In a heartbeat, the cave went silent.
Smoke curled lazily from the muzzle of Barbossa's pistol.
A few of the pirates exchanged uneasy looks, disbelief creeping in. After everything they had seen—the confidence, the calm, the way the man had spoken—watching him fall so easily to a single gunshot felt… wrong.
That thing they had faced on the deck couldn't possibly be killed that simply.
And yet, there he lay unmoving on the stone floor.
Barbossa grunted in anger, his jaw tightening.
"Should've done it sooner," he muttered.
There was a grim edge of satisfaction in his voice. Twice now this man had crossed his path, twice he had meddled where he didn't belong—now he lay still where he'd fallen.
"A man who thinks himself clever," Barbossa went on coldly, lowering the pistol, "always forgets how easily the world reminds him otherwise."
"Yeah, mate," a voice drawled from the cave entrance, calm and unmistakably familiar. "You're absolutely correct."
Every head turned to see who it was.
Jack Sparrow stepped into the torchlight, hat tipped low, hands relaxed at his sides as if he were strolling into a tavern rather than the heart of a cursed treasure cave.
A ripple of shock went through the crew.
"Jack?" one pirate muttered.
Those who hadn't boarded were left wondering how Jack Sparrow still drew breath. The last they'd seen of him, he'd been marooned on an island in the middle of nowhere, abandoned to die.
But the few who had seen him aboard the Interceptor had seen something far more unsettling—and after that, Jack Sparrow was the least of their concerns.
Barbossa stiffened. Slowly, he turned, eyes narrowing. "Sparrow."
Jack smiled, polite and thin. "Barbossa. Still brooding, I see. Lovely cave, by the way. Very… haunted."
His gaze flickered briefly to the body on the floor. "Ah. You got him."
Barbossa's grin returned, sharp and satisfied. "A pity you weren't here to see it. He talked too much. He thought himself untouchable."
Jack hummed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels. "Yes, well. That does tend to upset people."
He took a few steps closer, boots echoing lightly. "Though I will say—shooting him was a bit premature."
Barbossa's smile faltered just a fraction. "What do you mean?"
Jack tilted his head, glancing past Barbossa—down at Daniel's still form.
"Because," Jack said mildly, "you really should wait to be sure."
Behind Barbossa, a pirate swallowed. Another shifted uneasily.
Then—
Tap.
Jack's eyes brightened. "Ah. There it is."
Barbossa's blood ran cold.
Daniel's body twitched—once, sharp and unmistakably wrong.
Still flat on the ground, his boots bit into the stone. His legs bent and drove downward, lifting him in a smooth, deliberate motion—hips rising first, then his spine straightening as he peeled himself off the cavern floor.
He came fully upright and paused. Rolled his shoulders. Tilted his head until his neck cracked softly in the silence.
"It's surprisingly hard," Daniel said mildly, "pretending to be dead."
He looked straight at Barbossa, eyes calm, almost amused.
"Did that satisfy your ego?"
Barbossa turned fully now, disbelief flashing across his face before rage slammed back into place.
"You should be dead," he snarled.
Daniel smiled faintly. "That's what most people say."
He lifted his gaze to the surrounding pirates. "Now, boys—if you want to live, do the thing."
Nothing happened for a moment.
Then steel rang.
Half the pirates suddenly drew their swords and turned—not on Daniel, not on Jack—but on their own crewmates.
"What the hell are you doing?!" someone shouted, scrambling back as a blade flashed past his face.
Another roared in fury. "Have you gone mad?!"
"We want to live!" one of the pirates yelled back, slashing at a former companion without hesitation.
Chaos erupted.
Swords clashed, boots scraped against stone, shouts and curses filled the cavern as pirates fought pirates, confusion tearing through what little unity remained. Some tried to retreat toward Barbossa, others fought desperately just to survive the sudden betrayal.
Barbossa stared, stunned, then furious. "Traitors!" he bellowed. "All of you!"
Daniel watched the scene unfold calmly, arms loose at his sides.
"Pirates," Daniel said almost thoughtfully. "Predictable as ever."
Jack moved through the chaos with practiced ease, ducking past clashing blades and angry shouts. He slipped clear of the fighting and stopped right in front of Barbossa, boots planted, posture loose—but ready.
Barbossa's face twisted with fury. "I should've killed you when I had the chance," he snarled. "Left you on that island—and still you come back, dragging trouble with you."
Jack's grin was thin, dangerous. "You missed."
In one smooth motion, Jack drew his sword and slashed.
Steel rang as Barbossa yanked his own blade free and blocked the strike. The impact echoed through the cave as the two captains locked swords, eyes burning with years of unfinished business.
Around them, the cave erupted—pirates shouting, blades clashing.
Daniel hopped back and landed on a ledge of rock, settling down casually, one leg dangling as he watched the duel unfold.
Jack Sparrow versus Hector Barbossa.
Finally.
Daniel rested his chin in his hand, amused.
*****
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