Cassandra now found herself boxed in by two of the Golden Age of Piracy's most successful cutthroats. Fancy, commanded by Edward England, and Victory under Captain John Taylor. Neither of these men were particularly known for being real-life analogues of Barney the Dinosaur, a detail you could probably divine from the fact that they were both murderous fucking pirates who would just as soon pull out your eyes with a claw hammer than piss on you. Macrae and his crewmen weren't exactly hardcore SAS paratroopers with rocket launchers for arms and cybernetic muscle implants allowing them to vault over small dinosaurs with a single ridiculous leap, but they also weren't the kind of fucking chumps that going to sit back and let a group of scurvy assholes eviscerate them with cutlasses either. Macrae unflinchingly ordered his men load their cannons, and as soon as Victory was within range Cassandra turned and blasted her with a devastating broadside.
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