AN: I still own nothing.
Defiance.
"What say ye, gentlemen?" the dark man growled, swinging his tentacled head to gaze each dying sailor in the eyes. His crab leg struck the wooden planks like thunder. "Will ye serve aboard me ship and delay your terrible fate?"
"It won't be terrible," one voice murmured. Davey Jones dove on the man who had spoken—a mere whelp of a man, short and scrawny. A wicked claw seized the insolent boy's throat.
"Indeed?" the captain rasped, bringing his face so close to his captive that his tentacles pulled at the boy's coat, forcing him even closer to the jagged claw. "I know differently." The boy looked terrified, but there was still something blazing in his eyes.
"It's true," he said quietly. "My mother's there. She's dead." A slight, warm smile brushed his bruised face. "And wherever she is will be wonderful enough for me." Jones realized for an instant that though his captive stared him defiantly in the eyes, it wasn't the captain that he was seeing. Jones tightened his hold on the other man's throat.
"You will serve me or you will die!" he bellowed.
His fury was met with a pale, blue lipped, yet oddly broad smile.
"No," the young man said, some stolen confidence returned to his voice. Jones lifted him up by his throat and threw him into the railing.
"Kill him," he barked, and turned away. The boy didn't even cry out.
Davey Jones was suddenly grateful that he no longer had a heart.