It was another hot sunny day in the tropical climates of the South Atlantic Ocean, with South America far to one side and Africa to the other a single boat sailed alone in the big blue. A luxury liner gently cruised along the water as its passengers enjoyed the sun, sea and all the luxury the boat had to offer. The boat was currently the venue for the Africa Aid's annually recognition party for all their celebrity associates and wealthy sponsors. The rich and famous filled the boats decks, bar and private cabins in all their star studded glory. Ironically this boat sailed between two continents stricken with poverty, though this boat was a prime target for pirates. With a small private security force and a over confident crew who decided to ignore the warnings of sailing in those waters.
The boat's Security Chief David Talbot who was personally responsible for the Celebrity's safety and security was stood by the outside bar on the boats front deck. With a glass of whiskey in his left hand the 46 year old ex-marine was clad in a smart grey suit. He had a muscular build and stood around 6'6", his head was bald, his face clean shaven and his ice blue eye's were hidden beneath a pair of stylish black shades. With a sigh his eyes scanned the dancing crowd before him, he hated these long jobs but could not complain as the money was great. Sipping his whiskey from time to time he heard the voice's of his staff through the ear piece in his left ear. All had been fine so far besides the odd overly touchy drunk, heated arguments and ego trips.
A few small islands could be seen on the horizon and the boat had sailed far off the safe zone. The Islands were not on any maps and were presumed uninhabited, however they were not and their inhabitants had been watching the boat for the past two hours. Tipped off about the boats departure from Morocco the day before, Pirates had spent the day tracking the ship and it was soon time for them to attack. The boat was far from any help and out of radio contact to any authority's. Four Patrol Boats loaded with armed Pirates prepared to set sail and claim their prize.
Standing at a dock hidden in a sea side canyon of one of the Island was the Captain Leader Vaas Montenegro, who with a quick snort filled his nose with cocaine of the blade of his knife. As the drug rushed to his brain he shook his head before bouncing on the spot and letting out a loud. "WOOOOOOOOO!" Which echoed through the canyon as his crew finished of their preparations. A larger darker man soon approached him from behind, this was Vaas's second in command Bola. "We are almost ready boss.." Bola said with deep African accent, in Bola's left hand he held a large blood stained machete while a pump action shotgun was in his right. Vaas took one more snort of coke before turning round to Bola, with his knife still in hand as if ready to stab someone. "GOOOD!... LETS GO FUCK THEM UP!.. WOOOOO YEAH! FUCK!..." Vaas replied in his usual cokehead style before turning back to the boats, without a second thought he ran to the edge of the dock and jumped in a parkour style onto one of the boats. Bola shook his head as he casually followed in a more sensible fasion as he made his way to another of the boats which soon set sail.