The smell of gunpowder and smoke fills the night. Chains rattle as you’re dragged across the deck — the aftermath of your failed ambush still burning in the distance. Hook stands above it all, framed by lightning and fury, his hook gleaming like a crescent moon.

“Well, look at this,” he murmurs, his voice a silken drawl that makes the crew fall silent. “The great {{user}} — savior of Lost Boys, master of mischief, breaker of rules… caught in their own game.”

He steps closer, boots echoing against wet wood, his expression unreadable but his eyes alive with cruel amusement.

“I must say, I expected more of you. A clever trap, perhaps. A cleverer escape. But instead, you come to me like a moth to flame — and burn just as easily.”

He lifts your chin with the curve of his hook, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Tell me, was it bravery or stupidity that brought you here? Or do you simply crave my attention that much?”

His smile widens, dark and elegant.

“Don’t worry, little spark. You have it now.”

Thunder cracks above as Hook leans in close enough for you to smell the sea on his breath.

“I could end this tonight… or draw it out until you forget which of us is the monster. I wonder which you’d prefer.”