With Christmas coming tomorrow morning, we thought it might be nice to prepare a special edition of the Badger Kaizoku-dan Adventures, so here it is: Badger Kaizoku-dan Christmas Special! The Wrath of Captain Scrooge!
Reviews are always appreciated, and once again, One Piece is Copyright of Eiichiro Oda, and all originals are copyright of Richard Carr (CaptainBadger) and Jimmy Hartill (ArachnaDSeth/Hertz). Enjoy!
Badger Kaizoku-Dan: Christmas Special!
The Wrath of Captain Scrooge
"Are you absolutely sure this is the next island we're due to dock at, Seth?" Badger sceptically questioned his First Mate, raising one eyebrow as the lanky figure beside him bounced excitedly in his place.
"Yes, Cap'n," Seth grinned in response, "I asked Penny, and she said the Log was pointing this way all day yesterday!"
"Are you sure?" Badger continued in his inquisition, glancing between the increasingly large island directly in front of the ship and a cold, icy stretch of ocean to the port side of the ship, "Because I was sure we were heading that way... Where is Penny, anyway? I'll consult her myself."
"Sorry Cap'n," Seth interrupted, slyly shifting himself around so that he stood between his captain and the door to the lower levels, "but Penny's not available right now."
"Why not?" Badger asked.
"Uhh," Seth hesitated, trying to think of a suitable explanation, "Important... animal... playing... things?"
What the First Mate was neglecting to reveal to his captain – although the occasional animalistic grunts and growls that seeped through the wooden floorboards of the deck hinted at it strongly – was that he had told the young Beast-mistress that Boboette had snuck into the food stores and eaten the entirety of Marty's rations. During their purely diplomatic, peaceful negotiations, in which Penny and Marty appealed the need for a young, still growing grizzly to have sufficient food to Boboette's kinder, feminine side, they had reduced the contents of three large rooms to clawed shreds, so far.
"Well what about Vince, then?" Badger continued; something welling in the bottom of his heart told him that listening to his First Mate without a second opinion could end in disaster, "He may not be the actual Navigator here, but he did an alright job at pretending for a while..."
"Vince is busy arting," Seth answered quickly; "and he said that if anyone disturbs him he'll cry. A lot." Badger immediately shuddered; second opinion or no, nothing was worth making a melodramatic artist flood the ship with tears.
Below deck, behind a locked door, a small jar of purple ink sat on the raised edge of a work desk, silently wailing with the lips it didn't have. Darkness obscured its nonexistent vision, shadows hanging over brightly coloured canvases of the artist's latest work. Swirling furiously within its glass prison, pushing in vain against the cork stopper that was fixed firmly in the inkpot's neck, the ink desperately tried to break free of its bindings. How did he even get me in here? It thought in silent despair.
With an increasing sense of slightly-more-than-mild concern, Badger took another look at the island that rose from the nearby ocean; circular in shape, it seemed to rise like a curved spike, rows of snow-covered houses and hovels getting increasingly large as they approached the solid, stone walls of a Marine stronghold. Rising from its centre, a giant tower stretched upwards into the sky. The majority of the island stood in relative darkness, but spiralling the entirety of the tower's length, strands of multicoloured lights flickered on and off in the darkness, a seemingly sporadic chain of reds, yellows, blues and greens that lead to the tower's summit; upon which, a large, lush fir tree grew, colourful spheres and shiny tinsel adorning its branches.
Through the corners of his eyes, Badger gave Seth another sceptical look. He had his suspicions about the boy's real intentions; the entire situation had a certain edge to it, as if Seth had been alone on the deck in the early hours of the morning, seen the flashing lights and decorations on the distance, like a giant festive lighthouse, and had therefore redirected the ship's course, distracted Penny with a quick lie, trapped Vince within his own ink well, and then attempted to convince him that this was their next destination along the Grand Line. But, on further consideration, that was far too ridiculous to be true.
"Alright," he finally conceded with a weary sigh, "prepare to drop anchor."
Seth squealed in appreciation, running a few small circles of excitement around the deck, before slowing to a stop, his eyes passing towards the trap-door that lead to some of the ship's lower elements.
"Better go let Vince out of his jar..." he muttered, diving through the trap door before Badger could question the seemingly random wording. Just as he disappeared into the lower regions, however, the other door on the ship burst open, making a full hundred and eighty degree rotation before slamming into the wood that made up the wall, sending cracked splinters flying across the deck.
"Who the FUCK did this?!" roared Locke, storming onto the deck with all the subtlety of a failing nuclear power station. His left hand was clenched in a fist so tight, that it threatened to draw blood from the skin of his palm, whilst his right indicated the atrocity that had befallen his head and face. Resting on top of his head, seemingly held in place by elastic around the sideways protrusions that made up the 'hammer', was a large, red hat, with white fluff trimming around the base, and a large, white, fluffy bauble on its pointy tip. Hanging down from his chin, a long, white beard appeared to have been almost glued in place.
Badger looked at the Fishman with a worried glance; that is, until another figure emerged from behind him that caused him to immediately avert his gaze. Wandering out from behind him, Mujina looked up at Locke.
"I think I can guess..." she said; and she was probably right, judging by the fact she was inexplicitly wearing a tightly hugging red dress, the silky material reaching barely below her waist before it reached its equally furry lining. A simple pair of red straps held the top of the dress in place just above her breasts; and like Locke, a hat was placed atop her head.
"Seth..." Locke hissed, a burst of steam seething through his clenched jaws. Moving across the deck, looking almost ready to destroy most of his environment given a moment's notice, Locke moved out of the doorway, allowing Mujina to also proceed into the open world. A few moments later, Penny emerged from the doorway, having left Marty and Boboette to their little dispute; she was dressed almost identically to Mujina, only without the hat upon her head (and, of course, hers was slightly better filled out, but that's neither here nor there).
"Oh no," Mujina said when she saw the girl emerge onto the ship's exterior, "why did he get you too?"
"What are you talking about," Penny replied, placing one hand on her hip, "this is just the dress I felt like wearing today. Incidentally, have you seen young Seth running around?"
With a quick glare that could shatter glass and minds alike, Mujina returned her attention to the island that approaching before them. However, before she could pass comment, the trapdoor exploded outwards, and a significantly ink-covered Seth flew from the open gap, fleeing across the deck as Vince's torso emerged almost immediately afterwards, splatters of ink flying from his hands.
"You absolute cretin!" he shouted, firing another sphere of purple liquid across the deck, "Do you have an idea ho—"
He was cut short, however, upon noticing the bizarrely dressed crewmembers who were gathered on the ship. From the absurdity of Locke's get-up, his line of sight progressed down to Mujina's revealing outfit, and then onwards once again to Penny, and her sensuous, gorgeous curves. After a few moments awkward staring, two jets of ink burst from the artist's nostrils as he fainted in a lust-induced coma, rapidly plummeting back into the Tanuki-Go's depths. A cluttered crashing of broken equipment a moment later confirmed his safe arrival at his destination.
When he stopped running, Seth turned to the loving, caring faces of the entire crew glaring maliciously directly towards him; with the exception of Penny, who sent a sly wink in his direction.
"Hey, lighten up guys," he said, with a grin, "It's Christmas!"
"Regardless," Badger interrupted, making a mental note to return to the growing concern of Seth's blatant insanity later, "We need to prepare to weigh anchor. Get to work, now!"
With those words, the crew begrudgingly set about their respective tasks, as the glistening white shoreline grew ever closer.
•••
With the Tanuki-Go anchored securely by the Island's shores (and also, for some reason, now inexplicitly covered in tinsel, coloured lights and a red-and-white paintjob), the pirates made their way along the coastline, heading towards the nearest row of houses. It was a daunting sight to see, a row of ramshackle pirates, a gorilla and a bear, all dressed in Christmassy attire. Seth had adorned what he maintained was an Elf costume—but looked more like an amateur attempt of Peter Pan—after convincing his Captain to join the festivities, by donning the attire of one 'Santa Claus'. Vince had also joined the festive feeling; although, slightly worryingly, it was difficult to tell which gender his outfit had been designed for. Most of the crew just stuck to looking awkwardly away.
Plodding along besides Penny, Marty and Boboette had, through a number of exchanged blows, settled their differences for the time being. They too had been convinced to dress up; however, their costumes were slightly more unusual. Marty had stayed with a vague Christmas spirit, wearing a pair of novelty reindeer antlers behind his shaggy ears, with a plastic attachment that covered his muzzle, giving him a reindeer's snout, with a beady blue nose attached to its end. Next to him, Boboette had settled for a pink top hat; due to a rip in its fabric, however, two strands of white tape had been secured over it in a cross shape.
After briefly looking at the pair as they walked, Mujina turned to Penny.
"You know, if you put those costumes together, they'd look—"
"I know," Penny cut her short.
"But they'd look almost exactly like Cho—"
"Don't say it!" Penny snapped, slamming her palm over Mujina's surprised lips, "This is a non cannon piece!"
After releasing her mouth, Mujina gave Penny a sideways look, before pulling something out from the cleavage of her dress; a small black notebook, and a pencil. She took a moment or two to scribble something down, before replacing them within the confines of her person.
"What was that?" Penny questioned curiously, "What did you just write down?"
"That joke," Mujina responded plainly, "since you obviously wanted it dead!"
After a few more minutes of trudging across the snowy plains, they came to the corner of the settlement. Standing on the corner of the first street they came to was a little old man, his clothes torn and ragged; the signs of an unnecessarily hard life. The man stood shivering in the snow, his fingerless gloves doing little to protect his hands from the harshness of the wild; when he saw the approaching men, Fishman, bear and gorilla, however, his face seemed to fill with an unexpected vigour, as he rushed to greet them in the most prolific of ways.
"Greetings, Strangers!" he shouted, with an enthusiastic gesture, indicating the houses behind him, "Please, Save us!"
There was a silence that hung in the air, a mixture of confusion and general awkwardness. As is customary in situations like this, Badger took to diplomatically dissipating the silence with an appropriate choice of words.
"The hell are you on about?" he grunted, with all the good will and cheer of the Grinch after a particularly bad boxing day. With what seemed like no realisation that what he was saying was both abrupt and a little absurd, the old crone continued.
"The people of this nation are poor, and weak," he said, indicating the rows of houses that lead towards the island's centre, "and Christmas is the only time when we are allowed to indulge ourselves in simple pleasures. However, the Island was recently set under the command of Captain Humbug Scrooge of the Marines, and he has declared that Christmas be cancelled, and all our presents have been confiscated! Please, help us save our Christmas, and return the presents to the people!"
"...No." Badger answered bluntly, before making to move away.
The old man looked onwards in slight disbelief, before his facial expression changed slightly, coming across as something more subtly malicious.
"Well, Pirates," he said, the tone of his voice somehow altered from moments ago, "There is a rather large Marine base on the centre of this Island, with plenty of up-and-coming recruits looking to justify themselves with an easy bounty retrieval, if you catch my drift."
Badger stopped dead. Even as a pirate, something in the bottom of his soul hated blackmail. Turning, he addressed the man once again, his words sounding wooden and hollow.
"So basically, you want us to save your presents from the clutches of those Marines over there, under the threat that if we don't, you'll rat us in to the selfsame Marines? Wow, Merry Irony, everyone."
After a few moments' pause, he reluctantly turned to his crew, the look of defeat lingering in his eyes.
"Well, you heard him. Get to work..."
•••
Badger was stumped.
The crew, after being given their forced orders by some geriatric stranger, had all gone their separate ways, ideas formulating in their minds over how to solve the problem. Vince had slipped away into a nearby alley, muttering something to himself regarding how cold it was and how revealing his festive outfit turned out to be; trailing behind him by a few metres, Boboette plodded silently into the darkness. In the other direction, Locke, Mujina, Penny and Marty wandered away with lowered voices, before separating into different streets in turn. This left Badger and his first mate to peruse what appeared to be the high street.
And this, in turn, lead to one of the most fearsome pirates of the West Blue, captain of the Badger Kaizoku-dan, with the power of probability and misfortune at his beckon call, stood in front of a small, tattered looking child, with messy blonde hair, a dripping nose, and a look of desperate hope in his widened eyes.
"Are... Are you Thanta?" the kid said, with, if you hadn't noticed, a fairly prominent lisp.
"Sure," Badger grunted, with the level of Christmas Cheer that people have when they see decorations going up in supermarkets during September, "Why not."
"Have you got any prethentth for me Thanta??" the child continued, the longing in his eyes growing to all new levels.
"Uhh," Badger mumbled, padding himself down in search of anything that could vaguely be used as a gift, before he came upon one such item, "Here?"
What he offered towards the child was a thin, slightly concaved flask; as it passed hands, a soft 'tinkle' inside indicated that it contained some variety of liquid, it's only opening fastened shut by a screw cap. Unfastening this stopper, the kid stuck his nose over the opening, a strong hit of highly alcoholic fumes forcing his nose to scrunch up, his eyes watering slightly.
"Cap'n!" Seth shouted, "You can't give him that! It's encouraging bad morals amongst today's young society!"
"We're Pirates, Seth," Badger said wearily, turning to his First Mate, "Since when should we care about soc—"
He stopped his sentence dead, however, when he realised that Seth was no longer stood loyally by his right shoulder; instead, he was charging in a blind fury across the street, spear in hand, screaming as if preparing to fight the beasts of hell; his eyes burned with righteous fury, as his opponent stood gauntly still, preparing for anything the young warrior could throw at him. It would be a duel to the death, a duel for glory, a duel that would shake the foundations of the heavens themselves, and...
"It's a bloody Snowman, Seth!" Badger roared, his voice rumbling the snow that had settled precariously on the edges of nearby roofs.
"It looked at me funny, Cap'n!" Seth whined defensively, "It did! Honest!"
Christ almighty, Badger thought, slapping on palm against his forehead in dismay, Sometimes I think I'm not cut out for this...
•••
Vince was slumped up against the side of a battered fence, his head held in his hands, his pale, pasty legs shivering, exposed in the frosty clutches of the snow. Why do we always end up in situations like this? he thought, All I want to do is paint, and travel the seas with my works, but yet we always end up in hare-brained schemes that threaten our livelihood and integrity... Why, oh Why...
"Ook" came the sweet, dulcet tones of a full grown female gorilla who was feeling a bit nippy, and a bit more mischievous. Vince looked up at his crewmate, with a weary smile upon his features. In the depths of his despair, a poetic affinity rose from the depths of his heart.
"Oh, Sweet Boboette," he started, his eyes glowing with slowly growing tears, "Why must it always be this way? Why must we always soldier on each day? Why must—Hey, what're you doing?!" he squeaked, as Boboette's leathery palms gripped his shoulders, hoisted him from the ground, and hurled him roughly into the skies; a few minutes and a number of effeminate squeals later, and Vince Van Monasso was rapidly descending a nearby chimney into the comfort of an unknown home.
•••
Bounding excitedly from one house to the next, Seth was in a whirlwind of good cheer. After dealing with his frosty nemesis, the Man of Snow, he had disappeared away from his captain in a flurry of thrown up slush, ready to bring the wonder of Christmas back to each and every one of these underprivileged villagers.
That is, of course, if he could think of any ideas.
At every door he approached, he'd brought his fist down to knock on the door with the broadest of grins on his face, only to realise that, in all his Christmas cheer, he hadn't actually anything to give. And the harder he thought, the less he could concoct. As a temporary solution each time, he chose to simply move excitedly on to the next house, and hope inspiration struck him mid-way; that was, of course, until he ran out of houses on the street.
Now, he stood in front of the large, iron gates that protected the entrance to the Marine stronghold. The part of his brain that said things like "This isn't a good idea," or "You've got a Bounty, you moron, get moving," had obviously gone on holiday, as he stood wide-eyed at the building's enormity; and it was then that inspiration struck him. He could return Christmas to these people, and it was all a matter of doing the right thing! With a grin as wide as his shoulders on his face, and an oblivious enjoyment of the paradox that created, he began to scale the giant, iron fortress.
•••
"This," announced Penny, proudly, "is your new Puppy!"
The animal, sat calmly in the snow, was a small Golden Retriever puppy. Its beady eyes looked straight forward, its mouth sealed shut, thin streams of hot steam flowing from its wet nose. The child to whom it had been offered looked a little bemused.
"It's perfectly trained for you," Penny pointed out, "so you won't have to worry about all that 'house training' stuff."
"It's... kinda quiet," the child pointed out, tilting his head slightly as he observed the puppy sat so still, it may as well have been a statue.
"That's because you haven't named it, silly," Penny replied with a beaming smile. The child still looked uneasy, but after a moment's thought, he addressed the strange woman once again.
"Ok. I'll call him Rover!" he announced, with a broad smile. Penny, still beaming away, turned slightly, now facing the puppy, who looked directly at her without question.
"You are Rover!" she said, her voice changed to a commanding, unwavering tone, "Understand?"
The puppy barked once in response, before returning to silence.
"And this boy," she said, indicating the child, "Is your master. Understand?"
Another solitary woof.
Her kind tones returning, she turned back to the boy, extending a hand to ruffle through his soft hair.
"Merry Christmas," she smiled, before turning to leave.
"...can't I have him instead?" the boy piped up, pointing at the hulking brown figure that followed by Penny's shoulder.
"No!" she shouted, without so much as turning her head.
The boy and the puppy stared at each other in silence. It was a long stare.
•••
Standing uncomfortably in the warmly lit room, Vince dusted the black soot from his clothing and body, glancing around the house's interior for any signs of life. In the corner, a large fir tree stood alone, decorated by sparkly tinsel and flashing lights. Red stockings hung from the mantel, and brightly coloured decorations hung from every corner of the room. In a sort of post-modern slightly tacky and somewhat rudimentary way, Vince appreciated the styling.
What he appreciated less, however, was the family that were quivering behind their sofa in terror. One member of the family, a small girl, turned to her father, her voice high-pitched and wavering.
"Daddy, why is Santa in girl's clothes?" she said, her frightened eyes shifting from the protective form of her father to the disturbing image of the man stood before them.
"I don't know, Honey, I just don't know..." her father responded, seemingly as worried as she was.
In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Vince pulled a piece of canvas from some unknown region of his attire.
"I've got presents?" he said weakly, as his fingers began to stroke across the canvas, leaving inky trails behind them. With newfound courage, the girl hurled herself across the room, running small circles around the nervous artist, a monotonous chant of 'Presents!' coming in a constant stream from her lips.
After a few minutes of concentrated effort, Vince looked down with a smile, handing the material down to the excited girl. A true masterpiece, he thought, a wonder of the art world; this piece shall go down for centuries as one of Christmas's great miracles...
The girl started crying.
A few moments later, so did Vince.
•••
In a nearby street, the entire place was chaos. Grown men and women were running around in pure mayhem, grabbing their distraught, crying children and fleeing as fast as they dared. Debris from parts of broken buildings and vehicles littered the streets, the snow covered cobbles now revealed as the wondrous white powder had been blown aside; within what was left, deepening red stains soaked into the substance. Small fires were burning in the corners of the buildings, engulfing everything they came across in balls of burning rage.
One particularly brave civilian approached the figures that stood in the centre of the chaos.
"What have you done?!" he shouted, before losing his nerve, turning tail, and running.
"I was just trying to spread the Christmas Cheer," Locke said sarcastically to his companion.
"I know, Locke," Mujina replied, "I know..."
•••
With a broad grin on his face, Seth marched along the main street, one hand on the shaft of his precious Stinger, and the other dragging the leg of a bewildered looking man. Behind him, the Marine base was up in arms, the flickering lights on the tower's stem now shattered, spread across the entire area like a raining plague of coloured lights. The tree, which had previously stood proudly atop the tower's head now appeared to have been struck haphazardly through the building; as if a spear-wielding maniac had thrust it through as a weapon.
The man trailing behind the deluded spearman seemed perfectly in keeping with the surrounding snowy, peaceful atmosphere; he was dressed in a black suit, with a gray, floor length jacket draped over his shoulders. Upon his head of short, black hair was a tall, black top hat; upon his upper lip, a curly moustache gave him the impression of an upper class gentleman.
As he approached, Badger gave Seth a sideways look.
"Who is that?" he said, warily.
"This guy?" Seth questioned, hoisting the unconscious man up with one arm, "He's that Marine guy. Captain Scrooge?"
When Badger's face proved unresponsive to his seemingly obvious explanation, he continued.
"I figured," he said plainly, "that the best way to give a good present to these guys would be just to beat up the guy in charge. Isn't that right?"
With a defeated sigh for the second time that day, Badger agreed.
"Yeah, I guess that works. C'mon Seth, let's leave him by that old guy and get out of here. I hate this place already..."
Nodding in agreement, Seth walked purposefully back the way they'd came, the unconscious man dragging a trail through the snow behind him.
Taking a few steps back towards the Tanuki-Go, Badger paused with a moment of sudden realisation.
"What the hell is Christmas, anyway?" he muttered; before walking slowly away towards the dying evening's sun.