Yo ho. Yo ho...(Armsmen)

It had taken several months.  Month of blood, sweat, tears and cold hard cash.  All spent to refurbish a derelict handysize.  It had been in dry dock for years, collecting rust and little else.  It had been quite cheap initially, thanks to its age and condition and Guerrero and Dirk had managed to fund the repairs thanks to some of the contracts they had collected.

Now the old tub was in the water, moored near where it had been launched.  Waiting to find its way to where it belonged.

"We're gonna be fuckin' pirates!" Dirk shouted, having spent the past few minutes admiring his new home.

"Calm down," Guerrero seemed to snap in his deep baritone.  Still, he was equally pleased...at least in his eyes...maybe?

"Well," Dirk continued, acting as though he were ignoring his superior's words.  "If we ever plan on getting this thing out there, we'll need supplies."  Turning, he seemed to order, "You handle that while I look over the ship."

"Watch it," Guerrero warned.  "I'm in charge, you Aryan prick."  He sounded serious but this exchange was meant in good fun.

"Oh, well," Dirk began, theatricly.  "Maybe you do, in fact, know shit about ships.  Till then, get lost, ya greasy spic."  It was meant as a joke and such crass terms were permited in each other's presence.

And for a time, they parted ways.  Guerrero headed into town while Dirk surveyed the ship's condition...

Not far from where the ship was moored, out of sight, a small submersible craft surfaced partially. Then a figure climbed out of the water and onto the pier, tall, lithe, and humanoid, carrying her staff and wearing a reverse diving suit. That is, a suit filled with water to allow the sea-breathing Kiva the ability to walk on land.

Kiva, the newest 'member' of this merry band of warriors, inspected the ship visually, after having performed service scans of the vessel using her own equipment. She approached Dirk, the "smith", as she referred to him, and began to communicate with him telepathically. Her fishy dreadlocks glowed with psychic energy as she did so.

"This is to be our home vessel from now on? it seems decrepit. You surface walkers know little of sea-going ships. Only its lower holds contains water. Is there no mechanism to take in sea water more quickly?" she asked, showing Dirk a real-time holographic scan of the ship's parts using her advanced Azlant technology. The hologram of the ship showed that apparently the thing taking on water at an unsafe rate, and only a few jury rigged pumps provided by the seller was siphoning water out.

"And why are these machines removing the water? I thought you surface dwellers need air. Or can you also exist in water? I always forget." Truly a fish out of water, in need of education in the ways of the surface.

Dirty fingers plucked at the strings of an electric guitar, but there was no amp to bring out the seemingly random rhythm being played across the strings. Ash sprinkled over the surface of the old Fender as Michelle inhaled toxic smoke into her dead lungs. As the cigarette burned down to the filter, Michelle flicked it to the ground next to the bench that faced the harbor.

Michelle had been watching the repairs of the rusted ship from a distance since she arrived in South Africa, but hadn't announced her presence to anyone yet. After lying low for well over two decades, she didn't like the idea of showing herself to the world again. However, after all the terrible places she'd been hiding where she kept getting mistaken as just another innocent white American girl, she was tired of holding herself back from killing the assholes who kept asking for it.

Her fingers came to a rest below the strings when she spotted someone walking away from the ship. She'd been told to find the big Mexican man, which was easier here than in other countries she'd been hiding in. As Guerrero passed by her bench, Michelle glanced back out towards the floating rust bucket with a look of disgust. "You really think that's going far?" Her gray eyes drifted back to Guerrero and met his in passing. "You're the captain of that mess, right?"

At the "touch" of Kiva's telepathy, Dirk jumped visibly.  The feel of an invading mind was always unerving.  The fish-girl's aesthetic did not help much either.  "Woman, don't scare me like that."

Then came the hologram...at first the technophile was mesmerized by what he was seeing.  Then he began to think of all the applications.  Then of course came the realization that what he was seeing was actually...problematic.  "Dammit," he hissed.  "Paid all that to fix a boat...asshats don't do shit," he continued to mutter as he marched off to grab some tools.

On his way, he tried to explain some things about surfacer maritime construction.  "Water is only supposed to be in two places on a boat like this: ballast and bilge.  But only the ballast fills with sea water.  Which means we have a leaky ballast tank."  Turning a little to Kiva, he added, "No offense but this bitch is NOT going to the bottom of the sea.  So if you could lend a hand..."

Almost has an afterthought, he said, "And yes, humans need air to breathe."
---
At first, Guerrero barely paid any attention to the woman playing the guitar.  Military training had made him vigilent but beyond her presence, there seemed little to notice.  Then she called out and the large man glanced over.  "Colonel, technically," he corrected.

Now curious, he turned to the woman.  "I'm Guerrero," he introduced himself.  "You are...?" he enquired, trailing off.

"Pah, I cannot blame the surface primitives for not evolving neural cords." She said, chiding Dirk's poor response to her telepathic communication. It was more efficient and allowed Kiva to 'borrow' the recipient's language. It did seem strange though, as it seemed like Dirk was doing all the talking while a quiet shark girl stood next to him.

Once Dirk clarified the relationship between surface dwellers, air, and water, she concluded the ship needed to be repaired, albeit opposite to the conditions she was used to. "Hmmm. I have some tools from my Manta that can be of use."

The alien craft quietly drew closer underwater, partially surfacing. It opened its bay doors to its inner hold, and there in a lone power armor station was Kiva's suit. She had collected what few tools she had, which were originally for repairing her own sub.

"Now, since water is actually detrimental to your kind, I can assemble water moving cyclonators, much like the ones that allow the Manta to quickly submerge." Kiva was kind enough to explain, using a hologram of some alien water-intake devices. In reverse, they would very efficiently clear out the bilge of water.

"I do not have the materials for this device though. I will need spare parts, or scrape some from the existing pumps. For now we shall have better control over the water intake, but I will wish to give my craft a compartment on the main ship." Kiva said, more like stating things that will happen rather than asking. She was determined to make the lower decks hers it seems. Understandable, for a water breather.

The sub's inner workings moved Kiva's re purposed power armor onto the pier. Its weapon systems were replaced with manipulators to handle the tools. She enters the massive suit and gets into the water to get to work.

Michelle gave Guerrero a limp-wristed mock-salute and used her guitar to push her off the bench to her feet. "Sure, Colonel then. Whatever. Either way, I guess I'm working for you now." She brushed her hands off on her jeans and slung her guitar over her shoulder before reaching out to give the large man a handshake. "I'm Michelle.  Or Entropy if you want to get fancy. I'm the one that signed on in Brazil."

Michelle gave the busted-up tanker another skeptical look. "Tsk. I hope you got the full insurance package on that," she said with strongly-implied sarcasm.

Guerrero followed the woman's gaze, he took note of the rough looking vessel. "Don't worry," he assured her.  "It's being handled."

At about that time a buzz emminated from the large man's hip.  Withdrawing a custom smart device, he wound an email from Dirk.  It read: "Issues with the ship. Need you to pick up some things."  This was followed by a list of supplies needed to make the vessel truly servicable.

Wordlessly, Guerrero texted his reply: "Wilco."  For a moment he thought, thinking of how to use the woman.  Pulling his wallet out, he said, "I need you to head into town and pick up a few things," he said, pulling out a credit card and handing it over.  "Here," he added, handing over his PDA as well.  "List is on screen." Guerrero also directed her toward an old beat up pickup truck: a simple two-seater with an oversized bed.

He partially regretted leaving the girl with such a menial task but he did not expect her to be able to haul a half ton of military hardware up to one of the holds.
-----
Kiva and Will were making plans for the ship, and many of the Shark's ideas were not half bad as far as the more experienced mercenary could tell. "Yeah, we can flood one of the holds and park that sub in there. You could use it as your quarters and we could install facilities for amphibious maneuvers..."

"We could use the deck cranes to put the boat in the water and use it for stealth and..." Dirk trailed off a moment. "Sorry," he said, a little sheepishly. "Busy thinking of mission applications..."

The now giddy merc shook his head, trying to get himself to focus on the task at hand. "First we gotta patch the leaks, then we can think of ways to make this old girl better while we wait for those supplies."

The mercenary tinker gabbed a plasma torch and set to work on his half of the repairs...

After a few hours, Kiva completes the assembly of the new alien-design based pump. The ship now had an unreal water intake/ejecting capacity. Her alien sonic technology let the Armsmen fold and work steel like it was craft paper for origami.

Kiva joins her crewmates in the mess hall with, For a lack of better description, An alien Coleman loaded up with still mostly alive seafood. A determined Grouper fish tries to jump for freedom, only to land on the table. With one of her knives, she guts the creature in a single move. She was about to dig in, when she saw her colleagues.

Realizing her faux pas, she neatly digs out the fish's eye with her knife. She offers one of the Grouper's eyes to Guerrero. "I suppose... the surface has some custom of sharing delicacies?" She telepathically asked.

Guerrero tensed at the psychic connection. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he said. "Or that," he added, glancing at Kiva's still living meal. He quickly returned to his own dish of pork and beans.

"Oh, come on, big guy," Dirk replied, heading over to the shark girl's table. "You don't know what's good." He took the offered eye and quickly bit into it.

Guerrero rolled his eyes, uncertain if he believed his second-in-command. Still, that was beside the point. Quickly finishing his lunch, he pushed the plate aside. "Eat up; we've got work," the warrior said, standing up. He pulled a paper tube from where it stood beside him. Heading to the table behind Kiva, he unrolled the chart, laying it on the table.

The chart seemed to show a significant portion of the oceans around southeast Africa. And 'X' was drawn in pencil some few inches south of Madagascar. Pointing to the X, the large man continued. "Pirates have been patrolling around here. They hijack freighters and hold them for ransom. The local merchant marine want the problem dealt with."

"Our plan," Dirk continued, "is to let them board our tasty little morsel. We let them walk into a trap." Directly looking at he fish girl, he said, "Kiva, you'll plant charges on the hulls of each boat. Then, you'll detonate all of them, sinking each boat."

Guerrero took over again, saying, "With nowhere to run, I can mop up on deck. Dirk will pick you up with the Huey and you can join me there."

"Questions? Comments? Concerns?" Dirk looked for Kiva for input.

Once Kiva polished off her fish, she got to work on a squid. She guts the thing's head and takes out the ink glands, then removes its lamprey mouth, leaving only the soft bits.

Once the meal was finished Guerrero brought out out their first mission as a group. Kiva reactivates her suit's helmet, filling up with seawater. She had to eat fast, as she found the surface not very agreeable to her gills.

The telepath not only 'spoke', but her visualizations were relayed as well. She had taken a look at what meager supplies the Armsmen had in its stores. "I have second thoughts on completely scuttling their vessels. They may contain salvageable materials, perhaps their plunder from their previous enterprises. I would see their supplies absorbed into our own, seeing as we are short on this... 'money' you Surfacers so often crave."

Kiva looked at her alien knife, wiping off the fish blood. She goes into gory detail on how to terrorize the Pirates. The description was most vivid since it came with Kiva's memories of underwater battles, and what they did to their enemies- alien or fellow merefolk alike. "Yes. A trap. We will find their women and children. Skin their bodies alive, feed their entrails to the Sharks! Then hang them from the side of this merchant vessel, to be seen when they board. This will enrage them- they will be reckless and easy pickings." She 'said', like it was the most natural thing ever.

The two more experienced exchanged glances.  "I'll uh," Dirk began to say.  "I'll let you field this one, big guy.  I gotta get things underway if we want to be in position..."  Giving Guerrero a pat on the shoulder, the blond man left for the bridge.

The warrior stayed where he was for a time, trying to think of a way to explain the nature of surfacer warfare.  Finally, taking a seat, he said, "Pirates don't actually have much to make them worth anything.  They do what they do out of despiration; they use cheap weapons and attack in rusted out fishing boats.  What little money they manage to steal goes to essentials: food, clohing, medicine.  There isn't anything to salvage."

Continuing, he said, "As for...entrails..."  Guerrero paused, unnerved at being a voice of moral restraint.  "That won't be necessary.  We're being payed by the head for pirates.  Women and children are not worth anything.  In fact," he added, "Directly targeting civilians is considered a war crime, and I don't have any interest in seeing The Hague."

It was almost imperceptible as the ship eased ahead. Suddenly, El Arsenal was underway. "We have some time before we're in position. Have any other questions or suggestions?"

note:

Kiva's facial expression were hard to read as is, especially with seawater obscuring her features in her surface suit. Her telepathic abilities picked up on Guerrero's visualizations of the pirates, and the dominant feeling she gave off was... disappointment.

"...These pirates do not seem to be worthy foes." She said, but reconsidered, since it provided them what they needed. "But... if their destruction benefits us..."

Kiva again visualized as she spoke. She showed what her Aqua armor could do in the water, moving like a deadly swordfish. "I am a much greater asset when in the water than on foot in the vessel. I propose then, when half their number has climbed the ship, I shall scuttle most of their... attack boats... with my weaponry. In the water they will be easy pickings; seeing their escape cut off, comrades in the water will make them fight or more likely flee. Is this agreeable?"

Guerrero thought over the Fish Girl's suggestion.  Finding no fault in the plan, he said, "Not a bad idea.  Not to mention we'll need to keep a bodycount on those that stay in the boats.  So, you handle the ones that survive the scuttle, then collect the heads?"

The plan seemed ironed out, so the team waited as the ship was driven into position...
---
It took several hours but the ship was now in the waters that the local pirates frequented.  Dirk and Guerrero stood near the aft section of the deck, Huey sitting in the makeshift helipad.

"Everything in possition?" the large fighter asked.  He seemed to be studying the helicopter for no apparent reason.

"Nara's in the water; hoses are on to give the illusion we are trying to keep them away."  The blond man watched the helicopter as well.  "You think she'll be up for this?"

"We'll see."

The sound of motors could now be heard.  In an instant, Dirk was moving toward the helicopter, priming systems so that the vehicle could be in the air in a moment. Meanwhile, the retasked fishing boats were drawing close to the hull. Grappling hooks were lobbed up and pirates began to scale the hull and climb abord.

Much of the crews now on deck, the speed boats moved away, slowly circling their prey. Your turn, Shark Girl...

Kiva stood with Dirk and Guerrero wearing her Power Armor save the helmet. Already a tall specimen compared to humans, the Aquatic Armor gave her another six inches or so, and doubled her bulk. She spied their hunting grounds as her fellows plotted, and wordlessly walked off the deck and into the water, making a big splash.


Once the gunfire started, Kiva began her sinister cull. her Aquatic power armor's hydro-jets allowed her to speed through the water with the grace of a swordfish. She went after straggler boats first, those on the perimeter, harpooning and quietly pulling the drivers into the water. She found it too easy, slaughtering these Surfacers- once in the water they panicked and thrashed, gunpowder weapons neutralized. They were unable to fight back at all against the predator from the sea. It almost felt dishonorable.

Kiva sliced their throats, or simply stabbed them a few times in different areas with her knife. The pirates were then "helped" back into their boats, quickly bleeding out, unable to scream for help. Gruesome, but Kiva knew when to be efficient.

Minutes would pass before any observant pirate would notice some of their boats had stopped completely in the water, now drifting aimlessly on the waves...

As Kiva was entering the water, Dirk was climbing into the helicopter.  He would lift off, acting as an eye in the sky.  "Okay, big guy.  I have eyes on deck; count fifteen hostiles.  Engage at your discretion."  One of the pirates spotted the aircraft and opened fire.  The bullets mostly just clattered against the fuselage harmlessly.  Dirk pulled away but otherwise ignored them.

Distracted by the helicopter and the whir of its engine, a group of pirated failed to notice the Hispanic giant of a man.  Wielding only his axe and bowie knife, he rushed them.  The first man took the axe blade in his chest, heart carved open.  Follow through allowed Guerrero to pitch the broken man away, freeing his blood-stained weapon.

The next man caught a knife to the neck.  As the blade tore free, the dying pirate cluched his neck, vainly trying to hold he blood in.  His ribs shattered as the mercenary's boot connected and suddenly the pirate was flying backwards, ragdolling into the pirate behind him, the latter trying to train is AKM knock-off on Guerrero.  He got free only in time for an axe to cleave his skull.  Grody.

"Three down," Guerrero said into his comm. Stowing his close range weapons, the large man drew his pistol. The deck had been covered with various crates and boxes, all empty. They provided cover for the large man as he began to maneuver toward the next batch.

"Impressive, but Fishy is still leading." Dirk had just counted the motor boats now manned by bloodstained carcasses; he saw the next man pulled into the water, saw blood mix with the water, then saw the body heaved back up to be tallied later.

Swinging back over the deck, Dirk scouted out the next bunch of pirates. "Four just around the next corner, right side." The big man stepped into a turn, squeezing the trigger on his 1911. Each man fell in turn as eight bullets ripped through them. "Six," came Dirk's warning and instinctively knowing what that meant, Guerrero drew his his knive and threw it as he turned. It caught him in the throught.

"What's the count now?"

"All tied up."

Meanwhile. the boaters had noticed their losses beyond the freighter and began to speed up, hoping to keep whatever had been slaughtering them from boarding any more vessels....