survival

cannonball

"I'll grab the bastard and choke him with his own balls!" Tag answered.

"Charming," I rolled my eyes.

"No bloodshed," Declan commanded. Tag looked annoyed, exasperated as he wracked his brain for an alternative.

"I'll fire off a pistol? Make them give chase?"

"We don't need the attention," I answered, Declan nodding. My husband pulled a knife out and handed it to the Scotsman, him looking annoyed as hell now.

He took the knife, moaning, "I just got this fuckin' shirt."

I was a bit confused by what was happening. Declan kept watch, my beck pressing into his chest when Tag began to insert the knife in his fucking gut! I furrowed my brows, mildly alarmed as he hissed and moaned a bit. Declan's hand rubbed soothingly over my knuckles as I watched.

"Oh! That tickles!" The madman smirked, my stomach queasy. Declan laughed at his friend, Charlie and I none too impressed.

"I don't know if that's brave or stupid," he spoke stoically.

I shook my head. "Sometimes they're one and the same," Tag spoke. "Here." Tag limped off quietly, the three of us remaining behind the large creates a barge had once shipped over. Declan's hand moved to press into my waist as we turned to watch the scene.

"What's the plan?" Charlie asked.

"Wait for McTaggart to get rid of them," came the gravely response. "Then we walk in, we'll take it," his eyes were set on the canon left out for polishing and repairs, the group of guards at a standby to presumably protect it.

"You're all a bunch of nutters," I shook my head. "And while your plans are all shite, they typically work."

Declan chuckled and pressed his lips to my temple, fingers curled around my waist as we waited and watched. "Help!" Tag called, staggering forward, panting and pressing his hand into his wound. "I need help!"

"Go on, you drunken idiot," one Red Coat called.

"No, I'm bleeding!" He moved his hand to show the blood spilling from his gut. "I have to warn you, Captain. Danger," he trailed off, pointing behind him.

It did the trick and attracted the Captain's attention. He moved forward. "What sort of danger?"

"I'm weak, I need a hand," Tag wheezed. He panted as the Captain took him under his arm and assisted him elsewhere.

"Over there." He sat Tag down, the man groaned and moaning in pain.

"Look at that," Tag showed the wound, the Captain turning a face of disgust. "I was picking mushrooms up by the east wall, and then out of no where, this mad fucker runs at me, pops a hole in me with his knife. I fear for your men."

"Head to the east wall and keep your eye out for armed rogues!" The Captain commanded his men. "You heard the man, he was attacked. Right."

"Careful, boys," Tag advised.

"You should get that wound checked," the Captain muttered once his men departed.

"No, no, no, wait, wait, wait," Tag called the man back as he was moving to leave the scene. "Be a good laddie, get me some water from that barrel."

"Get it yourself!"

"My legs'll give out before I make it over there. Capn', sir, please."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," cursed the Brit. I watched as he left our sight, Tag turning back to us.

"Hurry up, ye trio of bastards!" he hissed.

We moved forward, Declan grabbing a cloth and Charlie the cannonballs. "Get some powder!" I nodded, snatching what I could.