It is deathly still and dark at the bottom of the ocean. In this treacherous domain of sharp rocks, shifting sands, and sea creatures no man has ever laid eyes on, no truly sentient life form should exist. And yet, despite all nature to the contrary, were human eyes to penetrate this dark abyss, they would behold a human-like figure standing on the bottom of the ocean, oblivious to the pressure and angler fish that swim about him. In this world where the only light comes from bioluminescent sea creatures, nothing remotely human-like should be able to exist. Then again, human-like is a rather loose term when applied to this particular individual.
One leg is that of a gigantic crab, and one arm has mutated into a lobster claw. On his other hand, the illusion of humanity is shattered by a finger that extends into an octopus’ tentacle. His clothes are encrusted with more barnacles than are found on the keel of most ships, but perhaps the most shocking the features that hide underneath his large Captain’s hat. His head is that of an octopus, the tentacles forming a writhing, slimy beard beneath his ice blue eyes and surprisingly human mouth. This is Davy Jones, the devil of the sea, transporter of sailor’s lost souls, and Captain of the fearsome and awesome Flying Dutchman. For many years, Jones has been the last word in Sailor’s lives, and the last thing many of them saw before moving on to the next life. He and his ship are immensely powerful, and the final weapon that makes him invincible is hovering in the water, in front, above, and surrounding him. There she hovers, docile as a house pet in his presence, a monstrous giant squid that legends call “The Kraken.”
His more human hand is raised, caressing one of the tentacles of his demon pet the way an old man would pet the head of a cat. Her tentacles wind around him, nuzzling him with arms strong enough to easily crush entire ships. She would never hurt him…
“There, now, lass…” he ‘says’ to her. “Hush now, my sweet pet… It will be alright…”
Jones looks up into one giant, hubcap-sized eye as his pet regards him placidly. She is thrilled by his visit… Something in the hole that once housed Jones’ heart twists… or perhaps that is the East India Trading Company lackeys with their bayonets trained on his beating heart somewhere in Port Royal. Or perhaps it is a combination of everything coming down on him at once. For this visit is not a friendly meeting of master and pet… but a farewell that will end with the sea being a bit less mysterious… and will make it seem much smaller to Jones. Under threat of his life, he is being controlled by the East India Trading Company. And he is under orders to eliminate his beloved Kraken once and for all. To keep his own life, despite the mockery of it’s sworn duties it’s been forced to take on, Jones must kill his pet.
The Kraken swirls slowly around her master, keeping one eye constantly toward him. The slight light given off by the creatures at this depth is more than enough for her large eyes to allow her to see every detail of the person she loves. Her shorter, thinner tentacles touch his shoulders and arms… There is a sadness about him today that she doesn’t understand. One large tentacle darts out and then offers Jones the now dead anglerfish she has caught, hoping to make him feel better.
Jones stares at the offering of fish in his pet’s tentacle, and takes it with his claw-hand. “That’s a good lass… Now then… It’s time we said goodbye.”
If there were any other way, he would take it. If he could think of any way to get his ship, his crew, and himself out of the EITC’s control, he would. But in the last few weeks he’s been run so ragged and been so harried that he’s barely had the wherewithal to keep control of his own crew and ship, let alone search for a means of escape. For years, he was the scourge of the seas, feared by honest sailors and pirates alike… now he might as well be a glorified pit fighting dog, ready to be shot the moment he loses a fight.
A tentacle as thick as his upper arm brushes past his face and pulls him from his angry reverie. She’s still there… She’s always been there. She was there when Calypso wasn’t. She was there when he cut out his own heart. But she wouldn’t be there anymore.
Another twinge in his chest. He may be crying, but surrounded by salt water and darkness as he is, it is impossible for even he to tell. He steps forward and lays his most human-like hand against the Kraken’s skin, just below her large eye. “I’m sorry that I can’t save you, my pet… You’ve served me and the Dutchman well. You even settled me debt with Jack Sparrow, in your own beautiful way. Poetry of the ocean, my Kraken.”
Leaning in close, he presses his almost non-existent lips against her skin, whispering, “Goodbye, my beloved pet… My terrible, wonderful Kraken.” His lips barely move as he whispers his final words, as strange as they may seem for a creature without a heart… However, they are still very true. “I love you…”
Phasing only his tentacle finger through his pet’s body, he quickly wraps it around what amounts to the creature’s brain stem, and in one smooth movement severs it. The tentacles, a moment ago gracefully caressing and waving about in the water, now jerk and go limp as the light leaves the Kraken’s giant eyes. As Jones slowly detaches from his pet’s body, he watches her begin to float away, her corpse set free to the four currents. He stands there until her body is out of sight, and then remains a few moments longer.
“Goodbye,” he whispers to the currents, then vanishes, the dead anglerfish still clutched tightly in his crab claw. Back on the Flying Dutchman, Jones settles at his organ. Another loss… Just another heartache for his absent heart to bear. Closing his eyes, he begins to play….