"Jack—it's done!" Gibbs shouted, his voice echoing through the cave.
Jack's eyes flicked past Barbossa for the briefest moment—just long enough. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"What—" Barbossa began, confusion flashing as his gaze snapped toward the three figures near the chest. "What have you done?"
Jack didn't answer.
He stepped back and drew the pistol Barbossa himself had given him all those years ago—the one with the single shot Jack had never fired.
The weapon came up steady in his hand.
"I've been saving this," Jack said quietly. "Just for you."
Bang!!!
The shot rang out, the crack of the pistol echoing through the cave as the bullet slammed into Barbossa's chest.
Barbossa didn't panic.
He looked down slowly, almost curiously, then lifted his gaze back to Jack, a crooked smile forming.
"You…" he said softly. "You wasted it."
Jack met his gaze, expression cold and satisfied. "No," he said. "I didn't."
Barbossa frowned.
Then he felt it.
Warmth. Spreading. Soaking through his coat.
Confused, he glanced down.
Blood.
For a heartbeat, his mind refused to accept it. Then realization struck—slow, merciless, undeniable. His breath hitched, eyes widening as the truth settled like a blade between his ribs.
The curse was broken.
Which meant—
A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped him. Half disbelief. Half admiration.
"So," Barbossa rasped, "this is how it ends." He looked back up at Jack, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Well played… Captain."
His strength failed him. Knees buckled. He fell hard against the stone, the echo of his body striking the cavern floor ringing out like a closing bell.
Barbossa lay still.
Mortal at last.
And dead.
Jack stood there, gun still lowered, watching the man who had ruined him finally fall—years of waiting ending in a single shot.
The change came quietly.
A pirate cried out as a blade nicked his arm—then froze, staring at the blood welling up. Another dropped his sword when pain finally hit him, sharp and real. Around the cave, the sounds of fighting faltered and died.
They could feel it now.
Being alive.
Slowly, all eyes turned toward the center of the cave.
Barbossa lay on the stone floor, unmoving.
Dead.
Jack lowered his sword and looked around, breathing steady. "The curse is broken," he said simply. "Barbossa's finished."
Murmurs spread through the crew.
Jack stepped forward. "Which means the Black Pearl is mine again," he continued. "I'll be taking her back."
He let his gaze pass over them. "Any man who wants a captain is welcome to sail with me."
Some of the pirates glanced at Daniel and slowly lowered their weapons.
As long as that monster lurked nearby, they knew better than to provoke Jack. For now, they would lie low.
The rest, however, were thinking of something else entirely.
Greed crept into their eyes.
Barbossa was dead. The command was broken. And with it came opportunity.
Why hand the ship over to Jack?
He stood alone—one man, no crew, no numbers to shield him. They, on the other hand, still outnumbered him. Still had steel in their hands and hunger in their hearts.
A few pirates exchanged knowing looks.
Why give the prize away…
when they could claim it for themselves?
Jack saw it instantly. His smile thinned, knowing.
Daniel, watching from the side, shook his head slightly.
"Of course," he muttered. "Now comes the part where they decide whether they want a captain… or a gamble."
A rough laugh broke the silence.
"And why," one pirate said, stepping forward with his sword still in hand, "should we hand the ship back to you, Jack?"
Another joined in, voice sharp with greed. "Aye. Barbossa's dead. Curse's gone. Pearl's free."
"We took her once," a third added. "Why not keep her now?"
"She's the fastest ship afloat," someone said. "Why sail under another man when we can have her for ourselves?"
Jack listened without interrupting, head tilted, expression unreadable. When the voices finally died down, he sighed.
"Right," he said mildly. "That was the greedy part. Anyone care to try thinking?"
That earned a few scowls.
"You think captaining a ship is just standing at the helm?" Jack went on. "You think the Pearl answers to anyone with a sharp blade and loud voice?"
One pirate sneered. "She sailed just fine under Barbossa."
Jack's smile turned thin. "Aye. And look where that got him."
Jack spread his hands. "So… surrender," he suggested lightly.
The pirates didn't.
One of them laughed. "Or what, Captain? You'll talk us to death?"
Jack sighed. "Right. Then you've chosen the dumb way."
He glanced sideways. "Mate… now would be a fine time for help."
Daniel looked at them, really looked—at the greed, the confidence, the certainty that numbers still meant something.
"Well," he said calmly.
He snapped his fingers.
The ground beneath the pirates' boots shifted.
Then it split open—like flesh tearing apart. Dark seams yawned wide, shadows spilling out as the earth itself seemed to open its mouth. Jaws formed where solid ground should have been—vast, wrong, lined with nothing but endless darkness.
One pirate tried to shout.
Another tried to run—slipped, scrambled, clawed at the boards as the shadow surged upward and swallowed him whole.
"NO—!"
"HELP—!"
The screams were cut short, one by one, as the mouths snapped shut—clean, final—like nothing had ever stood there at all.
In seconds, every trace of rebellion vanished.
No blood.
No bodies.
Only silence.
Jack stared at the empty space where pirates had been moments ago.
"…Right," he said quietly. "That was definitely the dumb way."
*****
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