Descendants: End of Days

Harry

With sunlight pouring through the space between the boards which barricaded the door of his shanty, Harry Hook woke up with a skull-splitting migraine. The sheets were almost as much of a mess as the room.
"Morning, love" Harry croaked as he turned to face Quinn. His eyes and ears both were met with a distinct lack of redhead, though.
"Quinn?" he asked again, this time sitting up and shielding his eyes from the sunlight pouring in. Looking around, his hangover limited his mental power (which, let's face it, is already limited), but he was still able to notice that the room had been turned upside down. Everything of value had been stolen, except for the hook on his nightstand and the sword underneath his jacket. Harry howled in rage, only to whimper and bury his face in the pillow. Bloody hangovers, he thought to himself while the pain in his eardrums subsided.

After taking a dose or three of painkillers washed down with rum, and getting dressed, Harry's about to head out the door when something fell from his pocket. He picked it up and examined it, the ruby bat standing out against the black background. This thing? I sold this thing days ago, he thought. After thinking about it some more, he shrugged the questions off and set out to begin his first jobless day in a long time. Word of his firing from Uma's gang, he soon discovered, had traveled quickly. People now either ran away from him faster, or didn't run at all. People whispered among themselves, and pointed as he passed. None of it mattered to Harry, none at all, so long as he could make it to his ship, the Second Jolly Roger.

When he got there, though, the rage building up inside grew by about twenty thousand percent. He arrived to find that the boarding platform had been shoved off, and had subsequently fallen into the waters below. With no way to board his ship, all he could do was look. And there, standing on the main deck, staring him down, was Chloe, leaning on her trident. Over her shoulder was a bag. In one hand was a Molotov cocktail. On her face was an enraged yet determined look.
"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing!?" Harry shouted at his nemesis.
"I told you, pirate" Chloe answered. "I told you you'd pay for messing with me."
"Whatever you do to that ship, I'm going to do to you tenfold!" Harry screamed. As he drew his sword, Chloe lit her molotov. "Drop the sword, or I drop the fire" she scolded. Harry remained steadfast.
"You ain't got the balls to cross me like this" Harry taunted. "To do harm to a pirate's ship, in front of the pirate!"
"Former pirate" Chloe corrected him. By now, a crowd had gathered, including pirates who had formerly been under Harry's command.

Without another word of exchange, Chloe threw the molotov cocktail down onto the deck. Harry screamed as flames engulfed the boards of his ship, his baby. Chloe used the fire to light more cocktails as she pulled them from the bag, then threw them around the ship, until the entirety of the Second Jolly Roger was ablaze. Harry could do nothing about it, even as Chloe picked up her trident and jumped off of the starboard side, away from the docks, and into the ocean below. Harry turned to leave, but found his path blocked by a crew of pirates.
"Uma sends her regards" one of them said. Then the crew became a walking wall, pushing Harry closer and closer to the edge of your dock.
"You can't do this!" Harry shouted as he failed to resist the advancing pirates. "I am your captain!"
"Then consider this a mutiny" came a voice Harry knew well enough.
"Gil… you too?" Harry asked. Sure enough, in the middle of the horde, there was Gil, Harry's former first mate.
"Forward!" he cried, apparently having gotten a promotion from Uma. The pirates resumed their advance, until they sent their former captain flailing into the waters twenty feet below. Harry hit the water, and slipped from consciousness as he sank beneath the waves.

Harry woke up later, much later, and started coughing. As he regained his senses, he realized that he was on the dock. His clothes were soaked in salt water, his hair matted and tangled. Whoever had pulled him out had left his sword at the bottom, and his hook had fallen from its place on his belt. He sprang to his feet, anxious to find them, but when he saw what was less than 10 meters in front of him, his heart sank lower than his sword.
"No…" he whispered as he dropped to his knees. In front of him was an empty space where the Second Jolly Roger had been, but the charring on the docks and the floating debris made it obvious what had happened. His ship, hook, and sword were all at the same place. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn't even know who he was anymore. No crew. No ship. He'd even lost the hook he'd been given by his father. As he got up, his hand went habitually to his pocket. His face went from defeated to puzzled, as he pulled the bat medallion from his pocket and looked at it. The gears clicked in his head, and he remembered the encounter in bits and pieces. He remembered her words, how he'd been so quick to dismiss the mere thought of what she'd been saying. But now, she was proving to be right. Harry weighed all of his options mentally, until he came to the inevitable conclusion.
He no longer had anything to lose.
He was ready to have his taste of the darker side of this world.