(Disclaimer: Disney owns Pintel and Ragetti; I do not.)

Just the Way it Should Be

From where he was watching, Ragetti could see none of the conflict occurring on Pilón. The Glass Urchin was anchored roughly a hundred meters away from shore, and the towering fortress wall blocked any view of the action. The boy could, however, hear a good deal of commotion from this distance, and the sounds of screaming and gunfire only made him itch more to see what was going on. His unblinking eyes never moved from the shadowy coastline.

"Pintel…" he murmured softly. Ragetti wanted to call out to the man, to see if Pintel could hear him from this far away too, but the lingering presences of Yager and Wood made him think better of it. The boy frowned and leaned a little further out through the cannon portal, squinting eagerly.

The ship was beginning to feel like a cage again.

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The world was nothing but a blur to Pintel.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, towards the door, just running and running with Scarborough's threatening shots echoing sharply in his ears; that was the only thing that the short pirate knew now. Death was only a few paces behind him, and as far as he knew, there was no life waiting ahead.

At last, the three of them reached the front door, and Cormac promptly hurled himself at it as he twisted the tarnished black knob. The door swung open from his forceful momentum, and Pellinore and Pintel dove out after him in turn. To their disillusionment, the situation outside was no less chaotic now than when they'd left it; even so, the frantic trio never broke stride. Jaws clenched, they lunged into the street clutching their swords with white knuckles and concentrating on the hammering sounds of their still beating hearts.

Pintel's breaths were coming out in panicked squeaks now, and his terrified eyes darted anxiously back and forth in search of the bloodthirsty Winchcomb. Not far behind him, Pellinore clung tightly to the recovered black chest as if it were a beloved child, and he wore the same dread-filled expression as his crewman. The wily first mate—probably their best chance of getting out of this mess—was nowhere to be seen.

And then Scaborough reemerged onto the scene with a kick to his slashed door. His strides were wide and hurried as he prowled out into view, but his grim face was as patient and poised as a man seated at a chessboard, stealthily plotting his newest strategy. Pintel and Pellinore both saw his devious expression, and froze with horror as his black eyes found them in the crowd.

"Men!" the Scotsman shouted for all to hear. He pointed his now-empty pistol in the unlucky pair's direction. "All hands on those thieves!"

No sooner had he said this than the nearest duo of cutthroats spotted Pintel and Pellinore and lunged, so eager were they to carry out Scarborough's orders. The next thing that the two Urchin men knew, a haze of cutlass blades and pistol shots was sailing towards them. Pellinore barely had time to react before the black case was knocked from his hands and sent tumbling across the ground. The artifact went completely unnoticed by the pirate who'd sent it on its journey; he'd thought Scarborough's command had been to simply kill the men holding it, which was precisely what he intended to do. Pellinore raised his sword defensively.

Pintel's face went chalk white as he saw the case leave Pellinore's grasp, and he immediately dove after it without a thought. The case had been a hard won prize—he wasn't about to let it roll back into the wrong hands. After a bone-chilling second, the black case came to a halt on its side and Pintel frantically tackled it, throwing himself onto the ground and grabbing it. But before he could stand up with the mysterious treasure, Scarborough's second and much keener messenger made his presence known with a fierce stomp of his boot, just centimeters away from the startled crewman's face.

Pintel rose nervously to his feet and met his opponent's eye with timid wariness. The other pirate only responded by lifting his cutlass and flashing a hideous sneer of a grin.

But just then, Pintel's gaze shifted to something behind his much taller adversary, and his already terrified eyes nearly doubled in size. The balding pirate pointed a trembling finger.

"…LOOK!"

The threatening pirate instinctively spun around to follow his direction, ready to take on the apparent danger behind him. To his bafflement, there was nothing there at all. Puzzled, the man turned back to question his opponent, but all he could see was the little thief's back bidding a hasty retreat with the black case stuffed under his arm.

Diversions were yet another of Robert Pintel's many talents.

The threatening pirate growled with disgust took of after him. A short distance away, Pellinore pacified his own foe with a metal rum mug to the head before pursuing Mr. Pintel as well.

Nothing could catch up to the stocky crewman now. Pintel was running strictly on fear, and the overwhelming emotion gave him enough speed for two men as he tore through the street. He didn't even know if he was being followed, but he wasn't about to risk slowing down to find out; he was perfectly content with running.

Then just as he finished this thought, the tensed shape of Jiminy appeared ahead of him, staggering along in a daze with his sword swinging randomly about. That was when Pintel decided he liked his life a little more than the black chest.

"Jiminy!" he shouted, slowing his pace slightly. "Jiminy!"

The younger man stopped to stare at him, and Pintel swiftly placed the stolen prize into his confused arms without even stopping.

"Take this, lad," he said in a sincere tone, and continued running. Jiminy grinned stupidly down at the case.

"Oi, thanks mate!" he called cheerfully after Pintel. Then he turned to stare forward again, and his grin suddenly switched to a look of shock when he saw the threatening pirate bounding towards him. With a frightened yelp, Jiminy dashed off in the same direction as his older crewman.

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As for the rest of the crew, the crack in the fortress wall was too far out of the way for most to find in their hurries, and so they'd come up with a new method of escaping the barrier: climbing over it. The first to attempt this feat were Ashby and Owl Eyes, who hurled up a borrowed grappling hook and scrambled madly up the attached rope. A second later, Rub was clumsily on their tail. The weathered stone was broken and chipped in several places, aiding them in their ascent with its countless footholds. Their enemies roared from behind and gunshots exploded against the wall all around them, but the desperate daredevils reached the top of the barricade without a scratch.

And from the hold of the Glass Urchin, Ragetti could see their three shadowy shapes rise into view. The boy suddenly sparked to life at the sight of them, excited that something was finally happening on shore, and leaned further out of the cannon portal to watch. Men were climbing the wall, but it was too dark and far away to properly identify any of them. Still, Ragetti rose higher up onto his toes, leaning closer to search for a shorter and stockier shape among all the tall ones.

Above him on deck, Yager happened to glance towards Pilón's wall as well, and when he spotted his fellow crewmen struggling to climb down to the rocky beach, he suddenly forgot about sharpening his sword. Quickly setting his weapon aside, the bearded sailor stood up and took three cautious steps over to the rail.

"What the devil…"

This got Wood's attention in turn, and the younger man immediately stopped cleaning his pistol to hurry over to his companion's side. A grave look passed through his green eyes at the sight on shore.

"That cad-brained idiot," he growled.

Nequom was the next man to scuttle up the rope, followed closely by the newly arrived Cormac. Both men were so anxious to dodge their enemies' farewell shots that they nearly plowed into Ashby when they reached the top of the wall. Owl Eyes looked up with a start at the sound of Ashby's angry yelp and nearly lost his footing. The cook was making his way down the front of the wall like a spider, or at least was attempting to under the pressure.

Gill and Waldgrave were shouting at him from the rowboats, having already found their secret exit way and made the dash to the water several minutes ago. Alongside them were Snitch and Burby, who had been ordered by Pellinore to mind the boats from the beginning of his crazed mission. The other four crewmen continued to flounder about on top of the treacherous wall, determined to reach its bottom.

Then Botolph joined them with his own pistol in hand, looking about ready to shoot anybody to tried to give him and his crewmates any further grief. Picking up his pace, the squinty-eyed pirate hauled himself up the last half meter and flailed his gun arm slightly to balance himself. But before he could do anything more, one of the piercing shots that threatened from behind abruptly hit its target, striking him square in the back. Botolph let out a strangled cry of agony and toppled forward lifelessly.

He was the first crewman to reach the rocks below.

Even with his startling fall, his pistol remained firmly in his dead fingers, and when his arm slammed against the ground, the weapon fired. The escaped shot sailed from shore, whizzing through the still and moonlit air, and hit the waves directly in front of the Urchin's starboard side with a sharp splash.

Ragetti made a startled yelp and instinctively sprang back. He stumbled backwards away from the portal, fully inside the ship once again, but he stepped a little too far and tripped over his feet in his ungraceful fright. It was the worst place for him to trip in.

SMASH!

The boy hadn't even noticed the unlit lantern hanging behind him until he'd plowed into it, knocking it off of its hook and onto the floor where it shattered. Ragetti rose to his hands and knees and gazed down in horror at the broken glass lying in front of him.

The clatter hadn't gone unnoticed up on deck either.

Yager and Wood both turned with surprise at the sound, and the absolute worst possibility of its source appeared in each of their heads. The two rushed to the stairs that led bellow deck, and Yager only slowed once to retrieve his discarded sword. Across the deck and down the steps they charged, coming to a halt at the edge of the hammock posts. The duo glanced around warily, then paused.

Wood blinked. "There's no one here," he said oddly.

His older companion left his side for a moment to aggressively shove aside a few keg barrels, continuing the search. When this gave him no results, Yager then went over to a nearby supply cabinet and flung it open. The only things he found inside were a rack of muskets and a row of grappling hooks lined up beneath it. Wood chimed in by jabbing his sword at the ceiling a few times, but he heard no sign of anyone hiding in the rafters either. He frowned skeptically at this.

"There's gotta be someone here," the red-haired pirate insisted. He crouched down to inspenct the broken lantern. "I mean, this thing couldn't have been suicidal."

"It was probably just a rat," Yager concluded with a quick glimpse at Wood. He sheathed his sword then. "There's nowhere big enough for a man to hide down here."

The sounds of battle rang on outside. Hearing them, Yager sighed silently to himself and looked around the room a final time. Just as he did so, however, his eyes came to rest curiously on the row of large iron guns sitting before him.

"Wait…" He took a step closer. "The cannons!"

Wood stared up at him strangely. "I doubt a rat would do anything to the cannons."

"No no!" Yagver cut him off. "We could use the cannons!"

"Huh?"

"For defense. You know—fire 'em off over there, scare back the locals and give our men some cover!"

Wood stood up. "Are you crazy?" His voice was completely serious.

Yager smirked back at him. "Are you?"

There was another pause, and then a look of excitement and determination gleamed on the other man's face. "Absolutely."

Then the two grabbed the nearest cannon and began wheeling it towards the portals, unaware of the dirty blonde head peeking at them from behind the far end of the row.

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