The Adventures of the HMS Harlot

Part 2: Odessa Ashmore, First Mate

As Ethel and I walked side by side down the streets of this Monarchy Colony, I could not help my horror. We were told to fetch more gun powder and Ethel would scope out the town for any interesting maps. However, we landed ourselves in an extremely poor, disgusting, slummy, gross, and horrible part of the colonies. I don't think there are enough adjectives to articulate my displeasure. I could tell Ethel was trying not to laugh at me, but it was rough. Every step we took there was someone begging for food or money. Even a group of children came up trying to pickpocket us, but I yelled at them, and they ran away.

I used to think poor meant having a small house with barely any decorations, clothes that were not cleaned everyday, and no wait staff. Since joining the Harlot, we have explored many areas where poor is barely having clothes on your back or sleeping in the dirt. It can only be described as depressing. I know I lived a privileged life, but there are these horrible feelings I get when I am here. It is a lack of power over the situation, no one can help these people. I have always believed the Armada to be all powerful and knowing, why don't they do something about this? I am not meant to associate myself with these issues, I should just leave it alone.

"This is the shop I was looking for!" Ethel said excitedly.

I stare at the dingy one-story building. The windows clearly had not been cleaned in years. What you could see were antique items stacked on top of each other. I squinted my eyes trying to see through the grimy window and frowned, "It looks like a shithole."

She laughed, "Maybe you should stay out here. You might scare the owner." She slipped the barrel of gunpowder off her back and put it off to the side.

"Ethel, you can't just leave me..." She turned and walked into the store.

I let out a frustrated breath and put my gunpowder barrel on the ground next to hers. I hoisted myself on top of the barrel, while I waited for Ethel to buy her maps. I grabbed the gun from my holster, and checked it for scuffs. A woman who looked like she wanted to beg for money took one look at my gun and scurried off, which made me smirk. I could see a couple leagues off children running barefoot and throwing a ball around. I barely spent any time with other children growing up. I had my twin brother and our best friend, Kempis. My mother usually went out of her way to separate us so that I could learn to be a lady. To her dismay, it was impossible to keep me away from them. I wonder where they are right now...

Suddenly, a small voice interrupted my thoughts, "Do ya kno' how to use dat?"

I glared at whoever was talking to me. My eyebrows shot up at the realization that it was a child.

I looked back at my gun. "...Yes, that's why I am polishing it."

"Why do ya need it?"

"I need it because there are people who try to hurt me." I rubbed the already polished handle a little harder. Why is it taking Ethel so long?

"Are ye bad?" Her small voice came out courageously. "Cause o'ly bad people need guns."

I still did not make eye contact with the girl as my mouth opened to respond, then closed immediately. It never really occurred to me if I was bad. I am certainly not good, but bad to a child means evil. Which I am definitely not evil. Right?

I sighed deeply, twirling the gun in my hands. "You know those officers that look after the city?"

"Dey scare me."

I look her right into her chocolate brown eyes, "They are the ones that want to hurt me."

She covered her mouth gasping, then really looked at me. Her eyes went from my grandfather's goggles, to the anchor necklace I never take off, down to my stolen clothes, and finally my calloused hands holding the old weapon. Realization dawning on her face as she whispered, "Y'ar a pirate."