It's been a week at the most since Bonnet and his Edward disappeared. Izzy hadn't seen the latter since he publicly resigned, and only briefly saw Stede when he was approached to make a deal. Then Halloween, which he is still trying to actually figure out, happened, and now half the people on the ship are dead, injured, or missing in action.
Doesn't matter, Izzy told himself. He's got what he wanted, Bonnet's out of his way, and Edward...well, Edward didn't want anything to do with him so fine. He'd checked when Stede didn't answer his call for a meeting, and found their rooms empty. Stede's secret closet was gone. His ugly painting of The Badmintons also gone. Edward's belongings had vanished, and it was as though they'd never been aboard to begin with. Fine.
He could work with that. He could forge ahead, pick up the scraps, and try his best to do something with the mess he'd bargained for. It was a damn sight better than sitting around feeling guilty for something he didn't need to. Being happy with scraps wasn't enough, anymore. Didn't need to be enough.
Israel Hands is, in that way and a few more, a changed man in this new setting. He's walking with a slight limp from the Battle of Halloween, and under his familiar clothes there sits a tight, high neck undershirt with a thick gold collar around his throat, but he's alive and in good spirits. Cocky as all fuck, if we're being honest. He's a proper captain now, just like he was back home. Everything is coming up Izzy.
Until, of course, he turns the corner of a corridor and sees the familiar shape of Edward Teach walking way from him. But that-
-no. No, that can't be right at all. Edward's gone. And there hadn't been a single day aboard that Izzy had seen Ed wearing his leathers, set high up in the back of a closet in favor of Hawaiian shirts, board shorts, and flip-flops.
Izzy stops short, his hand flexing where it rests on the pummel of his cutlass.
This can't be right. A ghost? A challenge, sent by the Captain? He watches in silence from twenty feet away, getting farther as Edward walks. Twenty two, twenty four, he'll lose him. Act Izzy, now, do something-
Wildcard
Doesn't matter, Izzy told himself. He's got what he wanted, Bonnet's out of his way, and Edward...well, Edward didn't want anything to do with him so fine. He'd checked when Stede didn't answer his call for a meeting, and found their rooms empty. Stede's secret closet was gone. His ugly painting of The Badmintons also gone. Edward's belongings had vanished, and it was as though they'd never been aboard to begin with. Fine.
He could work with that. He could forge ahead, pick up the scraps, and try his best to do something with the mess he'd bargained for. It was a damn sight better than sitting around feeling guilty for something he didn't need to. Being happy with scraps wasn't enough, anymore. Didn't need to be enough.
Israel Hands is, in that way and a few more, a changed man in this new setting. He's walking with a slight limp from the Battle of Halloween, and under his familiar clothes there sits a tight, high neck undershirt with a thick gold collar around his throat, but he's alive and in good spirits. Cocky as all fuck, if we're being honest. He's a proper captain now, just like he was back home. Everything is coming up Izzy.
Until, of course, he turns the corner of a corridor and sees the familiar shape of Edward Teach walking way from him. But that-
-no. No, that can't be right at all. Edward's gone. And there hadn't been a single day aboard that Izzy had seen Ed wearing his leathers, set high up in the back of a closet in favor of Hawaiian shirts, board shorts, and flip-flops.
Izzy stops short, his hand flexing where it rests on the pummel of his cutlass.
This can't be right. A ghost? A challenge, sent by the Captain? He watches in silence from twenty feet away, getting farther as Edward walks. Twenty two, twenty four, he'll lose him. Act Izzy, now, do something-
"--Edward?"