Chapter Text
It was becoming apparent that he made a mistake. Izzy watches as the now unhinged Blackbeard barked orders at his men to fire at the oncoming Navy vessels. This was suicide. There was no plan, not that Izzy could see, just pure unbridled rage in his captain's eyes. This wasn't what he wanted, no, Izzy wanted the legendary tactician of the seas, master of planning who ruled with an iron fist. The man who said no to pets!! That Blackbeard. They barely scraped by with their lives, leaving a wake of destruction and death. Izzy was sewing up a wound on his shoulder when Blackbeard came by and yanked out the stitches, "Next time don't get stabbed. Maybe next time don't hesitate on my orders, dog." he spat at Izzy, turning to seethe at the rest of his crew who cowered at their captain.
"What in the actual fuck." Izzy sighed under his breath when he saw his captain slink away into his quarters.
"I finally agree with you mate, that was very fucked." Frenchie startled Izzy out of his thoughts, he didn't even realize that the man had started to sew up his wounded shoulder again.
"...Thanks." Izzy mumbled looking at the rest of the crew, Fang, Ivan, Jim, Frenchie, and a couple of other scallywags they picked up from their last time at port. He guessed around 20 or so men died fighting that last battle and the ship was severely damaged. Fuck. They didn't even take any hostages or steal loot. It was just a massacre. Izzy was starting to regret the things he said to Edward. Maybe. Just Maybe... Stede Bonnet was actually good for him. "Fuck that."
Frenchie looked up from his sewing wide eyed, "What? I didn't nick you? Shit. Did I? Sorry! Sorry."
"No. I'm not talking about you." Izzy hissed shaking his head, everything was fucked and he hadn't the slightest idea how fix it. He saw the way Jim was eyeing the door to the captains quarters, murder written across their face. It was one thing after another.
~Night Time~
Jim was sneaking towards Blackbeard's room, dagger in hand. They were ready to kill this awful man who sentenced Olue to death on a tiny island. What they were not ready for was someone to throw a bag over their head and drag them off into the ship's pantry. When the bag was released from their head, Jim shoved the nearest body against the wall dagger at the poor sods throat. Izzy's throat.
"You ready to die with your captain?!" Jim threatened, pressing the dagger into Izzy's skin as blood started to drip down the blade.
"We don't have to do this." There was a click of a gun as Jim looked down to the pistol aimed at them. They shook their head stepping back arms raised.
“La madre que te parió! Then what do we do? Because I'm ready to kill Blackbeard." Jim sneered glaring holes into Izzy's skull.
"I'm about ready to kill the man too." That was unexpected, "But that man isn't Blackbeard." Izzy put his pistol away, taking a seat on a nearby stool as he wiped the blood from his neck.
Jim relaxed at that, deciding to put their dagger away. "Okay, not Blackbeard, but that puta deserves to have his face beaten in."
"Sure. A punch to the face is well deserved, but I can't let you kill Edward. He..." Izzy paused as he rolled an onion around on the nearby table. "I may have said some words that might have made Edward turn into this... hellish beast."
There was a long silence between them as Izzy wore the face of a man full of regret. Jim sighed "So now what? You still going to shoot me? Gunna tell your 'Hellish Beast' of a captain that I want him to drown in his own blood?"
Izzy stands and takes a step towards Jim, "No. Blackbeard sees value in you, but that doesn't mean he won't hesitate to put a bullet in you if you get out of line." Izzy said as his grip tightened around his sword. "Stick near me. I'll stop the captain from going berserk on you and I'll show you a thing or two about fighting with rapiers. Would hate to see you lose to someone because you ran out of daggers when I know you can be so much more."
Jim crossed their arms, they didn't have much of a choice... Then again when in their life did they ever have a choice. Olue was probably dead, Stede was probably dead, the rest of the Siete Gallos were probably dead... Maybe... What more to their life did they have? The kindling of revenge in their heart was dying. "Fine. Maybe I'll teach you a thing or two about daggers."