This was but a beast. A beast of the vast deep, far below sailing men. It was only magic and the likes of Beckett and Jones that made it our enemy. And now, its usefulness expired, it is discarded. Such is the world that men like Cutler Beckett would rule over, Jack. A world where anything he doesn't hold complete and direct control over must be destroyed. Can you see it? Can you realize there's no way they'll allow you to live free, ever?

Despite all their differences, despite all the fighting and the murderous hatred, they have this one thing in common. Freedom. They're both men who would rather die than accept the yoke of submitting to another's rule. And that's what things have come to, at last. It's time to make a stand; no one can flee forever, and if only he could make Jack see that...

The gaze he gives Jack as he walks up to him is calculating, jaw shifting thoughtfully before he speaks. And when he does, his tone is still the same he just used. For once unguarded, you could almost say friendly. Perhaps an offer of peace.

"You know, the problem with being the last of anything is, by and by there'll be none left at all..."