Chapter 19 Deck of Misfits

  For some reason, my name had already spread around. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad yet, but the looks I was getting from the crew told me that Sharpy might’ve been trying to undermine me. Typical. If her goal was to rattle me, she was doing a decent job, but I wasn’t about to let her win.

  I took a moment to assess my so-called teammates. These were the people I’d be trusting my life with... or keeping an eye on to make sure they didn’t stab me in the back.

  First, there was Marauder. No mask, shaved head, scars all over his face. He carried himself with the kind of confidence that bordered on recklessness, or maybe he was just that good. I couldn’t tell if his lack of a mask was stupidity or a power move, but either way, it stood out.

  Then there was Blackout. She was a thin woman in a hoodie, her face obscured by some kind of static distortion. It wasn’t hard to figure out she had tinkering abilities. The static was almost hypnotic, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it served as a defense mechanism or something more insidious. I vaguely remembered hearing her name tied to some activism efforts in the past.

  Next up was Vortex. Lean, wearing black polycarbonate armor and a sleek black helmet. He looked like the kind of guy who preferred efficiency over theatrics. Something about his calm demeanor told me he had been in situations far worse than this one.

  The last three were a mystery. They wore standard military fatigues and bonnet masks, giving off a professional vibe. Probably hired hands from outside the city, and not the kind of people who cared much about making friends.

  “Greetings!” I said, stepping forward with a bit of exaggerated enthusiasm. “The name is… Eclipse.” I paused for dramatic effect, then added with a sly grin, “And as you can see, I’ve been an acquaintance of this lovely red.” I slid next to Sharpy, throwing an arm around her shoulder just to push her buttons.

  Sharpy snorted and shoved me off, but not before smirking. “You’re too young for my taste, kid. But I’ll give you this, you’re fun.”

  Kid? It wasn't too obvious, wasn't it? No... She was trying to rattle me...

  I chuckled, taking a step back but staying in her peripheral view. “Fun’s what keeps us alive, right?”

  The others watched our exchange with varying degrees of interest. Marauder gave a grunt that might’ve been a laugh, Blackout’s static-covered face tilted slightly, and Vortex didn’t react at all. The bonnet-mask trio stood like statues, clearly unimpressed.

  “Well,” I said, clapping my hands together, “now that we’re all acquainted, what’s the plan? Or are we just winging it?”

  Vortex finally spoke, his voice calm but commanding. “We follow orders. No unnecessary risks, no lone-wolf antics.” His helmet turned toward me, and I felt like he was staring straight through me. “That includes you, new guy.”

  I gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Sharpy chuckled. “Don’t worry, Vortex. Eclipse here might be a pain, but he’s got potential. Probably.”

  “Probably?” I echoed, feigning offense.

  “Don’t push your luck,” she shot back with what could have been accompanied by a flirtatious wink. “Let’s go.”

  Sharpy’s hand tightened around my wrist as she dragged me toward the upper levels of the ship’s superstructure, away from the others. Her playfulness and exaggerated sway of her hips had drawn more than a few raised brows, but no one dared to comment. If her implication had been true, that we were sneaking off for some private time, I might’ve been flattered. Instead, I felt a pang of unease.

  Once we were far enough that the noise of the crew faded into the hum of the ship’s machinery, she let go of my wrist and leaned against a railing. Her playfulness faded, replaced by a somber expression I wasn’t used to seeing on her mask.

  I crossed my arms and frowned. “Okay, what was that about? You’re not exactly subtle, Sharpy.”

  She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, relax. What, did you think I dragged you up here to play tonsil hockey?”

  “Wouldn’t have been the strangest thing today,” I muttered, leaning against the opposite wall. “So, what gives?”

  She glanced down at the deck below, scanning the activity. Her voice dropped, just loud enough for me to hear. “My crew… the one I put together for this mission? They’re gone. Completely MIA. They were supposed to meet me here in Pier 17 last night to scout the place, but I haven’t heard a peep from them.”

  I raised an eyebrow, the knot in my stomach tightening. “Gone as in bailed? Or gone as in…”

  “Gone as in dead,” she finished bluntly. Her eyes narrowed. “And if they’re not dead, then they’ve been taken out of play by someone who doesn’t want them here.”

  I straightened, suddenly very aware of how quiet it was up here. “That’s… a hell of an assumption to make. What makes you so sure?”

  Sharpy gave me a look that could cut steel. “I don’t make assumptions, kid. My people were pros... independents with a track record. If they were just late, I’d have heard from them. This? This stinks.”

  I frowned, trying to piece together what she was getting at. “So, what are you saying? You think someone took them out to… what, send a message? Thin the competition?”

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Maybe. Or maybe someone wanted to keep me from having backup,” she said bitterly. “Look, I don’t trust anyone on this ship, least of all that captain and her lackeys. And you shouldn’t either.”

  Her words sent a chill down my spine. She had a point. The crew was mostly Pride-affiliated mercs and professionals, but it wasn’t like Royal had personally vetted every one of them. If someone were trying to sabotage this mission, it wouldn’t take much to slip a few saboteurs into the mix.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked cautiously.

  Sharpy’s gaze locked onto mine, though it was colder now. “For now? Just keep your eyes open. You’re not an idiot, and you’ve got instincts. If something feels off, let me know. And…” She hesitated, her voice softening just a fraction. “If things go south, don’t trust anyone but me.”

  I scoffed. “That’s asking a lot from someone who tried to gut me not too long ago.”

  Her eyes widened, this time with a flicker of genuine amusement. “Fair. But if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Remember that.”

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Something about her tone made it hard to dismiss her entirely. Whatever this mission was turning into, it was becoming clearer that it wasn’t going to be as simple as guarding some cargo. “What do you mean you had a crew? I thought you were an independent?”

  Sharpy sighed, running a hand through her messy red hair. “I wanted to run a crew,” she admitted, her voice heavy with irritation. “A couple of capes and a few mundanes. I had a whole roster in mind and planned to filter through the candidates I liked best. I even got the blessings from the three major gangs to raise my own team. It was supposed to be a big deal.”

  She paused, her blue eyes narrowing as she stared at nothing in particular. “This mission was supposed to be our debut. A statement. But everything went to shit. It was only yesterday that I found out the people I invited to join me, most of them either got killed or were forced out of the city. Clean sweep. You were lucky you didn’t take me up on my proposition to recruit you… Or you might be dead by now.”

  The weight of her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realized how close I’d come to getting tangled in her mess sooner. I swallowed the rising unease and asked, “Do you think this was a targeted attack against you?”

  She shook her head, her frustration deepening into uncertainty. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It could’ve been someone gunning for me, sure. But it could just as easily be tied to this mission. Whatever it is, it was calculated. A clean job. No loose ends.”

  I frowned, processing the enormity of what Sharpy was telling me. “Did you ask your fellow freelancers back there if they know something?”

  Sharpy shook her head, her expression grim. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said firmly. “They all have their own agendas and semi-affiliations. None of them would tell me a damn thing even if they knew. You, though… you’re different. You’re new to this game. No ties, no affiliations... just ambition and that mysterious edge you bring to the table. I reckon that’s the reason Royal put you in this too. Same reason I’m trusting you now.”

  Her voice dropped, the bitterness seeping through. “The only reason I’m even here is to take revenge on the bastard who hunted my would-be people. I wouldn’t be able to run my own crew anymore. No one would trust me. I’ve been in this business for nearly ten years, and all my cred went to shit after what happened.”

  I studied her, trying to piece her desperation together with the growing tension around this job. “So, a traitor?” I asked. “It could be anyone on this ship? Let me get this straight, you want my help to flush them out?”

  Sharpy didn’t respond right away, but her silence was answer enough. My mind raced. The ship’s crew, the freelancers, the management... everyone was a suspect. I might’ve had an edge with my powers, but I wasn’t some detective. And Royal? He hadn’t exactly given me any extra instructions. Just told me to do the job.

  But then, a realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. What if Royal hadn’t brought me here for the job? What if this wasn’t just about guarding the cargo?

  My eyes widened as the lines started connecting in my head. Survivability. That was my edge. If there was one thing I excelled at, it was staying alive. And what if that’s exactly what Royal expected?

  Was he banking on a massacre?

  The thought chilled me. If the other party wanted this cargo badly enough, they’d resort to wholesale slaughter. In that scenario, who would be the one person most likely to survive besides me?

  The traitor. Or some kind of traitor? I hoped I was just paranoid...

  The logic made my skin crawl. It sounded so unrealistic at first, but then again… maybe I didn’t know everything. Maybe there was more to this cargo than anyone was letting on.

  I crossed my arms and gave Sharpy a pointed look. “You said the three major gangs gave you their blessings to raise your own crew. Why?” I asked, my tone sharp but curious. “What does the Murder of Crows, Seamark, and Pride want from you?”

  Sharpy’s eyes flicked away from me for a moment, a sign she was weighing her words. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, more controlled. “Power dynamics,” she said, as if that alone was an explanation.

  I arched a brow, waiting for more.

  She sighed, rubbing her temple. “The gangs don’t like freelancers unless they can control them. I was good at what I did, and I had a reputation, ten years of grinding out jobs for whoever paid well. The Crows, Seamark, and even Pride saw that I was stable, reliable. But the thing is, a lone freelancer is just a tool, expendable. A crew? That’s a different story. A new crew could expand their strategic options, and they saw me as someone who could lead. However, it was easier said than done. After all, I could become a fourth power that might upset the balance...”

  “Then why let you go independent?” I asked. “Doesn’t that go against their whole control thing?”

  She let out a dry laugh. “They didn’t let me go. It was a test. They wanted to see if I could pull it off, and if I did, they’d swoop in to align my crew with their interests. Whoever I leaned toward would have gained a new asset. It was never about me... it was about who would win the tug-of-war once I succeeded. Of course, I never got the chance.”

  “Because of what happened to your people,” I said, piecing it together.

  She nodded, her expression hardening. “Exactly. Whether it was a coordinated hit or bad luck, I still don’t know. But whoever did it wanted to take me off the board before I could establish myself. No one wants to join a crew that’s already marked for death. My reputation’s in shambles. I’m just another freelancer again, and worse, I look like I can’t protect my people.”

  It made sense, in a brutal kind of way. The gangs were always playing long games, setting up pieces on the board. Sharpy had been one of those pieces, but she never realized how easily she could be removed.

  “Do you think the gangs were behind it?” I asked.

  Sharpy shook her head. “Maybe. Maybe not. Seamark’s always been cutthroat, and Pride’s not above using freelancers to their advantage. The Crows? Who the hell knows with those lunatics? But it doesn’t feel right. This wasn’t just a warning. It was too clean, too deliberate. Someone wanted to erase me entirely, not just scare me off.”

  Her words sent a chill down my spine. If someone could dismantle a rising crew that easily, what chance did any of us have out here?

  “And now you’re here,” I said, “on a mission that’s basically a meat grinder.”

  She smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, ironic, isn’t it? But I’m not going down without a fight. Whoever did this to me, they’re not walking away clean.”

  I stared at her for a moment. Sharpy might have been abrasive, but there was no denying her resolve. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this mission than either of us understood.

  “Guess we’ll see how this plays out,” I said finally.

  She nodded, and for a brief moment, there was an unspoken understanding between us. Whatever happened next, we’d both have to keep our guard up.