"Pirate scum!"
The shout cut through the workshop.
Jack and Daniel both turned.
A young man stood barely ten paces away, his sword drawn and levelled at them. His stance was rigid—technically sound, carefully drilled. The posture of someone who had spent years practicing fencing in safety… and none facing a blade meant to kill.
Daniel recognized him instantly.
Will Turner.
And Daniel immediately didn't like him.
Not because of the sword. Not even because of the accusation.
But because Daniel already knew the man's story—how many times he would make reckless choices, betray allies, and survive consequences that should have killed him outright.
If the world were fair—if there was no plot armour around him—Will Turner would have been dead many times over.
What bothered Daniel most wasn't Will's hatred of pirates.
It was the hypocrisy.
Will condemned pirates as monsters—until the moment he needed one. He despised Jack Sparrow's way of life, yet never hesitated to take a pirate's help when Elizabeth's life was on the line.
He spoke of honor, yet betrayed Jack again and again, justifying it each time as necessity.
In this world, betrayal was common. Daniel understood that.
But Will wore his selfishness like virtue—masking it as righteousness.
That was the difference.
Jack Sparrow, for all his lies, schemes, and self-interest, never pretended to be anything else. He was selfish openly, honestly. You knew where you stood with him.
Will Turner didn't.
Daniel frowned. "Do I look like a pirate to you?"
Will's grip tightened on the sword. "Anyone who associates with pirates is just as guilty."
Daniel stared at him for a moment, genuinely baffled.
"What kind of logic is that?" he asked flatly. "So if I stand next to a criminal, I suddenly become one too?"
Will didn't waver. "Surrender"
Jack, who had been watching the exchange with mild interest, sighed dramatically.
"Ah," he said, "young, righteous, armed with a sword, and absolutely convinced he's right."
Jack casually pulled out his pistol and aimed it—not directly at Will's head, but close enough to make the point.
"And you," Jack continued, tilting his head, "have brought a sword to a gunfight."
Will stiffened but didn't lower the blade. "Put it down."
Jack blinked. "No."
Daniel looked back at Will. "Listen, kid. You don't want this."
Will scoffed. "I'm not afraid of you."
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "That's because you don't know me."
Jack leaned closer to Daniel and muttered, "I don't like him. He's got that heroic look. Causes trouble."
Daniel smirked. "Yeah. I noticed."
Will Turner was the sort who leapt into action before thinking—the very embodiment of a hot-blooded protagonist.
Jack raised his voice again. "Now then—be a good lad and lower the sword."
"I would never surrender to pirates," Will said, stubborn and unmoving.
Daniel let out a quiet sigh. "People never listen," he said calmly. "They always push until I stop being patient."
The temperature in the workshop dropped slightly—not enough to freeze, but enough to be uncomfortable. Before Will could react, Daniel was suddenly behind him. There was no sound of footsteps and no visible movement. He was simply there.
Daniel held a black scythe in his hand, the blade resting lightly against Will's throat—cold, solid, and unmistakably real.
Will froze.
Daniel spoke calmly, close to Will's ear. "You're not dealing with pirates."
The scythe pressed just enough to be felt.
"You're dealing with me, and listen while I talk" Daniel continued. "Lower the sword."
Will swallowed and loosened his grip. The sword slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
Daniel stepped back, still holding the scythe. His eyes returned to normal, and the cold in the room faded.
"See?" Daniel said calmly. "That was easy."
Will didn't answer.
Instead, he spun suddenly and kicked at where Daniel had been standing, aiming low, hoping to sweep his legs out from under him.
His foot met nothing.
Will staggered forward.
Daniel was no longer there.
"It seems," Daniel said evenly, his voice coming from several steps away, "that you really need a beating."
He stood five paces back, relaxed, the scythe resting on his shoulder ,a faint smile on his face.
Before Will could react, Daniel was suddenly in front of him.
Daniel's hand moved once.
Smack.
The impact sent Will flying backward, his body slamming hard into the wall. The weapons on the rack rattled as he slid down, collapsing onto the floor in a dazed heap.
Daniel lowered his hand and looked at him calmly.
"That," he said evenly, "is for trying to be cocky in front of me."
"Don't do it again."
Jack stared at the dented wall… then at Will on the floor… and finally at Daniel.
"…Ummmm," he said slowly.
He squinted, tilting his head, studying Daniel as if trying to decide whether he was looking at a man, a ghost, or a very convincing hallucination brought on by lack of rum.
*****
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