07-19-2015, 11:11 AM
Blue Flame Island.
As a young girl, she had been told to stay away, that it was a bad place with bad people. Pirates...Criminals...Outlaws. As Millie looked at the main port city, however, she couldn't help but laugh. The town wasn't the grubby, poorly built slum-town people had made it out to be. Sure, it didn't have the polished perfection of the Imperial port district on Costa Del Sol, but it was actually pretty well kept. The buildings were made from polished white stucco, and there were even nice little grassy areas.
As the smuggling vessel she had bartered for passage on pulled along side one of the long wooden piers, Millie helped lash the boat down and quickly disembarked before anyone could pester her for payment. She was immediately taken aback by the local populace. For the most part, there were dressed in old-timey looking clothes, with flintlock pistols and shit. What was the deal with that? Millie looked down at her own attire; the worn and weathered heavy assault armor. Sure it was painted grey, but it still drew a lot of attention. Not as much attention as Negotiator, though. It was a thing of beauty in her eyes; a greased, perfectly maintained Imperial gatling blaster. To passersby, however, it was an omen; she could see it on their faces. Was she an Imperial spy? Inspector? Something else?
...Well...fuck 'em. She didn't have anything to prove other than her utter superiority. As she sauntered into town, she was amused by the local populace. These were the rough and rowdy men of the seas she was supposed to fear? Most of them were flabby, malnutrutioned and diseased. Millie was a little under half their height, but she was solid muscle and easily weighed just as much. Fuck, she could literally smell the cirrhosis in them, black teeth and all. Shaking her head in bemusement, Millie went off in search of something worth her attention. A heist...an adventure...anything.
It wasn't long before she found trouble. She had seated herself inside a local tavern, Negotiator close at hand, and had ordered herself a water, much to the bartender's chagrin. She gave it a hard look when he presented her with a filmy glass filled with cloudy liquid. No wonder these people were walking obituaries. Millie reached into a pocket on her belt and pulled out some small white tablets. She popped them into the filthy water and all the sediment and impuritied immediately sank to the bottom. Better living through chemistry, indeed.
"Wot, our water ain't good enough for ya, Imp?" came a gravelly voice from behind her. Millie grinned and turned around on her seat.
"...Uh...no dude. It's a fucking sewage. I'm sure you don't mind though."
The man was quite potently taken aback, aghast that a female would dare speak to him that way.
"Okay ye ripe, wee lass. Lemme show ya some local 'ospitality then!"
With a bold stride forward, he grabbed Leviathan by the wrist and pulled her upward, close to his body. Clear assuming he had the advantage in strength, he spun her around and reached between her legs. Obviously it was armored in that area, but it wad the principal of the matter.
"Lil nubiles wot like yeself don often come 'round. How's aboutggggaaauughhhhahuuaha!"
He screamed loudly as Millie crushed his hand between her thighs and threw him over her shoulder, onto his back. He hit the ground with a loud thump, and her boot was immediately on his neck. He looked up at her with wide yellow eyes.
"Haagghh *cough*."
"Truer words were never spoken. Tell me. Where can a real sailor get some work around here?"
She let her boot off of his trachea for a moment.
"Heehacck...KILL THIS WENCH!" he shrieked. Millie sighed and abruptly snapped his neck with her heel. Three other men stood up from a nearby table with scowls on their faces. One pulled a gun from his vest and let off a round right into her torso. The soft, large bore round simply ricocheted off of her armor into the ceiling.
"My turn."
Millie yanked Negotiator from the floor and spun it up as the men surged towards her. One closed the distance quickly, and she smashed his face in with the rotating barrels before unleashing a barrage of red hot death at the other two. The bolts of plasma lanced straight through their squishy guts and into the wall behind them, shattering windows and other glassware nearby.
They crumpled to the ground, smoldering and limp. A moment passed before the rest of the patrons ran screaming from the bar. Millie quickly snatched up all of the money in the four dead men's pockets and dumped it on the equally vacant bar before waltzing out, humming an upbeat tune.
Clearly, the inner town was for drunken losers. If she wanted to sail, the docks would be the best place to go. Leviathan made her way down to the jetties and slowly walked along the rows of sailing ships. None of them really caught her interest. That one was too prissy, that one was too fat...she continued looking for another twenty minutes before spotting one she liked.
"Well hey there, gorgeous..." she murmured to herself, approaching the vessel in question. It was pitch black and medium sized. It looked like it maybe used to be a freighter, but it had been streamlined and an extra mast had also been grafted on. The ship's name was emblazoned on the portside forecastle.
"Black Pearl..." she said, running her fingers along the ebon black wood. She smiled to herself. She wanted this boat...or at least to be on it.
"Oi! G.I. Joan! What're ye doin to my vessel?" came a drunk sounding shout from her left. She leaned backwards and peered around some nearby barrels.
"Oh, nothing. Just inspecting your caulk." she said with a vicious, toothy smile. The grimy looking fucker wobbled backwards for a moment, a bottle of rum sloshing in his weathered hands.
"Ah...so she's a sea wench, is she? Well, I'm captain of this ship. Captain Jack Sparrow, to be quite precise...but I'm not so sure as I'm privvy to the likes o'you. Eh?"
He took a long drink of rum.
"Wot makes you think you and yer loved one are salt-licked enough to be gracin' her decks with your feminine wiles...or...milds...as it were?"
Millie frowned.
"The name is Leviathan. I've got more salt in me than a hundred men's balls and enough time firepower to shoot the sun out of the sky, and I'm not so 'privvy' one you myself there, Cap'n. So lemme ask you, what makes your ship worth my time?"
As a young girl, she had been told to stay away, that it was a bad place with bad people. Pirates...Criminals...Outlaws. As Millie looked at the main port city, however, she couldn't help but laugh. The town wasn't the grubby, poorly built slum-town people had made it out to be. Sure, it didn't have the polished perfection of the Imperial port district on Costa Del Sol, but it was actually pretty well kept. The buildings were made from polished white stucco, and there were even nice little grassy areas.
As the smuggling vessel she had bartered for passage on pulled along side one of the long wooden piers, Millie helped lash the boat down and quickly disembarked before anyone could pester her for payment. She was immediately taken aback by the local populace. For the most part, there were dressed in old-timey looking clothes, with flintlock pistols and shit. What was the deal with that? Millie looked down at her own attire; the worn and weathered heavy assault armor. Sure it was painted grey, but it still drew a lot of attention. Not as much attention as Negotiator, though. It was a thing of beauty in her eyes; a greased, perfectly maintained Imperial gatling blaster. To passersby, however, it was an omen; she could see it on their faces. Was she an Imperial spy? Inspector? Something else?
...Well...fuck 'em. She didn't have anything to prove other than her utter superiority. As she sauntered into town, she was amused by the local populace. These were the rough and rowdy men of the seas she was supposed to fear? Most of them were flabby, malnutrutioned and diseased. Millie was a little under half their height, but she was solid muscle and easily weighed just as much. Fuck, she could literally smell the cirrhosis in them, black teeth and all. Shaking her head in bemusement, Millie went off in search of something worth her attention. A heist...an adventure...anything.
It wasn't long before she found trouble. She had seated herself inside a local tavern, Negotiator close at hand, and had ordered herself a water, much to the bartender's chagrin. She gave it a hard look when he presented her with a filmy glass filled with cloudy liquid. No wonder these people were walking obituaries. Millie reached into a pocket on her belt and pulled out some small white tablets. She popped them into the filthy water and all the sediment and impuritied immediately sank to the bottom. Better living through chemistry, indeed.
"Wot, our water ain't good enough for ya, Imp?" came a gravelly voice from behind her. Millie grinned and turned around on her seat.
"...Uh...no dude. It's a fucking sewage. I'm sure you don't mind though."
The man was quite potently taken aback, aghast that a female would dare speak to him that way.
"Okay ye ripe, wee lass. Lemme show ya some local 'ospitality then!"
With a bold stride forward, he grabbed Leviathan by the wrist and pulled her upward, close to his body. Clear assuming he had the advantage in strength, he spun her around and reached between her legs. Obviously it was armored in that area, but it wad the principal of the matter.
"Lil nubiles wot like yeself don often come 'round. How's aboutggggaaauughhhhahuuaha!"
He screamed loudly as Millie crushed his hand between her thighs and threw him over her shoulder, onto his back. He hit the ground with a loud thump, and her boot was immediately on his neck. He looked up at her with wide yellow eyes.
"Haagghh *cough*."
"Truer words were never spoken. Tell me. Where can a real sailor get some work around here?"
She let her boot off of his trachea for a moment.
"Heehacck...KILL THIS WENCH!" he shrieked. Millie sighed and abruptly snapped his neck with her heel. Three other men stood up from a nearby table with scowls on their faces. One pulled a gun from his vest and let off a round right into her torso. The soft, large bore round simply ricocheted off of her armor into the ceiling.
"My turn."
Millie yanked Negotiator from the floor and spun it up as the men surged towards her. One closed the distance quickly, and she smashed his face in with the rotating barrels before unleashing a barrage of red hot death at the other two. The bolts of plasma lanced straight through their squishy guts and into the wall behind them, shattering windows and other glassware nearby.
They crumpled to the ground, smoldering and limp. A moment passed before the rest of the patrons ran screaming from the bar. Millie quickly snatched up all of the money in the four dead men's pockets and dumped it on the equally vacant bar before waltzing out, humming an upbeat tune.
Clearly, the inner town was for drunken losers. If she wanted to sail, the docks would be the best place to go. Leviathan made her way down to the jetties and slowly walked along the rows of sailing ships. None of them really caught her interest. That one was too prissy, that one was too fat...she continued looking for another twenty minutes before spotting one she liked.
"Well hey there, gorgeous..." she murmured to herself, approaching the vessel in question. It was pitch black and medium sized. It looked like it maybe used to be a freighter, but it had been streamlined and an extra mast had also been grafted on. The ship's name was emblazoned on the portside forecastle.
"Black Pearl..." she said, running her fingers along the ebon black wood. She smiled to herself. She wanted this boat...or at least to be on it.
"Oi! G.I. Joan! What're ye doin to my vessel?" came a drunk sounding shout from her left. She leaned backwards and peered around some nearby barrels.
"Oh, nothing. Just inspecting your caulk." she said with a vicious, toothy smile. The grimy looking fucker wobbled backwards for a moment, a bottle of rum sloshing in his weathered hands.
"Ah...so she's a sea wench, is she? Well, I'm captain of this ship. Captain Jack Sparrow, to be quite precise...but I'm not so sure as I'm privvy to the likes o'you. Eh?"
He took a long drink of rum.
"Wot makes you think you and yer loved one are salt-licked enough to be gracin' her decks with your feminine wiles...or...milds...as it were?"
Millie frowned.
"The name is Leviathan. I've got more salt in me than a hundred men's balls and enough time firepower to shoot the sun out of the sky, and I'm not so 'privvy' one you myself there, Cap'n. So lemme ask you, what makes your ship worth my time?"
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued