[ WP ] Write the third episode of non-existant series . Make us curious about what happened before episode 3 , and what happens after .

The scene is a ship at a small island port. The wind and the angry surface of the water show signs of a storm. A middle aged man wearing a long coat is seen advancing from town and towards the ship. 
 
 The shot is dark, quiet, and tense. A guard moves to stop the stranger from boarding, but the man has already drawn a gun on him and whispers `` Swim boy. Swim and live.'' 
 
 The guard hesitates, terrified, before diving off the dock and making for the coast. 
 
 The scene transitions to the captain's quarters of the ship. The apparent owner of the ship is shuffling through maps, books, and notes. He hears gunfire outside and grabs his blunderbuss. He extinguishes his lamp and stands up. He is perplexed, as the gunfire, though unmistakable, sounds off. There is a strange stillness to the scene before the door is kicked in. The man in the longcoat has booted the door frame in and shot the captain in the gut. He falls backwards with a yelp, blunderbuss clattering to the floor. 
 
 `` Evening Richards. Care to hear a ghost story I picked up?'' The man in the long coat says, kicking the fallen gun aside and striding to the lamp. 
 
 Richards' eyes go wide in horror, disbelief, and agony as the lamp is turned back on. The man in the long coat's face is seen clearly for the first time. He smiles, and chuckles heartily at the fallen captain, revealing a shimmering golden upper right canine. 
 
 `` You're... you're not real. I stabbed David in the gut, watched his body get pulled under by the current quick as a lightning flash. You... you're some specter, some angel come to tell me what a great murdering bastard I've been aye?'' He says between labored breaths. 
 
 `` Oh I'm real Richards.'' He said. The tip of his boot swings into his jaw, spattering blood onto the adjacent wall. `` See? Still pissed off at you and all. I came here to thank you, honest. Just got all... touchy, when I saw your ship. You know my temper though, eh Richards?'' He says, kneeling so the two are at eye level when he playfully slaps at the captain's cheek. 
 
 Richards gasps and wheezes before succumbing to shock and blacking out. David jams a needle into Richards' thigh that brings him gasping to life. 
 
 `` Richards... I thought you killed me too. But that current took me some place you would n't believe. I'm gon na show you, so you know what you unleashed on this earth before I put three more bullets in you.'' 
 
 `` I still do n't believe it. You're not. You ca n't. You... he died...'' 
 
 David stands up, gun in one hand aimed at Richard's chest, other hand held up, middle finger and thumb pressed together. 
 
 The room begins to shake, and the storm outside suddenly unloads on the port and town. The room fills with an eerie purple light, wind tearing through the small room with all the force of a hurricane. A hum in the background grows almost overwhelming, nearly drowning out the storm in the cabin and outside. 
 
 The scene transitions with the sound of a finger snap. It's day. The ship is now docked outside of a small, modern day tourist trap beach. 
 
 David grabs Richards and thrusts his head through the remains of the window overlooking the town. 
 
 `` You should thank me Richards. This is where we grew up, you and I, two hundred years after the day your ship disappeared from existence. I've blessed you little brother. Who else on this earth has this privilege?'' 
 
 Richards is speechless, gawking at the sheer unfamiliarity of the landscape before him. He's thrown back on the floor and the gun is jammed against his forehead. 
 
 `` You and I both know this is a long time coming. Last words? Might interrupt you, but humor me.'' 
 
 Richards moved to say something when a finger snap is heard. A second David appears, wearing a business suit. He kicks the gun from the first David's hand, grabs Richards, and disappears with another snap of his fingers. 
 
 David is now alone and dumbfounded. He sighs, hard and frustrated, trying desperately to keep his anger down. He calmly picks up his gun, massaging his wrist, and sits down in the captain's chair, massaging the bridge of his nose. 
 
 He throws the table over and fires the gun's last five bullets into the ceiling, screaming a percussive `` Fuck'' with each shot. He gathers himself, laughing, reloading, and lighting a cigar. The screen cuts to black with a last snap. The credits begin to roll.
