The Unusual Thief

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Bed, but no breakfast.

“That could be described as a close one” whispered Stead as he gazed out over the still red ocean

“Close what?” asked the Captain equally distracted

“Brush with insanity.”

“Brushes with insanity? I use all my brushes to sweep that shit under the carpet.” said the Captain his bravado rising for a second

“Ah shit, your right. We whinge about it for the first few hours afterwards but we always bounce back, eh?” Stead added with a smile, flicking some ash from his joint into the sea

“Truth, but that adrenochrome, I never felt!” exclaimed Cap.

“Yes, yes we will HAVE to get some more” enthused Stead.

The Captain nodded his agreement, and continued nodding until he collapsed in an uncomfortable heap on the deck; Stead took a casual look down at his exhausted companion and then walked carefully towards the hold to look over the new toys. He felt like someone had filled his ribcage with broken glass, despite being heavily bandaged and drugged up the holes in his body inflicted terrible pain on him whenever he moved. He reached the large square hole in the deck, which was the entrance to the hold. The hold was now jam packed to the brim with a wide range of weapons, medical supplies, cybernetic attachments, drugs, condoms and a few blankets to boot. The main problem they had encountered since leaving Westport in such a hurry was that due to the haste of their departure they had forgotten to pick up any fresh water or food. So now they were hurriedly searching for a friendly port before they starved, or as Ache said was more likely to happen, die of thirst.

Slowly descending into the hold via the ladder, occasionally gasping in pain Stead wondered madly again at the thought of Paul acquiring all these goodies so easily. Unfortunately in the process he had pissed Tricky off somewhat. But now they were out of Tricky’s sphere of influence that no longer really worried him. What did was Andy’s reappearance, that guy seemed harder to shake than a fridge. How much longer would he keep turning up? Wouldn’t he ever fuck off? Would he ever shave that pussy off his face?!?

Stead reached the bottom of the ladder and turned to take in the packed hold. A lot of the boxes and crates had been opened and their contents spread across any available space. On the floor sat in the middle of this mess was Ache, next to him perched on a crate was Paulhead, the body was fishing up on deck.

“Whas’up fools?” Stead greeted his mates as he hobbled over to the edge of the mess.

“Alright man.” said Ache, a spliff hanging out of his mouth “We been checking these new toys, here have a look at this.”

Stead reached out and took what Ache offered him, it was a smooth cylindrical metal object with a domed end about ten inches long

“What is it?” asked Stead turning it over in his hands

“A cybernetic penis.” Ache told him a smile spreading across his lips, Stead dropped it instantly a look of disgust on his face

“Dirty bastard!” cried Stead

Ache and Paulhead laughed it up

“There’s all kinds of shit in here, what about this, called an Explorer” Ache said indicating another metal tube this one with three buttons.

“Shah! It is calling to me already, what is it?” Stead asked

“A weapon, bit of a sick one to be honest…”

“Tell me man! What does it do??” Stead was getting excited at the prospect of sick weapon.

“It fires three different skin piercing pellets, they follow the path of the bloodstream and destroy the first organ they come across in a variety of sick and interesting ways, it says here.” Ache was reading from the instruction booklet

“Can I have it?” was Stead’s next question

“If you like, you sick fuck.” replied Ache

“Oy Ache, can I have this automatic rolling machine please” asked Paulhead

“Well I suppose it will be useful to you in an emergency” said Ache, slightly put out

“Come on man!” pleaded Paulhead “I ain’t got no hands, I can’t rely on you to be there every time I need a joint!”

“Whatever! You wont have to rely on me anymore, you’ve got your automatic roller now, you don’t need me at all anymore.” Ache tossed the roller in Paulheads general direction

“Oh for facks sake!” cried Paulhead

Ache got up holding an unidentified piece of machinery and stalked off, calling back to Paulhead

“I hope it rolls some right throat rapists for you”

“Hah, the jokes on him” said Paulhead “I ain’t got a throat!”

“You ain’t got no lungs either mate.” pointed out Stead smiling “Look you know how he gets about people not smoking his joints, you should go and speak to him”

“It’s not that I won’t smoke his joints, it’s just that if I want to smoke independently I can’t! He has to be around for me to have a toke, I’m just not ready for that level of commitment!” Paulhead said apologetically

“It’s not me you should be explaining to, is it?” said Stead

Paulbody had gained a taste for fresh Red Sea fish. Very fresh, in fact sushi would be more the correct term. It was thought that the only reason he enjoyed them is because he possessed no taste buds, so it was quite easy for him to force a still very alive, wriggling fish down his throat to be digested by his very active stomach acids. He was the only one on the ship eating well. The last few crumbs they managed to salvage from the still derelict galley had ran out rather quickly. Cannabis induced munchies and limited rations had left the crew starving, literally. Ache wandered over to Paulbody who was carefully monitoring the feel of the specially modified rod Ache had built for fishing in the Red Sea. It was a monster among fishing rods almost eighteen foot long and as thick as a sapling, it was securely fastened to the deck of Satan so as to allow the catching of some tremendous sea life. Paulbody had found that you didn’t need a head to fish, the feeling of the reel, its slightest trembling’s and rod vibrations were enough. He could sense movement very well and so far he had proved himself a capable fisherman. Occasionally he would even catch things that were edible these he would share with his shipmates, but it was not enough to stop the swift malnourishment of the whole crew. Ache admired the way Paulbody had so quickly become adept at fishing, Ache also appreciated Paulbody’s lack of a mouth and ears. This meant that Ache could whine and bitch to Paulbody without the body telling him to “Shut up” or “Fuck off”

“That bloody head of yours has got a right cheek” exclaimed Ache to the Body, Paulbody’s shroud was blown about by an errant sea breeze

“Yeah, that cunt wanted an automatic rolling machine” said Ache pulling a face when he said the words “rolling machine” as if they left a bad taste in his mouth, Paulbody carefully reeled in a few inches of fishing wire

“I’m the only rolling machine round here” Ache told the body with pride, drawing himself up a few inches “Master roller, I am, fucking star”

Paulbody shuffled slightly to the right slightly then started to scratch his groin

“Right then” said Ache “Guess I’ll skin up”

Time passed and the crew began to weaken, they shared what food and water they had because despite their hardcore nature they had a deep respect and love for each other. But the further they sailed the more hopeless their plight seemed. The ship drifted aimlessly now, no one strong enough to take the helm. They began to fall like dying flies in winter, lying on bunks, sat on chairs or wherever they had fell waiting for sustenance or release from suffering. Hope had abandoned ship long ago, making room for a new passenger, one entirely more unwelcome; the spectre of death.

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