Vengeance, Justice, and Retribution. Three different words. Yet in the end, they all imply the same thing. Revenge.

"Wanderlust is secure."

"Toss em overboard, but give them a life raft. We aren't monsters now, are we?"

Several seconds passed before a line snapped.

"Raft is loose!"

The life raft hit the water and the two occupants began rowing, putting as much distance between them and the Wanderlust.

"Ready, aim... fire!"

A projectile sailed through the air and cleanly punctured the life raft's hull.

"Cap'n, the prisoner- The river rat got out and has a ra- AHG!"

"No no no please- AHH!"

The two deckhands fell into the twilight waters and another life raft dropped with a splash. A propeller whirred to life, and the raft was gone before Sully could see it.

"Well, ye win some, ye lose some. We have the wanderlust, that's what really matters! Who really cares 'bout some rusty suit o' fancy pre-war armor?"

The next morning, in a western coastal city on Fishbone Island, the white flayers were shredding not only a captured steel empire battleship, but the crew as well.

"Last chance to convert. Your precious empire is crumbling swiftly, and nothing will change that. Join us while you can."

"And if I don't?"

"How dense is that skull of yours? You fall in there and you die a nonbeliever."

"And if I do?"

"You join our ranks, and if you survive long enough to prove yourself worthy, you will control a portion of the best fleet on the planet."

The grinder was gnashing at his feet. Two guards. One at the base of the stairs, looking the other way. One right beside him. The Buzzsaw was beached twenty-two meters away, unguarded. He could do this.

"That's a pretty big if. I think I'll just take option three if it's all the same to you."

He grabbed the guard's collar and shoved him into the pit. The other guard sounded the alarm and raised a pistol. He dragged the guard up and over the short railing, into the grinder. He snatched up the pistol and ran for the buzzsaw. More guards were going to show up at any second.

The ship dragged itself into the water. They were going to find him. The craft was gaining speed. Where were they? A CRAM shell shattered against the port-side shields. He veered to the south, and set a course for western Eriwick. Hopefully they wouldn't follow him through the cauldron. Had they given up on capturing him? He certainly hoped so.

It was dark by the time he saw any sign of civilization, aside from the occasional pirate that ran as soon as they saw his ship. An old fort sitting behind a small island, with a single lantern burning in a window.

"I hope whoever's here won't mind company. Oh, I'm talking to myself, lovely. I've only been alone for twelve hours and I'm already losing my marbles."

He beached the buzzsaw on the island and swam out to the fort. He climbed up the stairs and into a storeroom. Not much in the way of tech, but something in the corner caught his eye. He went to get a better look.

"Huh. A complete set of pre-war pilot's armor. Looks like it's pretty clean too. Lucky me-"

As he lifted his head, he felt a ring of cold steel pressed against his temple.

"Yeah, it is a nice piece of gear, so it'd be a shame if I had to clean your brains off of it. Hands up."

He complied.

"That's a flayer boat out there, but judging by the lack of scars, tattoos, and psychopathic bloodthirsty demeanor, you aren't one of them. So who the hell are you?"

"My name is Markus Fract. I'm a helicopter pilot from the Steel Striders. At least, I was. The flayers killed everyone else, I escaped in that buzzsaw. I had nowhere to go and no one to go with, and I saw your fort. I came here hoping to either find a friendly face or a swift end. Looks like I met with the latter first."

The gun clattered to the floor, and was joined by a heavy mace and a rusty helmet moments later. He looked down at the rusted face of an ancient war machine, and back up at the face of a young lady with fiery red eyes and short electric blue hair, and a single scrape across the bridge of her nose.

"The same thing happened to me. Nowhere to go, no one left. My name's River. Everyone just called me river rat. Pleasure to meet ya."

She stretched out a gloved hand, and he shook it.