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Rightful Booty

There was a slight sting on his upper arm.

Goddamned flies.

The tiger snapped his other arm up, palm first, smashing the hapless mosquito into smithereens and leaving a dark red patch on his fur. Looking in disgust at the mess, he wiped it on his denim shorts. He was really getting sick of all this. But this was what you put up with everyday, considering the nature of his job as well as the bloody temperature.

Look at all those commercialised fishermen, in their air-conditioned yachts, while I roast in this bloody heat, with their motorized nets while I use this dinky little rod and line.

What made it worse was that he didn't even eat what he caught. As his father would say, we tigers eat meat. Not this steenkin' fish. Never the fish.

Yeah, rest in peace buddy. You're gonna be doing a lot of turning in your grave when I have to start eating it anyway. Budget constraints and all that.

He sniffed as he stuck a worm on the end of his hook, careful not to get his pawpad caught on the barb, before lowering it into the clear blue water. At least pollution hadn't caught up to this part of the sea yet. Not like the cities he had heard existed over the edge of the horizon, with all their neon and concrete and trash choked canals and grey beaches. If he looked carefully, he could see the wavy lines the light made on the water as the unrelenting sun blazed down. And past that, there was the schools of colourful fish, translucent jellyfish (Son, you wanna keep your hands away from those. They hurt like a beech), the occasional shark or stingray, and then there were the beautiful corals and anemones that made up the sea floor, waving with the tide, unconcerned about the troubles that existed on the surface.

Oh it was beautiful all right. Beautiful to all the fat tourists with their rolexes, speedos, bulging potbellies and trophy wives that flocked to the islands year after year. But see something day after day for the past twenty one years, and it might just get a teeny bit dull. And boy, didn't he know it.

With the sun blazing down, he settled down for a long wait for a fish to bite. He was fairly comfortable in the tiny wooden boat he used, more commonly known as a sampan, but in this heat comfortable was a very fleeting sensation. He hadn't bothered wearing a shirt on his fishing expeditions for the past decade, preferring to content himself with a simple pair of shorts. He remembered the day he had even dared to wear a singlet out. He hadn't lasted longer than ten minutes. And that in itself was a record.

Of course, one of the perks of the heat was that it gave him an excuse to expose his slim body to all the lustful eyes that existed in his village. He was good looking of course, with his deep orange fur striped with black and lean frame, slightly muscled with work and well proportioned face and muzzle. He had once made a trip to the town to pick up some supplies, and on a whim he had decided to visit the beach and accompanying five-star hotel. Walking along the beach, he had been approached by no less than five women and three men, all wayward wives or closeted husbands, with offers of thick wads of cash in exchange for anything from a quick blowjob to acting as an escort for an illicit bondage party to take place later that night. And by god wasn't it tempting. Fuck sex. That shit's easy to come by. But the caassshhh...

For a guy this close to doing the unthinkable (eating fish) such cash would be like bloody manna from heaven. But tempting as it might be, he was determined to wait for his (figurative) boat to come in. Perhaps in time he would save enough money to buy a better boat. Or maybe he would win the lottery. Or maybe some bottle would wash up at his feet with a note inside stating directions to a vast hoard of treasure. Anything.

Of course, the smart thing to do would be to get off his ass and move to the cities, like so many before him. He would just be one of the millions who said 'right, that's it' and packed and hauled ass to the cities, to end up as a cleaner or a triad member or an illegal DVD seller. Ah, such possibilities for success. Ain't life grand?

Not that he was complaining.

He sighed as he jiggled the rod, a trick his father had taught him to make the bait seem alive (and somehow more delectable to fish). He was flattered, of course, by the advances of those people. But frankly, selling his butt for some paper didn't rank high on his list of priorities. He wasn't that desperate. But if things continued on, he would be.

The heat slowly got to him, creeping up on his body, filling him with a sort of numb restiveness, until finally he felt his eyelids close.

A snap woke him up.

He shot up, looking around wildly. The sun was still high in the sky, a white blaze in the sky. A yawn rippled up from him, and he stretched his hands over his head.

That's when he realized his rod was gone.

Oh fuck me...

He peered over the side, but his trusty aluminium rod was nowhere to be seen. Nothing but water and fish. No rod. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

In a sort of mindless fury, he thumped the side of his boat, almost capsizing it, but right now he couldn't care less. He had to have dropped the damned thing overboard when he was asleep.

What's...

Out of the corner of his eye he spied a dark shape nearby while looking for the rod. It was against the sun so it was hard to make out. Squinting didn't help much, not to mention the heat waves distorting the shape, but he was fairly sure it was a vessel of some sort.

Probably one of those fishermen

_ _

(Pirate)

ships.

He shivered at that last thought. Pirates. He hoped not. Then again, maybe he should be glad. Loot, a life on the high seas, adventure and evading the law, hell yeah, where do I sign up? Perhaps he could ask them.

Perhaps they would also rob him blind and throw him overboard. And considering their reputation, almost certain. Not that he had anything of worth to steal, unless you counted virginity and a pair of denim shorts.

Which would of course make them pissed, and which would, of course, make them more likely to kill him. Not hard to put two and two together.

Perhaps now would be a good time to exit stage left.

Grasping the oars of his boat, he frantically pumped them in and out of the water, paddling as fast as he could away from the dark shape.

A horn blew out across the water, deafening him. He winced and looked back.

The shape was getting bigger.

Oh shit shit shit.

The damn thing was following him.

He paddled as hard as he could, trying to gain distance from the vessel. But sadly, tiger or not, arm musculature just doesn't compare to motors and engines. Several frantic minutes resulted in cramped shoulders, burning arms, and no distance gained from the vessel whatsoever.

Sighing, he flopped down onto the hull of his boat. Perhaps he would be fortunate. Perhaps it would simply be a fishing vessel or coast guard. And then he could ask them to tow his boat back to shore with them and everything would be all right. Minus fishing rod and cramping muscles.

But god forbid he should be ever so lucky.

He sat up, defeated, and watched as the ship drew ever closer to him. The ship was coloured black and red. Other than the odd colour scheme the rest of it was completely unassuming. It looked like a normal fishing vessel. Albeit larger. Very much larger. And then there was the lack of markings and flags.

Yep. Definitely pirate.

As it approached, he stood up and waved his hands, signalling to it. There was another snap like the one he had heard earlier.

Something whizzed by his head, so close he could feel the air part his fur.

Are they...shooting at me?

There was a shout to cease fire, but he was so preoccupied with his experience that he just stood there, slack-jawed.

They shot at me!

The pirate vessel drew alongside, the wave rocking his boat rudely. From the side dropped a rope ladder. A man dropped over the side and climbed down. He looked ordinary, a jackal dressed in fatigues, boots and a jockey cap. A gun was strapped to his shoulder along with several clips. A red scarf encircled his neck.

He confusedly raised his hands as the pirate dropped down onto his boat and approached him, gun at the ready.

"Take...take what you want. There isn't much, but take it. Just don't shoot me."

The pirate looked at his array of meagre possessions and sniffed. "Nothing worth taking here. What you've got, so do we." His voice was deep and smooth.

The tiger brightened up a bit. "So, you'll let me go then?"

"Maybe. Say..." The jackal turned a critical eye over his slim body. "You look pretty good. Maybe you do have something to give us after all."

He was too confused and tired to make the mental connection. "Say what? Everything I've got on me is here."

"Let's just say our captains have certain...appetites. And you look like just the thing to satisfy them."

"Wh-" was all he could get out before the rifle butt connected with his temple and everything went black.

The world re-entered in a blurry haze of throbbing pain and limp muscles. There was a sort of pressure under both his arms and his legs felt like they were floating.

Correction. They were floating.

The dark shapes at the sides of his view resolved themselves into two burly men. Between them they carried him, their hands under his arms. He could already feel his shoulders starting to ache, but there was nothing he could do about that beyond yelling at them to let up, and in his current state, decidedly not a good idea.

The deck of the ship was a milling mass of people, all clad in various types of clothing ranging from sweatshirts (He briefly wondered what the hell they were wearing that for in this weather) to T-shirts with the sleeves cut off. Some wore military fatigues. All of them wore a red scarf.

And they all had guns.

He swallowed as he studied the shiny silvery metal of those deadly weapons. Good quality. Most likely stolen off some coast guard armoury. Mostly well-maintained. He didn't notice anything beyond the occasional spot of rust or worn handles.

That proves that they have some command structure of some sort. Discipline. Maybe they'll treat me nicely, won't rob me and kill me. Oh wait, I don't have anything to steal.

The two brutes at his side were literally carrying him along. Neither even showed the slightest amount of strain at their task. He swallowed. The thought of fighting through these two goons if he wanted to escape was completely unappealing, considering they could literally smear him between their hands if they had half a mind to. Better to just go along.

The crowd around them parted as they passed like silk through a pair of scissors. The pirates were all of varying species, mostly canines, although he saw a few felines and even a bird; a definite rarity on the islands. They all stared at him like he was a specimen in a jar. Some licked their lips and others blew him kisses or thrust their hips at him. He decided to take that as a good sign.

Maybe they'll think I'm too sexy to kill. Oh grow up!

The crowd finally parted to reveal an empty space in the middle of the deck. Stacks of wooden crates with military markings stood at random spots around the space, some cracked open to reveal wooden shavings or other padding, as well as various pieces of military equipment. At one point he swore he saw an anti-aircraft rocket launcher. Yeah, definitely not a good idea to mess with them. They mean business in every sense of the phrase.

At the centre of the space stood two people, side by side. They stared at him, and he noticed that every pirate who passed them lowered his head or nodded deferentially. One of them appeared to gesture at his two guards to bring him closer, while the other was distracted when someone ran up next to him and whispered into his ear.

As he neared them, he noticed that the one on the left was actually female, judging from the voluptuous breasts and hourglass waist. Her pointed ears marked her out as a canine of some sort, although it was hard to tell with the sun shining in his face. She wore a tank top with camouflage patterns as well as a pair of dark grey cargo pants cut off at the knee and boots. A knife was belted to her waist, as well as a large revolver. Several piercings were stuck in both her ears, and one encircled her lower lip. Her face was slim and well-proportioned, almost model-like, and he was sure that with makeup on she would have looked absolutely stunning, although she seemed to have dispensed with that for the time being.

The other figure wore a leather jacket and military pants. There was something odd about the jacket, although the sun was blinding him. His back was turned to him, currently engaging in conversation with another pirate, who kept his eyes to his boots throughout to avoid looking at him.

The woman spoke first. "Well well, look what we've fished out of the water!" Her voice was lilting, almost like an angel's. He wondered what she was doing as a pirate when she could have been a radio celebrity or something. He certainly wouldn't have minded hearing that voice all day. It was...dream-like.

The woman strode over to him, her gait suggestive, and cupped a hand beneath his chin, bringing his eyes up to hers, a stunning blue.

"A tiger huh? What were you doing out in the water, little kitty?"

"Uh, fishing, ma'am."

"Ma'am? That's new. Never had one of our captives call me that before. Most just spit in my face or scream for mercy. And the former just ends up begging for mercy like the rest anyway."

He swallowed mightily. "Um, well, calling you ma'am might be instrumental in saving my life, or at least preserving it for a little bit longer anyway. Trying to play my cards right."

She grinned. "I see. You're a very careful person, aren't you?"

"More like a person very attached to his life."

"Good. They give me the most enjoyment. Your name?"

"Manuel. Pleased to meet you...ma'am."

"Lilith. Likewise. And if you call me ma'am again I'll cut out your tongue."

"Sure thing ma'...Lilith."

"Fantastic." She turned around and tapped the shoulder of her partner. "Oi, Harab. Stop talking for a minute and look what we trawled out of the water."

The man turned around, and the first sight of his visage caused Manuel's jaw to drop.

The man looked blankly at him. "What, am I that good-looking?"

"You're...you're a shark!"

Harab looked even more confused. "Last I checked, I was. Never seen my kind before?"

"Other than in the water? No."

"Figures. Island trash like you, probably never been to the cities, eh? My kind are all over that place."

Harab's skin was slightly scaly, a combination of white and dark grey from the back of his neck to the bottom of his spine. His face was a shark's snout, with the associated gaping mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. His eyes were a blood red. At the top of his legs was a sharks fin that looked like a tail, and protruding out of his back was another fin (He noticed a convenient slit cut in the back of his jacket to accommodate the extremity).

Lilith entered his field of view. "As you know, I'm Lilith, the captain. This is Harab, my co-captain."

Harab scowled, baring his teeth. "That remains to be seen."

Manuel wrested slightly with his two burly guards, without much result. "Nice to meet you, sir. I mean Harab. Anything."

"Ah, polite too." The shark smiled. "So what made you stop for our ship in the middle of nowhere? Usually people who come across our lovely vessel recoil in horror and try to sail away as fast as they can."

"Aside from the fact that you have an engine and I don't? Somebody shot at me. I thought it prudent to stop and surrender lest their aim get better."

"Is that so?" Harab turned back to the crowd. "Who shot at our handsome guest here?"

The jackal who had knocked him out emerged from the crowd, pushing aside some people in the process. "I did, Harab."

"At least you have the courage to admit it. Why did you open fire?"

"Warning shot."

The tiger spluttered. "Warning shot? Warning shot? You almost hit me! I could feel the wind from that bullet! Either your aim is really bad or you misunderstand the meaning of the word 'warning'. Because I think it means to tell them to stop running, not try to kill them!"

Harab looked at him approvingly as the jackal gave him a dark look. "Looks like little kitty here has some spirit after all." Turning back to the jackal, he bared his teeth in a dangerous pseudo-smile. "What do one of our rules say, doggie?"

"Not to shoot at unidentified...I know, Harab!"

"So WHY. DID. YOU. SHOOT. AT. HIM?!" Harab roared. The jackal recoiled, but kept his gaze steady on the shark's eyes. Manuel admired him for that.

Lilith leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Our little fishy over there likes to act tough for the guys and gals. He actually a nice guy, really. Just don't set him off. I bet underneath that jacket of his he's got at least twenty knives and he can't wait to use them."

Manuel gulped.

"With my position as lieutenant on this ship, I think I have the right to make decisions on how and when to use my gun." The jackal scowled.

Harab waved a hand dismissively. "I don't care if you're the fucking King Turd of Shit Hill. I'm the captain here-"

"No you're not." Lilith cut in.

"And I make the decisions. Not you. You carry them out like a good little doggie."

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like an interminable period of time, Harab's red eyes boring into the jackal's faltering stare, until finally he dropped his gaze and slinked back into the crowd. "You're the boss."

"That's right, run away to mommy. You'd better remember who makes the orders around here, or you're going overboard, where you'll have the pleasure of meeting sharks a lot less friendlier than I am."

Harab turned back to Manuel's guards. "Well, you know what to do. I'd go through the standard procedure with him, but," His tongue slipped out and trailed around his lips with a slippery sound. "I like his look. Take him back to our quarters. The special one. You know the drill."

Lilith smiled and danced happily. "Oh, it's been a while since we had one. This is gonna be a treat!"

Manuel wondered what they were talking about, until a fist connected with the back of his head and he fell down into darkness.

I'm dead, aren't I?

No, you're talking. How can you be dead?

Maybe this is purgatory. Or maybe the eternal oblivion all those people talk about.

You should be so lucky. No, I think we're still very much alive.

Damn it. I can't remember a thing.

Time to go back mate. You're still alive.

Wait!

...still alive...

Don't leave me!

...alive...

_ _

"-you think he's still alive?"

"Has to be. That was only a punch, not a neck-break or whatever like they're so fond of doing."

"He'd better be. I didn't go through all this preparation and anticipation just to get denied like this."

"Oh, you'll get your chance. Look, he's coming to."

The pain in the back of his neck was incredible, but he was more concerned about the feeling of falling that was rushing through his body. It felt like he was falling off a mile high building, straight toward oncoming earth.

I'mgonnahitgroundI'mgonnahitground

He was still falling.

Nonononononono

He hit the bottom.

Harab recoiled mid-bending, his arm reaching out to shake Manuel awake, as the tiger gave a blood-curdling scream. Lilith gave a scream of her own as she jumped across the room. Manuel shot up, taking a deep breath. The air was slightly stale and smelled of sweat, but it was the sweetest air he had ever tasted. A white light blinded his eyes as he opened them, with an odd shadow floating at the corner of his blurred vision.

Then the shadow resolved itself to the pointed snout of Harab, an odd look on his face.

Manuel gasped and coughed. "Oh god. What the hell...Where..." He tried to move his arms and legs, but found that he couldn't. Harab sat on a chair, staring at him smugly.

"Why can't I... Wait. I'm tied up!"

"Nice one, genius."

"What...what did you do to me?" His throat felt as dry as a desert. Swallowing didn't seem to help.

"Nothing. The question is what we are going to do to you."

Manuel took a breath. They aren't going to ransom me are they? Just one look at my boat and they know I'm not worth the trouble. Well then, what else? Oh god, they're not going to torture me, are they? That Harab, he looks like he's capable of anything, and what's to say about that woman, beautiful or not. Maybe I'm just some kind of toy to them, some kind of experiment. Maybe they're going to cut me up into little pieces and jack off to the video or something.

That thought was so bizarre that he burst out laughing, until reality overwhelmed him and his laughter was reduced to quiet sobbing. Harab grinned.

Look around, see if there's any clue to what they want to do to you. Maybe if it's just an ordinary cell then that's okay. But if you see shit like bone saws and screwdrivers, well then we're royally fucked. Maybe it's okay. Maybe they just want to keep me here as some kind of- Manuel's head snapped up as Harab stretched, exposing himself.

The shark was naked.

Sex slave?

Manuel jumped as he felt a pair of hands trail down his sides. A sweet musk filled his nostrils, the scent of arousal and lust, of nakedness and exposed body parts that should not be exposed, at least in decent company. The hands reached his groin, the fingers gentle, trailing over his thighs and inner parts, teasing his ballsack. Manuel gritted his teeth. The contact was making him tremble, though from fear or newly-awakened lust he could not tell.

Then he felt the sharp touch of cold steel at his waist.

Oh god here it comes here it comes fuck fuck fuck fuck

But the blade only brushed against his fur, slicing through his denim shorts like thin paper. The blade barely touched him, a testament to the skill of the wielder. He felt cool air against his butt and thighs as the shorts were cut away, until they were finally whipped free.

Due to the blistering heat he had neglected to wear a pair of underpants, and his penis and balls flopped out, exposed, for all to see. The pink length was suitably long and relatively thick, glistening slightly and trembling with his every heartbeat. He heard a gasp behind him as it came into view.

Harab hissed. "Excited, aren't we Lilith? I know I am."

The arms wrapped around his body, hands roaming over his lean chest, feeling every line of his musculature. Suddenly, there was an odd sensation at the small of his back, a sort of warm, moist feeling. It was slightly sticky and tangled his fur. The odd sensation drew up his back and across his spine, matting his fur. He heard a sigh emanate from behind him and felt the arms around him tremble slightly as she rubbed.

She's not rubbing her...thing on me, is she? She is, isn't she? I can feel it.

Lilith trembled again as she rubbed her moist slit up and down his back, sighing softly at the sensations that raced through her body. Harab sat back on the chair, looking contentedly at the spectacle before him. He used his fingers to slowly tease his own member, long and thick, pulsing with his arousal. A slight trail of pre oozed at the tip.

This is insane. I just dropped into fucking Wonderland here, if it was inhabited by horny red-scarfed gun-wielding pirates.

Lilith released her arms from around him. Fingers trailing, she traced them down the curve of his back and onto his rump. carefully, she massaged the two twin mounds as Manuel squirmed at her touch. She tried to bring his tail out of the way, but he resisted, tightening the muscles to make it stiff.

Lilith giggled. "Playing hard to get, are we?"

Manuel swallowed. "No, I..." The rest of his words was cut off in a squeal as she wrenched his tail out of her way and brought her wet nosepad down to his pulsing tail-hole.

The tiger shivered. Bizarrely, he began to giggle. The sensation of her moist nose at his anus where no one had ever gone before, plus the wet feeling of her tongue as she swirled it around the circumference of his ring was almost too much. Lilith was skilled, the tip poking slightly inside. Her fingers massaged his butt, squeezing them, rubbing them. Manuel's face was screwed up in an expression of pleasure and slight confusion.

Harab looked like he was going to explode. "Right, that's enough teasing. Enough! Lilith, stop hogging him."

"What is it, my knife-loving, red-eyed, psychotic co-captain? Can't stand the sight of a professional at work?"

The shark scowled. "I'll show you professional." Standing up, he pushed the canine out of the way, and she groaned with disappointment and shuffled to the front.

They're fighting over me like a bunch of kids over a toy. Damn, I didn't know I was that good-looking.

Lilith grinned as Manuel looked at her with slight relief in his eyes. "Oh no you don't, my little kitty. I'm not quite finished with you yet." A malicious look on her face, she lay down in front of the prone and bound tiger and spread her legs, baring her glorious moist slit. Manuel gasped as he took in the sight, pink labia, puffy with arousal, and her clit, engorged with blood and standing starkly for the world to see. He swallowed, found he couldn't, and settled for a choked cough instead.

Lilith smiled. "Go on. You know you want to."

Manuel needed no encouragement. Shuffling forward on his chest, he brought his lips and tongue to her wet slit and gave it a tentative lick. She gasped with pleasure. Encouraged, Manuel went full on, teasing her folds with his tongue and lips as she writhed and moaned. The taste of her hot nectar was all over his tongue, a taste both salty and sweet at the same time. He slowly poked the tip of his feline tongue in, and nibbled slightly at the edge of her slit, before catching on to her clit with his lips and sucking.

Lilith moaned and shook, her fingers playing furiously with her nipples.

Whoops. Too hard.

Manuel resolved to go slower, teasing her engorged clit with his lips and tongue and savouring her moans and gasps. She ground herself against his tongue in an attempt to get more pleasure, her legs trembling, her nipples erect. Her tail was wagging frantically, beating against the cold metal floor.

Manuel suddenly gasped as he felt a hand seize him from behind. Something hard and wet touched him at his tail hole.

He's not going to...No! He better not...

But Harab had no such compunctions. Seizing his waist, he pushed his thick member into the tiger's trembling tail-hole. Manuel let out a shriek that caused Harab to laugh. The feeling was one of fullness mixed with a slight feeling of discomfort and pain. In all honesty, the shark was a bit hard to take in all at once, but he wasn't bothering to stop. Thrusting his hips, he pushed his member even further into Manuel's tail-hole, ignoring his cry, and repeated the process. The tiger's eyes were screwed up, a grimace on his face. He could feel Harab's member thrusting up into him like a spear, giving him a feeling of extraordinary fullness, with sparks of pleasure flying up and down his spine. He trembled, teeth bared, as his anus tried to take in an object of such size.

A hand seized his head and brought it back to Lilith's moist mound. "Now who said you could stop? Carry on."

Manuel was more than glad to bury his snout into Lilith's wet sex and distract himself from the relentless pounding going on at his rear end. Harab was grunting with every thrust, and thick cum was dribbling out of his hole, a taste of what was to come. Occasionally Harab would rub his member teasingly.

Lilith grinned as Manuel lapped up her flowing juices, tongue sticking in and out. "Enjoy your meal."

The whole experience felt like a dream, the sensation of fullness and pleasure, the taste of her delicious nectar. Never in his life had he ever felt such pleasure, or such strain. The need to gain pleasure had to be balanced with the need to pleasure his captors. Everywhere, he could experience feelings he had never felt before in his life, feel muscles he never knew were there strain as they rocked back and forth like a child in a swing, Harab thrusting and Manuel licking. His head felt light, and all he could feel, all he could experience, all he knew was the sensations he was both giving and receiving. His whole world became that one room.

Harab was the first to get the release they so desperately sought, a veritable yell as he released his load into Manuel's straining anus, the cum flowing and dribbling out from within and down his legs, matting his fur and tangling them into weird knots. The sensation was enough to set Manuel into overdrive, not counting the massive final thrust Harab did as a parting gift, pushing so deep in him that he felt his orgasm roar through him at that exact moment, cum dribbling from his tip. The fires of his orgasm rushed through him, filling him with heat and electricity. His gasp and yell caused him to push himself right into Lilith's waiting sex, and she climaxed too, a decidedly quieter but no less pleasurable end to their endeavour.

Manuel felt his muscles go limp as he slumped onto the floor, spent. He could only lie down and watch as darkness took him, pulling him down into the welcome and blessed embrace of darkness and finally, sleep.

All over now.

The cabin was small, but not spartan. Manuel found himself lying down on a comfortable hammock, striped blue and white. The window was open, and from the outside he could hear the calls of seagulls, the roar of the waves and the sweet smell of sea air. The sun was setting, the orange glow shining through the open window, casting shadows on the wall. He lay there, enjoying the cool evening breeze as it drifted through the cabin. Then, he pushed himself up and got off the hammock, trying to find his feet. His muscles still ached from their strenuous activity and he had to be careful not to lose his footing as he tried to stand up. After testing his legs he was finally satisfied that he could stay upright, he looked around the room for a pair of clothes.

Right beside him, on a desk beneath the window was a stack of clothes; military fatigues and a jacket, along with a pair of boots. Smiling, he pulled on the shirt and pants, and laced up the boots. They fit just right, if a little tight at the groin. The boots were worn and comfortable.

As he picked up the jacket, a note fell out.

Right breast pocket.

Frowning, Manuel dug into the pocket and searched around, finally coming across something that felt like paper and a piece of fabric. He pulled both out and laid them on the table.

It was a red scarf.

Manuel picked up the piece of paper that came with it and opened it.

Hey kitty the note read Hope you aren't too sore. First time's always the best, and the most tiring. This is your first time, is it not? I can tell. You were really tight.

Anyway, Lilith and I thought that we might want to 'recruit' you into our merry little band here. You seem like a suitable person. Plus, you have skills that the both of us could use on a regular basis, if you know what I mean.

"So what do you say?" The voice emanated from over his shoulder.

Manuel turned around with a start. Harab and Lilith were both standing there, looking at him, hope in their eyes. Perhaps this was for the best after all. A life of adventure, companionship, perhaps love. Could he ask for more?

A grin on his face, he picked up the scarf and wrapped it around his neck, an acession that needed no words.

A broad grin split Lilith's face. "Come on, let's take you to meet the crew."

Smiling, the three of them left the cabin and went up onto the deck.

27/5/2013 - 30/5/2013