come_sailaway | AUGUST EVENT: DRAGSTRIP RIOT

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AUGUST EVENT: DRAGSTRIP RIOT

[it begins with a PA announcement on the morning of the 12th, Friday’s voice coming through clear and cheerful.]

Any passengers that wish to debark to our latest port of call can exit the ship through the metal detectors on deck zero! Please be advised that all alcohol will be confiscated prior to your exit!

[and whoever heads down to the lowest deck will find that what she said was true: there is a metal detector set up there, with Friday manning it. after placing all metal objects (including weapons, and all your weapons) onto the tray, she gestures for the passenger to step through the metal detector.

they exit in an entirely different location. suffering from a splitting headache, and wearing an entirely different outfit than they had put on this morning, but unscathed. they even got their weapons back!

the interior of the diner is essentially your average jonathan rockets establishment. the narrow lane between booths and counter is manned by an entirely mute Friday clone, who cheerily takes orders and serves up food (cooked??? somewhere???) with an almost unnatural talent for roller blading. there is a jukebox in the corner that can be fed with quarters passengers will inexplicably find on their person. the available songs range from the 50s to the 80s, with a particularly wide selection of songs from the platters.

outside, the diner is a great chrome boxcar, circled by a small parking lot. a large neon sign proclaims it to be GIL’S; it buzzes and flickers on and off often. passengers who have regained vehicles will find these vehicles parked outside. there are also a handful of midcentury American cars; none of them seem to require keys, and the gas tank seems set at full.

past the parking lot is a seemingly endless expanse of desert sand and scrubland, bisecting by the empty highway that the diner abuts. a few miles down this highway, the road forks into a smaller one, which winds its way up a steep, ragged mountain until plateauing into another parking lot, with only a small, old wooden fence between the cars and the edge of the cliff.

should they wish to return to the ship, passengers can leave at any time the same way they entered: walking through a doorway that now claims to be a mop closet. passing through will leave them on deck zero, again with a splitting headache. it’s probably fine.]

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Izzy glances over before returning his gaze forward. It’s not an eye roll but it’s not not an eye roll, either.

Absently, he plays with the cuff of his single glove.

“And that is exactly why I don’t want to talk about it. But seeing as you’re going to keep me in this carriage until you’re satisfied..”

And seeing as he folds like a fucking book when he thinks he’s outmatched, here we are.

“Shortly before I came to this vessel Blackbeard and Bonnet threw their lives away.”

Scenes he sees with vivid detail behind his closed lids every night. It all plays out in torturous slow motion. Blackbeard feels no fear, huh. Turns out he feared one thing after all.

“I gave him every chance but… they signed themselves over to the service of the crown.”

Selfish, traitorous-
Izzy told himself he’d put this to bed, but the bike sits fresh in the back of his throat. He’s tried so hard.

“Ship needed a captain.”

"...What!?"

It's... absurd? Absurd. Darcy makes a noise that could be interpreted as a laugh if it didn't sound so pained and turns to look at him, her expression contorted in confusion.

"No- no Stede would've told me if he'd done- what? Why? They- why would they- wh-"

Shit, driving, she course-corrects back to the right side of the road from where she's drifted.

"Okay- okay, back up, start from the beginning."

Fuck's sake he knew this would happen.

"No, Darcy I can't do that- It's a burden you shouldn't need to-"

"What- so I'm just going to have to pretend like I didn't hear anything!? 'Oh my pirate captain signed up with the fucking British but it's fine I'm just not going to think about it'- what the fuck Izzy!?"

"Yeah, actually, that's exactly what you're gonna do. There's fuck all anyone can do about it here and no one even knows but me! And you, now, regrettably, which is why you're gonna keep your fucking trap shut."

Say the man betrayed and still protecting Edward.

...

"What do you MEAN nobody else knows about it- fucking Blackbeard and Stede are both here?! Why wouldn't they know about something they fucking did!"

Instructions unclear, trap remains open.

"Because, Darcy, The Captain in all his infinite cruelty thought it best to pressgang me later in time than the rest of my crew!"

He isn't mad at her. He isn't. He's just mad it's happening.

Oh fuck.

That it could happen isn't a surprise, she'd heard about it happening here, but... fuck that's rough.

"Sorry," her voice suddenly a lot thinner and quieter, dropped back down the octaves it had climbed.

"First up, I swear on my Geist that I'm not going to tell anyone. Cross my heart, baby Jesus, all of it, whatever you want me to swear on."

She takes one hand off the wheel to cross her heart.

"It's... god, I can't imagine why they would."

Because I sold Stede Bonnet's life for the safety of my captain, he thinks to say but... it feels thin and Darcy has sworn loyal to the stupid fop.

No, actually, you know what? He isn't sorry. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. Izzy Hands would sell Stede Bonnet's life for a chicken fucking nugget.

"Bonnet killed an English officer. Bloke by the name of Nigel Badminton. They were childhood friends. I didn't know this when we had the misfortune to cross paths but..."

No, back up.

"Captain Blackbeard was taken by all Bonnet's...insane..perverse ideas about what being a pirate meant. We followed'em and saved them from the Spanish after Bonnet had seen to getting himself run through and hung for good measure. He lived but..."

At what fucking cost to Izzy's personal sanity.

"My captain, bored and restless, he's easily flattered. Bonnet had...all these fancy little toys and flashy outfits. They played dress up and put on plays and talked about their feelings and what forks to use at dinner while we were being hunted by the navy. He was gonna get us all killed. He would have gotten us all killed but there was a plan. He was just some...rich idiot. Ed wanted out of the game and retirement isn't an option for people in our line of work. It was for Stede Bonnet, though. Blackbeard's body dead.. disfigured beyond recognition. That was the plan."

Now he's started, Izzy can't keep it inside. He's been boiling over for weeks and weeks and weeks with no outlet. He can't even get Edward to fucking talk to him about it, focused on his boyfriend and cocktails by the pool like this is all some fucking joke. Add to the fact The Captain has starting prowling around looking for meat.

"And the longer we were on that ship the more sweet little nothings Stede poured into his ear and that plan.. that promise, meant nothing. There's a rule on Blackbeard's ship. No pets under any circumstance. Stede was Edward's pet. Couldn't be allowed. Edward swore he's kill him..."

This is turning into a monologue, now. Fine. So be it. He is the type.

"But he didn't. And he wouldn't, so I had to."

Enter the duel everyone seems to speak about so fondly.

Edited 2022-08-23 22:30 (UTC)

"...I'm pulling over," she warns, and slows the car down to a stop on the side of the road. And then she turns in her seat to pay full attention, her face a mix of horror and confusion and just... sadness. She'd heard Stede's side of things, the rescue from the Spanish and Blackbeard with his hair all wild... nothing about Stede murdering a British naval officer (which, pog, frankly), or that Blackbeard was going to...

Darcy doesn't know what's worse; that Blackbeard was going to kill Stede, or that he didn't have the guts to go through with it.

"Jesus Christ."

She reaches a hand across to touch the back of Izzy's, searching for anything to say.

He'd rather she didn't. Pull over or touch him. It's easier to talk when they're both focused on something else and the touch... it's too kind. Too tender. That sort of thing isn't reserved for men like him.

Izzy tries not to flinch from it this time, but his fingers still twitch.

"I dueled him. I'm sure you know, he crows about it often enough. I gave him every opportunity, I lead with mercy, I asked him to yield and quietly go. And when he refused only then did I run him into the mast. I would've had him, I would've fucking had him, but his shit fucking épée broke in my hand on withdraw. Dueling rules go.. so I had to go. And Edward didn't stop it. That's when I knew Stede Bonnet would be the death of them all. It was only a matter of time before Nigel's brother would have found out who killed him and gone looking himself. Bonnet would have gotten them killed. He needed to go. Edward needed to disengage from his plaything and-"

He so mad he can't think, spitting fury as he thinks about it. Everything Izzy did. Every chance he gave, all his years of service, every cornered, begging, pleading to bring Ed back to sense. All of it ignored because EdWaRd wAs BoReD.

It's genuinely surprising to hear that Izzy lead with mercy. Darcy appreciates it, the glimpse at something more than just anger and brutality that she'd gotten from him so far. They're alike in more ways than one, and she knows that despite their tempers and despite their endless capacity for violence... sometimes you don't want to kill someone, you just want to be left alone.

Unfortunately for Izzy, she doesn't share his ideas about what 'men like him' deserve, and the touch transitions to holding his hand now, her thumb on his knuckles, pressing gently to keep him grounded. He'll note that they have the same callouses on their fingers, where gripping a sword has pinched and abraded until the skin gives up its softness. Taunting him with the duel on their first meeting sinks like a stone in her stomach, and it's only that he's still talking that stops her from apologizing for it. It's all... so complicated, and she's not sure how to reconcile the images of Stede she's been presented with. But Izzy is hurting, clearly, and she needs to be here for him now.

It's disjointed, the way he tells this story. Not at all a neat, precise retelling of events he would ask from someone else trying to get their shit together. Izzy can't help it, the words come without filter or organisation, too pent up and rushed and chaotic.

"He wouldn't do it.. he was going to die. He would have died and I couldn't-"

He doesn't realize the transition from touch to hold until it is far too late, and by then he can scarcely pull away. When's the last time someone touched him with kindness that wasn't a drunken romp or under the idea it could be his last day. He yearns for that kindness, he does. But it's difficult to accept when being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.

And he has been.

"I sent our oldest accomplice to get Ed off the ship. And I weighed the life of a crew and my captain against a madman's."

A beat. He still isn't sorry.

"It was a three ship fleet came to meet them. I negotiated the freedom of Blackbeard and our crew. In total. Bonnet signed his confession with no provocation. He was guilty and sentenced. It was meant to be quick. It was humane. It was a kindness and it was the only way."

Then, finally, Izzy looks back at Darcy. His hand curls around her hold. He's angry, yeah, obviously, but there's hurt in there. A whole world of it. He didn't want to do what he did. He isn't sorry, but he didn't want to do it. This could have been so much easier if Edward had just practiced what he'd preached for decades. Why Stede? Why then? Why was Stede worth so much? Why wasn't Izzy, Edward's fucking matelot, worth enough?

He doesn't understand.

Izzy calls the thing in his chest survival. He doesn't know what else it could be.

"T-there's um."

He has to swallow.

"There's a law called Act of Grace. A pirate can save his life if he agrees ten years of service to the king. It's degrading. It's humiliating. They grind you down to nothing in the navy, I know. Horrendous business and the last place Blackbeard should've..fuck."

Izzy swallows again. He feels sick and looks at the roof of the car to blink back whatever terrible emotion is trying to escape.

"He called Act of Grace. He could have been free and he signed it all away for Stede Fucking Bonnet."

"Hey- c'mere-"

She reaches to give Izzy a hug- a little awkward because of the car, but heartfelt all the same. He'll learn as all the others have in her life that protecting her goes both ways, and the least she can do right now is try and offer him some relief. Something to focus on that isn't... all of that.

The two phantom images of Stede, the two stories she's been told, overlay in her mind. And from where she's sitting, without having seen any of it for herself, in the middle of the two is a grain of truth.

Blackbeard loves Stede in a way that he does not love Izzy. For whatever reason, for whatever other mechanisms are going on behind the scenes, that is the crux of the situation.

"It's not fair," she asserts, "I'm sorry."

"Don't- don't-" But it's a thin, breathy plea and one he doesn't actually want abided. This sort of understanding- this relief- it's too much. It's too much and he will crumble.

Darcy is right. It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all, and he doesn't know what to do about it. If there's anything to be done. He holds no power here. No resolutions besides bend the knee and Izzy would sooner fucking die.

He blinks hard and forces himself to take a ragged, wet breath. Get a hold of yourself Israel. You're not a child. Showing weakness is the easiest way to fall. Look at Edward.

"Let's just- My god, I shouldn't have told you."

"Oh," said without meaning to, she stops the attempt to hug him and withdraws safely to her own side of the car. This is a hardened pirate, of course he doesn't want a hug, what was she thinking? Izzy's clearly having second thoughts now, and it's her fault.

"I shouldn't have pushed, I'm sorry," she agrees, hands up as if to surrender the argument, and Darcy moves to start the car again.

"The world loops around in another couple of kilometers, I'll get you back to the diner and we can just- pretend this conversation never happened."

No don't let go-

Too late. Izzy clears his throat and wipes his eyes, just in case something traitorous has escaped. This is probably for the best. He's supposed to be a role model, not some... sniveling, pathetic wreck.

"What's the point?" he asks by the time her hand is turning over the ignition. It may be a bigger question than he means.

"Really, what's the fucking point?"

...

"I'll train harder. When we go back to your world, I want to be ready to be your first mate from the moment I hit the deck. Fuck him, and fuck what he did to you. You don't need to stay loyal to someone who doesn't reward your loyalty."

Darcy's eyes settle on the horizon, her hands steady on the wheel. Izzy doesn't need touchy-feely, he needs someone strong and reliable. So she'll be just that.

"And I'm sorry. You deserve better than what happened."

"I don't." It's reflex, but you know what? Maybe he does.

Maybe Edward doesn't deserve him.

That's a harrowing thought. His stomach turns again, even as he takes on the magnitude of what Darcy is saying. The loyalty she's confirming.

She sounds exactly as he had so many years ago. Convinced. Steadfast. Unshakable.

"I know this is a lot. A shouldn't have put it on you. I didn't mean to."

"You do. if Undine treated me like this, how would you feel?"

Presumably ropable considering the shovel talk. How adamant he'd been about ensuring Undine wouldn't get in Darcy's way. She scoffs and shifts gears, casting a half-glance back at him.

"I can carry it. I'm strong enough."

She has to be.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he starts before his scattered brain catches up.

“And if she treated you poorly in any way I’d help you sink her. But-“ and Izzy really can’t believe he’s saying this.

“-he isn’t my boyfriend. He is my captain. It’s not the same.”

"You've made it sound like he was basically your husband. Which makes it worse. You get that, right?"

A pause.

"I'm not suggesting we sink him or anything. I'm just saying that you don't need him, and you don't have to put up with it. Loyalty has to be earned."

“It was earned, that’s the-“

Exhale. This is too complicated. And Blackbeard his husband? Ridiculous.

Their matelotage was… for economic reasons. His face is hot. This is ridiculous.

They’ve been married twenty years, Darcy.

Izzy gives up. All of it. Fine. Okay.

“I know.”

Ah the classic gay maneuver, getting married for tax purposes.

Izzy acquiesces, but... obviously it doesn't sound like he's in agreement. It sounds like he wants to avoid the argument. Darcy knows she doesn't know all the details, hasn't lived his life or seen his history play out. She barely even knows Blackbeard aside from a couple of passing interactions, the legend that's in her mind from pop culture and interpretations of his legend.

But she knows one thing.

"I just think you deserve to be happy. That's it."

Yeah to avoid the discussion but also she’s right. And he does know. And he is listening.

Listening and watching as Darcy somehow manages to uncover and unpick the hooks set deep in Izzy’s skin. The deepest first. One by one, her aim and skill are uncanny.

Him. Happy? No one’s ever said that to him before. Ever.

A flurry of emotion crosses Izzy’s face and he’s glad they’re driving again so he can hide it through negligence. You can’t just say something like that to a person.

The gut reaction is to say he’s happy, of course he is, but that is a damn fucking lie. Things have been bad and stressed for years. Weren’t always, but they’re in breakdown and he knows it. Deeply depressed and anxious. Is that all there is now?

Izzy doesn’t recognise Edward anymore. Izzy isn’t sure he recognises himself anymore, either.

“Don’t see much of a chance for that. This mess is too.. it’s too grand, you know? Can’t be fixed’n-“

That’s not really the way, is it Izzy. Be honest now.

“I’m not sure I know how.”

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