The Revenge Crew blasts from the door with the serpent insignia that ushers to the hallway leading to the captain's quarters. What the fuck is transpiring with their captain? That — whatever he or it is — eccentric, unearthly man isn't the frail, golden-haired aristocrat-turned-pirate-captain-on-a-whim individual they once assumed they knew. Of course, they anticipated that their captain wasn't as spineless as he projected with his exterior, given that, thus far, he has bested Blackbeard's first-mate, enclosed some participation with the murder of a British captain, and was an accessory before-the-fact in the ablaze ship of elite's, but most of those are circumstantial... right?
Poor Oluwande is in the vicinity of most of those occurrences. Bless his heart.
At the wheel, Buttons and Karl silently and privately scrutinize the subordinates with a cognizing smile. The puzzle pieces are unhurriedly sinking into place.
In a frantic, Lucius gravelly rambles to his crewmates, "What the fuck did I tell you, huh? Don't you now see?!"
Pete slowly blinks his eyes with a progressive head shake, incapable of grasping what he just witnessed in the last hour. Would he have succeeded if he had perpetrated his intent to mutiny his captain? He mumbles, "I don't know what to say or think right now."
The crew nods in agreement as they reflect on the encounter in their captain's room; their sentiments are scrambled. It's not unfavorable, but it's particularly unexpected.
"C'mon, mates. Let's have lunch. If we must, we can talk it through more there," gently introduces John.
Frenchie nods and adds, "Yeah, that may be best."
The crew gradually meanders towards the stairs that lead below. The daylight sparkles the ocean and polished wood, producing a glossy, shimmering effect. Their maintenance chores are completed, so they will be dismissed from further objectives and can be leisurely and tranquil. Earlier, Blackbeard presented an illusion called the Art of Fuckery (alongside their captain's Theater of Fear), yet the desirousness for such has diminished.
Why is the crew in such a turndown about their captain's demeanor? Realistically, the lone member to be perturbed is Oluwande. Speaking of him, how's he doing?
"Hey, Olu," softly invites Frenchie, "how are you managing all of this?"
The other man halts and exhibits a foreign expression. He and Lucius have been in the nearest proximity to their captain, him being the most. During the discussion of the mutiny rebellion, they defended the captain because they caught a valid, reasonable aspect of him, particularly as he's the only pirate-captain to wage his crew and not retain inane, asinine requests and directives. Meandering, frolicking, and undergoing petty, easily-winnable encounters with fellow crews have primarily been on the timetable for the crew. As reflection weighs, maybe most of it is guiding to something significant. For instance, their boss and first-mate harbored conferences with other pirates, inhabitants, and businesspeople on random islands and other landmarks. Then, the Revenge docked at the Republic in Nassau, and Captain Bonnet rambled with a British hostage in pristine white that likely surpassed whatever rendezvous he had scheduled. And, because it seems the fiasco keeps getting more prominent, when they were "training" with Blackbeard and his crew, it's feasible that the captain used those exertions for something, too.
Who — or what — is this mystical being as their captain?
Oluwande vaguely half-answers, "I've been under many pirate-captain's, and none have ever troubled me more than he does."
The Swede nods and subjoins, "We've been with him for a few weeks — or months — and he's never done anything for us to presume he'd even have such a dimension like this within him."
"Everything, and I wholeheartedly mean everything, he's accomplished so far with us and the Revenge has only sustained the general truth that he's an elite aristocrat from Barbados. Now, I'm no expert, but even I can reckon that what transpired in his quarters isn't standard for those where he's from."
"I've been under many privileged elites throughout the cities, and I don't remember a moment in which something like this was necessary or in their capabilities," voices Frenchie.
"His track record on the water doesn't seem realistic for someone like him, yet it is. Besting the Blackbeard's first-time not once but twice — and all of the other shit? Yeah, that kind-of shit is unheard of," comments Jim in minor appreciation.
The crew reaches the galley and takes their seats. On one side are Oluwande, Jim, The Swede, and Frenchie; on the other are Wee John, Lucius, and Pete.
John gestures towards Jim and requests, "And you, Jim?"
They have everyone's attention. With a huff, they turn and mutter to Oluwande, "You know, in times like this, I miss being mute with a fake nose and beard. Now, I have to talk about my feelings."
Lucius beams and voices, "Aw, Jimmy, don't be like that."
Jim pivots their gaze forward, sharpens a challenging glare to the scribe, then strongly advises, "Never call me that again."
The boy snickers and smugly responds with an arm-cross, "It's either that or your real name."
This captures the engagement of The Swede, who asks, "Wait, Jim isn't your real name?!"
John cackles and reasons, "What, like your real name is The Swede?" He pauses and gestures towards the others, adding, "Or Black Pete or Frenchie? Those names aren't real."
"What, and Wee John is?" indicts Pete.
John rolls his eyes and admonishes, "Um, my full name is Wee John Fenney, thank you very much. And, yes, it's real. My point is: We can sit here and attempt to scrutinize the boss for his doings, but we're not even being truthful to ourselves."
"How are those similar?" frowns Oluwande.
"How isn't it? Knowing their name is one of the quickest ways to get to know someone. Half of the crew are addressed by pseudonyms or named after some weird shit. We're almost no different than Captain Bonnet."
Roach silently attends to the conversation in the kitchen as he composes individual plates onto the cart. Although the crew aren't picky-eaters, he's savvy to their distinctive preferences. It's an engaging conversation that can acquire discussion if they're up for it. Unfortunately, he can't divulge much to them, but he knows all will be in their blessing.
The Crew of the Revenge has hit the jackpot for a captain.
The cook pushes the loaded cart out towards the masses. Steam glows airborne against the golden daylight, and the silver dishware slightly condensates. "Here's your lunch, my lads," grins Roach as he provides plates to their owner.
A rally of pleasantries and appreciativeness choruses, which always causes Roach to swoon.
A door opens and closes, and assertive footsteps thump against the wood and near their way. Blackbeard and his crew (minus one) stand at the doorway. The other captain's presence remains captivating. Does he know what's occurring in the captain's quarters with Stede and Izzy? Probably not, given that he's here and not there, huh?
"Ah, mister Blackbeard," acknowledges Roach. Two encounters within a few hours of each other? Wow. "Can I interest you in some lunch?"
Edward's eyes roam the vessel's crew, noting the gusto they're going at devouring the sustenance. It's noticeable that they're noiseless because of his presence. He reconnects eyes with the cook and responds, "Not currently, mate, though cheers. Maybe later. Perhaps my crew can wine and dine?"
"Sure they can! C'mon in, everyone! Nice seeing you again, Fangsy, Ivan-the-Man, Lex, Messie, Divvy, and Cath-Cam," invites Roach with nicknames as the opposing crew enter the galley. The six must fill one of the remaining booths since everything is securely bolted to the wood and metal, but it's not too distant or awkward to not still have a pleasurable time together. The cook reenters the kitchen to reload the cart.
"Hi, Fang," flirts Lucius with a wiggle of his fingers; Pete voicelessly acknowledges the man with a cup raise. The senior pirate shyly reddens and curves to Ivan in a snickering fit. Divan chortles at the scene before him from across the table, and Messenio jokingly elbows him in the ribs.
Edward inclines against the wooded table and observes both crews socializing with a delicate, close-lipped smile. Alexiane and Jim communicate in Spanish, and although he isn't endeavoring to eavesdrop, he can recognize a few words as their conversation rises in enthralling volume. Both crews don't prevail long before they've vacated their respective seats and have wandered around the galley. It's delightful and compelling. There's a component missing, however.
The long-haired pirate frowns and then raises his voice to be heard. He asks the room, "Hey, where are Stede and Izzy?"
And, just like that, the joyfulness, bilingual conversations, and clangorous chitchat end abruptly. Expertly, the present captain doesn't let his suspicion showcase. The question is mostly directed towards the Revenge Crew, who collectively bear a deer-in-the-headlights expression on their faces.
"Well?"
Lucius, never the one for such contentious crises, emits a series of unsettled chuckles and murmurs, "Sorry, did he ask where the boss and Izzy Hands are?"
"Yes, I did," replies Edward as he leans to the side and concedes the vessel's scribe. He knows the boy didn't intend for him to hear him, yet he did, nonetheless.
Lucius silently nods and slopes into Pete's welcoming arms. He whimpers with his eyes closed, and his boyfriend gently caresses his back.
Oh, Roach. Such a sweet, innocent Roach, he is. A cook unlike any other and a side-hustling medic who establishes his practices from home remedies. He innocently divulges, "I served the captain his lunch in his quarters, and Izzy Hands was present."
Edward is uncertain why the Revenge Crew is reluctant to announce such straightforward information, but he's certain he'll understand soon enough. It seems he's gotten too comfortable aboard the vessel, and things are ensuing around him without his knowing. His crew is already close-knit with the other crew, which is acceptable, especially since he's intimately acquainted with the vessel's captain, but still.
Stede and Izzy have been maintaining a one-sided quarrel with each other since the summer. It was unfortunate to hear from Fang, Ivan, and his first-mate that they were bested in Mabo Island by Stede and his crew members. When he first met the opposing crew, it was challenging to ascertain how such a crew was competent in managing his top-three proficient crew members, but many of the opposing crew members extensively demonstrated sufficiency and dexterity during their training. Like their captain, there's so much more to them than met by exterior appearance. That Black Pete — yeah, he may or may not recall the fellow operating under him some years back.
Pushing off the wooded table with a breathy exhale, Edward clasps and says before he vacates the galley, "Alright, thank you. You lot enjoy your lunch, and I'll go see what they're up to."
Oh, Edward. Is that really what you want?
The galley occupants remain at a halt; many bear timid and frightened expressions. Blackbeard's Crew frowns, not understanding the issue surrounding the opposing crew's captain and their first-mate.
"OK, what gives?" begins Mithcath. She discerns something is amiss.
Roach silently exits the kitchen and leans against the wall with crossed arms.
"Uh, well..." dejectedly sounds The Swede. From the other side of the table, John rolls his eyes as his crewmate stammers.
Alexiane turns to Jim and whispers, "¿Qué pasa?"
"Algo está mal," they answer in a whisper.
Alexiane, Divan, and Messenio meet each other's eyes and converse nonverbally.
What's going on?