Endless Loyalty

Under Fire - Chapter One

Some people say this world is a wondrous place. A world filled with music and laughter. A world of beauty and mystery. A world worth exploring.

This is the world I was told about. This is the world I yearn to believe in.

But reality is different.

Harsh.

Cruel.

Relentless.

A monstrous beast ready to devour those you love and leave you bloody and beaten in its wake.

This is the world I live in.

Still, despite the rough treatment I've received over the course of my life, I can't help but see the beauty in it. I can't shake the need to capture it, to move through it and create more of it.

Not that any of that matters now.

I squint around the dimly lit room, my head pounding in time with my pulse. The room sways lightly, making the inch of water seeping into my clothes slosh across the wood floor. A shiver runs down my spine as the cool air hits the damp fabric, making me wince.

I hate the cold. The cold brings grumbling bellies and hypothermia. Nose wrinkling, I twist around, attempting to get away from the water and the chill. I bite back a hiss as my wrists and ankles rub painfully against tight rope bindings. A growl of irritation rolls in my throat.

Doesn't matter who you are, waking up in an unknown location with your arms tied behind your back and your legs bound together is NOT GOOD. To make matters worse, my hip bags and knives are missing! The few items of value I own are in those bags, not to mention the knives themselves. I grit my teeth at the thought of someone else going through my things.

No-one steals from me. I make sure of it.

I let out a breath through my teeth, trying to force myself to focus on the facts and not the 'what if's'. Someone is responsible for my capture. The question is who. If I'm completely honest with myself, I probably already have an idea. Vaguely at least. The chances of this not being related to them is just too small to ignore.

The gang. My brothers.

I shove the thought away as my throat begins to tighten.

No. Focus. It doesn't matter why. All that matters is escape.

I suck in a slow breath through my nose, flooding my senses with the distinct smells of sea water, bad body odor and cheap booze. The unmistakable creek of a hull and the distant FWAP of a sail fill the silence, confirming my suspicions about part of my location.

No doubt about it. I'm on a ship.

"Ah man...this cheap swill makes me feel terrible."

The drunken slur makes me jump, my head whipping around towards the voice. A man is sprawled limply against a chair near the far wall, his feet kicked up against the table in front of him. His pink hair hangs unstyled around his face and his torn marine coat seems incapable of staying on his shoulders. A partially full glass in one hand and a bottle in the other, he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a low groan.

"I long for the old days * hic* when I was surrounded by beautiful women and *hic* fine wine." Two of the legs of the chair leave the floor as he leans back. The room rocks as the ship sways and the bottle between his fingers threatens to roll away with the shift.

"One chance encounter with that horrible waiter changed the course of my entire life. Because of him, the marines said I 'tarnished' their good name and I lost my rank of marine headquarters lieutenant." He raises the bottle to his lips and takes a long swallow before letting his arms fall to his side. The liquid in his glass sloshes along the rim, spilling some of its contents across the floor.