Snipes stormed out of the Hound. He kicked one of his security, a smaller man with a spikey head, on his way out. Just in the shin. His shin was armored, Snipes’ foot was bare. The harder of the two won, and Snipes limped off.

Pain or no pain, Snipes stormed in any direction that was away from the ship, looking for anything that might catch his ire. Nobody looked at him. Most of the hanger, most of the ship overall, wasn’t Osk, and at this point probably didn’t remember, if they’d ever known, what Osk even was. Snipes was just another crazy person standing in the middle of the hanger, and anyone that spent any time in a shadowport like The Bucket knew not to engage the crazy. He looked around, swiveling his head between hunched shoulders. He was looking for prey, daring someone, anyone, to look him in the eyes.

Once he realized nobody was going to acknowledge him, his frustration grew. He tilted his head back and yelled at nothing in particular. Which really didn’t help him look any saner. He turned and stormed towards the row of airspeeders. He pushed people when they got in his way, but the way purpose in his walk spoke of murder, and few people put up much complaint, if any did at all; Snipes wasn’t paying attention.

The weequay driver that had taken Kami and him to the bridge stood next to a bothan in greasy coveralls. They were staring at the broken speeder that had brought them back to the hanger and shaking their heads in silence. At some point one of them, probably the one in coveralls, had wheeled a tool chest over, but it was unopened. Snipes assumed, with what little of his brain that wasn’t consumed by blind rage, that they were trying to figure out how best to go about fixing it, or throwing it over the side. Either one worked for Snipes.

They didn’t see him coming.

He picked up a three foot breaker bar from where it leaned against one of the other speeders and pushed between the two beings. The first hit was aimed squarely at the thruster that had gone out first. The next one was aimed at nothing in particular, or perhaps just everything. In Snipes mind his problem wasn’t with the speeder, it was with existence itself.

“Fuck this thing!” He yelled.

It was with how far Osk had fallen.

“And fuck this other thing!”

It was with people making plans for Osk without including him.

“I don’t even know what this is!”

Without even asking him.

“But fuck it too!”

He had called them. He had had a plan.

“Don’t need no fuckin’ mirrors!”

They hadn’t even asked.

“And fuck this lever!”

Snipes screamed at the speeder, and with each successive yell, and each successive hit, he felt more and more ridiculous until, eventually, he had to stop and laugh at himself. It was almost mirthless, his laughter. He started as a quiet shaking of his shoulders and built, and built, until his head was thrown back, if only to get the roar of his laughter out all the quicker. He laughed until tears made canyons of cleanliness across his otherwise dirty face. He didn’t bother wiping them this time.

When he was done, he noticed something of a crowd had developed, and there was even money changing hands. He looked around, tossed the breaker bar over his shoulder and into the remains of the speeder. It landed with a satisfying crash, and he pushed his way through the crowd back to the Hound.

A zabrak man and a human woman sat slightly to the left of the gangplank, playing cards across a crate littered with cigarettes, credit chits, and various small items. The man’s face still carried the roundness of youth and the frustration scrawled across it was a rookie mistake. The woman wasn’t old by any means, but contrasted with the man, she looked complete, he looked like he was still baking. The look of disinterest she wore was the look of somebody who knew how much time they had and were amazed people could still find ways to waste it.

“You! Bored one!” Snipes yelled, pointing at the woman.

She looked between her companion and Snipes, her eyes growing large and the look of disinterest slipping away. She pointed at herself.

“Yes you. Where the hell is your boss?”

“He was over there,” She said, throwing her thumb over her shoulder to where the crowd was just starting to dissipate.

“Well go get him,” Snipes said.

“Why?”

Snipes blood began to boil again. He stepped closer to her.

“I may be long in the tooth, but I’m not gods damned toothless, just get it done.” Snipes turned to the zabrak, “And you. You stand in front of this goddamned gangplank. If a weequay comes by, make excuses. We’ll pay him later. If he tries to force his way on board, shoot him. In the face.”

“Yes, uh, your majesty.”

Snipes nodded and stalked into the ship. Kami and Visha had done the right thing. He knew that. He knew he was being selfish. Knowing it didn’t make it sting any less. Snipes knew damn well that he hadn’t been any condition to plot a course to the bathroom, much less a time sensitive salvage run.

Snipes moved through the belly of the Hound like a cat. Even old and disheveled, his motions were fluid, almost rolling. Perhaps that was why Fury the Gurrcat had taken to him. They were of a kind. The crew stepped out of his way if they were in it and gave him a short, respectful, nod before going on about their business. The ship was far more. . .more, of everything, than it had been in some time. They were getting ready to leave. Snipes smiled.

He reached the bridge and nobody looked up from their stations. He sat in his throne, moving this way and that until he reached the maximum level of comfort available in a chair that was long past its prime. When he was done, and comfortable, he looked up at Visha.

“Details?” He asked.

Visha stepped away from where she’d been talking to one of the crew and handed Snipes a datapad.

“We’re leaving in 20.” She said.

“Good.”

"Well this is a familiar sight." Havock murmured limping at Aeos's side as they descended the ramp of the Bitch and touched down floor of the hangar. Aeos paused a moment to gain control of her sway which failed to convince Havock of her sister's sobriety.
Aeos snorted and shook her head.
"Which means some of the gang should be upstairs with the King. Shall we go poke in?"
Havock grinned impishly.
"It would be good to see what the old man is up to nowadays hey."
"Agreed.  Millie, we're missioning up to the bridge. We'll be back in a bit." Havock said to Millie who along with the rest of the Bitchs crew already started performing their routine check of the ship.
"Awesome, so you guys are joining us for the job!?"

"What job?"

----

"Come on Haf, this could be just what we need to break into our status of defecation."
"Defection. You're drunk, still delirious from that oxygen deprivation and running on adrenaline of surviving."  Havock muttered exacerbated.

Around them the hangar was bustling with all forms of life. guttural and pitched commands melting into a lively buzz brimming with expectation and profit. The two of them were drawing more stares than what Havock was comfortable with. Of course they would, still decked out in their Imperial uniforms, rumpled and torn, Imperial nonetheless. Aeos was still swaying, oblivious to some of the burlier types encroaching on them, fingers resting easily on holstered pistols.

"Imperials are not welcome here." a voice growled.
"We're not Imperials, just came from a costume party on another ship." Aeos sing-songed.
Havock groaned face-palming her forehead. Aeos was simply just terrible at being casual as opposed to her usual prim and proper self. Quite frankly, a bit humiliating even.

"Ayee, your whiskey tolerance is several retarded. You know that?"

"We're here to see the King, if you don't mind giving some direction. Just came in with the Bitch."  Havock said turning back to the pirates leering at them dangerously. Hands that have starter inching closer to them slumped back, the owners recognizing the name of the ship.

"I'll escort you." one twileki grumbled with a guttural correlian accent.

---

The state of the haggard King was a sobering moment for Aeos. His frame limply spilling over the frame of his worn 'throne' whilst he tugged more rum out of his bottle as he eyed them. His eyes were bloodshot and misty. Around him his guards stood, eyeing the two Imperials warily if not murderously.

"Who?" he grumbled at Visha.
"The Katash sisters King. Imperials" She said again with a crisp accentuation on their surname. There was a quiet moment of suspense as everyone waited for the King's memory to unbug itself from the rum and welcome them.  Even Kami and Jegora were eyeing them warily suppressing familiarities to be expressed at a later moment. Aeos shrugged. Both those two were not exactly famous for their welcoming personalities. Kami as usual was a open as a carved piece of stone whilst Jegora seems to have shrunken the gigantic presence Aeos recalled of him.

Havock frowned catching Aeos' eye. Even if they were surrounded by some former allies, it did not mean they were not in dangerous territory. Only some were former allies. Most of the crew were pure-bred pirates and did not take easily to bastards. She was still swaying internally with creeping headache nudging in as well. Perhaps it was not the best idea to gobble down that whiskey. Her senses were a bit dulled and she struggled to focus.

"Katash....Katash......KATASH!" The fog cleared in his eyes momentarily and a mischievous spark.
Some of the suspense ebbed away at the King's jovial yet coughing laughter. For a moment it seemed like he was trying to get up from his throne, but then he simply slumped back into the crevice. The effort clearly taking second priority to drinking.

"Welcome aboard! What brings my favourite pair of sisters here?"
Aeos coughed, nervously stepping forward. For a moment she hesitated. No going back now.

"I dunno bout Havi, but I'm here for a job." Aeos said, trying to maintain a casual devil-may care tone in her voice.  Those who knew Aeos chuckled at her request. The King, the loudest.

"You? Joining OSK. My dear Captain. You're amusing, and we've had good times. But I need shit. We need stuff. If you don't have stuff for me, then you are useless to us."

Aeos breathed, closed her eyes briefly and procured a datapad from her torn uniform's pockets.
"Security codes and access details of the Imperial supply ports I know off. I was doing logistics a few weeks ago."

"Visha, do we need anything of those?" The King asked to his right-hand.
The woman nodded sternly.
"It's useful granted it's not a trap."

"It's not. I need a new income, and I don't think Empire is interested in helping me." Aeos said with a bitter bite.

"You're not the type to switch loyalties Aeos. It's against your code."
Aeos glared at Kami fiercely. Icy blue eyes meeting an emerald flash of indifferent.
"Loyalties to factions are meaningless. I get that now. I'm not interested in loyalty. The Empire doesn't give a shit about the people. So why should I stay loyal to that?"

"Honestly,  no one gives a shit here Aeos."

"At least you're not pretending."

Snipes nodded sagely his head bobbing up and down, the rum following the rhythm of the movement to his mouth.

"It's settled!"  he exclaimed.

The one guard at his left threw the King a dirty look and shook his head before stepping closer to the King with a unmerited confidence in crossing Snipes' boundary.

"Sire, we have too much Imperials on this ship already." the man spat, glaring at Kami and Jegora's direction. The King coughed, his lungs drowning in whatever foul fluids and contents he has been drinking and smoking.

"I don't give two shits about your opinion. It is settled." Snipes replied gesturing towards the sisters with rum sploshing out of the bottle.

"Sire, the men are not comfortable with this already, you're being a drunken fool making these decisio-"
A sharp sizzling red light seared through his torso. The human guard gasped clutching at the wound as he looked at Aeos in surprise and anger. Nobody moved to help him however. Only the King could command it, and right now the King seemed more focussed on Aeos and Havock than the dying bodyguard next to him. Aeos holstered her blaster pistol and eyed the guard. now slumping to the floor.

"The King does not need your disrespect." She murmured with a shrug. She ignored Havock's icy eyes as she stepped towards the throne. Imperials required records to check when accepting new recruits. Pirates however had a whole different way of doing it. They wanted to see the talk do a walk. And she was going to do the walk. She didn't have anything to lose at this point.

"So, any positions available?"

“Drop us two points down and reduce forward thrust by seven marks,” Relto purred. Inso was sat on uncomfortable chair next to the pilot. The faux leather was peeling and cold bare metal was pressed to his skin in several places.

By contrast Relto had installed a massive swivel chair behind - and raised slightly above - the main console. He laid across it, sideways, legs draped across the arm. [i]His[/] chair had no discernable flaws in its carefully stitched leather covers.

“I suppose that puts the Osk ship between us and that frigate?” Inso asked. Their pilot was a sullustan who seemed to Inso to have particularly delicate hands.

“Ah my friend I cannot expect you to understand tactics. If our freighter suffers even minor damage we may not be able to store the cargo. Therefore it makes the most sense to keep out of the pine of fire.”

Inso sighed and gave a subtle shake of the head.

“I wonder… A wedge shaped star destroyer. The symbol of the empire. Imperial-class. Called the Imperious. Can that really be true? Perhaps when the Emperor died they merely scuttled their ship in a fit of depression eh?”

Inso didn't really follow the joke, but turned towards a blinking light on his console. “Cronau radiation,” he called. “The imperials are here to reclaim their very… imperial ship.” Relto looked to the aqualish, a look of confusion on his face. “If you're in an empire and don't have an Emperor doesn't that make your political system…” He froze and waved dismissively at Inso before spinning his chair away from the aqualish. No point wasting his musings.

“The plan now? Tactician?”

“An Inso with an insolent tone. Hah! Start our approach. But keep the Hound between us and that frigate!”

Chaos as always.

The thought came unbidden as Kami gazed at the smoking corpse of one of the King's personal guard.

Felix Rye was livid, lips pulled back in a rictus, one smouldering eye focused on Aeos as she conversed in low tones with Snipes. Sensing his rage, and fuelled by it, the remainder of the guard present had shifted perceptibly to stand at Rye's side.

Aeos had misjudged. Badly. Rye and his lot may have been small time thugs. But even thugs had strength in numbers.

Kami tore her eyes away from the scene and back to the viewport. She wouldn't let the surprise appearance of the Katash sisters, and a phantasm ex-squadmate, distract from the looming threat of the heist. Not when Cain had yet to make an appearance.

There was a brush of air as Jegora appeared at her shoulder. The muscles of his jaw were bunched, the fingers of one hand clenched white in a bloodied fist. The strength of his obvious anxiety, peaked in the destruction of the mouthy crew member, was enough to set off warning bells. Osk might pull the heist, but was the cost of the payout worth the vengeance of Aurelia Cain?

Kami was about to say so, the words forming on her lips, before she realised how little they mattered. Jegora knew. Now she knew. The rest...the rest would realise in time.

She settled for a dry quip instead of dooming words of prophecy. "Not your girlfriend, huh?"

Jegora ignored her and paced away, a rolling ball of tension and lean muscle.

Moments later and the bridge exploded into action at the arrival of the Republic reinforcements. The Imps followed right on their heels, eyeballs and squints boiling out of the belly of Cain's flagship even as the NR forces swung about to meet her. The female warlord was tenacious then. Capable of reacting quickly, and decisively, when required.

Fucking great.

"She's going to kill us," Jegora murmured, barely audible over the hive of the bridge.

The King was now standing on his throne, waving a bottle impatiently at Visha and Kami. "Continue with the plan! They're distracted, so we move now! Go!"

Visha began barking orders as Kami raised the link to her lips.

"That's our sign to move," Kami told Relto. "No theatrics. Nice and close and steady."

Relto double clicked acknowledgement of the message, and a minute later both the Hound and the Ship Faced accelerated forwards.

"Prepare boarding party!" The King wobbled precariously on top of his throne, yelling to be heard over the bedlam. A manic gleam flickered across his face, likely fanned by the break in lethargy and promise of potential violence. "If there's any 'pubs lurking on that wreck, they'll rue the day they knocked their mothers legs open!"

There was a roar of bawdy laughter followed by a stampede as Rye and most of the guard streaked out of the bridge and towards the boarding lock. The King capered along in their midst, bottle held high like a flag.

Kami and Jegora were slower to follow.

Kami mentally checked her gear, the process as natural as breathing after years of drill sergeants frothing in her face.

Jegora's hesitation was more subtle. Almost insidious. An internal warring that had him frozen until Kami layed a gentle hand on one wrist. He recoiled as if struck, tendons showing in his neck as he fought the instinctive urge to lash out at her.

Unperturbed, Kami kept her hand steady. "You sure you can do this?"

Visha materialised next to the pair and saved Jegora from a response.

"Keep him safe," she told Kami. "He's not...I mean he..."

"Hasn't done this in a while?" Kami offered, tone sympathetic.

"Right." Visha snatched at the phrase like a life line. Turned it brisk and analytical. "And Rye is no Kelevra."

Kami nodded. "We'll stay with him."

“Aha!” Relto exclaimed, sliding the cards from the table. Inso didn't even see the motion. A scarlet hand waved across the stool and they were gone. “No theatrics she says? I like these people less and less. Give me a scan of that ship!”

Inso tapped the scanner. For some reason this particular screen tended to go dark until given a quick rap. He wished he was in a ship that worked. “There are some Republic drones surveying the ship. Serious damage to the hull, no AG. Large regions of the ship without atmosphere and… that's not good. Guard droids on the ship around the most expensive components.”

“The ones we want?” Relto asked.

Inso let out the aqualish equivalent of a sigh. It was more like a rattle of his mandibles. “Yes.” He wished things could be easy just for once.

“Well then I expect some theatrics are in order,” he exclaimed in his flamboyant manner. “But primarily, you getting suited up and earning your keep,” Relto added in a more businesslike manner.

“And my keep will be…” Inso started.

“Aha! Negotiated afterwards, there is no time now. Go quick quick!”

Inso slowly pulled himself to his feet. More than anything else, he wished he wasn't so desperate.

Once the Osk ships reached the Star Destroyer, and the Imperials and New Republic had become entangled in their lover’s spat, the Hound smacked it with a tight active sensor ping. Intel wasn’t big on what might be salvageable from the wreck, they needed to find the most complete systems, with the greatest amount of life support surrounding it. There were only enough exosuits for two teams.

Snipes was not among those so clothed. In fact, he was still barefoot and wearing only the dirty pair of pants and filthy shirt. The matted hair almost counted as a helmet.

A Star Destoryer was a city unto itself, and only large teams of engineers could really put all the pieces together. A ship’s captain would have a functional understanding of the system, and luckily Osk had one available, but even the people that made the ship run, the hundreds of people, were all neatly specialized in a few things, with some basic knowledge of everything else. Like a city, you could spend your whole life in it and still not know all its secrets. 

Snipes was ignoring almost of the secrets. He had lived in Star Destroyers before, in varying capacities, but he had never specifically crewed one or captained one. Closest he had ever had was The Broken Crown, and nobody knew how it worked, so the point had been moot. Still was moot.

Snipes had a hologram of where the bombs went. He had another one of a simulation of how the op was supposed to play out. Snart eventually give up expecting anyone to remember all the parts The Bucket needed. He’d made lists, with holograms attached so that the pirates would at least know what the things looked like, even if they couldn’t understand what they did.

The teams place explosives around a cylinder that went down several floors, completely sealed behind bulkheads. The idea being to blow where the bulkheads connected, hook the freighter up to the external part, attach it like a cargo pod, run. If they could grab anything with blinking lights and chipboards on the way out, all the better. It was slightly more delicate than that, with that cylinder doing something probably rather important. Where it hooked up to all the other bits of working ship would have to be severed to remove the module. Snart had explained it all in detail that Snipes had primarily filtered out. Snart had explained a lot of things about all the parts they needed. That was the fun part about salvage, you never knew what you were going to get until you started taking it apart. Hence the holograms, and descriptions, and simulations, and nagging.

Snipes’ feet on an unfamiliar, and quite possibly dangerous, ship made his heart pound in his head and a grin begin to creep across his face. The uncertainty, and simplicity, of a boarding action made him feel younger, almost. It was good to have something to do, something straight forward. There was a plan, now was the time to put it into action.

Of course, plans never worked perfectly, and it wasn’t until the shooting started that Snipes realized he’d forgotten to bring a gun.

The Osk pirates fell upon the destroyer like a starving mob. Loose groups peeled away at random, weaving their way into the depths of the ship with schematics in hand and explosives in tow. Other pirates just started ripping salvage from the hallways and side rooms that they passed at random, hooting and hollering as they sent up showers of sparks from dying electrical systems and sheared great chunks of metal free.

Kami strode along at the King's side, Jegora lurking silently on the other shoulder. Aeos was also nearby yet positioned slightly further back, blue gaze fixed on the bobbing backs of Rye and the rest of the King's personal guard.

At Kami's urging the group was slowly making their way towards the bridge of the vessel, their progress interspersed by spontaneous drinking and some fisticuffs. Members of Osk in other sections of the ship had crossed paths with a detachment of New Republic marines and engineers. If there was any form of NR leadership it would logically be centred on the bridge. The King had agreed that chopping off the figurative head of the NR presence would make it much easier for Osk to continue gorging on the destroyer at leisure.

Kami wasn't overly fearful of the possibility of NR reinforcements appearing and stopping the impeding murder of their leaders. Not when early reports of the space engagement suggested they Aurelia Cain was flexing her substantial Imperial muscle and calmly smashing the Republic defence to pieces.

"Pubs!" Rye suddenly howled and jabbed a finger towards the T-junction at the far end of the hallway.

A squad of six NR marines had materialised. Clad in armoured dusty green and black each was cradling a heavily modified DH-17 blaster rifle. Without any fanfare the group fanned out across the breadth of the hallway and raised their rifles to their shoulders.

"Open fire you bloody fools!" The King roared at his men. For some bizarre reason the man was without a weapon.

The pirates bawled out a furious challenge as both parties opened fire. The marines set to the task with professional efficiency, calmly picking targets through scopes and drilling them down with minimal ammunition. The man standing to the left of Kami lurched forward in a shower of blood as enemy fire tore out his neck. Another pirate, a petite Sullustan, tumbled and fell under the stampeding feet of his fellows as his organs spilled free from a maw in his gut.

Kami snapped her eyes forward, yanked a heavy blaster from her holster with her left hand, and triggered a few shots towards the line of marines. Without looking she tossed her second blaster pistol towards the King. Osk continued to drop around her under the relentless fire of the marines. The pirates were simply unable to manoeuvre in the confined space of the hallway or risk firing freely without clipping the backs of their comrades in front.

"Charge them!" Jegora yelled over the combined screams of weapons and men. "Run them down!"

Rye and his fellow guards gladly obliged. They covered the distance in mere seconds, fuelled by a heady combination of rage and fear, and fell on the pair of closest marines. Rye casually swatted at an extended arm of one marine with a wicked vibroblade and, in a fearsome display of strength, tore the limb completely free. The female marine let out a guttural shriek and collapsed to the ground.

Rye was already spinning, leaving the woman to his friends, and launched himself into the other marine in a flying tackle. He didn't seem to feel the serrated dagger the marine lodged into his shoulder. Or the pain of his nose shattering as the marine slammed an elbow into Rye's face in a desperate bid to break the pirates hold.

In fact, as Rye buried his vibroblade into the marines gut, smiling through red-stained features, it appeared as though he didn't feel much of anything except pure joy.

The rate of the marine's fire stuttered as their squadmates were cut down, then ceased completely as the personal guard swung to face them. With a single curt command the group began a rapid retreat down the right-branching hallway. Away from the bridge.

Rye, frothing bubbles of blood from his lips, charged after them. Most of the King's guard went with him, with a significant chunk of the crowd around Kami shifting to follow on their heels.

"No damnit!" Kami latched onto the collar of one pirate, and shoved him back into line. "Focus on the bridge - they want you to follow!"

Jegora picked up her cry, as did the King seconds later as he blearily realised that bloodlust had overtaken common sense. By the time the three of them had stopped the entire mob loping off after Rye, and settled everyone back into a loose formation, the damage had been done. A vibration rattled through the tiles under Kami's boots followed by the muted sound of rusted gears whirring into place.

"No," Kami started sprinting towards the end of the corridor, almost loosing her footing as she slipped in the gore of the dead marines. When she reached the T-junction she span to the left and found herself facing the wider expanse of corridor that led to the bridge. She had a split second to see the smug expression of a Bothan in a a pair of greasy overalls before the heavy security bridge doors clamped shut with a resounding thud.

Kami pulled in a breath and released a string of foul expletives. She was still going when the King appeared at her shoulder. He eyeballed the doors, took a long draught of rum, and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well."

As if triggered by the King's vague optimism, Visha's voice suddenly sounded from the comlink clipped to Kami's belt.

"Sharpe?"

Kami yanked the comlink free and thumbed the transmitter. "Here."

"Good and bad news," Visha replied. "Good news is that the first lot of salvage is on the Ship Faced. The longer we hold position the greater the haul. Bad news is...well..."

She paused, clearly considering a light touch, before settling for characteristic bluntness. "Two imperial troop transports are incoming. I can't swing the Hound around and engage them without drawing Cain."

Kami swore again as she processed the news. She thumbed the comlink. "I understand Visha. Thanks for the heads up. Keep a low profile until we get off this thing."

Kami lowered the comlink and turned to the King. "We need to draw them here or they'll put an end to the Oskers working on the engine units."

Snipes took a long thoughtful pull of his bottle. "So blast down the doors," he said. "Kill the chaff, build a blockade, lure the bucket heads in and cut em' down?"

His lips split as he offered Kami a wild grin. "Ain't nothing quite like doing business."

“What? We have bombs,” Snipes said, “Rye, blow the doors,” Snipes jerked a thumb over his should.

Snipes tossed the borrowed blaster back to Kami and padded over to the smoldering corpses of the New Republic Marines. He nudged one with his foot. It wasn’t getting up. Snipes leaned over and went through its pockets. He found a stick of gum, three useless credit chits he threw over his shoulder, and a lot of lint. He scowled at the corpse, then picked up its blaster. The blaster pack was full and the weapon was in good working order. He grabbed two side arms off the corpses and stuck them in his pants.

Behind him the door shattered. Not quite enough to fully open it, but enough that Rye was already shoving one of his men through the hole. Smart thinking, keeping the hole small. It would slow the Oskers getting in, but it would also slow the Marines.

Kami walked over and pointed and grabbed one of Rye’s men and pointed to another, “Grab their gear,” she pointed at the corpses, “we’re going to want it.”

Snipes nodded, wishing he’d thought of that. Kami and Snipes had both held out in similar positions before, and a bit of extra fire power and saved reloading time didn’t hurt anything. If nothing else, it would deprive the enemy of further resources. The enemy may not want the resources, but it was better to leave them without and know they couldn’t use them than it was to chance it.

The two ill armored assholes jogged back towards the door, arms loaded with weapons and cargo pockets full of hand grenades.

Giblets ensued. They got everywhere.

They were preceded by a reverberating, echoing, and deafening bang. One of the Rye’s men coughed blood and crumpled forward onto the floor. The dead Marines were largely pulp. Snipes’ collar impacted his throat (his eloquent response: “gurlk!”) and he stumbled backwards. He wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but Kami was in front of him, blaster firing. Then Rye grabbed him, and by then Snipes was getting his physical and mental footing back. He pushed Rye off him and lifted his stolen blaster.

The first marines must have had friends nearby, and these fools weren’t, well, fools the same way the first group had been. The first encounter had been a surprise for both sides, but this group were moving slowly, using what cover there was and suppressive fire. It was enough to push the pirates back into the bridge area. The blown doors would make a decent fatal funnel for the encroaching Marines, assuming the people on the other side were taken care of. At the moment, Snipes’ pirates were the ones having to navigate that fatal funnel, from two sides.

Over estimated she did. Badly so.
She was still deliriously high from that near death experience.  And following it up with half a bottle of wiskey. Rookie mistake. Now they she was embarking on another rollercoaster ride of stupid mistakes.
Aeos trudged behind the swaying King's back trying to keep her face straight and neutral as they dispatched the remaining of the current wave of marines trying to squeeze through that door. Of course another wave would be pending.

She didn't miss Havock's expression when she had murdered that bodyguard earlier or Kami's lack of expression for that matter. Honestly with Havock playing ping pong on her moods and painkillers and Kami who couldn't be bothered to raise even an eyebrow it was hard gauging them and their moods. The men were easier to read, if slightly more so.

The smell of plasteel and melting Dura steel was burning uncomfortably up their noses as pillaging and murder got underway around them, but for half the crew it was what they probably smoked on a daily basis.

"Fuck!" The King swore. His ensemble turned their backs, facing the door trying to spot the enemy as he continued swearing and oddly started to hop on one foot dropping his blaster pistol in favour of the saving the bottle of rum in the other hand whilst he inspected something on his foot.

"Glass cut straight through sithspit."
Kami swore. If expressions could slap, Kami would have been the one to trademark it in this moment.
"Tis fine, just some blood. Nothing the rum can't fix." Snipes mumbled as he took a swig of his rum before dribbling some of it over the open cut on the bottom of his foot.

"King. It needs stitches. Not rum. And shoes. You need shoes."Aeos murmured dryly as she studied the oozing mix of blood and rum now running freely into the floor."

"It can drip dry. Onward!" The King exclaimed as he picked up his blaster pistol before  managing a leap with his functioning foot a mighty step. He swayed dangerously, his arms akimbo as if performing an incredible balancing act. It was incredible considering the state of his mental sobriety. He hopped again, and then again. Inching towards the door again.
Shit....he is serious. Aeos thought indecorously.

"You have got to be...fucking...kidding me." Kami said icily as she eyed the hopping King.