The Cinema was less than Jack and the others had expected.

The concession stand, or at least what was left of it, settled on an incline; microwaves and poppers were bolted to the floor and, as a result of such fine craftsmanship, food constantly littered the dingy brown floor tiles. Gnats escaped the soda fountain anytime Doreen, the concession supervisor, groggily retrieved a drink for some pimply-faced, hormone-ridden teen. Boredom prone Lila ran the ticket stand with one or both hands tied behind her back. If it weren't for the constant twitching of her unsightly uni-brow and the fact that one of her thumbs was shorter than the other, Jack would've actually found her attractive.

Everyone and their cousin, with the proud exception being Captain Jack and his crew, had heard of (and feared) Stanley and his band of miscreants as they swept the floors, scavenging and picking their way through fallen debris and the occasional nickel or small children's toy left behind by careless moviegoers.

"I'm scared…" whimpered Jack, leaving the comforting warmth of Anamaria's side to seek solace beside a standee of "Booty Hunt." A lusty glint apparent in his dark eyes, Jack ogled the two beautiful babes on the front, allowing himself to escape into a rhapsodical fantasy world – that is, before Anamaria threw her boot at his head. Unbeknownst to them was Salty Steve McCoy, the seafaring cinema's second in command, as he sauntered down the popcorn riddled corridor to get a better look at the Pearl's bedraggled crew.

"How are you all this morning?" He grinned, stepping in too close as his putrid breath washed over the group, bathing them in stink.

"Oh golly!"

Jack's eyes watered profusely and Anamaria began to sputter. Gibbs chortled between gulping air in through his mouth while Carl sneezed repeatedly at a high pitched frequency. Cotton, however, did the only thing he could do.

Dear God, man, what did you eat?!

Anamaria, ever vigilant as she was and wary of Cotton's persistently foul behavior, gave the signal for "The Ambush," alerting Carl and Tim the Younger to the situation at hand; jumping Cotton from behind and dodging his gaping, toothless mouth as he sought to cripple had never proved to be an easy task, but they succeeded, bringing the old sailor to his knees as he struggled still to scribble obscenities in his defense. Moments later they had subdued him completely, promptly relieving him of his marker and flashcards.

"Are you here for an interview?"

"A man of your –"

Anamaria elbowed Jack in the stomach, squelching any protests or rude comments; alright, more so rude, obscene comments.

"Yes we are, sir."

Salty Steve eyed Sparrow with contempt before turning his full attention to Anamaria. Jack glared back, wheezing and clutching his lower torso as he fought off the urge to curl into a ball and die – or just weep like a little girl.

"Anamaria…" he gasped, pitifully clutching at her hand, "My…"

"That's my name. Don't wear it out." She dutifully reminded, reaching out to slap her Captain on the back, but he shied away, cringing at the prospect of more pain.

"No touchee."

"Jack, quit acting like a baby."

"I'm scared."

"I know you are, but suck it up or you won't get this job."

"Jack's brain nearly fell out of it's cage as his rum-clouded mind finally broke free of the drink induced rust, the wheels creaking to life for the first time in, well, a very long time. Fortunately for the sly captain, Anamaria had failed to notice the devious smirk that had sprouted on his tanned visage, cinnamon eyes sparkling brighter as Steve led the villain to the upstairs office.