Published at 8th of March 2024 7:43 am

Chapter Fourteen

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I don’t consider myself a coward. That said, I did end up cowering in my hiding spot for several days.

The first day I was frozen with indecision. Every time I attempted to gather the gumption to venture into the ship to look for supplies or information, my eyes would drift in the direction of the pirate ship and my courage would dry up like a puddle under the summer sun. I stayed in my hiding spot for an entire day, getting viciously sunburned and developing rashes under the adhesive keeping my protection spells running.

I won’t mention how I went to the bathroom, save for saying it was gross and a bit degrading.

The day after was much the same, except that I kept coughing from a dry throat and my sunburn got worse.

Eventually the sun set on the second day and I felt my wilted courage raise its head once more. That, coupled with the urgent need for water and the slightly lesser need for food proved enough to wedge me from my hiding spot.

At first I attempted to repeat my performance from the day of the attack by climbing the side of the ship like Spider-man but my lack of food and water soon made it apparent that was not an option I would be able to rely on. I managed to slowly and painstakingly make my way to just above the walkway surrounding Deck 2. I held position for fifteen minutes, listening with my enhanced hearing for patrols.

There were two, and they weren’t being very thorough. Of the passengers I saw no sign, but I did detect a bit of old blood every now and then when the wind changed.

It took another five minutes for the latest patrol to head out of the range of my hearing and by then my arms and legs were shaking from the strain of holding onto the side of the ship. I slowly began to lower myself down, angled my legs awkwardly forward to catch the railing. That’s when my fingers slipped.

I managed to fall without shouting, which is a minor miracle. As I fell I hooked my feet around the railing of Deck 2 and pulled myself toward it. I flailed with my arms, the claws my mitts gave me sinking into the polished metal and arresting my fall.

I took many panicked breaths for several seconds before hoisting myself up and over the railing, collapsing on the deck. I was shaking all over. But I didn’t have time to focus on the near disaster as someone could be coming to check on the racket I had made.

I awkwardly regained my feet, behaving like a newborn deer with my limbs shaking uncooperatively. First I checked the stairway to the third floor. My first priority was getting water. I hadn’t had any in over thirty-six hours and soon I was going to be in trouble in a big way if I didn’t get some water in me. The modifications I had made to my body gave me more leeway than most, but I had not made them with the thought of endurance in mind, or lack of basic resources like friggin’ water.

The first place I thought I could get easy access to water would be the bigger cabins on Deck 3. The pirates were likely watching the obvious sources of food and water, the three restaurants and four bars. But I doubted they had visited every mini fridge and it’s stock of bottled water.

Well, it turns out I was likely right but what they did instead was post guards on every staircase. I had nearly ran right into the guy but my danger-sense (Oh my GOD that is such a better name than “Security-routine.” I am such a fucking nerd sometimes.) warned me and I managed to stop just before walking into view.

My growing thirst was making me foolish and hasty, and probably affecting my judgment. If I had been in my right mind I probably would have paused at every intersection, corner and doorway to listen. I began to do that now, but the growing pit in my middle and the scratchy dryness in my throat made it an ever growing battle to not race around the ship.

I slowly backed away from the staircase, deciding to abandon my plan for now. I had a runner-up idea that I didn’t have a lot of hope for but it was better than attempting to stealthily take out/sneak past a guard.

I crept along the deck toward where the ship store was. I figured it was even odds if they had someone posted there. Yes, it had supplies, but not as many as the ships stores or main entertainment areas and I hoped it would be overlooked. It was also accessible on Deck 2 and didn’t require me to go deeper into the ship.

I noticed as I crept along, doing my best Solid Snake impression, that I didn’t see any evidence of crew or passengers. The pirates had probably herded them into a central location in order to better keep an eye on them.

I came to the small intersection that had the doorway to the store. I paused for a long minute, listening with all my might. What seemed an eternity passed as I crouched by the corner and heard only the passing of the wind and the occasional groan of metal as the ship shifted.

My thirst felt like a live thing as it drove me forward into the store. I barely paused by the door to sweep my eyes left and right, noting the lights were off but the little display fridges were still powered. Unable to help myself and seeing no one present I shot into the store, ripped open the fridge and was slamming back a bottle of water. Such was my haste and need for liquid that I crushed the bottle, slamming the liquid down my throat.

Pain stabbed my middle as the shrunken insides accepted what was probably too much water too fast but my enhanced body soon adapted. I curled up on myself as the pain died down, the urge to vomit the water back up came but I fought it down until the pain receded. I reached for another bottle of water when I heard the sharp inhale of breath that told me I wasn’t alone.

Moving only my head, I slowly turned to look at the doorway behind me and saw one of the pirates. She was about five foot four inches, weighed maybe a hundred pounds if you leaned on her a bit. Her lustrous black hair was done up in a… calling it a bun didn’t seem right. It was more of a knot with a couple of pens jabbed into it. Gray camo pants were tucked into well worn combat boots. She wore a fancy combat vest with all sorts of pockets for magazines or grenades or whatever you put on a fancy combat vest. A submachine gun hung from her shoulder under her right arm. She was beautiful, but beautiful in a way a knife can be beautiful—her face was sharp, her mouth set in a thin line with an aquiline nose. The only thing that about her face that I wouldn’t dub “severe” were her eyes, which were large and very wide. They were also focused down the sights of a very well-used handgun that was currently pointed at my left eye.

My guts were still seizing in pain from all the water I’d shoved on them with no warning, and I’d spent a long time in the sun being terrified. Couple that with my poor sleep, no food and general exhaustion, you’ll forgive me if I wasn’t the most decisive at that moment.

What I probably should have done was immediately cast my smoke spell and dive for cover. Or maybe cast a fire spell on her to make her panic to take her out quickly. Or just charged her and relied on my enhanced speed to get her before she had a chance to fire.

What I ACTUALLY did was smile and say “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” and went to grab another bottle of water.

I don’t know why. Maybe I’m going insane from living an extremely high-stress life for the better part of a decade and then having my one attempt at finding relaxation blow up in my face. In any case, I couldn’t find it in myself to be scared of the gun at that moment. I reached over, took out a bottle of water and—when I didn’t get shot—sat down on the floor, leaned against the shelf of Cheetoh’s behind me and took a sip, letting the water pool under my tongue.

In my head I was hoping my odd behavior would make her lower her guard so I could have a chance to recover, then overpower her before she decided to use that radio on her hip. What I didn’t expect was for her to give me a pitying look, then glance side to side—as if to check if the coast is clear—and step into the store with me, closing the door behind her.

I watched her fumble for a moment with her vest and realized that the only light in the store now was coming from the display fridges I was sitting next to. It wouldn’t be enough light to see by for anyone other than me. I noticed that she was no longer pointing the gun at me, but she still had it in a ready position.

“Listen,” she said with a heavy, I wanna say ‘French’ accent. “You are the warlock, yes?”

Light shined from a small flashlight and I craned my head away from it as my eyes adjusted to the sudden glare. She angled the light to the floor, bathing us both in the diffused light. In the new light I could see her eyes were green.

I swallowed the water under my tongue, my stomach having calmed down a bit. “That’s… not really something someone would admit to.”

She snorted, and I almost laughed. It was a very masculine sound coming from her, almost like a pig snort. “Obviously you do not hang in the same crowds as the walking merde I have the misfortune to find myself with,” she said with contempt. “The way they talk, you’d think being a warlock was the highest aspiration.”

This was not how I envisioned my night going. I would not have guessed I would be talking to one of the prettiest pirates I’ve ever seen outside of those Disney movies.

“Listen, I will assume you are the man they are looking for because you match the description and have monster claws, which seems like something a warlock would have,” she said. I blinked and looked at my hands. Oh yeah, the Limbs of the Other Side. They were so nice to wear I had kinda forgotten they were there.

“They, the two that lead the crew, have been talking about you almost non-stop,” she continued, squatting a few feet from me. “They say once they capture you, they will attain great power.”

I groaned. “Fuck,” I said as I rubbed my forehead. Flakes of skin came off and I made a face at it as it fell. This pretty much confirmed who was behind this little attack. There’s only one being I’d pissed off enough to send an entire force of pirates after me.

“I assume from your reaction their claim has credence?” She asked. I noticed that she had relaxed her hold on the gun but hadn’t put it away.

I nodded. “I pissed off a… thing, when I was young. Now it apparently is coming for payback.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

I took another sip of water. I was still incredibly thirsty, but I had learned my lesson. Finally I shrugged. “I fought back. I lived.”

She frowned. “You defended yourself? And this—“ she pronounced it ‘theess’ and it sounded adorable, which was incongruous with how well she appeared to handle deadly weapons. “—thing decides revenge?”

“One doesn’t walk away from the Doorman,” I said darkly.

I turned to her before she could ask me another question. “Why aren’t you reporting me?” I asked.

She held up her finger in the classic “wait” sign, turned off her flashlight and went to the door. She eased it open and craned her head left and right, before stepping out. I heard her walk to the left… then right, before coming in and closing the door behind her. Again she turned on the flashlight at the floor to bath us in its passive glow.

“Okay,” she said, a little breathy. “Uh, before I tell you, you, you uh, have no intention of being captured, yeah?”

I nodded. “That is right.”

She took a deep breath.

“I am undercover. I am Lieutenant Ida Abreo, working in concert with Interpol to bring down a ring of human traffickers,” she said. “I have been undercover for a little over two years now and… I need your help.”

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