Book 1: Rise of the Aztecs

Chapter 1 Part 2: Millstones

Don nodded at a pair of men still in fatigues and full battle rattle over at the stairwell beyond the ship’s restaurant. One turned around without hesitation, and disappeared into the bowels of the super yacht.

Drake gazed around the pretty boat managing to not allow the gorgeous practically naked blond distract him as he took it all in. Considering the surprising amount of rounds that were exchanged in the firefight at least this deck of the Ryujin was in great shape.

Sure there were the few stray bullet holes and shattered furniture, but if one squinted their eyes and concentrated on both the scenery and forced eye candy serving drinks one could just pretend they were on a once in a lifetime cruise like the remains of the old world 1% enjoyed on a weekly bases. Pity things were going to get messy here too.

Didn’t take long. The sun had just started to kiss the sea on the other side of the tiny island when up from the inner decks a short man with an ever so slightly pointed nose, and rapidly thinning hair was half dragged half thrown up onto the deck in front of Drake. Yes, the man of the hour as it were. Though calling him a man was being far too generous.

“Benjamin Cohen. What an utter displeasure to meet you,” Drake said over a curled lip.

“What? My money and credit cards not enough for you? What’s next my wife? My daughter? I see you already had your way with the first officer over there,” The rather unpleasant sweaty little man proceeded to devour Beatrice with his eyes in such a crass manner that even the two ex Marines escorting him made faces that could curdle milk. Cohen’s high pitched nasally voice was off putting to say the least, and despite the obvious and unabashed looks, not to mention borderline harassment, sent the blond first officer’s way by Drake’s pirates Beatrice seemed far more disgusted by the unsettling wee man’s attention.

On paper this seemed ludicrous as the matching pair of red hand prints on the lady’s posterior showed, but in person Drake couldn’t blame her. If she wasn’t careful this could turn into Stockholm syndrome though. Not that old Benjamin Cohen over here was helping. It took skill to come off creepier than your kidnappers.

“Beatrice over there has made a deal with me over the safety of her crew and boat. I might warn you that you weren’t part of the arrangement. Besides Cohen boy. We both know you don’t shoot for girls that old,” Beatrice bristled at the comment.

The woman wasn’t a day over twenty two. Little did she know that did make her too old for men of Cohen’s proclivities. Though, he might still partake in casting couch debauchery with a smoking blond like the first officer. She’d probably break his nose. Drake would pay good money to see that. However, somebody had already paid money for far more. A plethora more if the Captain could practice the fancy language expected of his new station.

“So ransom it is. I know people. Give me my satellite phone.” The wee man sneered, completely convinced of his invulnerability. The rich and prideful were like that. Too bad for Cohen since Drake had already made his deal, and he was going to savor his responsibility in the matter.

Without warning Stoneman lashed out like a mongoose on a baby gardener snake. A swish of his falchion, and with perfect practiced precision Drake sent Cohen’s right ear flying over the railing and to the sharks below. The small Jewish man did not handle the first of many injuries with dignity.

The pathetic wales, and heaving guttural sobs were all together expected. Drake knew Jorge, the ex marine who had escorted the rat from below decks, was already filming the process. They were here to make a statement after all.

“Cohen, Cohen, Cohen, you had such a sweet deal from all those global interests and old world imperial nonsense. All you had to do was pay the Devil his due, and keep your greed and perversion in check when overseas,” Drake kicked the little man on to his side where he moaned and whined like a sick dog. Cohen’s brown eyes were wide with terror and confusion.

Doubtlessly, this man had been on the other side of death videos before. His attendance at certain foreign elite cultic rituals, intel courtesy of the Royal Catalina Inquisition, meant he’d done far worse to many an innocent or unexpecting soul. The thought brought bile to Drake's mouth.

“I have money! I have connections! I could be useful!” Groveled the disgusting raping freak at Stoneman’s feet.

Drake spied a very pale, and slightly blood splattered Beatrice taking in the scene with eyes bigger than saucers. Well, things had been fun, but it was about time the ex-first officer of the Ryujin was reminded that her boat had been seized by pirates, not uncouth gentlemen with fat pocket books.

“Cohen,” Drake said like a disapproving father,” Your money is poison, and I have higher motivations today.” The tiny Jew was in full shock as first Don, then Jorge, the other Marine Morris, and finally Drake himself put on pins with the sigil of the Royal House of Catalina. If it were possible, the sight of the torches heating the bloody golden crown on their pins made Cohen’s eye bulge all the larger.

“All you had to do to keep your party going was leave our girls alone Cohen. Slime balls like you are too numerous to count, but you had to go and fondle one of the High Kings subjects before she was even made double digits. I’m afraid you are in for the King’s justice, and I’ve been called to make an example of you.”

Another cut set the pointed nose right into Drake's drink eliciting a laugh out of Jorge and Morris who were getting blood all over their trousers while keeping their charge under control. Cohen squealed like a stuck pig, and Drake spied Beatrice going a little green at the display. Stoneman felt his face harden as he came to a decision. There would be no more play tonight.

“First Officer Beatrice Adams,” the blond started at her official title, and gave a wild stare at Drake in response.

“After you get me one last drink I’ll consider our deal concluded. We won’t kill any of the staff, or even the clients save Cohen the pedo here. You can even put some clothes on. You're dismissed, but stay in your quarters or the deal is off,” Drake was all business now. There was a reason why the Stoneman line had taken their surname, and from enlisted men in the Marines to beautiful blondes trying to not puke after seeing a man’s nose get cut off everyone knew when a Stoneman was getting serious.

Gulping, Beatrice stumbled to the bar, but managed to keep her feet. She walked back to Drake with all her feminine fury gone. The granite edged into her captor’s face seemed to cow her, and she couldn’t look him in the eyes. That was normal. This wasn’t what any civy should see. Still, Drake figured it was for the best everyone understood how serious the situation was. No one touched the King’s charges and lived a pleasant happy life.

Before she left Beatrice did have one last look into Drake’s eyes. Evidently she saw something there she didn’t enjoy, and looked down at Cohen before looking back again. Reproach? Shock? Confusion? Drake couldn’t read her, and he didn’t care to anymore. He had a mission.

With a nod he dismissed the ex-first officer of the Ryujin. Looking down the woman clanked her way into the ship, almost running the last few steps. Good. Better she didn’t have to witness the rest of this.

Drake looked down at the pathetic crying waste of humanity at his feet. The blubbering mixed with the flowing blood sullied the deck even further. They would have quite the task ahead of them making the ship presentable again.

“This is going to be a long night Cohen. The young lady who you transgressed has a very severe father, and he has made it clear what he expects of me. You might want to make your peace with God because the devil has cast you from the high horse. Somehow, I don’t think God will have mercy on your soul.” So saying all four men stepped forward with Sarge and the ex marines pulling their own blades as they came.

The Story Will Continue Every Monday...

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