Book 1: The Rebirth of the Aztecs
Chapter 7 Part 2: Getting Paid
“Nice to see our Captain is done partying like a teenager on their first beer, ready to grow up like your forefathers Stoneman?” Don said while already chewing his victory cigar. Not one quite as nice as those fateful stogies aboard their first prize making pedo puree for the fishes, but still damn high quality. Thanks to the proceeds from that first job they were all getting some expensive tastes. Good thing there was work aplenty for less than scrupulous men of fortune on the high seas. Not to mention a plethora of prey for sharks smelling blood.
“Absolutely not, old man, I will party enough for the both of us till you're done running around in your borrowed skin tight underwear playing commando,” Drake answered without missing a beat. The pirates aboard laughed like men both alive, and happy to be so. There was even a half smile cracking Inquisitor Lancerman’s face while the local Housegaurds and men of the tech cloth gave light chuckles around them. The only fellow not enjoying the game was a young strapping tank of a man who was a size too large for his borrowed wetsuit.
Mr. Peck’s grannie apparently remembered the boy with less muscles, and without the obvious urge to vomit. Well, one couldn’t expect everyone to watch the execution and dismemberment of their coworkers working for a cultic pedo rings without negative effects. Nobody was perfect.
“This must be our new recruit. Not everyday we get a S.O.S. from someone’s grand grand. Which reminds me,” Drake hadn’t finished his sentence before rushing forward with a practiced precision and speed that only came from a man who'd been from the fire of operations harrowing hell's legions. He’d have been even faster if the ex marine hadn't felt like impressing his new first officer trophy girl by wearing the fancy shoes she’d picked out for him and his suite. It was fast enough that the muscle boy was defenseless against the full slap to the back of the head he received from his new Captain.
“That was from your very irate grandma who informed me that if you ever get mixed up with Satanist freaks again that I’m to use a hammer on your head next time, “ Drake said at the dazed tachweenie with more muscles than the Terminator in his prime who just stared at him holding his ear still looking dazed but now from pain.
The once Royal Ranger Marine glowered at the kid knowing he’d killed boys just like him on more missions than he cared to count. They sold their souls for a few silver coins, and none of them expected God’s judgment for shielding pedofiles, slavers, human-eating cannibal freaks, and all the other devil worshiping nutjobs that haunted the peripheries of his homeland. Some part of Drake wanted to turn Peck into fish food right then and there. He deserved it for looking the other way for so long. A tech aboard a spy boat for devil’s favorite butt boys was going to see twisted nightmares beyond the average man’s comprehension. Drake knew. He’d crashed some of those “elite” parties before.
Then again, here he was a pirate hoping the Father Heaven could forgive his many sins one day as well. Nelson Peck had come around in the end. Salvation had been obtained, but now they would see if redemption would stick. The boy had a long narrow road ahead. An even steeper one if he wanted his new Captain’s respect and trust one day. Still, Drake needed the kid’s skills if he wanted to use that spy boat sometime so he let empathy rule the day.
“God owns you now kid, and that means as his representative on our tub I own you,” Drake said with iron in his tone,” You stick on the side of the angels, and I’ll choose to forget who you served before. If not, I’ll feed you to the freaks you sold out. Remember you’re dead. If the people you work for find out what you did they’ll be coming for your grand grand first. Got me?” Peck looked up with a steely look at the mentioning of his grandmother’s fate if he failed at playing dead. A hard nod came next, and that green in his complexion lessened as Nelson stood to his full height which was foot above Drake’s head. Whew, how’d that kid survive joining the kiwi navy? They didn’t exactly make their ladders and corridors with tanks in mind.
“Good,” Drake said, slackening the hardass routine since it never suited him anyhow,” Make yourself useful, and you’ll get a piece of the kind of coin that can get you this action.” So saying the Captain held out his hand for the cigars. Don slapped two in his hand, and before the kid could react one was in Peck’s mouth and lit with a flourish. With matches of course. Beatrice had trained them well since her ascension to pirate queen… or pirate mom depending on your perspective.
“That cigar is our discount version, but it’s still a solid five hundred Rubles a stogie kid. So enjoy it. You earned a reward dealing with pedo lackeys, and not puking on my new shoes after watching the boys do their work.” Chuckles rumbled through the crew of pirates as the cigars were passed around much to the annoyance of the tech monks who did not enjoy the gathering smoke in the diving chamber. Heh, invite jackals into your house then you should expect a mess.
“Sarge, did you get paid yet?”
“No sir.”
“Uncle, why are you holding out on me?”
“Give me the goods pirate, and I’ll get you paid.”
Drake raised an eyebrow at his old sergeant who nodded and rolled his cigar in his mouth a few times before producing a very expensive encrypted memory stick. That toy could hold more data than your average supercomputer. They still had ten or so left from the less than scrupulous freighter they “liberated” a few weeks ago. Some shadowy spy agency was mad at them that was for sure.
Don threw the stick over to the inquisitor who snatched the piece of equipment out of the air so fast Drake swore he could hear a small sonic boom in the air. Before they could blink Drake’s uncle had the stick in his watch computer analyzing the data. A thine content smile filled the religious spook’s face, and at that moment the Pirate Captain knew they were going to get a bonus. That ship must have been spying on some naughty elites.
The Story Will Continue Every Monday
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