HOME | DD
TheDevilsTrick — Privateer Chapter 79
#adventure #anime #book #creatures #cyborgs #fantasy #gods #gremlins #heroes #magic #manga #monsters #ongoing #pirates #privateer #pulp #season3 #selfmade #witches
Published: 2023-07-23 14:44:40 +0000 UTC; Views: 1349; Favourites: 14; Downloads: 1
Redirect to original
Description
[Needs Must]
Sylvester took a momentary break to collect some clothes from his room and arrived in the docking bay where his crew had gathered together what remained of Lady Jessica’s entourage. Some were tied up, others were sporting black-eyes and bruises, but most sat, waiting impatiently to find out what was going on. After seeing him enter the room, Belix rushed over and stopped him near the door.
“So…” she asked quietly, “Are you going to be handling this, or should I?”
“I…I’ll take care of it,” he insisted, trying to walk past her only for Belix to physically stop him.
“Are you trying spare us?”
“If I am?”
“Then you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
“…are there any of the shrimps in the room?” he asked while pointedly staring at the floor.
“…no,” she responded simply.
“Make sure it stays that way,” he told her miserably, finally pushing past, “Gather them up in the galley, and get the summoning started.”
“…aye-aye captain,” Belix whispered back before leaving.
Sylvester joined the rest of the crew guarding the captives and gave Granger a tap on the shoulder to get him to step back. He glanced to Zeesa and Evie, telling them with a look that they should let him do the talking and he leaned heavily on his cane, letting out a weary sigh before talking.
“Your leader is dead,” he told them bluntly and watched the look of shock wash over the group like a ripple in the ocean, he gave them a minute to process before continuing on, “I killed her,” he paused, half expecting Zeesa to interrupt him, she didn’t, “But…it wasn’t in cold blood, it was…”
“You fucking moron!” one of the captives shouted.
“I can accept that,” he nodded to her, “But, to be clear, it was not a matter of vendetta, it was…”
“Lying sack of shit!”
Zeesa stepped forward to shut her up but Sylvester held out his cane to block her. Then stepped towards the woman to confront her himself.
“Something you’d like to say?” he asked.
“Don’t play the fucking innocent,” she snapped, “Acting like you had some sort of noble goal when you only…”
“I did,” Sylvester insisted, turning away and pacing in front of the captives, “I’ll admit I came to you begging, but my goal was righteous, our goal, we…we were trying to save the world…”
“Bullshit!” the captive roared at him, “The Good Lady told us everything!”
“Did she?”
“Yeah, you dickless fucks were just looking for protection, you…”
Sylvester stopped in front of her and placed his hand on her face, icing it over and cutting off her oxygen.
“This woman?” he asked, stepping aside and allowing her to fall over, gasping and choking, “Does she speak for all of you?”
He glanced over the crowd and saw them casting a worried look at their compatriot, but there was no fear on their faces, just resignment to their fate.
“…I can’t convince you, and I’m not about to waste the time it would take to…brainwash, or deprogram you or whatever,” he swept his cane downward, shattering the ice mask on the suffocating captive, “We don’t need any of you,” he admitted, kneeling down, “But I don’t want to kill you either…”
None of them responded, though some of them had their heads down, saying their prayers.
“Please…” he desperately begged, tears welling up in his eyes, “Please believe me…”
Again, nothing but silence, and Sylvester resigned himself to their answer.
“Alright…” he stood up and discreetly wiped his eyes, “If you would all leave then,” he addressed his crewmates, “And lock the doors behind you.”
His crew glanced at him in surprise, then towards each other with a shrug. Reluctantly, they turned away and did as they were bid.
“It won’t work you know,” one of the captives whispered quietly as the door latches slid into place, “This won’t erase your sins.”
“…I know…” he responded, icing over his cane to produce a lance, “But I’ll try to be quick about it.”
Outside the door Evie stood with the others, anxiously tapping her foot.
“So…” she wondered, “How long do you think we should give him?”
“A pack of unarmed kneeling women,” Granger mused, “Should be done by the end of the day, at least.”
“Granger,” Zeesa buried her face in her hand, “Just…shut the fuck up.”
“…sorry,” he muttered back, “I, um…I’m just trying…”
“I know, but, sincerely, just shut the fuck up!”
“Alright,” he bowed his head and waited quietly with the others.
They didn’t have long to wait, screams and curses emanated from within the room, all of them quickly snuffed out with barely a hint of a struggle. The group shared a look and silently debated if they should open the door. Eventually the noise faded, drifting into a silence that was almost as disturbing as the sounds of slaughter. After a moment or two, Zeesa turned around and reached for the door only to have the knob turn under her hand.
Sylvester emerged, his face and hands covered in layers of blood that had frozen to his skin. He tried to smile, an act without any emotion behind it, then ducked his head and tried to walk away.
“I…I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he stomped away, “Can you…clean that up for me?”
“We can get started,” Granger corrected him, glancing through the open door and seeing the smears of red ice coating the floor, “I expect you to come back after you get cleaned up.”
“…fair enough…”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Evie called out after him, “They were going to be put to death anyway, for letting the Matriarch die.”
He paused, but didn’t turn around or look her in the eye.
“…it doesn’t,” he whispered before walking away.
There was a communal shower that he passed by on his way to the upper decks. He made it halfway to his room before ducking into the barracks, shoving his body into a niche and just sitting there, staring blankly ahead. Tears were welling up in his eyes, but they wouldn’t cry, his flesh was begging him to rest, but he couldn’t even close his eyes. In his head he saw it happening still, screaming, crying, fighting, and begging. He tried to bury his face in his hands, then he got a good look at them and thought better of it.
Instead he stared at the cloying red ice that covered his fingers. Eventually, he realized that one of the lumps clinging to his flesh was actually someone’s tooth. Dumbstruck, dazed, he reached out and peeled it away to examine it. He tried to remember where, who, it had come from, but he honestly couldn’t remember.
“That’s probably not good for you,” a soft voice called out to him.
“Donald?” Sylvester looked around and saw the shrimp clinging to the wall, half out of an air-vent.
He pulled himself out of the vent and hopped across the room, bounding from spot to spot and landing on Sylvester’s knee.
“You’re bleeding,” Donald stated calmly, poking at the spot where Sylvester had peeled the tooth away, “Well…you were.”
Sylvester dropped his hand and let the tooth slip through his fingers before continuing.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“Wanted…some time alone,” Donald looked away, “Thinking…”
“Were you following me?”
“…no…” Donald lied unconvincingly.
“…how much did you see?”
“I…” Donald whimpered, then burst out crying, “I’m sorry…”
The shrimp continued to wail and shudder, Sylvester plucked him up and held the boy to his chest. Donald continued to weep and Sylvester closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass.
“I never wanted you to see any of that,” he whispered.
“Wh…why…” Donald wept, “Why did it have to…”
“I don’t know…” Sylvester whispered, “I don’t…”
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t…”
“Cry?” Sylvester asked, feeling Donald pushing him away and letting the shrimp have his space, “There’s nothing wrong with it…”
“You’re not crying,” Donald whimpered, sliding down to Sylvester’s lap and curling around himself.
“Only on the outside,” Sylvester corrected him.
“Nobody else…”
“It doesn’t make you weak, it means you have a heart.”
“I don’t want it!” Donald wailed, “I don’t …” he clutched at his chest, “It hurts…”
“I know,” Sylvester rested his hand on the shrimp, “And it’ll keep hurting, it’s horrible.”
“I don’t…I don’t like this,” Donald winced, “I want to go home.”
“…me to,” Sylvester admitted, looking away, “Did I ever tell you …”
He trailed off, staring at a memory while the tears finally started to flow.
“…sir?” Donald looked up at him, worried.
Sylvester looked down at Donald and truly started to weep
“I’m sorry! I’m Sorry!” Donald hurriedly climbed up to his shoulders and tried to hug Sylvester’s neck, “Please…please don’t cry.”
“…I…have a heart…” he whispered, then threw his head back laughing, “I have a heart!” he declared, before sadly adding, “But it’s broken.”
He looked over at Donald who was shuddering on his shoulder, confused and shaking, not knowing what to do.
“I didn’t scare you did I?” Sylvester wondered, taking the shrimp’s claw between his fingers, “I’ll get you home, I promise.”
“You…don’t have to…”
“…yes I do.”
He moved Donald into the palm of his hand and started to rise up, then he noticed the blood still covering nearly every inch of his body.
“But…maybe I should get a shower first.”
On the other side of the ship, Belix waited, impatiently tapping her foot while she stared into the undulating glow that was emanating from the rune covered silver mirror.
“You’re sure this is working?” she asked one of the shrimps milling around her feet.
“Yes,” one of them responded bluntly.
Belix shook her head and looked away, not wanting to say something cruel.
“They have to respond,” one of the others joined in, crawling up her leg to perch on her shoulder, “We’ve sent a message…they have to answer.”
“I know,” Belix smirked and gave him a playful poke in the head, “I just like being impatient.”
The shrimp giggled and she smiled genuinely. Finally the glow became steady and brightened.
“Is that it?” Belix asked.
“Yes,” they all hurried to the sides of the mirror and finished the necessary inscription, “They’ve responded.”
The spell was completed and the mirror’s surface began to ripple with energy, turning fluid and moving in wave-like motions. The rest of the shrimps passed through first, giddily reuniting with the rest of their family. A warm and contented feeling welled up from in Belix’s heart as she watched them milling about and greeting each other, then she saw the vague shadow of someone else passing through the threshold. Belix frowned as she witnessed Noob and Lydia materializing in front of her, an unwelcome reminder of the task that lay before them.
“Wipe your feet,” she ordered them, then pointed at Noob, “You, follow me to the bridge, you,” she pointed at Lydia, “Do whatever, kitchen’s one deck lower and the beds…they’re wherever you like them, I don’t care.”
“Friendly,” Lydia scoffed, tugging on the heavy bag slung over her shoulder.
“And just who the fuck are you to order us around?” Noob demanded.
“Captain,” she responded, her eyes narrowing when she heard Noob scoff at her, “CAPTAIN,” she repeated, “Belix-Fucking-Taft, say it with respect, or I’ll feed your nuts into the engine.”
He chuckled again, but quickly noticed the knife quietly sliding into view as she drew it from its sheathe. His expression changed to worry and he awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Captain,” he responded, bowing pointedly.
“Good boy,” she tucked the knife away again and folded her arms, “Now, follow me to the bridge.”
Noob obeyed and fell into step behind her. Neither one spared a glance towards Lydia who glared at their retreating back.
“Typical,” she grumbled, then looked down at the shrimps who were staring up at her curiously, “Alright, so, where’s the kid at?”
Down below, in the docking bay. Sylvester worked with the other, pushing around filthy mops to clean the floor while Granger stacked them near the entry port. After a while, Evie paused, wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Hey, um, quick question,” she asked, “How are we actually going to deal with these?”
“Toss ‘em out,” Granger stated simply.
“No, I get that but…do we surface first or…like, we’re dropping twenty something bodies, and various parts onto the surf right off the coast of one of Knott’s largest cities.”
“…huh,” Zeesa stopped as well, leaning on her mop and thinking, “That’s a fair point, I mean, they are going to float, and imagine a fisherman landing the head of Seriquisse’s spiritual leader in his net.”
Granger tossed another handful of bodies onto the pile and scratched the back of his head.
“Maybe we burn them then?”
“Or…” Zeesa considered, “Maybe we grind them into a pulp so that the fish eat them.”
“Or…” Granger leered at her with disgust, “We could just unload the bodies and burn them…psycho.”
“I prefer the term passionate,” Sylvester interjected.
“You would,” Granger rolled his eyes.
“SIR!” Donald came skittering into the docking bay and anxiously pointed towards the door, “Somebody wants to see you!”
“I really don’t get all the drama,” Lydia mentioned as she pushed her way in, then baulked, taking a step back and audibly gasping, “But I get why you wouldn’t want them in here, what the Hell happened?”
“Summary execution,” Zeesa stated bluntly.
Lydia could only blink, her brain felt slow to process the information. Eventually she shook off the malaise and averted her eyes from the worst of the slaughter.
“Uh, right, sorry, I, um, I need a place to put my stuff,” she explained, hefting her book bag once more.
“Gotcha,” Sylvester finally paused in his work and looked over at Granger, “Do you mind?”
“Nah…” Granger admitted sadly, looking around at the smeared blood and piled bodies, “This is pretty much a wash anyways.”
“Can I knock off too then?” Zeesa wondered.
“I mean…” Evie looked distraught, “We should still clean this up, they’re going to rot…”
Granger turned away, grumbling to himself. After a while he stomped out of the room, barely seeming to notice Lydia standing there.
“So…” Sylvester watched him leave and propped his mop against the wall before approaching Lydia, “We don’t exactly have a library but…”
“Yeah, great…” she mentioned, looking him over, “Why’re your clothes soaking wet?”
“I’m…just that happy to see you-OW!” he shouted when Zeesa smacked him upside the head with her broom, “Okay, was that really necessary?!”
“…probably not,” she admitted, then awkwardly dropped the mop and kicked it away.
“Are you really going to force me to do this on my own?!” Evie demanded.
Sylvester and Zeesa glanced at each other.
“No…but I wouldn’t wait up either,” Zeesa shrugged, then threw her arm around Sylvester’s shoulders and walked him out the door, “To the Library!”
“Oh for…” Evie angrily hurled her mop across the room and huffed, it was a few seconds before she noticed Donald watching her, “What?”
“I want to help,” he told her calmly.
She blinked and then looked over at the pile of bodies.
“Why don’t you…” Evie murmured miserably as she searched for her mop, “Go play with the others, I can take care of this…”
“You shouldn’t have to be alone,” he told her simply.
“…no, no you shouldn’t,” she admitted, finding her mop and hefting it onto her shoulder, “But…sometimes you are, and you have to deal with it.”
“Oh…” his head dipped a little, “I guess I’ve…I’ve got to learn…”
“Yep, someday,” she walked over to him and scooped the tiny creature up in her hands, letting the mop fall behind her, “But not today, come on, let’s get something to eat,” then she yawned, “And maybe a nap.”
