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They were ambushed on the outskirts of the Republic, some upstart taking advantage of the lack of foot traffic while Ed, Izzy, and Stede had been looking to offload some art they’d stolen from the rich merchant they’d recently raided.
Ed glared at the scruffy fuck looking to make a name for themselves. It was their own fault really; they’d gotten complacent. Seriously lax in their vigilance, it would seem, letting their reputation and popularity among the general population of the Republic of Pirates lull them into a false sense of security. Now they stood surrounded by a group of eight or so brigands, with a singular sailor off to the side and acting as a lookout.
“Choose!” they demanded.
“And who are you again?” Stede asked. God bless, he was bitchy even on his knees with a knife at his throat. Ed loved it as much as he hated it.
The upstart fumed at Stede’s impertinence, visibly flushing a splotchy, furious red at his words. “Alex Cutty, you peacocking, imitation of a pirate.”
“Oi,” Ed interrupted hotly. “Watch your mouth when you’re talking to him. You’re the one who needed to resort to cheap tricks to get me—and them—at your ‘mercy’.”
Izzy snorted from his place opposite Stede in the semicircle of Cutty’s crew. “Bonnet’s a lot of things, and a peacock is definitely one of them. But an imitation of a pirate? No.”
“Not anymore, at least,” Stede said, aiming a flirtatious wink at Izzy that made most of the assembled group shift uncertainly.
Cutty made a sound like a wet cat. “Watch your own fucking mouths, you washed-up fools. Or are you so senile that you can’t tell you’re outnumbered?”
Stede scoffed in outrage. “Senile!?”
“Look,” Izzy said, a long-suffering expression on his face. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Low—”
“Who’s dead, in case you forgot,” Ed reminded Cutty.
Izzy’s lips twitched into a sly smile at Ed’s words. “Whatever this is? It’s just gonna turn me on.”
“We’ll see how long that sentiment lasts,” Cutty spit at him. He turned his beady eyes back toward Ed. “Now don’t make me repeat myself; choose.”
Stede and Izzy shared a look between themselves before their eyes flicked toward Ed. He knew their plan from the looks on their faces but Ed’s stomach dropped nonetheless. Cutty was already agitated and trigger-happy, and Ed knew neither of his lovers were good at holding their tongue. It was more likely they’d goad Cutty into shooting them rather than knock him off his guard.
Ed crossed his arms over his chest as he leisurely paced back and forth in the space between him and Cutty’s crew to draw the attention back toward him. It worked, and Cutty’s pistol quickly trained on him. “What am I choosing again? Or maybe ‘why’ is the better question.”
“You’re choosing which one of your toys I get rid of first,” Cutty explained through gritted teeth.
“Which of us your men get rid of first,” Stede sneered. “Or perhaps I’m misinterpreting the knife at my throat.”
Cutty aimed his pistol at Stede. “A captain that’s proven themselves can delegate. Perhaps you never attained the level of respect to make that discovery.”
“As someone that’s served as both Blackbeard and The Gentleman Pirate’s first mate, I can confidently say that Bonnet just likes to get his soft hands dirty,” Izzy said wryly.
“That he does,” Ed agreed. “I don’t care for it so much; not anymore. And I definitely don’t care for ultimatums.”
Cutty spat on the ground. “I don’t give a damn what you ‘care for’, Blackbeard.”
“Edward,” he corrected. “It’s just Edward nowadays.”
“What a disgrace. Well then, Edward, I won’t repeat myself. Choose.”
Ed sighed and looked between where Izzy and Stede were on their knees in the semicircle of Cutty’s men. “Are we pretending we don’t know he’s going to kill us all?”
“It’s his first hostage situation, Edward. Be nice,” Stede said.
Ed laughed at his words, spoken as though Stede hadn’t spent the entire interaction deriding and undermining the so-called captain.
“This isn’t a fencing lesson, Bonnet. There’s no room for nice,” Izzy drawled.
“There’s always room for nice,” Stede sniffed.
Cutty swung his pistol toward Stede. “That’s it. I’m choosing, and it’s him.”
Ed’s heart lurched in his chest but he forced himself to keep his cool. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Typical.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” Cutty asked venomously.
“See!” Stede said. “There’s never a wrong time for manners.”
Ed uncrossed his arms and lazily gesticulated to put the group at ease—it would make eventually going for his flintlock easier. “Getting rid of the one that gets under your skin? Weak move, mate. Just shows that you can’t handle the heat.”
“So that’s your choice?” Cutty asked, aiming his pistol at Izzy. His voice was smug, superior like he’d successfully gotten some kind of admission from Ed.
Ed’s heart did another complicated flip in his chest. “Did you hear me say that? No. Quit putting words in my mouth,” he replied.
Cutty snarled in exasperation. “If you reject one, that means you pick the other! It’s basic logic, or is your famed brilliance all a hoax too?”
“Hey!” Izzy and Stede protested.
The proceedings had started to draw a crowd, and Ed could tell it was making Cutty nervous. Entertainment was the driving force in the Republic, but it was close, very narrowly followed by popularity. Cutty was an unknown, and while folks loved an underdog story, the man wasn’t cutting a terribly impressive figure.
“Look,” Ed replied. “This is a mistake, mate. What did you think was going to happen here?”
“Don’t talk down to me. Has it escaped your notice that I have the upper hand here?” Cutty demanded.
Izzy huffed a breathless laugh. “Do you?”
One of Cutty’s underlings took the initiative to backhand Izzy across the face and Ed saw red. He drew his own pistol and took a menacing step toward the soon-to-be-deadman, only pausing when he heard Cutty cock his pistol.
“Don’t fuckin’ move!” he commanded. Cutty’s gun was focused on Ed, which was preferable to pointing at either of the men on their knees. “Drop the gun.”
Ed kept his flintlock aimed at the man with Izzy’s blood on his hand. “I don’t think I will.”
Izzy chuckled lowly, a bloody, open-mouthed smile on his face. “Nice one,” he said, complementing the bloke that hit him.
The man looked unsettled by the turn of events as Stede laughed. “He did warn you that whatever you had going on here was going to turn him on.”
“You’re all fuckin’ freaks,” Cutty hissed. “How did you ever manage to convince the Caribbean to fear you?”
“Good PR and a killer marketing team,” Ed replied with a grin. “Izzy did most of the work. I’m sure he could offer you some pointers to help salvage your name from the gutters after this.”
Cutty strode forward until he could press the gun to Ed’s ribs. “There is no ‘after’ for this! This is the end, Edward, now make your—”
Quick as a flash, Ed swung his gun hand around and up, neatly colliding with the sensitive joint of Cutty’s elbow to the sounds of his lovers shouting in panic. Cutty howled in pain as Ed deflected the gun from his chest and upward with a fierce blow, and the force of the metal and wood colliding into Cutty’s elbow was enough to shatter it.
Cutty’s gun discharged, but Ed’s quick strike saved him from a lung full of lead. Instead, the bullet grazed his cheek and the commotion around him increased tenfold. Ed didn’t waste time and shoved Cutty away from him, rearing back to pistol whip him across the face with every ounce of strength he had.
Cutty crumpled to the ground in a screaming heap and Ed kicked the gun from his limp hand to prevent any further incidents before whirling back to the group of his men.
Stede and Izzy were no longer on their knees, instead, each of them holding their former captor at knifepoint. Ed pointed his gun back at the man that had struck Izzy. “Only reason I haven’t gunned you down where you stand is because you gave me the window of opportunity I was lookin’ for,” he rasped, trembling with excess adrenaline and anger.
“We’re open to hearing how you intend to make up for this incredible inconvenience,” Stede declared haughtily.
Izzy spit blood onto the floor. “Here’s a hint; now’s a great time to mutiny on that miserable fucker.”
Cutty’s crew looked at one another in uncertainty before the singular crewmember who had positioned themself as the lookout stepped forward. “I said my piece this morning when I told you all this was a dumb fuckin’ idea,” they said, tone unimpressed. “None of you chicken shits backed me up.”
“Finally, a sailor with some sense,” Ed said derisively.
Cutty’s crew looked at one another in impotent silence until the man at the wrong end of Ed’s gun spoke. “All those in favor of mutiny, say ‘aye’?”
A resounding ‘aye’ echoed through the men. Their unification seemed to bolster them a bit, and Ed reluctantly lowered his gun. “Can you idiots—”
“Not you,” Stede interrupted, addressing the initial mutineer. “You seem to just have the misfortune of getting stuck with a bad apple. There’s no making up for bad leadership.”
“Anyway,” Izzy said, looking at Ed significantly.
Ed pointed to the miserable image Cutty made, still not certain he wanted to let the man go after the stunt he tried to pull—but dealing with ‘getting rid of someone’ was much more than it used to be, now that the Republic was attempting to govern itself. “Are you all gonna handle this or not?” he asked in exasperation.
“Right!” the man that struck Izzy blurted, stumbling forward to throw the unresisting form of Cutty over his shoulders. “S-sorry, Captain Blackbeard, sir.” Ed gave the sailor a pointed look. “Sorry, Ed. Captain Edwards. A-and you too, Mr. Hands.”
Izzy winked at him, the little shit, and the last of the lingering tension left Ed in a rush as the crew of whatever ship Cutty used to captain trotted off.
“‘Edwards’,” Stede mused aloud. He slipped his newly acquired knife into his belt. “I quite like the sound of that.”
Ed grinned. “Yeah? Wait, no, don’t distract me!” he said sourly.
“Distract you from what, my dear?” Stede asked innocently.
“Not gonna work, Bonnet. What were you thinking, goading him like that?”
Stede scoffed, offended. “Me? What about you? Don’t pretend you weren’t doing exactly the same.”
“Hardly. Mine was calculated; yours was just bitchy.”
“The two of you almost gave me a heart attack,” Ed grumbled. He reached out to thumb the blood from the corner of Izzy’s mouth.
Izzy regarded him in disbelief, a sarcastic tilt to his raised brow. “Oh? And this was better?” he asked, pointing to where the bullet grazed his cheek.
“Yes, let’s talk about that,” Stede said stiffly.
Ed holstered his pistol with a dismissive sound. “It’s a scratch. I had it all under control. You two were doing a great job of keeping him distracted enough for me to find an opening to take him out.”
“Is that so? Bit different tune than you were singing a moment ago,” Stede griped.
Izzy snatched the handkerchief from Stede’s hand before his nerves made him dab at Ed’s cheek with too-rough a hand. He gently cleaned the blood from Ed’s cheek to get a better look at what they were working with.
“Not too bad. It’ll scar, though,” he said. “Surprised no gunpowder made after the gun was discharged so close.”
“Both of you would have had tattoos in the same spot,” Stede pointed out. He touched the ‘x’ under Izzy’s eyes with a trembling finger before carefully smoothing over the unmarked skin below Ed’s newest battle scar.
Izzy fixed Stede with a fond smile. “Jealous, Bonnet?”
“A bit,” Stede said honestly. “A lesser man might feel left out.”
Ed grinned, reaching out to press his thumb to the corresponding spot on Stede’s skin. “Might be able to come up with something for you,” he rumbled. Adrenaline quickly shifted to arousal and made his voice go smokey.
“A heart,” Izzy suggested. “For our soft-hearted fool.”
Stede’s face melted, looking far more emotional at the thought of being physically marked and claimed by two cutthroats than any sane man would.
“We can mull it over. Should probably get the hell out of dodge, though,” Ed remarked. The handful of establishments surrounding them were starting to buzz with excitement now that the danger had passed.
Izzy tucked the blood-soaked handkerchief in his pocket. Heat simmered in his eyes as they darted to Stede. “Lead the way, ‘Captain Edwards’—before we make more of a scene than we already have.”
Ed grinned at the eyes peering at them from the nearby shops. “Their loss.”