Gat-o-9-Sails - #Ch1

Caltrops and corpses littered the deck. Steel clashed and gunfire rang in the air. Gat looked onwards, clicking her Initium rings together, her long, white hair tumbling down her back. She sighed as the barbaric crew stumbled to defend themselves against the brash intruders. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as bodies continued to drop, accompanied by screams and the booms of cannons. 

Her train of thought was disrupted by the dull thud of boot heels and the whisper of moving cloth. Gat fingered her blunderbuss before grasping its handle. Friend or foe? It didn’t matter to her. She inhaled, spun and squeezed the trigger. The shotgun once again lived up to its affectionate nickname ‘Oblivion’. It hissed smoke, launching fire and lead into the chest of the pirate. The shot sent him flying amidst a shower of his own blood and bone. Oblivion gave a horrific kick against Gat’s palm which rattled up her forearm. She was thankful for her training, meaning she could shoot the beast without dropping it – or breaking a wrist. 

She smirked as she blew the smoke from Oblivion’s barrel. However, it appeared her peril had not ceased, as something else caught her eye. Another thug? She harnessed Oblivion on her back, pulled a pepperbox pistol from her belt and edged toward the doorway. Gritting her teeth, she stepped out and shot where she predicted the figure would be. The bullet found its mark, as she emptied the rest of the clip to keep it company. The man had just enough time to drop his gun as Gat’s bullets rained into his chest. He sunk to the floor gurgling and spluttering. Her eyes were blank as she observed the dying man. She snorted and spat her cigarette at him.

Turning back to the carnage unfolding on the ship’s deck, she began reloading Oblivion. The soon-to-be corpse gurgled, blood welling up at his lips as he grasped at Gat’s boot. She contemplated kicking him while she relit a cigarette. The recent events had left her feeling lethargic so she resorted to stomping on his wrist instead. This to her was far more satisfying anyway. The sound of crunching bone was almost therapeutic.

The crack of splintering wood sounded as the ship reeled to Starboard, throwing Gat to the deck. “We’s hit, Cappin!’” yowled one of the Mercenaries as half the crew went flying into the railing. The hull moaned in unison with Gat, as she stood up and massaged her ass. ‘Not my ship, not my problem’ Gat thought. She would assess the extent of the damage and if it would be better for her to transfer. 

She darted to the cabin, allowing Oblivion to blast another adversary off the side. Descending the stairs revealed a dramatic rise in temperature. Once she hopped off the last step, she found herself staring out of a gaping hole in the hull. Woodchips floated in the sea, as waves sloshed against the side. She stepped back. The ship was done, there was no question about that. 

She looked through the cavity at the ship which had wrecked the havoc. A crude Slaughterdog had been etched into its side. She wouldn’t mind owning that ship, it was so her – after she’d renamed it and changed the jolly roger of course. She ran to the ship’s aft where the rowboats were kept. Peering down the thoroughfare to make sure no one noticed, she released one. She jumped into it and pulled at the oars.

Gat felt her excitement build up as she drifted toward the offending ship. This was it, her prize. Gat never cared about the minerals on the Mercenary ship, she had her own agenda. Looking toward the railing outlining the upper deck she saw no patrol – not that it surprised her. Gat moved the boat closer and grabbed onto the hull, smiling. Now came the difficult part. 

Leaning down, she pulled what looked like a toothed shiv from a garter on her thigh. She ran a finger down its fine, Initium blade, admiring its beauty. Pushing it against the hull of the ship, she sawed. She worked the blade with focused precision and guided it in a crude circle. Finally, the hull gave way as the blade completed its rotation. Gat pulled back her leg and gave an almighty kick, sending broken wood flying inside. She dropped the blade, wiped her forehead and slid through the hole. 

A quick look presented a lavish cabin with a four-poster bed and expensive furniture. Not interested in inspecting the room though, she headed for the door, ready for trouble. The hallway was empty. She smiled with glee and tore for the stairs, keeping an eye out for any guards or sailors. She needed to get to the captain’s quarters as soon as possible. As she turned to ascend the final flight of stairs, a swift blow connected with her temple. She reeled and her vision swam in and out of focus. She felt herself falling backward and landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. A hulking figure towered in front of her, his golden smile glowing in the dim lights. She mustered all her strength to stay conscious and pushed herself up with a shaky arm.

“Ahh, I see you are a fighter, little lady, I am impressed!” said the figure in a thick accent.

Gat growled as she locked her rings into knuckledusters. She swung and hit the man in his stomach, but it was like punching a sack of potatoes. She punched twice, three times but to no avail. All of a sudden she felt a pounding in the side of her face and found herself on the ground once again.

“You bastard!” Gat yelled in humiliation, fighting to regain vision.

Rage and hatred welled up inside her.

‘I’m gonna kill this son of a bitch,’ she thought, as she pulled herself up.

She scanned the room for the behemoth and found him to her right. She ducked as he swung for her and opted to kick the inside of his knee. She heard him yell in pain as his left leg buckled. She stood up and slammed a left hook into his temple but it seemed to just bounce off. The man’s hands latched on to her neck and her feet flew off the floor. She grabbed onto the man’s forearms to try and gain some room to breathe but his grip was far too tight. She tried to kick but her legs were too short. Gat felt blackness enveloping her vision, pounding in her ears and bile rising in her throat. She felt sleepy.

So…

…sleepy...

She began to watch her life drift by in a dream: Her first fight, shooting practice, sailing in the afternoon sun. Then, her father being murdered by an attack from rival pirates who threw Gat into the water. The water was ice cold, she didn’t want to die.

Not now, not here.

‘Not now, not here,’ she repeated in her mind, or so she thought.

“What are you saying?” asked the man. “You waste your breath.”

Gat’s eyes fluttered open, her face felt like it was going to explode. She gasped and squeaked in some air, it wasn’t much but it was enough. Focusing all her strength into her left arm, she sent it flying into where she thought the man’s elbow would be. The crunch of bone signified her success as she felt herself falling. The man howled in pain and clutched at his limp arm. Meanwhile, Gat landed on her back in an awkward position, though was still able to grab her pistols. The deprivation of air rendered her movements sluggish though and within seconds the man was back. 

He picked her up and threw her against the wall, the guns flying out of her hands. Tears welled up in her eyes. Angry tears. She saw the shadow approach her to finish her off. It was time. She inhaled and grasped Oblivion. As he bent down to grab her, his face caught fire, smoke and lead balls. His corpse lurched into an upright position, so Gat kicked the body to stop it falling on top of her. She had just enough energy to vomit before she blacked out.