Chapter 414: Their Warning Shot Went Home to Its Family

The first gunboat fired as though I owed it the courtesy of sitting still, which made returning the ammunition feel less like violence and more like correcting a misunderstanding.

We were under twenty meters from the exposed gun mount. Lukas had brought Wet Regret around the repair wall at our planned angle, close enough to see the gunner’s face and decide I would enjoy ruining his morning.

I wanted to wave. The muzzle flash persuaded me to save that particular mistake for after the shooting.

Return to Sender caught the detached rounds inside its six-meter reach. I set the visible gun mount as the single destination, and the shots bent away from our bow at the speed they already carried.

They slammed into the exposed assembly before the gunner understood why his warning burst had become a conversation with his own equipment.

The mount jerked sideways, its feed stopped, and the last rounds struck the shield from an angle it had never been designed to protect. Men threw themselves behind the deck rail while Lukas turned us back toward solid cover.

[System: Back in your own gun, you noisy prick. That’s a proper return policy, mate, and we didn’t even make him keep the box.]

Do I qualify for senior customer service now? That was a very efficient return, and I never even asked the bastard for a receipt. I could train staff, provided the building had decent cover and a generous policy on employee grievances.

The window closed, leaving just under two minutes on the timer. I ducked so quickly my chin hit the rail, which took some shine off the heroic moment.

We slipped behind the repair wall before the second boat could establish a clean firing angle. Its shots struck old stone farther along the barrier, sending chips into the water without reaching our hull.

Can you put an insulting message on the returned bullets? I asked while crouching behind stone. We have two minutes to improve the service, and I hate leaving useful work unfinished.

[System: Keep your head down and I’ll think of something, you impatient little shit.] Across the gap, a man hauled a smaller gun toward the damaged boat’s stern.

I took that personally. They had already broken one gun on me, and now they wanted to start another.

Lukas cut the throttle in the wall’s sheltered pocket and pointed at the narrow maintenance gap beside us.

"They can’t bring all three through there. If they follow one at a time, they lose the broadside angle."

I studied the water movement around the opening. The gap led into the outside repair basin, with old mooring posts along one edge and a clear exit beyond the far crane.

We had walked its dry edge last night while I complained about going sightseeing in the dark. I quietly decided Lukas didn’t need to hear how useful that had turned out to be.

[System: There’s your little doorway, mate. Get the first bastard stuck in it and the others can argue about whose turn it is to have a terrible morning.]

I like making people wait to be robbed. It suggests demand, and demand means we should consider charging more.

I pulled onto the low wall, keeping below the outer edge. My wing took the short glide easily, though I landed carefully enough to make Old Mate accuse me of worrying about the stone’s feelings.

From there, I could see the first boat’s stern through the gap. Its crew was trying to reverse away from the damaged gun, which placed their tow cleat inside the narrow entrance.

The second captain shouted at the first, while the third kept its gun raised farther out. I couldn’t hear every insult, but the tone suggested they were already doing half my work for me.

Lukas tied Wet Regret inside the sheltered pocket, then climbed onto the low wall with the heavy capture line we had kept from the raiders. He checked its hook and looped it around a fixed bollard with enough slack to reach the gap.

Their lead boat was barely moving. Lukas fed out enough line to snag its stern, muttering that if I jumped too soon he would use the remainder to tie me to our own boat.

My portal remained available. Both proposed endpoints were empty, visible, in air, and less than twenty meters apart: the sheltered wall beside me and the clear patch behind the lead boat’s gun shield.

I waited until a crewman moved out of the landing space, then opened Backdoor Bludger.

I crossed within its eight seconds and arrived behind the damaged mount as the man carrying the stern weapon turned around. A tendril caught the barrel and pushed it upward while my packed middle knocked him off balance.

The gun discharged harmlessly over the water. I took it from him and sent it sliding beneath the damaged assembly where nobody could grab it quickly.

Another man swung a boat hook, so I caught the shaft, pulled him forward, and put his face against the deck hard enough to end his interest in maritime enforcement.

I called them Gun Idiot and Hook Idiot in my head, then revised the second to Floor Idiot when he tried to get up and regretted it.

[System: Get to the helm, mate. You can name every dickhead aboard after we’ve stopped the boat driving into something expensive.]

I moved toward the controls while Lukas cast the capture hook from the wall. It caught the stern cleat as the boat eased backward, and the line tightened enough to swing the hull against a padded repair post.

The remaining crew hesitated between me, the jammed entrance, and their friends shouting outside.

I checked the reflection timer, then looked across the basin at the next boat beginning to turn for the gap.

"Lukas, I think we should stop thinking about escape and start thinking about how many parking spaces we can afford."

He grinned from the wall and reached for the second line while the captain behind me slowly took his hands off the controls.