PIRACY CHAPTER 2
Percy arrived at the front line and saw the desperate fight. The townsfolk were no match for the seasoned pirates. The pirates fought, if they weren't fighting, burned anything that would burn, if they weren't burning, stole everything worth a dime. Percy grimly drew his sword, Anaklusmos, and dove into the riot.
Percy concentrated so hard that his brain just stopped working and handed the effort to muscle memory. Riptide started as a blade and now was raw carnage as he carved his anger into the Italian pirates. Any conscience he had was shoved automatically to the back of his mind. He couldn't afford mercy when these people would sooner stab him in the back then show him mercy.
There was yelling, grunts of pain, screams of death, defiant swearing and the ever constant crash of the sea. Percy was getting so worked up that a storm was starting to build around him, but suddenly he realized something. Much of the sound before was gone. Most of the French sailors lay dead or wounded on the beach, their blood staining the sand crimson. The ones that were still standing were being surrounded and overtaken, bound in chains and rope. Pirates began traversing deeper into the stone town.
A gaggle of them advanced on Percy, swords drawn.
"Look at 'im, 'e's on'y a boy," one said, frowning slightly. Percy bared his teeth and was almost hissing. They chuckled and his restraint cracked. He flew at them like death's own machine and two were dead before their laughter had ceased. More pirates sprinted over as Percy attacked, red with rage but tiring.
Eventually a large pirate took a stone and got Percy on the back of his head with it. Percy's head jerked forward, he experienced severe pain and saw the Milky Way then passed out.
Pain cleaved through his head. He felt as though the spinal liquid around his brain had been set on boil. His knees ached and whined. Stinging, burning sensations steamed his shoulders.
Percy groaned and tried to move around. He was pretty sure he was lying down. He heard other faint moans and twisted his head painfully to look about. Shadowy figures quivered like water. Then a door creaked violently open and a shaft of light struck the dark room.
A pirate marched in, hobnailed boots thudding painfully on the ground. Percy tried to clutch at his head, but his hands were bound with stout ropes.
"'Ere's the lot o' 'em, sir," said a pirate. A finer set of boots boomed across the planks.
"A sorry lookin' lot, they are," he observed. "Tell the medic that when he's done up there he can come down here to clean 'em up."
"Aye aye, sir." The hobnails left. The fine boots paced around a bit more, sometimes toeing a captive. Then he too left.
Percy felt exhausted from just that episode of being awake. He felt the ocean beneath him and knew he was on the Italians' ship. He sighed, which hurt his head, then gave in to the rocking lull of the boat and blacked out again.
