The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. The sun shined down upon the massive blue ocean, causing the turquoise depths to twinkle happily. It was a calm day at sea. The waves were nearly nonexistent, leaving the sailors little to worry about.

Miles from the nearest coastline or port, a little sailboat beat against the calm waves. It was a simple oak sailboat, capable of being steered easily by one man. But at the same time, it could probably hold two men comfortably, three at the most. It was a simple rowboat design. There were no cabins or rooms, just a boat with a sail. The sail was also simple. It was attached sturdily to the mast; the white sail was nearly limp with the very gentle wind blowing. On the port side, the name of the ship, The Merry's Son, was engraved into the ship with a small cartoon of a lamb engraved next to it. In fact, the only thing that really stood out about the ship was its flag. It fluttered gently in the wind, almost like it was floating.

It was a Jolly Roger.

For some it was a black, daunting mark of a criminal. For others, it was a symbol of freedom, of adventure, a message that read, 'on this boat are free men. On this boat are pirates.'

The skull that danced in the wind had a purple tinted cross tattooed on its right eye socket and a brown leather eye patch strapped on where the left eye socket was supposed to be. Below its skeleton grin was a set of "cross bones." Except one of the bones normally found on a pirate flag was replaced by a dual edged battle-axe. But what really made the flag stand out were the flames that danced across the skull. It made the image dance like real fire when the sea gave the little ship a stronger breeze to sail with.

Inside the boat was a white male, sleeping soundly with a straw hat resting on his head.

He looked to be in his late teenage years, early 20's. He was wearing black jeans with a hole in the left knee, a simple green shirt a sailor might wear, and a black, leather duster coat, which was merely draped over his shoulders. The straw hat had a black lace that circled the brim of it and looked like something an islander would wear or sell at a market to tourists. A brown, leather belt was strapped around his pants with a belt buckle that featured the same skull that decorated the ship's flag, minus the flames. On his feet were simple, black boot-like shoes.

Leaning beside him was his weapon, a two-handed, dual edged battle-axe that went up to his chest. It had an iron spike sitting in between the two sharp blades. A flame design was engraved into the handle, and a different strange symbol was etched into both sides of the axe head. By the man's feet was a medium sized, treasure chest-looking oak box with a lock on it. The matching key dangled from a small, silver necklace the man hid under his shirt.

The pirate was sound asleep, even when a seagull lit upon the top of the mast and started squawking as loud as its lungs would allow it. The man continued to sleep peacefully.

That is, until a cannon ball splashed into the water right beside The Merry's Son.

He sat up quickly, still a bit drowsy, and lazily yawned as another cannon ball shot echoed, barely missing the ship. After rubbing his eyes some, he looked up and saw a giant American battleship, firing cannon ball after cannon ball, hoping to land a blow to the tiny ship.

"Seriously?" he said sleepily, glaring at the massive ship, "Do they really have to do this in the morning?"

He went to the chest that sat at his feet and pulled out a pouch filled with water and a loaf of bread, which he unhurriedly ate for breakfast. All the while, cannon balls rained down upon him and his small ship.

"Man, these guys really do suck," the man mumbled, still chewing on some bread, as he glanced at the massive war ship unconcerned. "They couldn't hit the broadside of a barn," he chuckled quietly. He finished the loaf and took one last sip of water before standing up.

In that split second a cannonball came whirling at him, the only one that wasn't way off target. The pirate stood unflinchingly before picking up the axe resting beside him and swung it faster than the average human could see and with enough force that he was able to cleave the lead ball in two. The man let his axe dangle loosely in his hand as the two halves of the once singular cannonball fell into the sea.

A smirk appeared on his face as he narrowed his eyes at the warship before him. "All right," he said casually, stretching his arms skyward while hefting the ax, "I'm up for a quick morning workout."

On the Warship

Captain Mark Newgate Delmare walked back and forth, pacing across the dark wood of his ship, as he sometimes did when thinking. His thoughts rolled like the waves that carried him and his crew across the world. Delmare was an honest sailor, clean, professional, and lawful to the core. He was one of a kind, as most of the other higher-ranking Navy officials he had to work with were vile, rude, and corrupt, often abusing their position for profit or more power. The good Captain breathed sigh while watching the pathetic abilities of his crew as the cannons fired. 'What has the U.S Navy become these days?' he thought, disappointed. He looked away from the horrendous display before him and turned his attention to the wanted poster he held in his right hand. It showed a tall, grinning man in a black duster coat wielding a massive axe. The background depicted a bar going quickly up in flames. There was a reward for the man's capture or death under the picture with a price of $15,000.

"So, this is 'Dark Skull Jerry,' huh?" Mark mumbled to himself aloud. "I admit for a major federal fugitive, he sure doesn't know how to lay low. This is his fifth encounter with the navy this month," Mark continued on a little louder, staring at the poster that held this supposedly dangerous criminal.

"Now, that doesn't sound like the captain I serve under," a man replied from behind him, making Mark jump slightly before turning to him. He was slightly taller than mark and had a teasing smirk on his face, as he walked closer to the Captain. His name was Commander Roy Carlstien, the second-in-command on the Washington's Pride.

"The Mark Delmare I know wouldn't take this situation lightly. Nor would he underestimate his opponents," Roy chuckled.

Mark gave him a quick smirk in return, holding up the wanted poster in his hand, "Oh? Then tell me Roy. Do you take this 'Demon' lightly?"

Roy was Mark's closest friend since basic training in the Navy, and even though Mark was a higher rank than Roy, they still treated each other as equals. The crew respected them both equally and never questioned either of their orders. They completely trusted the two of them with their lives.

"To be honest, I do," Roy replied. "Although he's accused of so many crimes, I really can't see how he eludes, battles, and then destroys battleships by himself in a dingy."

Another volley of poorly aimed cannonballs launched into the sea, trying and failing to hit the pathetic excuse for a "ship" that floated not far from them.

Mark laughed at the incredulous look on Roy's face. "Yes, I do see your point, but the fact that so much of this has been said about him only worries me more," Mark said, becoming more serious, as a contemplative look came across his face. Roy looked at his captain closely knowing that he was thinking of every possibility and every outcome involving the peculiar criminal. Mark turned to stare critically at the dingy, voicing his thoughts aloud,

"What tricks or weapons does this lone wolf have that ca-"

Suddenly, Mark's inquiry was cut off by an explosion from the main deck, the blast throwing them off balance for a moment as the ship shook. The men looked up. The main mast was on fire.

"What the hell was that?!" Roy shouted angrily.

Another explosion went off, not on the ship, but a few feet away from the ship's port side. The ship's crew rushed in a panic, trying to put out the flames on the main mast. Mark stood there baffled. "It couldn't be...It's the only explanation...!" Mark trembled. Roy looked at him confused and slightly afraid as the usually fearless captain stared dumbfounded. "What couldn't be?" he asked, still confused as to his friend's mutterings. Mark turned toward his friend, a look of absolute disbelief on his face, "Those were cannonball shots." Roy started to protest, stating that it was impossible. Then he took a closer look at the damage to the mast. He fell to his knees in disbelief.

"How is that even possible?! The ship has no cannons, and even if it did, I doubt they would be big enough to do this much damage!"

Mark turned away from Roy to look at the ship again. The man on the dinghy was now standing up from his previous position where he had at first been sleeping amid the battle. The terrified captain took out his spyglass to take a better look at the man. As soon as he finished adjusting the glass, Mark could see him clearly, to the point that he could see the engraved flame pattern on the battle-axe. He moved the spyglass slowly upwards and locked onto the man's face. A brilliant grin was stretched across it, as though he thought their attack was a mere child's game. The man took notice of Mark watching him and his grin got even brighter. "Dark Skull" then proceeded to take out a handful of sharp-looking, metallic needles from inside his coat and raised his hand, as though he was preparing to throw them. Mark looked on incredulously, 'He couldn't possibly think that he could throw them and hit anything from that distance!'

A second later, he heard some of his men scream out in pain. The worried Captain quickly tucked his spyglass back into his coat and rushed down to the main deck to see what had happened. He crouched down to attend to one of his sailors crying out in pain. The sailor was bleeding out from the left side of his chest where, to the horror of Mark, one of the same needles that "Dark Skull" had handled was sticking out of the poor bastard. In fact, all six of the sailors who cried out were stabbed by the "Demon's" needles.

"He threw them this far with enough power to penetrate their skin..." Mark mumbled to himself in disbelief.

"Well, yes and no. I did throw them, just not as far as you thought I did."

Mark quickly turned to see the face that belonged to voice that had just spoken and saw, yet another, impossibility. Dark Skull was right there, sitting on the railing of the upper deck of the ship. His duster coat swayed in the sea breeze, as he grinned down at the captain with his black laced straw hat and battle-axe in hand. He looked at Mark with a smirk before questioning, "You the captain?" Mark looked up at the man and answered, recovering from his shock, "Yes, I am. Are you the wanted fugitive the Navy has been tracking down for the last five months?" Dark Skull stood up, balanced on the railing, and jumped up six or seven feet in the air before landing crouched safely on the deck. He glanced up at the Captain, a smug smile across his face.

"I am indeed. Although, I prefer the term 'pirate,' if you don't mind."

A crowd soon gathered around the two as the other sailors and crewmen looked down upon the confrontation between the infamous "Dark Skull" and their captain. One of the Mark's navy men called out mockingly to the fugitive, "Don't pirates have, something like, crews? And an actual ship?" All the other crewmen laughed at the spiteful words, except for Mark, who continued to stand in front of his crew, facing the pirate with his arms crossed, a stern look etched on his face.

Dark Skull's face-hardened, his brown eyes glinting angrily. "Are you making fun of my ship?" he asked coldly, his hands tightening upon the large ax.

"Ship?" the sailor chuckled. "That piece of crap can hardly be called a fishing boat!" The statement caused the sailor and his fellow crewmen to only laugh harder at the pathetic pirate.

Suddenly, Dark Skull twitched angrily before appearing right in front of the man that had taunted him. He smacked the laughing man in the face with the blunt side of his axe. The force of his blow caused the poor man to topple overboard into the ocean and, most likely, a watery grave.

At this violent action, Dark Skull heard the cocking of guns and swords being pulled from scabbards as every crewman went on the defensive, very aware of the threat the pirate presented. The pirate slowly turned around, facing the angry crewmen. Every gun was loaded and ready. Every sword was drawn, and all of them were pointing at Dark Skull.

"Now, listen here." Dark Skull continued, the grin still present but tempered by something darker. "I don't really want to kill anybody. It would leave a bad taste in my mouth, but-"

He stepped forward, his muscles bunching as he quickly twirled his axe in his hands. The mass of such a large object moving at such a fast rate produced a heavy breeze that hit the captain, sending his short hair back slightly. Dark Skull stopped twirling after a second, swiftly and elegantly slipping into a "ready to brawl" fighting stance. His feet were placed equally apart with his knees slightly bent. He held his ax in front of him in a defensive position, a manic grin plastered across his face.

"I am also not afraid to kill anyone. Honestly, when it comes to brutally injuring you, block heads, I'm usually more than delighted to."

Suddenly five of the crewmen lunged at him, swords at the ready, hoping to cut him into pieces. But he parried all of them quite easily with his massive axe. Then he proceeded to cut each one of them down with incredible speed. Some of the soldiers with rifles fired at him, but to the surprise of the riflemen, Dark Skull wasn't within their view any more. "Better luck next time, boys," the pirate said from behind them, making them spin around, shocked. Dark Skull swung the blunt side of his axe again, knocking the three of them off the ship and into the water. The battle continued like this for a short time with Dark Skull disappearing and then reappearing only to cut down enemies with lightning quick speeds that would normally be impossible with such a heavy weapon.

Not even Mark, who had grown up studying marksmanship and swordsmanship with his father, eventually earning the top spot in the Naval training, could do anything to stop him. The Captain continued to fight, fully engaged against the otherworldly pirate. Mark extended his arm, slicing downwards from the left, but he was easily countered by Dark Skull's axe. Dark Skull proceeded to push his offensive, swinging from below, he quickly brought his axe upwards. Mark just barely brought his sword up in time to block it. The axe wielding pirate disengaged before swinging downward, attempting to bring the menacingly axe upon the captain's head. Mark blocked his attack, grabbing the sharp edge of his blade with his left hand to help bear the weight of the massive ax. The sheer force of the impact cracked the floorboards surrounding Mark's feet. Feeling the deep cut of the blade into his skin, Mark grimaced and quickly kicked Dark Skull square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground, relieving the good captain of the devastating weight of the axe. He saw the opening in the pirate's defense and quickly lunged at him, sword pulled back, ready to give swift justice to the attacker. The captain swung downwards, assured of his victory, only for his sword to connect to the bloody wood deck. Disbelief and anger exploded across his face. He took deep breaths to recover, eyes scanning the surrounding area. There was no Dark Skull to be found.

"You're pretty good, Captain," Dark Skull complimented, "but I need to get going. I'll just help myself to your ship's store of food, treasure, and information. Then I'll be on my way and out of your hair."

The Captain began to spin around, sword swinging in a deadly arc, as he attempted to take out Dark Skull for good. But before his sword could connect to the pirate, the pole of the pirate's axe collided with the right side of Mark's ribcage, sending a crippling pain throughout his body. He let out a broken cry as he flew back against the outer wall of the ship's cabin. The broken Navy captain struggled to get up before collapsing to the floor, defeated. His breath was slow and labored, but he was still very much alive. He shifted slightly on the ground before hissing in pain, realizing he had broken two, maybe three, ribs. Black came into his vision, but he refused to give into the weakness.

Dark Skull looked at the Captain before turning and starting to walk towards the cargo bay. Realizing that the pirate was about to leave, Mark spoke up, coughing roughly as blood pooled in his chest,

"Who are you...and what do you want...?" he muttered, grimacing.

Dark Skull turned and looked at him in confusion. "I just told you. I'm taking your treasure, food, an-"

"That's not what I meant!"

Dark Skull's face-hardened and became serious, understanding what his opponent was talking about. Mark searched the other man's face before continuing on.

"You...You have done this for the twelfth time now, attacking navy ships, and very rarely killing anyone you attack. Then you only take a couple days worth of food and some of the money, valuables, or government files that you can find. In fact, the only crimes you are accused of are your attacks on us... There are no accounts of murder, kidnapping, drug dealing, or any other major crimes connected to you. You just showed up out of nowhere and started wreaking havoc on the U.S. Navy for no apparent reason... So I'll ask again...Who are you, and what do you want?"

Mark stopped to catch his breath after the long-winded monologue, waiting for Dark Skull's response. A solemn look came across the pirate's face as he stayed silent for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought before focusing back on the Captain.

"Have you ever heard of a place known as the Grand Line, Captain?" The sudden response made Mark jump a little from his place on the floor. "No," he said, curiously, "I've never heard the name before in all my life."

Dark Skull nodded, "Indeed. In fact, no man alive knows what I'm talking about. The place has literally faded from this world." Mark tried to sit up further, holding his arm to his protesting ribs. "Literally?" he grunted out, as he pushed himself to stand.

"Yes," Dark Skull continued, turning to face the setting sun, his eyes glazed. "At one point there was a great sea the spanned the entire world. It was like a large ribbon tied to the Earth. It used to wrap around the earth on the equator and was known as the most dangerous sea in the world." Dark Skull turned and looked down at the injured captain. His eyes glowed with a bright fire, as he gestured growing more passionate. His eyes glowed with a bright fire. "But one day it just vanished. Any trace of that wild sea or the islands that were inside of it faded from existence. But I know it's real, and I know it's still out there. My goal is to find and restore the Pirate's Graveyard, the most dangerous sea on the planet, the Grand Line!"

Mark stood there awestruck, but he was still doubtful, his mind whirling with possibilities. 'A missing sea? That is completely ridiculous!" He glanced at the pirate's face, searchingly, and he could tell that Dark Skull was completely serious. The Captain pushed himself off the wall that was supporting him and walked towards Dark Skull, questioning angrily,

"What proof do you have of this Grand Line? And how could your search for it possibly justify all of your crimes?!"

"First off, it doesn't justify my crimes," Dark Skull said seriously, looking towards the setting sun once again, "I'm a pirate. I chose a life free from being ordered around by some king or congress, free to chart my own course in life. At the same time though, it's the life of a criminal where only the strong can survive." He turned to actually to face the challenging gaze of Captain Mark, "As for my proof, that comes from my own body and the history of my family." He proceeded to close his eyes and take a deep breath before vanishing suddenly.

"You see," Dark Skull continued, reappearing behind Mark, startling the Captain, as Mark slowly sat back down with a look of shock on his face, "during the time of the Grand Line, there were very peculiar and magical things in the world. For example, fruits could give its consumer supernatural powers but at the cost of never being able to swim again. These "Devil Fruits", as they were called, are now lost to this world. They faded with the Grand Line. But I managed to find one." He took out a small ball from his coat pocket and threw it up into the air with his right hand. Suddenly it disappeared in midair before appearing above his left hand. He then caught the ball and repeated the mysterious process. "I've eaten the Kieru Kieru no Mi, or the Vanish-Vanish Fruit, and have become a Teleportation Man. I can teleport myself and anything I touch freely at a given range. I can also expand the length of that range through meditation." The pirate proceeded to show off this power by teleporting to the main mast, then the roof of Mark's cabin, all the while still teleporting/throwing the ball in his hands. He then reappeared sitting next to the injured Naval captain, who looked at the pirate in disbelief. "I also have documents and maps from my ancestor who sailed on the Grand Line as a pirate. But she wasn't just any pirate; she was a member of the Straw Hat Pirates, a pirate group whose captain was said to be the Second King of the Pirates." Dark Skull looked closely at Mark before standing up, his right hand moving to readjust his hat. "With these resources, I will resurrect the Grand Line, and then I will sail the whole thing, earning my right to be the Third Pirate King!"

Mark shifted up again, cringing due to the pain. "That's insane. There's no way that's true! A Dead Sea? Impossible! This is the real world. There are no such things as supernatural seas, Pirate Kings, or... 'Devil Fruits'!" He stumbled over the last item, doubting himself, as he had just witnessed this "impossibility" that were "Devil Fruits". He worked up the strength to stand up, recovering once more from the shock, as he braced himself. He grasped the sword that he had dropped. He was done listening to this man babble; he was ready to fight for all those he had hurt. "Your reasoning's are beside the point. You still haven't told me who you are," he stated before lunging at Dark Skull. "IT'S QUITE RUDE NOT TO ANSWER QUESTIONS WHEN ASKED!" the Captain shouted as he brought his sword down upon the pirate. The swing was sloppy due to his exhaustion and was quickly blocked by the pirate's axe. Dark Skull pushed against their locked weapons, overpowering Mark. Mark went flying backwards. The force of the push made the Captain hit the cabin wall once more with an anguished cry before he fell forward onto his face. The Captain pushed himself enough only to watch helplessly as Dark Skull teleported around the ship, grabbing anything of use to him before teleporting it back to his boat. After finishing his task, he ambled back over to the fallen Captain. One hand rested upon the hat on his head, as his eyes gazed upwards to the endless blue sky. Dark Skull closed his eyes for a second, seeming to take in the serenity of the day.

"If you must know so desperately...," he said quietly as he turned to look down at Mark, "...my full name is Gerald D. Nico."

After revealing this information, the pirate vanished. Mark too looked up at the endlessly blue sky, pondering the information he had just learned,' knowing that his job was about to get a whole lot harder.