"I said... I need yer f*ckin' 'elp," Catshit whispered...
Quiet. Solemn. But... sea god's f*ckin' arsehole-- the audacity of his words were f*cking brain-blowing.
Stickyfingers gripped the hilt of his dagger before it could fall out of his hands.
Sothing... sothing had changed in the way Catshit spoke.
There was sothing in the way he acted... the way he straightened his back...
His bloodline... had evolved. He wasn't just one of the boys, anymore... he'd beco a Tall Boy-- the sa rank as Petty Officer Bob.
It was only a half-step down from the Captain and the Bosun, both.
Just... how strong... had he beco over the past few moons?
And... just how tall would he grow-- if he were allowed to keep living?
Doc was staring, slack-jawed in disbelief. He noticed it too.
And that ant...
Bob...
All of Bob's muscles were tensed tight, ready to cut down a mutinous git at a second's notice.
"You, Twelve o' twelve..." Catshit growled under his breath, "are da biggest... stompiest... killing-est f*ckin' Coral Boy I'z ever 'ad da DIS-pleasure o' servin' wif."
That seed to calm Bob down... but only a little bit. It ant that Catshit was going to be strangled to death, nice and slow, instead of chopped and stomped properly.
...That would at least be better than so many Iron-Ranked Skills, a new hole in the side of the ship, and the whole crew sinking into the deep.
"We 'ave a respons-abili'y ta do wot's right..." Catshit bowed his head, "ta make it clear... dat we Marines ain't ta be f*cked wif."
Bob walked back... stepping right up to Catshit and glaring down like he was gonna bite his head off.
Real deep. Real low. Real f*cking murdery, he opened his pointy tooth maw and said it how it was.
"'Ow 'bout YOU lissen up real good, Catshit? ...You. Ain't. Da boss. o' ."
Stickyfingers felt his dagger hand twitch. He didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like all the killing intent that was coming out of Bob, neither.
They'd lost Sockets... and a few others.
Worst bit was... it looked like they were about to bury Lieutenant Mina at sea.
Too many boys... and the Captain's most important girlie.
It hurt.
The losses... they were unacceptable.
Catshit was a reckless f*ck and a downright nace to society... but he was part of the crew. It was one thing to beat him within ilms of death... or to put him in the hot box... or to keelhaul him.
But if Bob wanted to put the peach-skinned cunt down for good, Stickyfingers felt obligated to voice so kind of dissent.
"I know I ain't," Catshit shot back. "But I'z got a plan. And last I checked-- none o' ya's ain't got SHITE!!!"
Bob grit his teeth real hard, "An' JUST WOT... in da seven... bleeding... F*CKIN' 'ells do you need for, 'en, HUH?!"
"Da 'ole crew... dey'll lissen to you, Twelve o' Twelve. F*ck -- you'z can even take all da credit," Ctashit sighed... "I'z just want what's right to get done... and done good."
Petty Officer Bob... he started reaching for the two-handed axe on his back.
That... that was shite. Catshit was a good Marine... but it looked like his fate was sealed.
**CHNK**
Bob dropped his axe at his side, the blade sticking out of the wood. Then, he dropped his rear down to sit on the deck, "'Is betta be f*ckin' good... an' I'z warnin' you... if 'is has a f*ckin ilm o' mutiny in it, I'mma cut you inta more pieces 'n even Doc can put back togevver..."
Stickyfingers looked over to Doc. It sounded like a challenge he'd gladly accept.
"Ihihihi... I fink I done pissed m'self," Doc giggled.
Or maybe not.
"So it's loik 'is..." Catshit sighed... "We get to da island. Us four-- we take care o' da one responsible. Might be quiet... but I'z bettin' 'at it won't be."
Bob narrowed his eyes, arms crossed... He didn't say the obvious, though.
Doc cleared his throat, "But... ehe... 'ow do we know 'oo did it? Da Bosun's got da best eyes wiv Sockets gone-- an' even he don't know?"
"Oh, 'e knows," Bob growled... "'E jus' won't tell us. S'gotta keep da peace-- can't fault 'im for 'at."
"But we got soone 'oo does know," Catshit smirked. "Ain't dat roight, Leads?"
Stickyfingers leaned forward, resting his chin on the poml of his dagger, "'An why would you fink we would know sum'in' like 'at?"
"Simple," Catshit grinned. "Sockets' spyglass. You'z looted it, din'cha?"
Stickyfingers' hand automatically moved towards his side pouch... but by the ti he did so, he knew he was caught... "So wot if we did?"
"Nobody gives a f*ck 'bout da how or why..." Bob grimaced... "Jus' tell us which knife-ear needs ta get got... an' we'll put as many as we need into f*ckin' sandy graves."
Stickyfingers sucked in a breath through his teeth. There was gonna co ti eventually that his looting got him into trouble... he just never expected it to be anyone but the LT or the Captain to call him on it.
...It was a good a ti as any, though, to co clean.
"Let's fink up da plans 'en..." He shook his head. "Dere's a lot o' guards-- an' it won't be easy, considerin' she's Iron-Rank and 'as all 'at weird magicky shite..."
The news struck the other boys like one of the bolts of lightning going on above deck.
Doc sat up, the pupils in his eyes shaking and his mouth twitching like he was breathing his last.
"Y-y-you'z sayin??"
He was chewing on the ends of his fingers, and he'd literally bit the tips of one of them off.
...They'd grow back. Hopefully.
Bob's eyes were wide for a mont... before twisting his lips into a furious scowl.
"You're... yer f*ckin' wiv us... Ain'tcha?"
Stickyfingers closed his eyes and lowered his head.
Real shite situation, it was.
Catshit grit his teeth... his squinty eyes narrowed real serious.
"You'z heard 'im... Da one dat put a poisoned bolt in our Mina... is none uvver 'an da Cap'n's li'ul elfie... Princess Imperia o' da Vulkoori."
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