A fireball erupted on the good captain's chest as he fell backwards onto the deck. Hammie turned around at Michael, who was standing and holding the still smoking gun. "Michael!"
"Yer welcome, Cap'n. Thought he'd ne'er shut up." Michael grinned as he cocked the gun. While Hammie stood slack-jawed and eyes widened in a look of disbelief, a slender marine wearing a fencing uniform called for the attack as the soldiers began the siege, screaming curses at the foul, treacherous pirates.
As the first wave of marines prepared their grappling hooks, another line of soldiers aimed their rifles at the two pirates on deck and fired. Fortunately for Hammie and Michael, their aim was poor. It was enough to make Hammie duck and cover, however, as five marines grappled their lines and swung over.
Michael was somewhat less intimidated as he waved what looked like twin oversized flintlock pistols. "As cute as ye soljer boys are with yer pea shooters, let me show you how a man takes his gun..." Without even taking a moment to aim, two more explosions of smoke and gunpowder erupted from his pistols, the sheer force of which kept two boarding soldiers from even reaching the boat and tumbling down into the water below. "...With a big, loud BOOM!" Twirling the guns, he grinned excitedly at the marine ship. "Keep 'em comin' ye pansies! Today's a slow day fer Mikey, and I got plenty more smokin' holes for ye!"
Meanwhile on the other side of the ship, Hammie looked out from behind the mast to see two soldiers rushing towards him while Michael made very, very sure that diplomacy was no longer an option. "Oh crap. Look, I'm really sorry about your boss-"
"DIE PIRATE SCUM!" One soldier swung his sword at Hammie's head. Hammie instinctively ducked, and the sword embedded itself deep in the mast, knocking loose one of the nailed-on wooden boards. Instantly, Hammie's demeanor changed. His eyes widened with anger and his muscles tensed. Looking at the damage to the ship, Hammie started twitching and slowly turned to the attacking marines. The second soldier never got a swing at Hammie.
"I..." With one punch, Hammie knocked the sword out of the second soldier's hand and grabbed him by the throat. "Just..." With his other hand, Hammie grabbed the second soldier before he could get his sword back out of the mast. "FIXED THAT!" With one heavy swing, Hammie hurled the two soldiers back towards their boat, knocking down two of the firing squad as well in the process.
The soldiers Hammie threw got up and tried to swing back over, but Hammie stood firm. "Oh hell no. You clumsy bastards stay off my ship!" Hammie drew a hammer from one pocket and a handful nails from the other. Throwing a nail in the air with one hand, Hammie swung his hammer around like a baseball bat, hitting the nail square on the head and sending it hurling with the velocity of a bullet at the other ship. The nail struck the rope a soldier was using to swing over, driving it into the wood. The soldier hadn't noticed the nail, and as much force he tried, his rope simply wouldn't swing over. Hammie repeated the attack several times, pinning ropes into the wood, along with navy uniforms and weapons, effectively pinning the soldiers to their own ship. Occasionally, a nail would strike flesh and a soldier would find himself with a fresh new piercing. Between Hammie and Michael, no new soldiers were advancing on the ship, either being blown into the water or being stuck to the side of the ship. Hammie couldn't help but notice the routine and looked over at Michael. "Hey, Michael, don't you need to reload those things or something?"
"Cap'n, with all due respect, which is to say not much, who the hell talks about how shit works in the middle of a brawl?" Another soldier, having managed to swing over to the pirate's ship, charged at Michael screaming with his sword held high in a posture that would have made his commanding officer proud. Michael blocked the blade effortlessly with the barrel of his gun, just before glaring at the young marine. "What do ye think this is? Bloody kendo practice?" Michael fired the other pistol, just under where the sword and gun barrel canceled each other out, point blank into the soldier's chest. The explosion from the gun alone made it unclear what the soldier's fate was or where he fell. "As I was sayin', these are me Boomers! Why the hell am I gonna waste time explainin' how they work in the middle of a bloody brawl? All ye have to know is I never have to reload these bad boys!"
Michael pulled the trigger once more at another soldier, though this time the click that usually preceded the explosion was significantly different and louder, yet all-too familiar to only Michael.
"Unless that happens." Michael's Boomer exploded once again, but this time in the opposite direction as the gun misfired, spraying him with his own explosion.
"Michael!" Hammie cried out, but before he could go assist, another round from the still-inaccurate firing squad drew back his attention. "Stop putting holes in my ship!" Hammie hurled a few more nails, this time four at once, hitting them in rapid succession with his hammer and plugging up the barrels of four navy rifles.
First Mate Valentina Vezzali, who up until now had been dreading the outcome of a battle that would seemingly never even start, saw her chance and led a charge. She and five other soldiers swung over to Michael's half of the ship. "Search the rest of the ship for others. I'll hold them off!" Drawing her rapier, she pointed it at the pirate still recovering from his misfired weapon, just letting the tip of the cold blade press against his neck for effect. "Surrender now, pirate! Move a muscle and you won't live to see your own trial."
"Sounds n'awful lot like a challenge, lass." Michael only grinned as the arm with his good gun tensed, getting ready to aim, or at least point in a general direction, and fire despite the sword at his throat. "Sounds like odds I could play too."
Before either could deliver a killing blow, the nearby door to the captain's cabin burst open. "Why don't you stop pointing that at the extra and cross swords with at the main character, Jude Carson!" Jude smiled from behind half of a theater comedy mask, letting his long blonde hair flow in and still frame his features perfectly. A white, ruffled collar like those in ancient portraits of nobility adorned his neck and separated his face from his lean body adorned in a red and gold jacket and suit of the finest quality.
A normal person in Michael's position would normally be grateful for someone to take the attention away from someone with a sword pointed at them. Michael was not such a person, and looked back at Jude with disgust. "The bloody hell ye doin' ere? Fight's almost bloody over!"
Jude remained undaunted. "The hero always arrives dramatically late!"
Is that really Jude Carson? Vezzali was glad her fencing uniform included a mask as she could feel the blush at meeting the same beautiful actor's face that adorned her academy dorm posters for years. Momentarily stunned starstruck, she slowly moved her blade away from Michael's throat to accept Jude's challenge. "For your own safety, I must warn you I was the naval academy's fencing champion three years running!" For Vezzali, this was quickly turning out like one of her teenage wet dreams.
Michael shrugged and stood up, the current exchange having lost his interest. "Should o' figured the pansy'd show up to play with the other girls. Now, where'd me targets go?" Casually skipping off, Michael started adjusting the misfired gun as he looked for more patsy soldiers to shoot.
Vezzali's attention remained focus on one target as she hardened her stance. "You've challenged the wrong opponent, handsome. There's no possible way for you to defeat me." Never mind that in this scenario, played out in Vezzali's mind, the best result involved her narrow defeat followed by passionate lovemaking with a sunset backdrop.
Jude only smirked, as if he knew exactly what Vezzali was thinking. "A true hero always prevails against impossible odds. Engarde!"
Below deck, a door burst open as two soldiers rushed into the room, rifles aimed at the only occupant. "Freeze, scumbag pirate!"
The man in question sat at a desk with his head lying face-down on the desk, his arms limp at his side without a hint of movement.
"I said freeze!" screamed the marine from before.
"He ain't moving," reminded the second.
"Well... shut up!" The two marines cautiously approached the man at the desk. In his current state, his only visible features were his tattered white coat and dark, uncombed hair. The stench of alcohol grew stronger as the marines approached. The figure remained limp.
"Is... is he dead?" Unsure now of whether the body in the room was a pirate or maybe one of the pirates' casualties, the marine poked him with his rifle.
"ZZZzzzZZZzzz" came the loud snore.
"Passed out more like it."
"Maybe, but feel his pulse. It's so weak. He might be dying." After leaning over a bit closer to examine the possible victim, the soldier recoiled in horror, his nose almost turning concave from the stench. "What the hell did this guy drink? Grab his legs, we'll get him to the ship doctor."
As the two soldiers hauled their nearly comatose captive, the other three soldiers stood outside the galley on the other end of the ship, staring at a piece of paper nailed to the door and taking turns reading what was written down.
"Rule 1: Do not disturb the chef on pain of pissing off the chef."
"Rule 2: Do NOT disturb the chef on pain of pissing off the chef."
"Rule 3: Those who piss off the chef do so at their own peril and forfeit their health, safety, and rights to meals."
"Maybe we should go search some other part of the ship first."
"Don't be stupid, we're not here to cater to the cook. We're marines! What's he going to do, make our food taste bad?"
"Not possible with the rations they're serving us now. Besides, even if he was a threat, there's three of us with loaded muskets and one of him. We've got this pirate rat outmanned and outgunned. Now charge!" With that, the three soldiers charged through the galley door.
As Hammie fended off soldiers with hammer and wrench, Jude and Vezzali clashed rapiers, and two soldiers carted off a limp body from below deck, suddenly the aft of the ship exploded upwards in a cloud of wooden shrapnel as three soldiers were hurled screaming into the water. Everyone on both ships was momentarily distracted by the show of force, with the exception of Jude and Valentina, who never lost focus with each other.
Vezzali, so far, was winning with superior swordsmanship. Jude could keep up, but not without losing ground, maintaining a slow retreat until he was pressed up against the ship railing, cornered. "Is that it?" taunted the lieutenant, "I guess I should expect all flash and no substance."
Jude only grinned and bowed. "My dear mademoiselle, flash is far more important than substance as far as the audience is concerned." Gracefully twirling around, Jude cut a nearby rope tied into the rigging, catching hold and riding it up. "Care to take this to the next level?" Vezzali, not one to be outdone, caught a similar rope up to match Jude, both landing on the yard of the topmast. "Don't fall behind on the second act!" The fighting resumed. This time, Vezzali was on the defensive, struggling to keep her balance. Jude, on the other hand, practically glided with grace across the yard of the ship, and suddenly Vezzali was the one being cornered.
On deck, Hammie was fending off soldier after soldier with just the tools at his belt, back to the mast, slowly being surrounded. Suddenly, the soldiers immediately in front of him keeled over, either unconscious or dead; Hammie couldn't tell. Standing behind the most immediate pile of soldiers was a swordsman, clad in a tattered, sleeveless black gi whose long, black hair was tied in one, long ceremonial braid. Both hands held dull katanas, one of which was being slowly lifted toward Hammie's throat.
"T.. Takashi, good to see you out of the kitchen. Um, why is that pointed at me?" Hammie nervously asked the man glaring daggers just beyond the sword pointed at him.
"I thought I was explicit in my instructions regarding my meditation." Takashi replied with unflinching emotion.
"I didn't do anything, I swear! The marines are the ones who went downstairs."
"Marines?" Takashi slowly turned around to see some of the remaining marines nervously eying him. "When did they get here?"
Hammie marveled at Takashi's lack of perception, as a full wave of marines were standing only feet away from Takashi with weapons drawn, equally confused, and only held back by the fact that several of their comrades had fallen immediately when this man arrived. "Didn't you just drop, like, seven of them?"
"I had not noticed. They only draw as much attention as leaves in the wind, and fall just as easily." Takashi's sword moved from Hammie's throat as he turned to face the marines, refocusing his steel glare at those around him. "I cannot train with these distractions."
At that point, each marine within sight of Takashi was thinking about what their respective afterlives would be like, and upon Takashi they couldn't help but see a visage of death. "W.. Who are you?"
"Takashi Nakamura, chef, and the subject of your future nightmares. Those of you who survive that is." With that the swordsman rushed forward as more marines were hurtled overboard.
On one of the few spots on deck without a huge brawl, the two soldiers carted the limp body over to transfer him back to their ship for medical attention. The sudden two clicks of Michael's Boomers made them freeze in their tracks. "Get yer own doc!" Two large explosions and two screaming soldiers in the water later. "Bloody pirates."
The carted body, having fallen on the deck in close proximity of two explosions, slowly sat up and yawned, rubbing his head in pain. "Oi, the hell is with all the racket?"
"We got it covered up here, Doc. Go back to sleep an' get yer beauty rest, not that it ever did ye any good."
Doc clumsily pulled himself up on deck, clutching and rubbing his head, and surveyed the area. "Haven't even had my morning bloody mary yet and already I have to clean up your mess. Let me go get Annie." The doctor shuffled off back below deck, even as Hammie, Takashi, and Michael fended off more soldiers on the deck, marines left without direction as the captain was still unconscious and the first mate was off crossing swords and words with Jude. After a few minutes of fiddling around beneath deck, the same doctor with a new and unrecognizable energy, leaped out from below deck wide-eyed and grinning. Doc spun around a two-handed sledgehammer, bringing it down into a cluster of marines, screaming and laughing as he jumped into the fray. "Heeere's Annie!"
The sledgehammer slammed into the deck, the shockwave hurling soldiers in every direction. Now, even though more and more soldiers were joining the battle, some even climbing back up out of the ocean, they were being beaten back by not one, but four beasts of human beings. The Doc had a new, maniacal energy to his movements swinging around a sledgehammer with frightening ease and without any regard to his own safety. Sure, several soldiers landed hits and cuts on the Doc, but he didn't even seem to notice. Takashi's swords graced through the air, cutting through marines like butter. Few of the inflicted wounds seemed to be lethal, but Takashi didn't seem to care whether or not marines were killed or just injured. Hammie fought more conservatively, having to guard the ship just as much as himself from attacks. Michael had his back up against the mast, blowing up one soldier after another. Eventually, the herd started to thin, until the troops no longer even bothered to approach Michael.
In fact, none of the pirates were even being approached anymore. They were still boarding the ship, but none dare approach the pirates, instead forming a circular perimeter around them. Hammie, Michael, Takashi, and the Doc were now standing back-to-back at the soldiers around them.
"Aw, come on. Ye done already? Sure ye don't want Mikey to send the lot of ye fer another swim?" Michael bellowed out in laughter at the cowarding marines.
While Takashi, Doc, and Michael didn't show any sign of exhaustion, Hammie could barely breathe from all the action. "Does... does this mean we're done here? Can we go yet?"
Takashi's stance never wavered as he responded, "I believe this one does not intend this battle to end so easily." Right in the middle of the four pirates, with no clue or explanation as to how he got there, was the cabin boy of the marines. It also seemed the other three hadn't noticed his presence until Takashi pointed him out.
Chapa, unarmed and infuriated, stood in his own fighting stance between the four pirates. "You fought dirty! In a fair fight, the captain would have wiped the floor with you!"
"Well, it's a good thing he's lyin' in a pool of 'is own drool, now ain't it?" One pistol trained on the marine crowd, Michael turned his other pistol towards the boy. "Now why don't ye go on home to yer ma. This here's a grown-up party."
"You won't get away with this! I won't let you!"
Michael simply laughed in response. "An' what are ye goin' to do about it? Four of us plus Fruitcake up there versus a bunch of sissy-boy marines and a cabin boy? Almost ain't worth it. No way ye can beat us kid."
Several minutes later....
"How the bloody hell did we get beat by a kid?!" Hammie and the rest of the pirates now sat on the marine ship deck, tied with hands behind their backs, beaten and bruised. Michael himself was constantly struggling against the bonds and complaining as loudly as possible.
"Speak for yourself, I aced my performance." Jude remained unphased and smiled at the other four proudly. "'Twas the four of you who were upstaged by a preteen."
"Oh go sort yer panties, ye fruitcake. The lot of ye should be ashamed of yerselves, gettin' beaten by a child."
Hammie tried to mediate and calm Michael down. "You lost just as much as the rest of us, Michael." His efforts only got Michael more heated.
"Quit changin' the subject! Yer the captain, ye should be takin' full responsibility."
"You made me the captain!"
"Once again, changin' the subject."
"Ugh, shut up already, I need to nurse a hangover." Doc was leaning over, bags under his eyes and looking generally pale. Reaching his foot over, Doc tried to nudge one of the guards with his foot, "Excuse me, can I just get my medication... er, medications, rather?"
"Pipe down, pirate scum or I'll execute you right here."
"Geez, give me a break. Aren't their conventions or rules against this kind of prisoner treatment?"
Takashi remained silent while the others argued. Michael, loudest of all, was just looking for excuses to agitate the guards at this point. "Great, now they're goin' through our stuff."
Futile as it was, Hammie couldn't help but refute. "None of that stuff is ours anyway! Stolen, remember?"
"And that just makes 'em worse cause they're stealing what's rightfully stolen by us."
The two went back and forth for a bit. Jude cut in with a quip whenever he felt it was appropriate, which was often. Takashi remained silent, eyes closed, and Hammie was pretty sure he was asleep. Doc was feeling worse by the second, and the noise around him wasn't helping. "Quiet, already! You're rocking the boat and making me nauseous."
"I'm feeling a bit seasick myself actually," Hammie's vision started to blur as the boat rocked back and forth. "Are all marine boats this unstable?"
"It is not the boat," Takashi's eyes shot open, gaze focused straight ahead on the horizon, "It is the sea that is disturbed." Hammie, confused, squinted his eyes and looked in the same direction as Takashi. Sure enough, there was a small lump in the ocean on the horizon, quickly getting larger. The bigger it got, the more the boat rocked, until Hammie, the captive crew, and the marines knew with dread what was coming, until one marine screamed out what everyone was thinking.
"SEA KING!"
The small lump in the ocean grew larger and larger, giant black fins thrusting out of the water as the singular wave parted to make way for a large, thin, barely visible monstrosity, its nose cutting through the ocean like a sword.
Marines scrambled to get back to their ship, but to no avail. The now unstable ocean had severed any ties between the two ships making crossing over to be impossible. On the marine ship, Hammie and his crew sit bound and helpless with a few panicked marines on deck, while the majority of the marines, including their captain and first mate, were stuck on the small vessel trying desperately to stay on board.
"Well, 'Cap'n', got any bright ideas to get us out o' this one?" Michael was currently resigned to his fate, but was determined to at least get the last word. After all, he got so many of the others.
Hammie shrugged his shoulders. "Since you asked." And proceeded to get up, toss his now loose ropes to the floor and dust himself off. Doc laughed out loud before his face recoiled and went back to throwing up.
Jude simply smiled knowingly. "A good dramatic reveal. I'll make a main character out of you yet, dear brother."
Michael stared mouth wide open. "Bloody mother-" A roaring splash cut off the rest. Hammie quickly moved to the ropes binding his crew. "All right! Maybe ye aren't so pathetic after all!" Hammie loosened one end of Michael's rope and strung it around the mast, repeating the process for the others. "Hey, aren't ye going to untie me?"
"Not unless you're a really good swimmer." Hammie took the ropes that were binding himself and threw them to the nearby marine guards. "Secure yourselves to something if you want to live!" If the marines were going to protest, they were cut off by another roaring splash over the deck, and that was all the motivation they needed to take the advice and assistance. "Hold on tight!" Hammie, with no rope to hold himself, leapt and threw his arms and legs around the mast, locking them together.
Not a split second later, the giant Sea King blasted just between the two ships. Up closer, Hammie could now make out the beast. It was extremely thin from the front, but the large sides revealed a smooth metallic hide, large red reptilian eyes, and a mouth twice the length of the marine ship with rows of teeth as long as oars. Although the Sea King was passing between the ships without clipping them, it still seemed to cut the ocean in two and hurled the ships in opposite directions.
The marine ship launched hundreds of feet up into the air. Hammie couldn't tell if the ship was riding one large wave or if they were actually falling through the air. Either way, Hammie braced himself as the whole ship hit the water hard. The others were bouncing around like yo-yo's from the impact. The marines were letting out high-pitched screams while Michael actually cheered loudly as if he was on a thrill ride. Hammie was just glad that the ship wasn't flipping over. Else it wouldn't matter if they land in the water. Hell, it might not anyway if the impact damaged the ship enough.
There was a brief pause in the air as gravity seemed to vanish for a split second as the ship reached the apex of its launch. Now came the terrifying descent which may become the last moments of their lives. Suddenly the problem was not keeping on the deck, as that task was now impossible. Pirate and marine alike right were now being pulled from the ship as much as physics could take them. The only thing keeping the people to the ship were the ropes and, in Hammie's case, a lot of upper and lower body strength. The ascent was painfully long, but the descent was short, quick, and merciless.
Everyone slammed hard against the deck from the impact, except for Hammie who swore he felt his limbs rip off, and their ears were temporarily deafened from the huge splash. For a second, Hammie was looking into a wall of water formed from the crater. The crew bounced a few times as the ocean righted itself, but after initially being slammed into the deck, no one could even feel the remaining trauma.
Minutes later, when the marines awoke from their concussions, they were piled together on a rowboat with a large pile of oars, watching their old marine ship sail away in the distance. "Don't worry, men! Once we regroup with the rest of the troupe, we'll catch up to those pirates in their own and they won't stand a chance." As they neared the other ship, a piece of oddly-shaped driftwood caught the eye of the few marines. "Is that a rudder?" The rest of the troupe watched blankly as the rudder of the ship they were rowing to gently drifted by. "QUICKLY, MEN! AFTER THAT DRIFTWOOD!"
Michael gazed through the telescope amusing himself with the marine's situation. He had to put the telescope down and look again. "Why is'a rudder driftin' away from that ship?"
"Oh, that." Hammie was busy repairing all the hull damage from the impact. "I dismantled the rudder from the ship in case they captured us and we needed some extra time."
"So what were we suppos'd to do to if we hadn't got kicked off the ship? Sail away without a rudder?"
"I could've fixed it."
"A broken-off rudder on a ship at sea?"
"I didn't say it would've been easy, but I could still fix it."
"Sure ye could, cap'n." Michael truthfully believed Hammie could do such a task from the feats of construction skill he'd seen earlier. "Speak'n of rudders, if ye turn the ship just a wee bit I could use those soljer boys for target practice."
Hammie sighed. "No, Michael. You're not going to blow up the marines we just let go."
Michael leaned backwards until he was staring at Hammie upside down. "Aw, c'mon. I just got meself a new set of cannons, and they can't chase us from the bottom of the ocean."
"Not. The. Point."
"Well, you fix up the ship, I'm gonna go turn us a lil' starboard and give us a lil' cannon fire music to work for." Michael moved to stand up, but a small fist punched him back down.
"The captain said no! Now sit back down before I keelhaul you like the scurvy dog you are!" came a high-pitched voice just out of Michael's view.
Michael looked back up in annoyance at his attacker before turning to Hammie. "All right, who the bloody hell just earned themselves an ass-whuppin?!
Hammie turned to see a smiling, petit woman waving to him in front of a seven-foot tall grimacing blue man. "Okay, not that I'm complaining, but who are you?"
To Be Continued
