Filming continued.
One day at the end of April, Raphael had just wrapped a high-speed chase scene and was catching his breath in a quiet corner of the set when his phone rang.
It was Ari.
"Raphael, good news."
Raphael wiped the sweat from his face with a towel.
"Hit me."
"Disney sent a screen test invitation."
Ari's voice was buzzing with excitement. "A pirate movie. Male co-lead."
Raphael paused.
Pirate movie?
Male co-lead?
His mind instantly flashed through the keywords: Disney, pirates, 2002—
Pirates of the Caribbean.
Will Turner, the blacksmith.
The role originally played by Orlando Bloom.
"What kind of pirate movie?" Raphael asked, playing dumb.
"I don't have the full script yet, but I asked around—"
Ari lowered his voice. "Produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, directed by Gore Verbinski. They've already locked in Depp as the lead. This is a full-on A-list blockbuster!"
Raphael leaned against the gym wall, the corner of his mouth curling up.
Pirates of the Caribbean.
The Curse of the Black Pearl.
Elizabeth Swann.
And that swaggering, rum-soaked Captain Jack Sparrow.
"When's the screen test?"
"Next Monday, at Disney Studios."
Ari paused. "You're still shooting Fast… will that mess up the schedule?"
"I can make it."
Raphael cut him off. "One day off for the test is fine. My scenes here are on track — it won't delay anything."
Ari hesitated, then continued, "You sure you can land this? It's a Disney project with Jerry Bruckheimer producing!"
Raphael laughed softly.
"Won't know until I try, right?"
He hung up, heart racing.
Pirates of the Caribbean — a series that would eventually make five films and billions worldwide.
Will Turner wasn't the absolute lead, but he was a core character who carried the entire franchise.
If he could lock this role, he'd have another decade-spanning series in his pocket.
Fast & Furious, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the Star Wars prequels.
Three major franchises. More than enough to plant his flag firmly in Hollywood.
As for Orlando Bloom — Raphael had nothing against the guy. The elf prince was perfect for the role.
But when opportunity knocks, you don't leave it standing on the porch.
He sent Ari a quick text:
"Monday, on time."
---
That night, back at the hotel, Raphael took a shower and lay on the bed, still thinking about the screen test.
His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Then—
Darkness.
The sharp, damp smell of mold and seawater.
The clink of iron chains.
Raphael's eyes snapped open.
The room was dim, lit only by a sliver of weak light from a small barred window high above.
The floor was covered in moldy straw. Rat tracks crisscrossed the corners.
He looked down at himself — wearing a filthy hemp shirt, wrists locked in heavy iron manacles chained to the wall.
A prison cell.
Raphael froze for a second, then quickly scanned his surroundings.
This wasn't his hotel room.
This wasn't anywhere he recognized.
From the next cell came the faint sound of rustling.
Raphael turned his head. In the faint light he saw a man squatting in the corner, picking his teeth with a small bone.
Smoky eyeliner.
Dreadlocks.
A battered tricorn hat.
And those half-drunk, half-sober eyes that never quite focused.
Captain Jack Sparrow.
Raphael's pupils shrank.
Pirates of the Caribbean.
He was in.
And at this exact moment — right after Jack had been thrown into the Royal Port prison, waiting to be hanged the next day.
In a few hours, Will Turner would come looking for him to rescue Elizabeth, they'd strike a deal, and break out together to chase the Black Pearl.
But Raphael didn't feel like waiting.
He knew what was coming next — Barbossa and the cursed crew would attack, Port Royal would fall into chaos, Elizabeth would be kidnapped, Will would find Jack, and the whole adventure would begin.
But what if they moved early?
What if they got out of Port Royal before Barbossa arrived and went straight after the Black Pearl?
Raphael flexed his wrists.
The manacles were nothing. A gentle twist of the Force and they clicked open.
But the man in the next cell — if he ran now, Jack would definitely follow.
Raphael glanced at him.
Jack was staring right back, toothpick paused mid-motion.
"Well now…"
Jack drawled, voice lazy and amused. "New arrival? What'd you do?"
Raphael ignored him.
He stood up and walked to the cell door. The gap between the bars was wide enough for a man to squeeze through sideways — as long as he wasn't wearing manacles.
He looked down at the iron cuffs on his wrists.
The Force surged.
Click.
The manacles fell to the floor with a soft clank.
In the next cell, Jack stopped picking his teeth.
Raphael kicked the cuffs aside, turned sideways, and slipped through the bars into the corridor.
He glanced toward the end of the hallway — the guard was still dozing, head nodding.
He took one step.
Behind him came a frantic scramble.
"Wait wait wait—"
Jack pressed against the bars, eyes wide.
"How'd you do that? The cuffs just… opened? Who the hell are you?"
Raphael turned back.
"You want out?"
Jack nodded vigorously.
"Desperately. Very much so."
Raphael thought for half a second.
In the original story Jack was a walking disaster, but he was also the only reliable guide.
Without him, even knowing the plot, they'd never find the Black Pearl's heading.
He walked back, gripped the lock on Jack's cell door, and gave it a sharp yank with the Force.
The chain snapped.
Jack stared for a beat, then quickly squeezed through, brushing straw off his coat, a huge grin spreading across his face.
"Thank you, thank you, truly, from the bottom of my black little heart."
He leaned in close, voice low. "Right then, mate — which way are we going?"
Raphael didn't answer.
He headed straight down the corridor.
The guard was still snoring, head bobbing.
Raphael walked up behind him, pressed two fingers lightly against the back of his neck.
The guard slumped forward without a sound.
Jack caught up, looked at the fallen guard, then at Raphael.
"Mate, that technique of yours—" he whispered, "what ship are you from?"
Raphael ignored him.
The two of them slipped through a side door into a narrow alley. Moonlight glistened on the damp cobblestones of Port Royal.
In the distance they could hear waves and faint music — some celebration was happening in town.
Jack took a deep breath and spread his arms.
"Freedom… what a glorious smell—"
"Shut up."
Raphael cut him off, listening hard.
He heard something else.
Footsteps. Light, hurried, coming straight toward them.
A slender figure burst out from the other end of the alley, nearly colliding with Raphael.
A girl.
Seventeen or eighteen, golden curls, bright blue eyes, wearing clothes clearly stolen from her bedroom for a midnight escape.
She was clutching a small bundle, breathing hard. When she looked up and saw Raphael and Jack, she froze.
"Elizabeth Swann?"
Raphael's mouth curved into a small smile.
This was an unexpected bonus.
Elizabeth's expression went from shock to pure terror.
She spun to run, but Raphael was faster.
He stepped forward, hand landing on her shoulder — not hard, but enough to hold her in place.
"Don't scream." His voice was soft but carried absolute command.
Elizabeth's mouth opened, then closed.
She glared at him, eyes full of fear and fury, but no sound came out.
Jack sidled up, circling her once, his grin widening.
"Miss Swann? The governor's daughter?"
He clicked his tongue. "Well now — this is quite the unexpected prize."
Elizabeth's face flushed red.
"What do you want? My father will—"
"Your father is busy right now."
Raphael cut her off, glancing back toward the end of the alley.
The noise from town was getting louder — whether from discovering the escape or something else, he couldn't tell.
He made a decision.
"Bring her."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Bring her? Mate, this isn't like grabbing a bottle of rum—"
Raphael ignored him.
He released Elizabeth's shoulder and took her wrist instead — firm enough that she couldn't pull free.
"Come with us."
Elizabeth struggled for a second. It was useless.
She looked up at Raphael. Moonlight fell across his face — sharp features, eyes carrying a calm that made her heart race.
"You're insane. My father is the governor—"
"I know."
"He'll send men after you—"
"I know."
"Then why—"
Raphael didn't answer. He simply pulled her forward. Elizabeth stumbled a few steps, forced to follow.
Jack trailed behind, muttering under his breath about "kidnapping," "trouble," and "I've never met a normal person in my entire bloody life," but his feet kept moving.
The three of them slipped through the alleys, heading toward the harbor.
Port Royal's harbor was full of ships of all sizes.
The most prominent was the three-decker warship — HMS Dauntless, one of the Royal Navy's most powerful vessels.
Jack glanced at it and his face changed.
"Mate, you're not thinking of going after that one, are you?"
Raphael didn't reply.
He walked straight toward the Dauntless, still holding Elizabeth's wrist.
The girl had struggled the whole way and was now out of breath, staring at him with a complicated look.
Three guards patrolled the deck, torches flickering in the night wind. Raphael let go of Elizabeth's wrist and whispered, "Don't move."
Then he moved.
Elizabeth only saw a blur of shadow. The three guards crumpled like puppets with their strings cut, sliding silently against the railing.
No sound. No resistance. Not even time to raise an alarm.
She stared, wide-eyed, unable to believe what she'd just seen.
Jack patted her shoulder.
"Get used to it, love. This fellow isn't exactly normal."
Elizabeth ignored him, eyes fixed on Raphael's back.
Raphael stepped onto the gangway, turned, and looked at them.
"Let's go."
Inside the ship's hold, more than twenty sailors were sound asleep.
Snoring rose and fell, mixing with the stale air of the lower deck.
Raphael stood at the doorway. The Force spread out like invisible waves, sweeping across every bunk.
He needed to wake them all.
The chapter cuts off here.