male house servants spoke to the governor who was upstairs, checking on his gray curly wig. Hurrying downstairs, he could spot the young man already there, and he presumed that this young man had the sword that was to be expected at the Commodore's preposition. For him to be governor, it wasn't easy. Looking after his only daughter wasn't easy. Yes, his daughter. The beautiful Elizabeth Swann. Nineteen year as old she was now, and he expected her to marry another wealthy young man to spread the family branch. However, finding the right spouse wasn't simple. In this town, wealthy and low-class don't mix. But, he expected her to find one soon enough. "Ah, Mister Turner! Right on time", governor Swann proclaimed as he approached the young man.

William looked toward the Governor as he approached, bowing respectfully before moving to the table nearby to set the case down, untying the knot. Opening the case, picking up the sword within it's sheathe before unsheathing it to show the Governor the sword that he had made. " The blade it made with folded steel with a gold filligree laid into the handle." With this, he backs away to where he gives a swift swings away from the Governor but so he could see. Will then puts the sword on his index finger where the blade meets the guard. "Perfectly balanced with the tang nearly full width of the blade." Will explained to Governor Swann as he took the sword in his other hand with swift clean motion before gathering the sheath and then sliding the blade gracefully into its sheath, both hands placed on each end, palms extended with his arms extended to the Governor to take.

The governor had his hands together behind his back while he watched and listened the young man's explanation on the design of the sword. Honestly, the governor wasn't too interested in blacksmith apprentice's technique and skill with his control on the sword. "Oh!", he exclaimed as the sword was being tossed about in Will's grip. Presented back to him, the governor gave a nod of approval. "Impressive", he simply said as he took the sword from his hand to examine it. "The Commodore will be most pleased with this", he passes the sword back to Will, so it would placed properly back in its sheath. "Well, do pass my compliments to your master, would you?", he asked him expectedly.

Behind them, a woman descended down the stairs in a fashionable Victorian dress. "Oh, Elizabeth, you look absolutely stunning", the governor complimented to the woman with her brown-blonde hair tied up. "Will, it's good to see you", she smiled while walking towards them.

Will felt his small bit of hope and achievement just turn into disappointment. Having made the sword himself, not his mentor. He was well to not show just how disappointed for he bowed his head. "I will let him know just how much love his work." Will told him with a smile. Looking up suddenly, he saw a young woman wearing a fashionable Victorian dress of which Will expected must have taken some time to get into. Hearing her greeting, Will bowed his head to her respectfully. "Greetings, Miss Swann. I-It is good to see you as well." Feeling his low-class presence and mind set take over.

"Will, how many times do I have to say for you to call me 'Elizabeth'?", she asked him in a soft tone within her kind voice. Elizabeth Swann had the physical appearance of a fine young woman, a young goddess in human form. For her, she didn't mind talking to those of low-status. She was just too kind when talking to them, not really wishing them harm, but only to wish them the best of luck, despite what her father thinks on such behavior. "We don't want to be late now, do we?", the governor cut in as he took the presentation case in hand. "Come now, Elizabeth", his daughter just kept her kind smile on. "Farewell, Mister Turner", she said before following her father out of the mansion, and to the carriage.

Will stared a moment more when Elizabeth asked him about how many times he were to call her by her first name. Yes, they had been friends when they were little but Will always had to remember their social status within this society. "Many times more, Miss Swann." He told her shyly. Upon them leaving, Will followed them out toward the carriage that awaited the Governer and Elizabeth. He stopped as they a few feet away from the carriage. Watching when it left, the young man standing there before waving a little. "Farewell...Elizabeth." After a few moments headed for home.

Against the sky, a womanly figure is standing on a yardarm, wearing suggestive clothing that seems to resemble a Western-Victorian prostitute; a tight, long-sleeved, ivory-colored corset dress with a matching mini-skirt, displaying a slight pink-lace floral detail, and a matching attached organza bustle in the back. She also appears to be wearing black lace-trimmed thigh high stockings, a black choker, and black calf-high heeled boots. Her chest-lengthed, wavy-curled brown-black hair blew in the wind as she gazed out with keen-eyes at a ship that's looming in the approaching harbor.

Her attention was eventually drawn to something below, and she leaped from the yardarm to the rigging, and into the foot of water, which appears to be filling the hull of her small fishing dory. Sloshing through floating net buoys, she picked up a bucket, and started tossing the water back into the ocean. As soon as she was about to pass what seems to be skeletal remains of three pirates hanging from a gallows on a rocky promontory, she immediately stopped what she was doing. Giving the deceased some honor, she tossed a silver shilling into the water to pay her respects. Seeing a fourth, unoccupied noose, it beared a sign: "PIRATES - YE BE WARNED". This didn't phase her and she acknowledged it with a nod.

The harbor is bustles with activity. The people began to gaze at the strange woman on top of the crow's nest while the boat itself has sunk completely. Stepping nonchalantly onto the dock, the mystery woman just strolled right past the harbormaster. "What? Hold up there, you", he called to her in a patronizing manner, making the young woman halt in her steps and swiftly turn back around to walk back to him. "It’s a shilling to tie up your boat to the dock", he told her, before she casted a dubious glance back towards the sunken boat's mast. "And I shall need to know your name", he added before opening the ledger. Smiling coyly, she took three shillings from her pouch, and tossed them onto the ledger. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the name?", she spoke to him in a cool, innocent-like tone in her apparent Swedish-accented voice, which sounded distinctively low and powerful.

The Harbormaster considers this as he shuts the ledger. "Welcome to Port Royal, Ms. Smith", he welcomed her before quickly moving off. She acknowledged the welcome, moves past the Harbormaster's desk, and spots a small money bag sitting on top of it. She picked up the bag to shake it. Pleased to hear the rattle of coins, she pockets it and moves on off the dock.

British soldiers march into the courtyard of the fort, with steel drums sounding as well as trumpets. Taking their places, Elizabeth, in the crowd, was cooling herself off with her paper fan. Next to her, was her eighteen-year old cousin, Abigail Ashe, who was the daughter of Lord Peter Ashe from the town of Carolina. Since this ceremony was only for the higher class, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Abigail wasn't wealthy. Younger and a bit smaller than Elizabeth, she was just a beautiful, young woman.

Fanning to keep herself cool, Abigail Ashe felt that she was finding herself having troubles breathing. She didn't know why, but she could not figure out how any female in existence could breathe with how tight and constricting these corsets were. She was feeling tired just standing there that she was trying so hard to stay awake during the Ceremony for Commodore Norrington. She knew it would be rude and she did not find it right to even confront her cousin Elizabeth Swann over the matter. Wincing midway through the Ceremony, Abigail winced, feeling the discomfort from the corset, trying to be discreet about the whole ordeal, trying to adjust it for possible comfort that may not even exist at all.

Meanwhile, being as sneaky as he could, William Turner dressed in the same attire as before, now with the additions of leaving his brown hair down instead of up like it had been before, a red laced cape, and a grey wide-brimmed hat with a big fancy with feather at the back of it. He watched the ceremony, watching as they gave Commodore Norrington the sword he made for him.

"Two paces, march!", a solder called out as the others, now divided into two columns, obey the order. "About face!", the soldiers obey and turn, now facing each other, and Norrington makes his appearance at the end of the line. "Present arms!", they once more obeyed. The commodore walked between the two columns of soldiers, and he moves towards the presentation area where Governor Swann was waiting for him. With choreographed precision, Swann removes the sword and scabbard from its case and presents it to Norrington. Norrington accepts the sword, executes a flourishing salute, first to Swann, then to the officers, and to the audience.

Meanwhile, at a dock, the mystery woman made her way down, trying to cooly pass two marines who were on sentry duty. When she was about to saunter passed them, they were immediately alert, running up to block her path. "This dock is off-limits to civilians", one of them told her. "I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately", she cooly said with a hint of innocence in her accented voice as she tried to move around them, but they blocked her again. How was she going to do this? Now, she knew.

"Apparently there’s some sort of event up at the fort, right? How could it be that two upstanding gentlemen such as yourselves, did not merit an invitation?", she half-curiously asked them. "Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians", the other marine responded to her. "And that's a fine goal, sweetheart, but it seems to me, a ship like that", she gestured to the Dauntless in the distance. "...makes this one a bit downgraded, really", she commented while gesturing to the Interceptor, perched at the dock.

"The Dauntless is the power in these waters. But there’s no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed", one of them said to her as he talked about the ship. "I’ve heard of one, supposed to be very fast, nigh uncatchable...the Fancy", she gave a breathed out the name. Clearly, they were confused. Not ringing a bell. "A ship with torn, black sails. Captained by a man, who's so evil, that hell itself spat him back out", she told them with grim in her eyes.

One of them scoffed. "No", he chuckled with amusement. "It's a real ship, you know", the other told him. "I've seen it. Black sails, it had", the other turned to him. "Oh? And no ship that's captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out could possibly have black sails, therefore couldn't possibly be any other ship than the Fancy. Is that what you're saying?", he patronized him. None of them noticed the woman slipping past them unnoticed as they continued to argue. "No", he answered.

"Like I said, there’s no ship that match the Intercept..", he trailed off when he noticed that she wasn't there. Looking around, they spotted her standing at the wheel of the Interceptor, casually examining the mechanism. "Hey! You!", she looked over at them with exaggerated, innocent surprise. They hurried towards her and raised their guns at her. "Get away from there! You don't have permission to be aboard!", they told her. "I’m so sorry, it’s just...it’s such a pretty boat. I mean, ship", she innocently corrected.

"What's your name?", one of them asked. "Smith. Or Smithy, if you like", she responded casually. "What's your purpose in Port Royal? And no...lies", they demanded. She just smiled coyly with charm. "Alright. It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise, pilfer my weasely black guts out", she answered with a bit of a ramble. "We said, no lies!", one of them told her. "Think she's telling the truth", the other said. "If she were telling the truth, she wouldn't have told us", the other argued. "Unless, you wouldn't believe the truth even if I told it to you", the mystery woman cut in as they seem to consider it.

After the ceremony, Commodore Norrington approaches Abigail, oblivious to her struggling. "May I have a moment?", he asked her while extending his arm, wordlessly asking her to take it. When she does, he walked her away from the party, toward the parapet of the fort wall. "I must admit, you look lovely, Abigail", he complimented her. "I apologize if I seem forward, but I must speak my mind"

Abigail looked to Commodore Norrington with a smile when he approached her, trying to hide her complete discomfort of the dress she was in. With a curt nod, accepting his extended arm and walking with him toward the Parapet of the fort wall. Abigail did not feel so good. As she walked, she could feel her stomach forming knots, her chest felt it was even more constricted than it was before. She could hear Commodore Norrington talking and could hear what he was saying, but was feeling she was not going to be able to keep up. "It's quite alright." She told him as calmly as possible.

The Commodore had his back to the girl as he traced the path of the parapet on the fort's wall. "Your cousin has grown into a fine, young woman. A beautiful one. As I thought about what I would say, it would be rude and disrespectful if I didn't ask you, since I found both of you rather close", he turned his upper body to her. "Abigail, Elizabeth is a fine woman. I would like to ask you if I could offer her my hand", he finally said.

Abigail noted that the Commodore was facing away from her, one then as she decided to find something to fold her steady so she walked toward the the Fort's wall, her hand resting on the wall to keep her steady. Hearing him talk about her cousin Elizabeth and how she was beautiful and how he didnt want to be disrespectful. Alter that she kind of zoned out. The lack of air really getting to her. "I-I can't breath." She managed to say. Feeling she may faint. Of course that was her last thought before her past out, her body falling forward and over the lower part of the wall and into the ocean.

Unaware of the scene behind them, the mystery woman continues her usual cunning maneuvers, before leaning forward on her forearms. It was one of those tricks where she would charismatically drive people into conversations and inspire them. "...and then they began to worship me", she finished just before they hear the sound of something hitting the water, narrowly missing the jagged rocks.

At the fort, Norrington turns to face Abigail once more, but finds the girl missing from her standing spot. "Abigail?", he asked the air before looking down over the side, where he saw the ripple of water where she fell. "Abigail!", he exclaimed until he was about to dive. In reaction to the commodore's shouting, Norrington's lieutenant, Gillette, runs to his side, and stops him. "The rocks! Sir, It's a miracle she missed them!", he warned the commodore as Norrington shook him off. Realizing he was right, he looks down one more time before running and the others following.

The brunette-haired woman and the sentries looked over the side of the ship and notices an unconscious Abigail sinking deeper into the water. "Can you save her?", she asked them in curiosity. "I can't swim", he simply answered as his comrade shakes his head. Neither does he? So be it. Not surprised, the female gave a groan of frustration. "Prides of the King's Navy, you are", she took off her burgundy jacket, revesling her fleecing long-sleeved shirt. "Do not lose these", she added before handing them her pistol, and sword belt. Climbing onto the railing, she dove into the water.

As Abigail drifts down, still unconscious, her round necklace slipped loose from her bodice. Except it wasn't just a necklace. As it turns slowly, a skull was visible. A shaft of filtered sunlight hits it, and it glints, just before it sent some vibration out across the sea. Noticing the strange ripple, the sentries turned to each other, confused. "What was that?", the other shook his head, shrugging. A gust of wind comes up, and they looked at the British flag, holding their hats, while noticing it wave in the opposite direction, from the sea. Nearby, Norrington rushes down to the pier, being followed by his men.

Abigail's unmoving form hits the bottom of the shallow ocean. The brunette-haired woman swims down to her as fast as she could, and eventually wrapped an arm around her. The girl's weight was light, which helped her rescuer get a better advantage. Making for the surface, she struggled, making slow progress. The dress this girl was wearing was too heavy, and the water was weighing them down. Forced to be submerged, she forced it open, and skinned Abigail out of it, kicking it away, leaving her in her elbow-sleeved underdress.

As she surfaced, the brunette was exhausted, as the sentries helped her haul Abigail out of the water. Laying the girl carefully on her back, the sentries tried to check if she was breathing. "She's not breathing!", one of them called out. "Move!", pushing them aside, the brunette slips one her knives from its sheath. Kneeling over the unconscious girl, she slit the corset down the middle with it, and forcefully yanked it open to allow Abigail to gain air for her crushed lungs.