Justine swung. Shirley ducked. 3 000 newtons of raw cybernetic fist pelted Billie straight through the gut. Flesh exploded. Justine jolted back but found herself stuck: Her wrist was caught in the gut flora.
| A Surprise Encounter with Crispy Sex Pirates |
|---|
| By: |
| Published on 10 Mar 2019 05:06 |
SPC Hub » A Surprise Encounter with Crispy Sex Pirates
Centre Pugilist Justine Everwood patrolled the area. It was Shark Week, and her superiors had tasked her with defending the beach against the Selachian menace.
The moon peeked out over the staggered shore. Where the sea seethed and sloshed over the dock, the night brought its own monsters out to play. The terrifying glare of a half-shark, half-squid, and half-human abomination rose from the deep, defying the laws of fractions in its wake.
Justine met the Deviant at the sea's edge. “Why are you here?” she asked.
With a voice of crushed glass, it answered. “I am here to impress you, my lady.”
“And how would you do that?”
“To be honest, I did not think I would get this far.” The sharktopus-man shrugged. “What might woo you on this frightful night?”
She tapped her chin, deep in thought. “Why don't you tell me a story?”
“A story?”
She nodded.
“Let me see… It was a dark and stormy night–”
KLUNK. The Deviant buckled onto the dock and showered Justine with spittle.
“What is wrong with you?” The sharktopus wheezed. “You are a Boxer?”
She giggled from behind two raised fists — one fleshy, one mechanical. “That's right! And I've heard that story before. You can try again, but it better be good, or there's more where that came from.”
The sharktopus, too afraid of the fists, half-ambled and half-fell back into the waves. Even the froth of the open ocean was better than those fists. A few bubbles popped on the surface, and then he was gone.
Justine Everwood skipped back to her perch further up the beach. Night watch was hardly her favourite thing in the world, but it sure had its perks. She climbed the lifeguard tower and sat on its edge.
She gazed out over the ocean.
…
The ocean gazed back.
“… Huh?”
Out past the dock, a ship that wasn't there before shimmered into view.
Points of light grew into a skeletal frame of composite metal; two large masts vertically bisected a ragged hull, looking more like fins than anything resembling a functional support structure. The entire ship floated a precarious three metres in the air, only just cresting the harsh waves beneath. On its starboard side, peeling white paint signalled a name:
DADDY'S PRINCESS
A metal plank connected to the dock. Three decrepit humanoids walked down to the shore.
Justine jumped down and marched up to the mystery figures. “Hey, this is a private beach. You can't be here!”
The one at the front spoke first. “I reckon we be in the right port.” His zombified jowls exposed a bony jaw beneath them.
Justine got a better look at the intruders. Gangrenous, necrotized flesh and tissue hung in rotting folds from each of their bodies. “Identify yourselves!”
“I'm Cap'n Shirley, and this 'ere's me operatin' crew, Nessie 'n' Billie–”
Justine swung. Shirley ducked. 3 000 newtons of raw cybernetic fist pelted Billie straight through the gut. Flesh exploded. Justine jolted back but found herself stuck: Her wrist was caught in the gut flora.
“Let go of me!” She yanked back, head bobbing. Parts of Billie slopped onto the dock. Nessie grabbed both Billie and the metal arm, trying to pry the two apart. Justine popped her wrist free and elbowed Nessie in the neck. “Who in the depths are you people?!”
“If ye would just let me finish–”
Justine growled. Shirley backed up.
“Avast ye, missie. We are the Crispy Sex Pirates. We come in peace.”
“Sex pirates?”
“Aye. T'is symbolic, ye see, of the disparity 'tween the landlubber and the sailor; the shackled and the free; the submissive and the–”
“Is this a joke to you?”
“Listen 'ere, lassie–”
She scowled. “That's just Everwood to you, Deviant.”
“Aye, Just Everwood, 'twould benefit the both of us if I had a shark-puncher on me crew. Ye reckon ye know anyone that might wants to join up?”
“Right now, we need all the fighters we can get our hands on. If you and your crew don't want to join us, then you're wasting my time.”
Captain Shirley laughed. A small chuckle at first, crescendoing into a dry guffaw of hacks and heaves.
Justine watched as chunks of flesh crawled back into the hole in Billie's gut. She turned around and did her own heaving.
Shirley cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can help ye.” He eyed the mechanical arm. “This 'ere's one of 'em Mark-III Mastiff-Type Muggin' units, ain't she?”
Wiping her mouth, Justine said, “What's it to you?”
“Wha' d'ye say to an upgrade?”
“And that's how I got my hands on a magic arm,” Justine explained.
“Really? What does it do?”
Pugilists Justine Everwood and Haruki Nakahara sat together in the mess hall of Arena-19. Today's cafeteria special was Live Jumbo Lobster. Neither touched their food; both meals wrestled in the middle of the table.
“Well, Haruki, I'm not entirely sure! They juiced it up with some kind of Deviant magicks. It should pack a real punch — as they say — but I haven't had a chance to use it.”
Haruki's eyes lit up. “No way. Did it really happen like that?”
Justine wiggled her metallic fingers, sparkling in the light. “Yeah, it was the wickedest thing.”
“You think you prefer undead pirates over Sharkics?”
“Anything is better than fish puns.”
The two women laughed, slapping the table in hysterics. One of the lobsters scurried off the plate, afraid. Haruki skewered the crustacean to the table with her fork. “So, what else is new?”
“Well, I was actually hoping to learn how you got home, and all in one piece!”
“Oh, I don't know. It's a bit of a long story! And besides, that's classified.” Haruki winked.
“Oh, come on Haruki, are you really going to leave me hanging like that?”
“Justine, you know me. Besides, I'm always thrilled to listen to your stories! Can't you tell me one more before we go back on duty?”
“All right, fine… Oh! Did you ever hear the story about Marshal, Carter, and Shark?”
