"Aqua" (closed)

"Aqua"

(closed)​

The owner of the yacht ascended the ladders to the bridge and asked with annoyance, "Why are we going so slow?"

"The speed limit in this portion of the harbor is 15 knots, Mister Black," the Pilot explained in a nervous tone. "I assumed you would not want to attract attention from Harbor Patrol."

Harvey Black gripped the butt of the pistol on his hip, wanting desperately to shoot the man for his idiocy. He opened his mouth to holler at the man for being concerned about something as minor as a harbor speeding ticket, then hesitated. The Pilot was correct. The hold of the boat was filled with drugged women, young, beautiful, shapely college and high school students who thought they'd been auditioning for a swimsuit modeling gig. Instead, they were now on their way to a Middle Eastern White Slavery Market. Attention from the Authorities likely wasn't a good idea, so the Pilot would continue to breath until he pissed Harvey off in some other way.

"Are we clear of other traffic?" Harvey asked of a huge man with an equally huge semi-automatic pistol holstered under one arm and a 12 gauge shotgun slung under the other. "No one following?"

"No, sir," the man said confidently. "There's no chance of anyone having tailed us..."

The man looked out to port, then starboard, then to the stern. He finished, "...and there are no boats or choppers anywhere in the--"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Before the third shot sounded from somewhere out on the bow, both Harvey and the bodyguard were crouched with their pistols in their hands. "I thought you said we were clear!"

"We were, sir!" the bodyguard professed, moving to the open starboard bridge door and looking fore and aft for danger. "There is no way someone got to and onboard this boat."

"Then someone stowed away!" Harvey accused, as he cringed at the sound of a man screaming in pain, this time aft away from the gun shots. "Two people, one fore, one aft--"

"No, sir!" the bodyguard said, rushing across to the port side to repeat his scanning for intruders. "There was no one aboard."

There was a short burst of automatic fire from an assault rifle, forward, followed by another scream. Then, a moment later, another burst of gun fire to aft was accompanied by the scream of a man who was obviously going overboard toward the bay's waters.

Harvey knew there were at at least two people assaulting the boat, forward and aft. Probably a pair at each end. Four intruders or more, but ... how did they get aboard. He looked to the bodyguard, then tossed his handgun to the Pilot and ordered them both, "Get out there! Get these guys!"

The bodyguard didn't hesitate to rush out, but the Pilot did for a moment before following the order. Harvey pulled a shotgun from a weapon's locker and made sure it was fully loaded, then huddled in a corner of the bridge and listened. The assault continued, fore and aft, out in the open of the stern and bow and below deck.

Harvey didn't see anything, of course. He was hiding, his hands trembling in fear. But he could hear the gun fire, tussles, and screams all about the boat. By the time the action ended, he was certain there were at least a dozen invaders on his boat.

But ... were they dead now? There was nothing but silence now. Had his security force and the intruders wiped one another out, leaving him alone with the future sex slaves? He waited several more minutes for some kind of answer. Finally, he leveled the shot gun before him and headed out into the rest of the boat, looking for those answers.

Every where he went, he found bodies ... all from his security force. He found no evidence of the invaders, who he'd assumed at first were the authorities and later -- after he realized he'd heard no sirens or calls to disarm -- his criminal enterprise competitors.

And if the lack of a single dead or dying intruder wasn't strange enough, all of the dead had been stabbed or slashed. No obvious gun shot wounds. How could that be?

As Harvey stepped out into the open of the main deck at the stern of the yacht, he thought he sensed movement behind him. He spun, the shotgun still leveled before him and pulled his finger back against the trigger. But before he could get even a shot off, the gun was whipped from his hand and an object slashed through the air and clubbed him against the temple.

When the crime lord regained his senses, he found himself on his hands and knees on the deck. Blood was pooling between his hands from a wound in his skull. He leaned back to rest his haunches on his ankles, teetering a bit, then turned to look for the person who had hit him.

His eyes widened in shock at the incredible woman standing above him, smirking at him victoriously. She was tall, perhaps 5'10", with long, jet black hair -- gathered in a tie atop her head -- that whipped in the winds that were building about the harbor. She had a stunning face with Asian features ... dramatically painted almond shaped eyes and perfect, China Doll skin.

Below that, her body was unbelievable, not just for its shapely hour glass figure, its large, firm breasts, its long athletic legs ... no, it was the way it was decorated ... tattooed...? painted...? Harvey couldn't be sure. The decorations in blues, grays, and gold were suggestive of ... of ... yes, he thought, fish scales. But ... at the same time, not.

As he continued to study the intruder's figure, he realized that except for a triangle plate covering her groin and belted around her thin waist, the shoulder guards of blue and gold, and a purple choker about her neck, the woman was naked. Harvey couldn't help but stare at the woman's bountiful breasts, trying to determine whether the decorations upon them were body paint or a bikini top.

His ogling of the woman was interrupted by a sudden drop of blood from his scalp to his eye lid. He wiped it away, then called to the woman, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I am Aqua," she answered, "and I am here to bring an end to a great crime against Mother Earth."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. "A great crime...? Against Mother Earth...? They're just a bunch of gashes that no one will miss a year from now. Faces on milk cartons ... news specials ... internet pleas ... tweets with hash tags like Bring back our daughters."

He struggled to rise to his feet, ever watchful of the ... what was it, a spear...? with which this Aqua chick had smacked his head earlier. "Tell you what. I'll give you a cut of their auction price. Whaddaya say ... five percent."

The woman began padding slowly his way upon her bare feet, painted from toes to mid-calves in a similar fashion as the rest of her body. "I'm not here about the females in your hold. I'm here about your real crime."

Harvey looked at her confused. He chuckled, then said, "I'm sorry, babe, but ... I got a lot of irons in the fire. You're going to have to be a bit more--"

"Alistair," the woman cut in.

Harvey thought for a moment, then asked, "The waste treatment plant...?"

"Yes."

He held out his hands in a questioning gesture. "What about it?"

"You are dumping toxic waste into it..." she continued, beginning to slowly circle around the man who was himself turning with her, "...allowing that waste to flow directly into the ocean."

"Prove it!" Harvey said with a smirk. "The EPA and DEQ have all--"

"Been paid off to look the other way," Aqua cut it. As she released one hand's grip upon the spear at her back, allowing it to swing around to her front where she began to playfully spin it about almost like a baton, she added, "And I do not have to prove anything."

Harvey was watching the swinging staff with great concern, still feeling a bit dizzy from the whack he'd taken from it earlier. Concerning her last comment, he asked, "Why not?"

"Because I'm not here to end this crime by arresting you..." she answered, the speed of the swinging spear growing as she continued, "...by taking you to jail ... by bringing you before a judge who you will either bribe or blackmail into declaring a mistrial or simply finding you not guilty."

With the challenging tone of a powerful, untouchable man who seldom feared anything, Harvey asked, "Then ... how are you going to end this cri--"

Harvey never finished the question, instead interrupting his final word with a loud, long scream as the razor sharp spear head sunk deeply into his chest. As his eyes widened and his brain was seized by the pain erupting through him, Harvey felt his feet leave the ground as the deceptively strong woman lifted him slowly high into the air like a hot dog on a roasting stick. He looked down on her from almost 10 feet in the air, clutching at the spear's staff as if he would somehow pull it from him and keep on living.

She looked up into his terror filled face and said simply, "Like this, you monster."

And almost as if casting a fishing pole, Aqua flicked Harvey Black away into the salty air. He was again screaming as he hit the bay's surface with a loud, dramatic splash. Despite this particular coast line's lack of a history of shark danger, Harvey's body was immediately set upon by a dozen, then two dozen, then three dozen sharks. They ripped him apart, shredding his limbs and torso and skull until finally, a few minutes later, there was nothing left of the East Coast's greatest environmental polluter but an ugly red cloud of blood stained water.

(OOC: Closed.)