This is actually a reboot of a very old story I used to write a couple of years ago. I probably won't update this that often, but I like writing so I wanted to post it. I skimmed through for a proofread but if you see any typos, go ahead and tell me, thanks.

Breath in. Breath out. The ocean's waves crash against Stephen's ship. Breath in. The wind brushed through the top of his short, wavy, black hair. The sun shined down on the deck of his small ship. A one-man vessel, capable of traveling to a few islands but not much more. At least, that's what his master said. The old wood of the ship bent underneath him as he breathed out.

The memory of a nine millimeter pistol appeared in his mind. How it felt to hold its grip. The recoil that came with each shot. The power he felt when he pulled the trigger. That image left his mind, traveling from the back of his head, down the throat, like a clump of unchewed food accidentally swallowed. Instead of going down to his stomach, it went to his right shoulder. There was a characteristic dark blue glow emitting from that spot now, as the memory continued further down, lighting up veins with the same blue glow. Breathe in. The glow works its way to his palm before slowly rising through the skin. Mechanical parts begin to form in the air from nowhere. Until finally, the nine millimeter was physically there, his hand holding it's grip. Breathe out.

In all, he crafted one perfectly in seven seconds. He could probably manage the pistol in five seconds, in a pinch. Something less intricate would, of course, take even less time. And he was getting faster with it everyday. He felt along its side, feeling the fine details carved into it. He looked down the sight. His hand was steady, extensive training with his master made it so. Slowly, he transferred what he called the weapon's "DNA" back into his body, watching the mechanical parts slowly disappear. He stretched out his hand a little bit as the memory returned to its source. What felt like a tight pinch now had been agony as he learned under Master. Physically painful, and mentally exhausting. And always dangerous to deal with memories. Summon a weapon too complicated and another memory could come with it. Stephen could bring the weapon back in, but he had no control over less tangible memories. It was a strange feeling knowing he had lost a memory but having no recollection to what it was. And no way of getting it back.

Stephen stood up, going to his basket for food. Inside were...sandwiches. Stephen squeezed the bridge of his nose, his eyes twitching. Stephen knew Master couldn't cook, but he was still hoping for something a little less basic than sandwiches. Regardless, he took a sandwich and bit into it.

Stephen had not eaten a lot of sandwiches in his life, but he was quite certain this had been the worst.

"Wakey-wakey eggs and bakey!" Sheamus screamed as he woke up in a bed far too small for his ten-foot stature. He sat up, stretched out his burly, hairy arms and accidentally punched a hole in the roof of his quarters. Marines looked down into the hole with shock, looking down at the gigantic entity who had commandeered their ship yesterday from their former captain Persius. Never had marines cheered as much when an adversary had won as they did then.

Sheamus had accidentally stumbled upon their ship with his raft while he was out searching for New Place. The marine ship took him aboard, but not for humane purposes. As Sheamus had climbed aboard, Persius aimed his pistol at Sheamus, demanding all his valuables. Sheamus, nursing a hangover from the week of drinking and celebrating with friends, took Persius's pistol and bent it in half towards the marine captain. Then Sheamus brandished his axe, which was almost as big as the gigantic man himself, threateningly. Persius seemed to shrink into his boots before Sheamus picked him up by the shirt with his large, bear-like hands and threw him into the ocean.

"Anyone else?" He had challenged. None had stood up to his challenge, actually making him more ill-tempered. "C'mon ya wee little babies! I promise not to hurt ya that bad! Bones heal after time, ya know?"

Still, no one warmed up to it, even with Sheamus's reassuring words. It seemed no one wanted to deal with a ten-foot drunk with a nine-foot axe. The marines dropped their guns. One of them raised his hand.

"Did you just throw Captain Persius into the ocean?"

"Aye! I did! And I'm about to throw yer entire ship into the ocean, upside down, if ya white-and-blue wearing sissies don't get me a drink?" His shouts ended confused, as the marines cheered.

"Well, that oughta be a good drink if we're off an' celebratin' alretty!" Sheamus yelled, joining in on the cheers. One of the marines went to him.

"We're not cheering that! We're cheering that we don't have to deal with Persius anymore!" The marine said, still cheering.

"Well, pass the drinks around!" Sheamus called out, raising his fist in victory.

"Actually, we don't have any alcohol on board!"

Sheamus couldn't remember much of that day after that. Except blind, incredible rage.

"All was well though!" Sheamus said to himself. It turned out that, though Persius was far smaller than the savage beast himself, he had much the same opinion about pure, Valhallan beer, having a secret stash kept inside his quarters. Valhalla was his home, and a wonderful place it was, at least to those born with a fighter's heart and a drinker's liver. In fact, the island was known for three things: its famous drinks, renowned around the world for their taste, its fighters, envied across the world for their skill and being the birthplace of one of the Yonkou, one of the most feared pirates in the world, "Red Menace" Donnon.

Yes, that was his home and he was proud of it. Sheamus McKinnsley loved the brawls, and the drinking contests, and he knew he was the best on his island at both. No one's broadsword could match his and Sheila's ability. He caressed his axe lovingly. Oh yes, Sheila was an axe, of course. That didn't make their love any less true. And it's why he took "The Bet" in the first place.

"The Bet". Sheamus would never have left his island, had it not been for the bet. Sheamus was happy where he was, enjoying life with friends and family! But one day, he been talking to his old friend, Seamus. Valhallans are not the most creative with names.

So Sheamus and Seamus were both drunk, as they usually were. Their hands were clasped together, the muscles in their arms tensing up as they tried to the bring the others' to the ground. It was a good, old-fashioned arm-wrestling match. With a final heave and a shout, Sheamus smashed Seamus's hand into the table, breaking it in half. The two big men laughed, bending over with their hands on their knees. They had been childhood friends, had known each other since they could first lift mugs, which was at a tender young age on Valhalla. The two were much like each other, except in two key ways. Sheamus was the better fighter, in fact, he was top on the island. He had never lost. Seamus, however, was a true wordsmith. He could sell fire to the devil. He was always the best at telling stories and jokes that could make a crowd holler with laughter. And he could always bait Sheamus into a trap.

There was a code for the McKinnsley family. "Never go back on a bet." Once it was accepted, it needed to be completed. If there was ever anyone who knew this, it was his friend Seamus. And no one was more willing to accept a bet quickly than Sheamus.

"McKinnsley, five dollops if you eat that alligator live and whole! And ten dollops for the crocodile!"

Seamus looked over to Sheamus with his one eye, after losing the other in a goodnatured bar brawl a long while ago. He said through gulps of Valhallan beer, "Sheamus, have I ever told you about the New Place?"

Sheamus dropped his empty mug, and wiped away the remnants of the drink from his bearded face. His already large stomach extended over the belt that kept his kilt up.

"Ha! Another story then, Seamus?" he asked, very drunk but very happy.

"Oh, Sheamus, this is no story. It is neither a tall tale nor some amusing legend. Aye, it's very much the truth." Seamus said, now dropping his voice to a lower volume. Seamus had ideas rolling around in his head.

"Oh really?" Sheamus asked skeptically. He dropped his voice to a lower volume too, "Why don't ya just TELL ME THEN?"

Seamus rocked back, surprised by Sheamus suddenly screaming in his ear. "My friend, I will soon! But all stories need buildup. Why would I keep that from you? Stay quiet, drink a beer, and just enjoy the story." Sheamus shut his lips, and leaned back in his chair. He knew his friend was right. And he could see that the beautiful, redhaired barmaid was coming his way with a drink. He could just blackout through the beginning if need be.

"Sheamus, pay attention." Damn. "It starts with pirates, as many stories do. At first, there was One Piece, named so after Gold Roger, the First Pirate King, said that he left his treasure all in one piece. Get it? Anyway, when Roger finally called it quits, they had him up high on a podium, at least a hundred feet in the air! He could be seen from every point in the city! The marines were showing off their prize, you see?"

Sheamus could barely see straight, let alone the significance of such an act. "However, Gold Roger had other plans. Roger wanted to see another pirate era, and knew of one way to do it. Treasure is an amazing persuader. Roger knew that the temptation of riches beyond all peoples' imaginations would start that era. He called out in a loud voice, telling the people that he left all of his treasure in, as he said it, One Piece."

Sheamus stirred, "I don't see what this has to do wit' anything."

"It's because you're an impatient lout, Sheamus! Let me continue in peace," Seamus commanded the ten-foot brute. "Then…they cut off his head!"

"That's more like it!"

"Yes, I thought you would enjoy that part," Seamus muttered, rubbing his big hand across his forehead. "Anyway, that was the beginning of a new Pirate Era, one of adventure and fortune -wake up, Sheamus, damnit, it can't all be beheadings-and fame!"

Seamus took a sip of his beer and continued, "Many pirates would search for One Piece, strong and weak, old and young, good and bad. Trafalgar Law, Kidd, Atlas, brave and sometimes cruel men and women with nothing to lose and everything to gain. The closest to Raftel one would get, the stronger and more dangerous the enemies. Something you would like, I assume."

"Ya know me so well, friend!" Sheamus grinned, carressing the handle of his axe "But what has that to do with anythin'?"

Seamus leaned forward, "I'll get to that later, the tale is not over yet."

Sheamus groaned, growing restless. Most of Seamus's stories were more interesting than this, they included some action, warriors fighting warriors! None of this silly history. Why was Seamus wasting his time?

"One of the most persistent pirates was "Straw Hat" Monkey D Luffy. Along with his crew, the Straw Hat Pirates, he found Gold Rogers' One Piece! After countless battles among many dangerous enemies, Monkey D Luffy had succeeded where many failed. But that was not where his story ended," Seamus continued his story.

"Luffy may have found One Piece, but that meant having a target painted across his back. A target that a man known as Mr. Atlas was trying to hit."

"So, Atlas challenged Straw Hat to a duel on Raftel, a fight for the crown so to speak. One on one, both men's crews restricted to watching with the rest of the world. And Atlas won. For anything Straw Hat would throw at Atlas, Atlas had the answer to. Like a king fighting a god! It was quite the destructive battle, it's been said, a fight that destroyed the entire island that One Piece had been located."

"Atlas had cameras set up so the entire world could watch the defeat of the Pirate King. But Monkey D Luffy was the one with the last laugh. Before Atlas could kill him with a final strike, Straw Hat announced:

"'You want One Piece? You can have it, if you can find it! Because I've stashed it in a New Place!' he said with a smile right before Atlas pierced through his heart with just a punch!"

"Well," Sheamus interrupted, "How was that gettin' the last laugh? He died!"

"Let me finish, Sheamus," Seamus calmed him, "It was the last laugh because, through Atlas's own machinations, Luffy had broadcasted the inspiration for the newest Pirate Age! People needed a reason to be pirates again after One Piece was found, and Luffy saw that. With New Place out there, people lost their heads trying to prepare to sail out to sea again. It's been fifteen years, and still no one has found it. Including Atlas himself, who I don't need to tell you, was quite pissed by being tricked by Straw Hat.

"Atlas went on a rampage, going so far to kill his own crew, his friends. He began to call himself The Pirate God and promised to kill any upstart pirate that tried to steal, "His rightful treasure." As for the Straw Hat pirates, no one ever saw them again after their captain was killed. Some say they went their separate ways. Others say they still travel the sea."

"Alright then, where's this all goin'?" Sheamus asked impatiently.

"Sheamus, the New Place is still out there. And I think you're the man who can find it!" Seamus said in a low, excited whisper.

"What? Bah, the sea ain't my home, Seamus! Valhalla is where I'm happy at!" Sheamus protested.

"Sheamus, you're the best fighter on the island. You and Sheila," Seamus gestured towards his friend's axe, "And I think it's time you find new challengers. There are stronger people than you out there, don't you want to fight them? And be the best fighter in the world?"

Sheamus's jaw tensed up as he thought about what Seamus said. He was the best fighter on the island, but shouldn't he want to be the best fighter in the world?

"And Sheamus, how about a bet over it?"

Sheamus's ears perked up, almost like a dog, at the sound of a bet.

"If you find New Place, and bring back the treasure, I'll buy you all the Valhallan beer you can drink for the rest of your goddamn life, my friend!"

Sheamus's eyes formed into hearts at the very thought. All the beer he could drink? That'd be all the beer in the world! And his heart began to beat, thinking about all the exciting battles that lay before him if he traveled out to sea.

Sheamus looked to his best friend with an excited grin. He reached over with his large hands and shook the man's hands, accepting the bet!

"Aye, I'll do it!" Sheamus shouted, already anticipating drinking Seamus out of house and home!

Seamus cheered with him, raising his glass to toast his friend's decision, "To you, Sheamus! The new Pirate King!" and the crowd around them also began cheering, mostly because they were drunk and raucous and would cheer for anything if someone was loud enough.

Sheamus remembered fondly how they all partied for a week before he went on his way. It had been eight days since he had first taken "The Bet" and, at this point, Sheamus had become very confused about where to go. He was no seafaring man, in fact, in his first hour at sea, he had tipped over the raft he was using. Only by Valhallan luck had he managed to find the marine ship he currently resided in.

"Ah, the marines! They'll know where New Place is!" Sheamus shouted, raising his hand up, index finger pointed in the air. This action actually sent his hand straight through the ceiling, tearing another hole into the ship so that he could see the sun.

"Oh...well, if there's one, might as well be two!" Sheamus laughed, the few red hairs hanging off the sides and back of his head bouncing as he did. Sheamus traversed through the ship, it's area obviously too small for a man his stature, to get to the top of the deck.

Marines were hard at work, preparing to dock at a nearby island. Sheamus pointed at one such marine and asked, "Hey you, ya know where this New Place is!?"

The young marine froze up, staring in fear at the abrasive giant in front of him. "Uh, n-no sir!" He shouted before saluting Sheamus. Sheamus, in turn, stared at the marine puzzled for striking such a strange pose in front of him.

"Calm down, lad! The hell has gotcha worked up for?" Sheamus asked, watching the fidgety, young slowly breath in and out.

"Well, sir, we're going to be landing at that island very shortly," the young marine pointed at the small island in front of their ship. It was pointed at the top, a large castle laying on top of its summit as smaller towns were dotted along the coastline. "Stryker's Island, sir!"

"Ah, so is that New Place?" Sheamus asked, thinking about how easy his task ended up being.

"No, sir. Well, probably not at least. No one knows where New Place is, that's part of the problem of finding it. The marines can't even find it!"

Sheamus deflated, his dream of neverending beer fleeing. No one knew where it was? How the hell was he supposed to find?

"Honestly, sir, it's probably in the New World, where all the strongest people live!" the marine informed him politely.

"Well, how far is that?"

"Um, it's pretty far, sir."

"Goddamnit, Seamus, ya tricked me." Sheamus mumbled under his breathe.

"But, uh, sir, we're gonna have to drop you off at this island." the marine said timidly, sweat forming on the back of his neck. He didn't want to say anything that set off the monster in front of him,

"What? Why? What'd I do?" Sheamus asked loudly, stepping closer to the marine.

"Well, uh, you see, sir, you kinda threw our captain off board. We're marines, so that technically makes you a pirate. Especially if you're also looking for the New Place. We actually should be arresting you right now."

Sheamus growled, baring his teeth.

"But we won't! We promise!" The marine pleaded, "But we have to drop you off, for our own sakes!"

Sheamus backed off, thinking over his options. He was hoping he could just get a lift from the marines to New Place, and instead, he ended up becoming a criminal. He scratched at the back of his head, wondering what the hell happened to make things turn so sour on him. He supposed he could find something to do at this island.

Sheamus smiled at the young man, "Alright lad, ya win! Ya can kick me off at this island. Might as well see if this is New Place."

The young marine sighed, letting out a lot of air he didn't realize he was holding in. He needed a seat so he could relax.

As Sheamus and his marine pals docked at one end of the island, another man seeking his goals arrived at the other end. Stephen tied his small boat to the dock he stopped at, before surveying the location around him. It was hardly pretty.

"Jesus," Stephen thought, "This town is a shithole."

The houses were ran down, many of the windows covered up with boards. Stephen walked into the center of the ghosttown, and called out, "Hello! Is there anyone who can help me with supplies? Or give me information about this island?"

No one answered him, but that did not mean no one was there. Stephen could hear the rustling in the houses and the eyes roaming across his body, across his good looking clothes. He was wearing a three piece suit, everything a dark grey color. He had on black dress shoes. The people looking at him could see they would fetch for a good price, or at least they could trade it for food.

"Come out now, before I decide I won't be generous in how I get my information!" Stephen shouted, a dark blue glow rushing through his arm to form a sword in his hand.

Out of one house, an emaciated man burst through one of the doors, rushing at Stephen! He was screaming, his hands outstretched to rip Stephen apart, to get at any of his valuables or food.

Stephen sidestepped him, and then sliced through his legs with his sword. As the man fell forward, Stephen flipped the sword upside down and drove it through the man's chest. His blood sprayed up onto Stephen's suit and face.

More screams pierced through the air, three more people ran out of their once lovely homes. There was something wrong with these people, Stephen could see. They were barely human anymore. The three people attacked him, one woman and two men, and Stephen had to back off to dodge their wild attacks. They were unpredictable in their movements, and Stephen had to constantly jump backwards to avoid any chaotic claw at him.

One of the men reached at Stephen's face, his grey skinned hand appearing almost dead, his nails grown into sharp weapons. Stephen bent backwards to evade the man's arm, before chopping horizontally above him, cutting the man's arm off at the elbow. The one armed man feel back, clutching at his stump.

The woman came at Stephen from the left, so he delivered a sharp kick to her gut, sending her onto her back. He jumped forward and drove his sword into her brain, ending her struggle. He pulled the sword out in time just to turn around and stab through the third man's stomach. He then sliced upward, cutting the man in half vertically from the abdomen.

Stephen returned the sword to his mind as he watched the one armed man slowly pushed himself to his feet. Breath in, breath out. A nine millimeter pistol formed in his hand. He took aim as the man ran forwards and fired. The bullet entered right in the middle of his forehead before blowing his brains out the back. The man fell backwards, dead.

"Okay then! Would anyone else like some of this? Please, step up, form an orderly line!" Stephen screamed, gesturing with the gun.

He could sense the people out there backing off. They were like animals now, and their prey turned out to be too big of a challenge for them. Stephen slowly lowered his gun, before sheathing it in his mind. He gazed upward, towards the castle on the summit of the island.

"Bet there's something there," Stephen thought. He began the trek forward, leaving behind four dead bodies in a trail behind him. The "people" around him slowly followed him, their animalistic brains curious where this new alpha was going.