A/n: This is a very short chapter, but I promise the next chapter will be longer. Also, this is supposed to come off like Vizzini, Inigo and Fezzik but different. If that makes sense. Or sort of like Horace and Jasper from 101 Dalmatians (there's even a guy name Horace). Mostly just a crew of dunderheads who don't like blood. ;) Enjoy!

The Idear

"Dispose of 'im, he says. Dispose."

Three soldiers of Saradon's stood surrounding an unconscious Will Turner. After Saradon had fled, they'd heard Norrington's men and had likewise high-tailed it, though they'd brought their prisoner along. Now they were situated at the top of a bluff on the far side of town, far from the fort and the docks and trying to decide what to do.

"Like a piece 'o 'is garbage we're just supposed ter toss away somewheres." The first soldier with a gruff voice, Mac, complained. "Like it's our job. After all 'is all 'is moanin' that 'e had to do everythin' 'isself."

The second soldier, Horace, was securing Will's ankles together and ensuring the blacksmith was still unconscious as the third soldier, Clyde, watched with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not doin' it." Clyde, dark skinned and with a curious Australian accent, said.

Horace stood. "Me either. I didn' sign up fer murderin' innocents."

"Who says 'e's innocent?" Mac grunted. "We do what Saradon says, an' that's that." He aimed his revolver at Will and the other two soldiers looked away. After a second or two, however, he made a frustrated noise and lowered it. "Jus' don' seem right, though."

"I got an idear -" Horace started.

"Idea." Mac corrected automatically as if he'd done it a hundred times already.

"Righ'. Well, wha' if we don' shoot 'im?" Horace suggested hopefully. "Suppose we... wha' if we toss 'im in the drink with the fishies? An' then 'e drowns. Tha' way we don' hafta spill 'is guts."

"Still murderin' someone we know nothin' 'bout." Th Australian said. "Don't even know what he did ta get on Saradon's bad side."

"Don' matter when you're in battle, do it, Clyde?" Mac snapped. "Why the attack 'o conscience?"

Clyde sighed and waved at a few mosquitoes buzzing around his head. "He's unarmed, out cold and tied up. Hardly fair, mate."

"I'm with 'im." said Horace.

"Of course you are, 'orace. Always lookin' to avoid the dirty work." Mac grumbled.

"Jus' sayin' - " Horace began defensively.

"I know wha' you were just sayin'."

"Well, I jus' thought - "

"An' there's your problem! Leave the thinkin' ta me."

"Let 'im alone, mate." Clyde interjected and swatted irritatedly at the gathering mosquitoes. "Let's hurry up. These bugs are gettin' at me."

Mac turned to Clyde. "I don't 'ear you offerin' any suggestions for wha' ta do."

"I don't care! Dump him in the hedges or the water or whatever and let's get to the ship." Clyde smacked his neck. "We'll be long gone by the time he wakes up. What Saradon don't know, won't hurt him."

"If 'e finds out..." Mac started.

"'E won'!" Horace said excitedly. "Like 'e says! We'll be far aways by the time 'e comes to. Great idear - "

"Idea." Mac corrected again.

"Right."

Mac didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit because he felt like he was disobeying orders and he said as much to the other two, who were quick to point out that Saradon had not specified how to dispose of him, and had specifically used the word "dispose" and not "kill". So by dumping the unconscious man in the hedges and leaving him there, they were in fact disposing of him. He wouldn't admit it to the other two - who he called "stupid ol' softies" - but he hadn't much liked the idea of just killing some unarmed unconscious man either without a good enough reason, so he was glad for a way out of it.

"Well?" Clyde prompted as he continued to slap his exposed skin and wave his hands at the mosquitoes nearby. They were starting to attack Horace too, who looked more like he was trying to flap his arms and fly away then simply keep some bugs at bay.

Mac frowned. "Alrigh'. But I mean it, you two blokes. One word of this gets back to Saradon... an' we're done for."

"Let's get on with it then!" Clyde grabbed Will's feet.

Horace grabbed Will's upper half, and Mac helped them hoist Will up.

"If Saradon gets wind o' this," said Mac. "An 'e's mad enough tha' 'e wants to commit bloody murder, I 'ad nothin' to do with this idear."

"Idea." Clyde and Horace corrected in unison.

A/n: Mostly just fun filler, but we'll get goin' again for real soon. Thanks for reading. Reviews make me happy - spread some happiness today! ;D