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Bang! Bang! Bang!

Blasts fired in the morning air, my adrenaline pumping as, one by one, I shot every soul who tried to get close to my ship. They were relentless. Their buddy would fall dead next to them, and they’d be covered in his brain matter, but they’d shove him aside and take over what he could no longer do.

“Captain! There are too many!” Scot barked down from me as dozens more clumped around, metal hooks flying up to catch onto our balusters. He fired his gun and sliced at any rope attached to us at the same velocity.

Dread slid down my throat, knowing he was right. The precious seconds I wasted reloading my gun cost us.

“Hold down for a moment!” I yelled back to Scot, darting for the mainsail. No motors meant we were entirely dependent on the wind to move. The breeze was light this morning, but I hoped it would be enough.

“Tsai? Be ready!” I dropped a sail, watching the wind catch in it. It wasn’t a fast escape, but it was a lot harder to board a moving ship. We drifted forward, forcing some of those down below to fall into the water or to try to keep speed with us.

I could only leave it in Tsai’s hands to get us out of here.

Gunfire and yelling throbbed in my eardrums. I was unaware of the bullet slicing through my arm until the searing fire touched my nerves, jerking me around.

A handful of pirates had scaled up from the bow, climbing onto the deck and shooting at us.

It was like my past came back to life, the day that haunted me. Recalling the screams, the smells, the taste of black powder and sea salt on my tongue.

The day I lost everything.

I would not let it happen again.

Anger flared up, my brain shutting down and switching into attack mode. Yanking my sword from my belt, feeling the magic, the legend of Black Beard hum through it, I let out a warrior cry, defending my home, my family. I had also been taught by Master Yukimura when I was a boy; the man had been part of the Han dynasty in 206 BCE and had later mentored Genghis Khan.

He was another I lost that fateful night, causing more guilt to weigh on my shoulders.

Twirling and spinning, bullets bounced off my blade as I moved toward the intruders, none of them understanding the skill or admiration of fighting with a sword. Back in my day, whether you lived or died, there was honor in it. The one with the most proficiency won. It was the way of the fae for a long time until the worlds came together; now fae were picking up human behaviors. Lazy and easy. Guns took no expertise or brain power. Just point and kill.

My blade swiped down and sliced up, bodies falling, but more and more came—an endless parade of desperate people trying to stay alive in this new world. To be the one to come out on top. Or at least survive another day.

The warmth of their blood squirted over me, along with the spray of ocean water, as our speed picked up. My men defeated the raiders, a sense of pride and hope billowing in my chest as we beat them back.

Vane punched up his arm at our clear win. Some of the boats drifted away from us, their batteries not powerful enough to keep up. “That is how you do it, am I right?” He knocked into Zid’s shoulder. Zidane, of course, looked neither happy nor displeased. The man was the coolest I had ever met under life-threatening experiences. And we had many of them.

Using my sleeve to wipe the blood off my face, I motioned for Corb to toss the dead bodies over. “Nothing like a pre-breakfast attack to get the heart pumping.” I shook my head.

“Uh, Captain?” Scot spoke from his place on the port side, his attention on the water.

“Zid, how about cooking us up some of your fritters and fried plantains?” I pointed to him. They all took turns on kitchen duty, but Zidane was by far the best cook, pulling in skills from his Jamaican roots.

“Captain!” Scot’s voice rose, and I jerked my head toward him, my light mood dipping at the anxiety on his face.

Running up next to him, I took in the sight. Dread lumped into my stomach, my adrenaline spiking up again.

A few boats continued to follow us, too far to shoot at them. That alone wouldn’t have been alarming if it weren’t for the two men in the front boat. They held a whale harpoon gun. One large enough to take down a sperm whale. They could sink us if they hit right, tearing into the side of the ship.

The sound of its release punched through the air, howling to us in a blink.

Like the arrow had driven through my own skin, I felt it crack through the hull, the harpoon digging into the belly of my beast. Right where Kat would be.

The metal embedded under the wood, connecting the pirates to us. Other boats grabbed onto the rope, pulling themselves closer.

“Fuck!” I shouted. “Scot, come with me. Everyone else, shoot these motherfuckers!”

Scot and I barely hit a stair as we raced down to the hull. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, finding the glint of the harpoon in the wall only feet away from Katrina’s cell. Air gushed from my nose in relief at seeing Kat was unharmed.

Our eyes met across the room, hers reflecting what little light we had in the dim room. “You okay?”