She sat at the bar, alone, wrapped warmly in the comfort of silence. A long sigh escaped her lips as she basked in the burning sensation in her throat.
Suddenly, the front door burst open, Maya looked towards it with hazy eyes.
“We’re closed!” she shouted, but the prospective patron didn’t respond.
Before she could address him again, two more entered the bar from behind him. Maya’s survival instinct began to perk up. There was little doubt in her mind that they belonged to a mercenary outfit. Each of them were bruising looking fellows, scarred and tatted an inhumanly amount. With a quick glance at one another and a nod of their heads, the three mercs drew their weapons from the small of their backs. Already sensing danger, Maya managed to duck behind the bar a half second before they began opening fire.
Rounds tore into the glass bottles, showering Maya with a bevy of liquids. One particularly rare vial splashed onto her bare forearm eliciting a sharp intake of breath as it burned her skin. Hastily, she looked for a weapon. The old bartender had used to keep a shotgun behind the counter in case things got too rough, but judging by the look of things he’d taken it with him when he quit last week. Bastard, it wasn’t my fault he got the shit beat out of him because he delivered the wrong drink. She knew she kept a pistol somewhere in her office, but she doubted she’d make it the short distance required without getting shot.
When the assault finally stopped she took a deep breath, felt her body contract as it prepared to run, only to be halted again as another wave of projectiles peppered the back wall.
“Maya!” Tavik’s voice called out to her.
She looked up to see her first-mate crouched behind the door to her office, pistol in hand. Maya smiled with relief, she instantly held her hands out to receive the gift. Tavik placed it on the ground, and with one quick movement slid the metallic weapon across the floor. The pirate queen picked it up, her fingers curled anxiously around it. Before their attackers could fire another shot, she popped up from behind the bar.
The first shot went wide, but served to scramble the mercs. She readjusted and the second shot found its target, striking one of the hulking men in the kneecap. He crashed forward, breaking a table in half. Her third shot glanced off the armor of the merc with a fish tattoo on the back of his head. One ran right at her, she grinned as she had him dead to rights. Her finger flexed on the trigger, only to be met with a click. Fear jolted through her as the realization that she was empty coursed through her. The merc grinned, a flash of pointed teeth accentuated his broad shark like face. A meaty fist reached over the counter, grabbed her by the vest, and slammed her back onto the countertop. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the massive fist rise over her head. A shot rang out, halting the big man’s attack long enough for Maya to grab a nearby knife and plunge it into the thick tree branch arm of the mercenary. The beefy man rose up, a howl of anguish and rage on his lips. Another booming shot rang out, the mercenary looked behind him, then toppled over as he caught a full shotgun blast to the face.
Maya rolled off the counter, slowly her breath returned to her as she gazed at her attacker. Half his face had been rendered clean off, leaving nothing but a bloody mess of bone and muscle. She continued to slowly catch her breath when a figure approached her.
“Nice work Tavik, remind me to get you a raise,” she coughed through wheezing breaths.
“It wasn’t me,” Tavik replied upon peeking her head up from behind the bar.
Maya looked up to see a dark-haired woman dressed in black, with orange accents. Her icy eyes sent a chill through the pirate’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. In her left hand rested the smoking barrel of a plasma fueled shotgun.