Who is this mysterious figure, and what are they doing to affect the Skull Pirates' journey? What's Ahab up to, and what does it mean for West Blue? Will Jack punch someone?
The answer to one of these questions will be revealed this chapter! See if you can guess which.
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Silently, Ryoga slid the tray containing a bowl of gruel, a slice of bread and a spoon underneath the cell doors' slot. As he did so, he averted his gaze pointedly from its sole occupant.
This wasn't enough. It never was with people like Helsing. "Young man, I am aware that I'm currently under arrest, but-"
The martial artist held up a hand, shaking his head. "Then you know that nothing you say will have any meaning, ex-Captain."
Gaze flickering to his Sea Stone leg cuffs, Helsing frowned. "Yes…of course." He nodded. "As I have committed a crime, I must now go to jail – those are the rules, fair enough."
With a wave of his hand, he indicated the entire cell around him. "But surely, even as a former marine official, I am entitled to better accommodations than this…?"
"No." Ryoga said, cutting the hanging sentence down like a snake in the jungle. "I'm afraid you aren't, Helsing." Turning, the young marine walked back toward the door.
But people like the former captain couldn't help but have the last word, and the warning tone in Ryoga's voice hadn't been enough of a sign for him. "Oh, please," he said 'pleasantly', probing at a different angle, "there's no need to talk to me like a marine, now. You might say that now we're, ha ha, thick as thieves."
Ryoga said nothing, standing silently as though waiting for him to continue.
Somehow, Helsing decided doing so was a good idea. "Yes indeed; I'm not sure what you must have done to acquire a bounty that large, but becoming a marine officer afterward is nothing short of miraculous." That was a gross estimation, of course, but it never hurt in situations like this.
"I became a marine through training, ex-captain." Ryoga replied smoothly. "There was no Act of Gold involved, I'm afraid."
Helsing frowned for a moment before rallying. "Perhaps – I have heard Captain Brandy is the forgiving type." He leaned forward in his seat, smile quickly reappearing. "But surely, as a formal criminal, you can understand my-"
Snap. Blinking once, the prisoner stared at the length of wood now barely an inch before his eyes. At the other end of his bo staff, Ryoga glared.
"Why don't you just shut up, Helsing?" he said coldly. "Because I'm not really interested in understanding anything you have to say."
Slowly, Helsing's lower lip moved back up to meet its opposite number.
"That's good," replied Ryoga evenly, "very good. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
He walked out from the brig silently, while watched by another prisoner. After the Petty Officer had gone, Wez looked across at Helsing, mouth still gaping from the young man's cold, cold eyes.
The thug shrugged. "It was worth a shot."
"…oh, shut up."
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Climbing up from the brig to the main deck, Ryoga stood in the mid-day sunlight. As if in defiance of the Rainbow Archipelago's constant storms, the area around it was truly beautiful – certainly more befitting the name. There were no clouds nearby, allowing sunlight to sparkle off the waves and illuminate their rolling depths. On either side of the ship were many small islands, each quite appealing to the eye in some fashion.
In this kind of atmosphere, it was easy even for marines to become relaxed. A few slouchers snapped to attention as Ryoga frowned at them. Their Deputy Captain's reputation as a stickler (in the mud, one might say) was well known, which was perfectly fine by him. Someone on the ship had to a strict authority figure, especially now that-
"Ryogaaaaaaaa!" Inspector Jade sang out, draping her arms around him like a vice-grip. Being used to this by now, Ryoga jumped slightly less. He hadn't quite worked up the nerve to ask how she moved so silently, but it seemed to be a talent reserved only for him. He wasn't really sure why that was, either.
The woman currently bore the wide, cheerful smile that Ryoga had come to dread. "I haven't seen you all day," she said reproachfully, pouting, "I've been getting lonely."
Uncomfortable though they made him, he had to admit; learning how to deal with these…conversations was good discipline. Ryoga replied evenly, "There are other people on this ship, Inspector: an entire shipful of them, actually."
Jade shrugged impassively. "Maybe, but you and the Captain are the only ones who really get me, y'know?"
"…not really." Ryoga confessed. The idea of 'getting' the Inspector had never really occurred to him. "I only just met you a week ago." he added meaningfully.
This didn't work. "Hmmmm, but isn't that more than enough time to get acquainted?" she said happily. "I think so, myself." Her grip tightened slightly.
"If you say so, Inspector," Ryoga answered, again keeping his tone neutral. Jade had senses better than a shark when it came to discomfort.
Finally the woman sighed, releasing Ryoga and throwing her hands up exasperatingly. "Alright, alright, I get your point Ryoga." Chipper attitude making a comeback quickly, she winked while smiling. "Good things should come to those who wait, after all."
"She really knows no concept of surrender…" Ryoga thought, the idea almost making him give up.
A topic switch was in order. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was going to go ask Captain Brandy about our next move. Would you care to join me?"
"De~lighted to, Chief Petty Officer!"
Brandy stood at the prow of the boat, bearing the focused look of someone trying, against all odds, to stay alert and awake despite their own body's insistence. It had become an old friend to him over the years.
Approaching, Ryoga tapped the Captain's shoulder, getting no reaction – even a dulled Brandy's senses were expert.
"Helsing's still not giving us any trouble, Captain." he reported smartly, saluting, "at least not physically. He seems kind of put out, with his men gone."
By the time Brandy and his crew had woken up, the Skull Pirates were already long gone. Not one to let a little mistake like that ruin his day, the good Captain had quickly arranged to have the criminals they had captured taken away. This had included the Road Warrior grunts and marines particularly loyal to Helsing (although there weren't many of the latter), but on a separate ship from their respective ringleaders. The brig on this ship was quite small, but built to contain a higher class of criminal, and without anyone to command them the thugs wouldn't be any trouble, especially with the friend Brandy had called in.
The nearest marine base (or at least the nearest one Brandy put his faith behind) was close to the Rainbow Archipelago, their current destination to drop off the former captain and his partner. It was a shame they hadn't managed to grab the third member, but hey, you couldn't have everything. Ryoga wondered briefly if Brandy had picked this one because of the scenery, but that was impossible; if the Captain ever came up with a way to blot out the sun, he'd only have to think about it for a moment.
"Well, don't let his mind games get to ya, Ryoga." Brandy said distractedly. "That's why you're his jailer, after all."
His second-in-command nodded. "I won't, sir. He doesn't really know anything about me, and I don't intend to make him think otherwise."
With that formality out of the way, Jade stepped in. "So tell me about this base we're heading towards. I'm not from around here, so I haven't really memorized them all, hehe."
Brandy nodded. "Oh yeah, sorry about that, Jade. Right now we're heading for Providence Isle, a base captained by an old friend of mine. He's not as strong or handsome as yours truly, but I think he'll be more than enough to hold one snake until his trial, don't you?"
His answer came with the grin widening. "If he's anything like you, Captain, I think our two problems will be in good hands!"
Ryoga stared as they conversed like old friends, and sighed. "They really do go well together…ah, maybe I'm just jealous." Looking away as he thought, something on the horizon caught his eye. If he was a different kind of person, he might have whistled at the sight. In the sky far away from the ship was a cluster of pitch-black clouds – a storm was building there, and a big one by the look of it.
"I suppose what they said about the Archipelago being a storm magnet was correct. Can't say I envy anyone who's sailing through there…well, it would take a real fool to do something like that."
One Piece: The Skull Pirates
Chapter Nineteen: A Stormy Collision! The Skull Pirates VS Ahab!
If the storm clouds were impressive from Ryoga's perspective, then they were awe-inspiring from the Skull Pirates'. But, shockingly, none of them really seemed focused on their aesthetical aspects at the moment.
The advantage of height proven pointless even to someone so attuned to it, Frank dropped down from the Crow's Nest and stared at the oncoming clouds. It seemed like the Captain had managed to accomplish his other annual goal: making someone angry. In this case, an entire stretch of islands, apparently – what a record.
"…well, they only look a little worse than the storm before we met Drake-san," he said nervously, "at least for the moment…"
Nearby, Jack shrugged while pulling at the rigging. "Whatever you say, Frank. As for me, I say it looks pretty – MMM!"
Before the pirate could finish his sentence, three pairs of hands slapped down across his mouth, courtesy of Gerald, Mary and Frank. The trio looked to each-other expectantly.
"You think that was fast enough."
"Hard to say; this is Jack we're talking about here, after all.
"…well, I'm sure we'll find out soon."
Drake watched with confusion written on his face as Jack started to struggle beneath them. "I take it this sort of thing happens often on this ship?" The question was obviously rhetorical.
Shoving his crewmates aside, Jack adjusted his hat and shrugged. "Man, you would not believe this bunch of babies, Drake! A little shower starts, and suddenly it's all complaints: 'Jack there's lightning nearby!' 'Jack, we're taking on water!' 'Jack, we're all gonna die!'" He grinned. "Hard to believe this is the crew of the soon-to-be greatest pirate from West Blue, huh?"
"Maybe the bottom of it, if you don't get back to work."
Ignoring the comment and the glare that came with it, Jack waved a casual hand at the oncoming clouds. "So what do you think? Have we angered Great Poseidon?" He paused. "You guys have something like that, right?"
Drake shook his head, brushing off Jack's accidental racism. You couldn't get angry at it more any more than someone coughing on you. "I wish our religions were as simple as that." he said with a frown. "It doesn't help stereotypes much when some of us still worship giant squids asleep on the ocean floor."
"…giant squids?"
"Don't ask."
Jack shook his head to dispel the image now within it. "Anyway," he said briskly, now speaking to everyone, "my point is even if this storm is a little bracing, that's all it is. If you start thinking every bad thing that happens is because of some curse, you'll never get anywhere in life or the Grand Line."
He jabbed a finger at himself, grinning with his usual cockiness "I only believe in something if I see it with my own two eyes. If there's something in these islands that wants us gone, then it'll just have to say so face-to-face."
The grin widened. "But if it really thinks this little storm will stop the Skull Pirates, it's sure as hell welcome to try!"
The smile moved to the others as well. Even if Jack could be tiresome at times (well, most of the time), his attitude was still downright infectious; somehow you couldn't help but rise to his expectations. It was a damned good thing the man himself hadn't noticed this, was Gerald's opinion. Or didn't seem to, anyway…
Mary uttered a short giggle. "I'm surprised, Jack; you actually managed to say something refroidir for once."
"Heh…wait," Jack said, rounding on her, "what the hell's that supposed to mean!"
"Well, refroidir means-"
"Not what I meant!"
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Now even closer nearby, Michaels would have paid good money to have that kind of atmosphere back on his ship. It seemed like so long ago, now.
Smiling widely to everyone from the prow with his standard of cheerfulness, Ahab clapped both weapons together. "You're doing a wonderful job, fellas. Keep up the good work."
The crew ignored this as much as they dared, working on readying the boat for its battle with the storm. It wasn't as lengthy or uncertain as with a galleon, but preparations still had to be made.
Turning away, the cyborg turned to Michaels and waited expectantly until the whistle was brought up to his lips. The whaler stared as Ahab blew. Whatever noise the instrument gave off was silent for humans (and presumably its player, although you could never be too sure), but his friends heard it clear as day. Within seconds one of them was nearby, taking a small, dried-out scroll from Ahab's belt and unrolling it before his eyes. Without waiting for the order Michaels did the same with their much more recent one. On it was marked the steamships' rough location.
This had become usual procedure recently, repeated about twice a day. With each rehearsal Michaels grew more and more curious about what this treasure was. In the books he'd read, treasures were usually underground, and pretty small too – not the kind of thing marked on a map. And out here, underground and underwater meant the same general thing: gone. He felt a pang of gratitude for the old map then, as the scenario of breaking that fact to Ahab played itself out within his mind.
Ahab was nodding slowly as his gaze flickered from one record to the next. "Yes…" he hissed, "it's changed a bit over the years, but it's still fine."
"See something you like, Ahab?" Michaels couldn't stop himself asking.
The metal man's one good eye glinted, but he shook his head. "Oh, no, no, nothing at all," he said casually, "I was only rechecking our right. Maybe I'm paranoid, but you know how maps can become unreliable over the years, right?"
"Oh, oh yeah." 'Especially when there are no maps of where you're going', Michaels added mentally. He wondered what the point of Ahab lying anymore was. General principles, maybe, or general vindictiveness…the whaler snorted; this was making wonderful psychology training if he ever felt so inclined.
His 'subject' turned and began walking away. "Keep going on, Michaels, full speed ahead. Call me if anything comes up, will ya?"
Michaels opened his mouth. "…alright." was what came out of it, to his hatred.
But he couldn't be too mad, since Ahab was gone for now. Now it was just him at the head of the ship, and he could fool himself into thinking he still owned it. As Michaels thought about this his instincts stepped in to fill the gap, and the man's gaze wandered freely, finally settling, by sheer chance, on-"
"Another ship?" Michaels thought in disbelief. "Out here? We're not in the desert, so it can't be a mirage…but who the hell could be as stupid as us?"
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"Oh, will you look at that, Jack." Gerald called cheerfully above the noise. "It's someone else as crazy as we are." Even though the storm had yet to fully overtake The Flying Skull, wind and rain already covered the ship, forcing its crew to steel themselves as both aspects struck out at them vindictively; it was like the weather had a life of its own.
"The word is adventurous, Gerald." shot back his captain in a similar tone. Now that his challenge had been recognized and risen to, Jack was in a good mood, one that couldn't be spoiled by the first mate's usual sniping. What was just about to happen on the other hand could make a very good whack at it.
Gerald shrugged in reply. "Well, that's what I see on my end, and since I'm fairly certain I haven't gone blind in the last ten minutes, maybe you should come take a look?"
The skeleton man rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'm coming."
Leaving the ship's wheel to Frank and tugging his hat down across his eyes, Jack sidled across the rolling deck to port, where Gerald peered out over the railing. Stepping up next to him, he squinted hard – Jack had always been a bit nearsighted, and this storm wasn't helping matters.
But no-one could mistake what was gushing from the vessel's smoke-stack, not even from this distance. It was practically an actual part of the ship.
"Steam, huh?" Jack said, in the slightly contemptuous tone of an 'old school' sailor. In his experience (of never actually being on one), all you had to do with one of those was point it in the right direction, and they'd do the job for you. What the hell was the point?
He scratched his head. "What the hell's one of those doing in a place like this? They're usually worth a pretty penny, and a storm tough enough to threaten us'll flatten it sooner or later."
Gerald rolled his eyes, and then instantly regretted giving the spray a wider target. "Good to see you have such higher hopes in your fellow sailors."
"Glad to see you're keeping such a chipper attitude in the face of adversity." Jack shot back. He turned and began walking back to the wheel. "Thanks for the info, Gerald, but I think we can ignore 'em safely. Huh, it's not like they're gonna start shooting at us in this weather, right?"
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Michaels tried to make himself scarce as possible as Ahab looked out at the other ship. It was nearly hidden by the wind and rain, but – the whaler felt a pang of revulsion as his 'captain's' glass eye rolled. He greatly doubted the horrible spare was just for show.
"So, Michaels," Ahab said pleasantly without taking his eyes away, "what do you think these guys are out here for, exactly? It seems to me there can't be too many personalities."
The shorter man tried to resist a gulp. Ahab wasn't a ponderous man; when he asked a question to you like that, it meant he had already found the answer.
But there was no getting around it. "Well," he began carefully, "if they're this close to the Archipelago and the storms, it's probably a safe bet that's their destination, Ahab."
"Ah…" the cyborg nodded sagely. "That's exactly what I was thinking, Michaels. I guess the saying is true after all, huh?"
Michaels nodded. "So, what are you going to do about this?" The idea that Ahab didn't think they were after the same thing failed to cross his mind somehow.
"We, Michaels," Ahab corrected swiftly, before grinning, "and I'm not sure, actually. When you think about it, I don't really have to do anything – in a storm like this any wind-powered ship is fish-food eventually. I'm surprised it hasn't happened by now."
With a clank of pure doom, he slowly lifted up the blunderbuss, aiming with a hungry stare at The Flying Skull.
"So there shouldn't be any harm in helping 'em along, should there?"
Smiling wildly, he fired, sending a large cannonball sailing through the storm toward the frailer ship. Ahab leaned out over the railing, grinning widely.
Only for it to fade from his face after a few moments. "Wh…where's the kaboom?" he squeaked.
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There were in-fact two reasons for the kaboom's absence, and they were currently hovering right in front of The Flying Skull's vulnerable side, fingers clenched tightly around the errant projectile.
After a moment to let the feeling come back into his fingers, Jack slowly brought his hands back up and reconnected them. Hefting the cannonball, he whistled: something this heavy would have sunk them before they knew what was going on. Thank goodness for his quick reflexes. Or blind luck, he wasn't sure which. He became aware of the guys staring at the thing in his hands, and his relieved smile faded. There wasn't any doubt in what someone had just tried to do to them.
"Frank?" he asked, voice low.
The shinobi almost jumped, but nodded. "Y-yes, Captain?"
Jack gestured to the cannonball like it was nothing at all. "Earlier on you were kind of an expert on weapons, weren't ya?"
"I…suppose so, Captain."
"Right," he said, gazing at the jet-black surface, "so, just for curiosity's sake, do you think this thing would match up with any of the wounds we saw on that whale?" The pirate's tone was perfectly friendly, yet Frank shivered.
Nearby, Gerald, Mary and Drake's faces also grew serious.
"Do you really think so, Jack?" the latter spoke quietly.
Walking slowly over to the railing, the skeleton shrugged. "Dunno – could be coincidence, I guess." He hefted the cannonball. "What do you think, Frank?"
Reasoning that this was important, Frank thought back (regretfully) to the image of that poor whale. After a moment, he nodded hesitantly. "I…think there might have been a few, Captain."
Jack nodded slowly. "Alrighty then," he said, pulling back his arm, "that gives me another reason to do THIS!"
With a mighty, anger-filled throw, he tossed the cannonball back toward its origin point. The force he put behind it rivaled any mere gun – and, quite possibly, any mere cannon too.
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"Maybe that cannonball was faulty, Ahab?" Michaels said politely as the cyborg stalked past him.
A bloodshot eye was turned on him. "Don't make jokes, Michaels," Ahab hissed, "my cannonballs are perfect! The only way they couldn't explode was…if…" His voice trailed off as he looked up. So did Michaels.
The more prescient of the two, he instantly threw himself down away and onto the deck. It wouldn't do much, given what he'd seen of Ahab's cannonballs, but when the source came from him he'd defy death until his last breath. Which, barring a miracle, would probably be coming in less than a minute. Oh well, it'd been a good run…
…but this time, it was Michaels' turn to ask where the kaboom went. Taking his hands off his head (relieved to find he still had them), he looked up to see one of Ahab's men standing at the railing, holding the projectile to its chest. Exhaling hard, Michaels wiped the sudden burst of sweat off his brow. Intimidating they might have been, but the damn things were useful in a pinch.
What happened next, he almost wasn't sure did. One second the cloaked figure was standing there, the next it was gone, replaced by Ahab with his foot extended. The man's demeanor seemed to say this wasn't anything particularly significant. Sighing and stretching his leg a bit, he turned to those still present, answering the various gapes of horror with a grin.
"Well that was cutting it a little close, wasn't it? Good thing we're all fine."
There was a dim rumble from below, and a fountain of water jetted up from the sea.
Caught between two unpleasant sights to look at, Michaels opted for a third pick. He looked across the waves, wondering how the culprit on that ship, whoever they were, had managed such an impressive feat…and caught a glimpse of several white objects heading rapidly toward their ship.
"What the hell are-"
Then, abruptly, they stopped being objects and became a very white, very angry-looking man. Who was, Michaels thought with some resignation, on the right course to land directly on top of him.
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Jack straightened up, popping his muscles around. The whole detaching thing was useful, but it left him sore all over every time. But that didn't matter right now: if he had hands, he could punch with them, and that was all there was to it.
Standing up, he ignored all of the people staring at him wide-eyed. His gaze swept across the deck, encompassing all of the equipment set up on it. There were harpoons, tight nets, and a whole array of other fun toys…Jack's fists clenched as he saw them all. Only then did he notice the audience he'd gained, and slowly gave them the grin a skeleton gives to the still-living.
"So," Jack said, stepping off whatever he'd landed on, not hearing the groan it gave, "evening folks! Or it is afternoon, I can't really tell."
One of the crew was shoved forward by his friends, and he spoke up like a frightened rabbit. "Who – who are you?"
Any other time, Jack would have felt sorry for him. Today, though, the smile was fixed on him. "Glad you asked that, buddy." he said pleasantly. "I'm…well, I could tell you, and for a while, but I'll be succinct. I'm from that ship someone just tried to oh so rudely blow out of the water." He took a step forward. "So, who might that 'someone' be?"
In his calm as ice state, Jack saw the hook come toward him like it was in slow motion. Rolling away, he listened to the blade slice through the air like it owed money, then came back up to his feet and looked at the culprit.
After a brief pause he adjusted it upward slightly. The man before him wasn't as big as Bandock, but had apparently taken the extra size and smeared it across his face in ugly. With a can-opener.
"Wow, you're pretty damn ugly," Jack said cheerfully, "so you must be the one in charge."
Seeing the twisted face twist a little more, he leaned forward and grinned cheerfully. "You're welcome for returning that cannonball, by the way – those darn misfiring guns, eh?"
A tense moment passed, and then the man's face twisted upward, into what must have passed for a smile to him. Jack would have needed a coin to decide which was worse. "Oh, that was you? You have my thanks, bone-man."
With a quick snap, he lifted up the blunderbuss. "As a reward, have another!"
If Jack hadn't been able to see that one coming, he'd have quit being a pirate – and being alive – right then and there. Since he wasn't an idiot, though, he quickly leapt away, leaving the explosive to destroy part of the ship besides him.
Landing, he gestured towards himself happily, his form high-lighted by the burst of smoke and fire. "Hey, c'mon, c'mon! If you're a big enough man to shoot at the Skull Pirates, then you gotta be tough enough to fight their Captain!"
His grin faded. "Or…am I not as good a target as that whale you killed? That was more 'fun', wasn't it?"
"…" the metal-head's mouth slowly moved into a sneer. That got the grand prize, Jack decided. "Oh, so we have a pirate with a conscience here? How nice. Well, can't say I care what crew you're the captain of – you punks all look the same to me."
With an ominous flourish, he unhooked the whistle from his neck and raised it to his grinning lips. "But, don't worry: I have something just perfect for a fish-lover like you. Watch carefully, now." he added mockingly.
"Like I care," Jack said calmly, folding his arms, "nothing a scavenger like you does will ever faze me."
The man's sole fleshy eye glinted. "And sea sludge like you won't ever defeat me, Ahab! You won't even get the chance to try!"
He blew the whistle. Jack raised an eyebrow slightly, not appearing to react at all…but his skin, sensitized by years on the Grand Line, could sense danger like dogs could sound and smell. When no sound came from the whistle, his thoughts instantly turned to what had heard it. It wasn't something everyone would think, at least not so quickly, but Jack Bones wasn't a usual man.
Fortunately (at least, as Mary would put it) he didn't have to wonder very long. There came several sounds from behind him, and the pirate turned to see several figures in long cloaks line up before metal-head, standing straighter than…than...something that was really straight. Jack had fought a small city's worth of goons in West Blue alone, but these guys put him on edge as much as what had obviously summoned them.
Very quickly, they told him why. Reaching up, the men flung off their coats…
…to reveal that they were only half men. Underneath they were mermen, although not like any of the species Jack had met before. Marring their amphibian bodies were awful wounds visible from across the deck, and despite the raging wind, they stood silent and motionless. Not quiet like Drake, though: with him you could tell there was more underneath, even if he didn't show it most of the time. In these guys' case, though, there was nothing. Nothing except-
In defiance of the storm all around them, Ahab's fingersnap rang out loud and clear. Leaving the finger raised, he slowly brought it over to Jack, grinning in a way that would make the devil blush. The mermen followed the finger, swiveling around like dogs to face him.
"Get him."
Jack only had time for one quick thought as the mermen burst into feral movement and lunged for him, letting out a unified bubbling screech – you can probably imagine what it was by this point.
Their movements were savage, inhuman (or was it inmerman?), and unskilled. Fortunately, their opponent was someone who chose to fight like that: the good captain could fight unfairly against a dozen opponents just as easily as one-on-one.
Lashing out with a fist, Jack smashed in one swordfish's nose as it lunged at him head-first, and then used it as a springboard to kick away a charging pufferfish. Landing, he was allowed the briefest of respites before what looked like some kind of eel clawed at him clumsily.
"I should bring a book about these guys next time I run into a pack of crazy ones." Jack though, grabbing the clumsy hand and throwing its owner into the rest, buying him more time to think. "…and actually get a book about them, first off."
It was well spent, all things considered. Then the screeching returned as they charged again. He cracked his knuckles, smiling. "At least metalhead's kept this day from getting boring. I'll have to think him for it while I kick his ass."
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Behind and below the rapidly escalating chaos, Drake was propelling his way through the waves. He didn't like leaving the ship in a situation like this, but since he was the only other Skull Pirate capable of getting across to the steam ship there was no choice, assuming they wanted to get their captain back in one piece.
Even bolstered by the water's embrace, it was slow going; storms like this effected things beneath the waves even more than over them. He'd already had to force his way through several currents going the opposite way, and double back from some especially treacherous whirlpools. Mermen often mocked humans for living on land, but Drake could see exactly where they were coming from.
They had all seen the underwater explosion from afar, and he now wondered if Jack had too. If that was the case, there would likely be a few more soon.
"His anger was almost physical..." the merman mused, negotiating a sneakily jutting rock, "even I've never felt that way before. But," he added darkly, "in that state of mind, he won't know any discretion. I have to hurry." With a mighty kick Drake increased his speed.
Finally, the steamship loomed ahead, a dark shadow in the water. He swam around it a bit, frowning. Even a well-kept traditional ship usually had some hand-holds in its frame, but this steel was perfectly smooth, rust not-withstanding. Well, there was more than one way for him to get up there.
Pushing his powerful legs, Drake swam down close to the ocean floor. It was calmer here, and much quieter. Drake stopped for a moment to catch his breath – he'd just swum the merman equivalent of a hundred-meter dash, after all. He then began to concentrate hard, tightening his whole body like a cork. This wasn't an Umi no Ken technique, but something every member of his race could do second-naturedly. Not to say his training didn't help, of course.
With a mighty spring, he shot upward through the water like a cannonball, unaffected by the raging waters that tried to divert him. Breaking through the water's surface, he crested as gracefully as a dolphin, momentum carrying him up above the ship's deck. He sensed people on it staring upward, pointing, but only in the sense that a bird noticed the ground. However, several figures stood out, and their scent reached him from even this far away.
Turning his body around feet-first, Drake braced himself, and let out a grunt as he touched down far lighter than someone his size should have. Raising his head, he looked around, taking in the surroundings. There were humans in black clothing, no doubt the supposed whalers, all staring at him wide-eyed. They'd probably never seen a merman before like this.
But his attention was really drawn by the figures lying prone on the deck: fellow mermen, five in total and all unconscious.
The rest were currently clustered together, all pressing against someone hidden by their forms.
Drake walked over. Any of the whalers remotely close to him shied away, and the mermen didn't appear to notice. "Of course they wouldn't." he thought sadly.
"Do you need any help, Jack?" he asked into the dog-pile.
"Who, me?" The mermen were thrown away easily as the Skull Pirate's captain burst up for air. He grinned. "Nah."
"I didn't think so." Drake said with a brief smile. He looked around at the fallen mermen, already stirring with various growls. Without a word the two went back-to-back.
Jack looked behind him as they were slowly ringed in. "See anyone you know? Mind telling 'em they're setting a bad stereotype?"
Drake frowned. "They wouldn't listen to anything I or anyone else had to say, now. They're rabid; feral."
Slowly, Jack nodded. The thought had crossed his mind more than once during the battle. They acted more like attack dogs than people, and their eyes and demeanor showed nothing but pure violence. Animal was really the only proper word for them, sick as it sounded.
"Big Bad over there's got a whistle." Jack tilted his head toward one side. "He can order them around somehow."
Drake nodded back as the other mermen inched forward. They were animalistic, but Jack had given them good pause with the only method they understood. "They tend to be sensitive to certain things after they become like this, and follow anyone stronger than them." He looked over meaningfully at Ahab, watching the proceedings with a shaken smile.
"Oh, wonderful," Jack said, picking up on what that meant immediately, "just once I'd like to fight someone weaker than we are. Mix it up a bit, y'know?"
"Well, that would be boring, wouldn't it?" Drake said with a chuckle.
There came a thump as Ahab took a stamping step forward. "So, you have some friends, eh?" His smile reappeared, contriving to look nastier than ever before. "Well, I wonder: can they swim?"
Raising the whistle to his lips again, he blew; this time the mermen didn't react at all. Somehow, despite the storm, a curtain of silence spread across the deck. Looks of pure horror spread across the whaler's faces.
One of them ran up. "N-not that, Ahab! Don't call It here!"
Both of them couldn't help but wince as the man got his answer, in the form of a backhand with the hook's flat end. He fell to the floor, clutching his gushing nose.
"Aw, what's the matter? Don't wanna have your fearless leader get shown up in size and brains?"
The mermen weren't attacking either. As one, they stared across the waves toward The Flying Skull. Jack hesitantly lowered his arms. "Hey, Drake, what'd that guy just do? I really don't like the looks of this, especially when they're looking at our ship."
"So fish are my department, hm?" Drake thought with slight annoyance. Aloud, he said, "I've heard of whistles like that before, but never seen one before. The noise they give off can influence certain types of fish, like dogs. It wouldn't do anything but annoy a merman ordinarily, but with them in this state…" he shrugged.
Jack bit his lip. "Damn." The thought of things like that being widespread put a bad taste in his mouth. Trying to shake it off, he followed the rabid mermen's gaze across to the ship.
His face went whiter than it already was.
"Hey, Drake?" he asked in a quaking tone, his throat suddenly very dry.
"…yes?" the merman replied, slightly hesitant. When Jack was scared (even if he wouldn't say so) something was up.
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"Can you see anything, Frank?" Gerald asked, squinting into the wind with no avail. You wouldn't think it would be possible to run a ship with three people, but they were certainly making a good try at it. Thankfully Jack had made things easier for them before his sudden departure.
While the first mate and botanist clung to ropes nearby, Frank stood calmly on the ship's railing. "I am not sure, Gerald-san. I can see several people on the deck, but they are too far away to make out clearly. Two are standing quite close together, however."
His voice was calm. Deathly calm, Gerald couldn't help but note. That was the thing about Frank; one moment you'd be talking to an eccentric, flashily dressed, slightly idiotic young man with a certain partiality for masks…and then, when danger reared its head, he'd be a rigid iron bar in the next. It was remarkable, really – and a little frightening.
"How many are inconscient, Frank?"
The shinobi leaned forward another fraction, Gerald resisting the urge to pull his legs back. "Oh, I think quite a few, Mary-san. About four or five, from what I can tell."
Mary nodded firmly. "That settles it, then: Jack wouldn't stand to die taking so few people with him."
Gerald and Frank took a stab at this feat of logic, and found it quite unbreakable.
"Well," Gerald said, "with Drake over there as well, all we have to do is keep the ship floating and there shouldn't be-"
He stopped, suddenly, and his smile turned brittle. "Frank?"
"…yes, Frank?"
"Why did you let me keep going on with that?"
"I really could not say, Gerald-san."
Shrugging, Gerald wordlessly held up three fingers, and counted them off, one second each. Immediately after, there came a large splash from behind; the sound you get when something big lands in water…but in reverse.
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He listened to Jack lick his lips before speaking carefully, almost like he couldn't believe them himself.
"Would Sea Kings be considered fish, technically?"
An echoing cry flew up above the storm.
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Even among the many, many varied species of the world, Mare Maris Regis (or Sea King, in the layman's tongue) was considered to be almost miraculous with its existence alone. Or, as some theorized, their existence: it wasn't wholly inappropriate to consider each its own subspecies. Like snowflakes, each was unique in its own way, evolving in seemingly infinite myriad ways to suit their territory. Ones in the four Blues were almost normal, while those dwelling in the Calm Belt's center were said to be so alien they defied description.
This one was firmly in the latter category.
Mary took a shaking step backward as oily tentacles bigger than herself lazily curled around their ship's frame. Creatures like this could wait a long time for meals. They showed up sooner or later, although usually not in one piece.
Frank stepped down from the railing quietly, trying not to flinch as the creature's multiple eyes shifted onto him, in a brief moment that went on for far, far too long. Each of the eyes was about as large around as his whole head, and could apparently move independently from all the rest. In the Calm Belt, being unaware of what went on behind you was tantamount to suicide.
Gerald took a long, stuttering gulp, staring at what drew his and frankly all of their attentions the most: namely, the massive gaping maw, brimming top to bottom with jagged teeth designed for ripping, that took up most of the thing's face. Certain Sea Kings could swallow their pray in one monstrous gulp, but this one apparently liked to prepare its meals thoroughly.
"Why…" he whispered.
"Isn't it…" Mary continued.
"Attacking?" finished Frank.
The creature hung in the air like a harbinger of doom that could straight at any moment. Its eyes moved away from the three bite-sized morsels before it, and across to the steamship.
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"See that?" Ahab asked, sneering as sharply as the hook he now pointed with.
Jack could barely keep his hands raised. "Yeah, I see it, asshole; where'd you find him?"
The cyborg shrugged. "I don't know the gender, or care enough to figure out. It fell into my lap one day, along with these boys. I usually let it eat people dumb enough to mess with me." He waggled the whistle before his mouth. "If a bone-man and a walking chum pile are anything to go by, they probably taste awful, but not everyone can have gourmet every meal, eh?"
"You think that's funny?" Drake asked quietly. He'd been pretty calm ever since he arrived, Jack thought. Good. It was definitely just the calm before the storm, but having someone level-headed around right now was fine by him, even if it was only temporary. Right now it was taking all the restraint he didn't usually use to keep himself from lunging at Ahab, fists flying. Indeed, the only thing stopping him was that goddamned whistle…
"Well?" he asked with as much defiance as he could muster in this situation. "I already know nothing I say will stop you blowing that thing, so why don't you go ahead?"
For a moment the sneer remained on Ahab's face, and then collapsed into an annoyed grimace. "What? You're not going to beg, or even grovel? That's a damn Sea King sitting right there, you know!"
Jack nodded. "Yeah, I know. I've seen plenty before; they're not thatimpressive. You gonna blow it?"
To his satisfaction, Ahab's face twisted further. "It'll kill your friends. Eat them whole, while they scream in terror, and then digest them slowly. After a few weeks, they'll be begging for the end to come!"
The Skull Pirates' captain whistled in impression. "Wow, that's really something. And all you have to do is just blow that whistle, eh?" He folded his arms. "The suspense is killingme."
Ahab's shoulders began to shake slightly. "Well, aren't we brave! If you aren't going to plead for your life, then you're useless to me – and so is your crew!"
He threw back his head, and gave the whistle a mighty blow.
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It was like someone had reached inside the thing's head (not that that appeared difficult) and flipped a hidden switch. People would probably assume it was marked something like 'kill', 'maim', or 'annihilate', but these people lacked proper understanding of predatory creatures: what the switch actually said was 'number two', for Go. Numbers one and three were Stop and…well, Go again, but in a different way.
The point was, the Sea King before them very quickly stopped being motionless.
Its massive tentacles swinging in random, vicious patterns, it struck at the ship, ignoring the Skull Pirates entirely. Understandable – in its home territory they'd be helpless, and one of them was a hammer besides. With the storm, it barely had to exert itself at all. One of the appendages snapped across, heading straight for The Flying Skull's mast.
"Oh no you don't!" Mary cried, propelling herself into its path with a strong leap. "Broche Marche!"
Her transformed leg slammed into the oncoming tentacle with the usual force of one of her kicks. But size was on the thing's side, and it had quite a lot of push. After only a moment it swung outward, flinging Mary down into the deck. She landed smoothly, but her legs gave a shudder. "It's strong…far stronger than any Sea King from this marin."
That had gotten its attention, at least. Rearing up, it swung another tentacle down like a mallet, one meant to crush her into paste. It very well might have, too, if one of its bulbous eyes hadn't suddenly exploded into a black cloud. Mary sniffed in distaste – the smell of boiling-hot pepper was palpable even from down here. It was amazing how much could fit into a tiny ball; even the wind and rain couldn't disperse it all instantly.
She curtsied to Frank as he landed nearby. "Merci, Frank – in the nick of time, as always."
She tried not to smile when he looked away, trying to let his mask hide the blush. "Y-your praise is unneeded, Mary-san…"
"If you two can quit socializing for a moment, will you get out of the way!"
They turned to see Gerald wheeling around one of The Flying Skull's cannons, largely unused but still perfectly loaded, around to point at the beast. "I might not be a monster like either of you, but I can still do this!"
Drawing a match out from one of his suit's many pockets he cupped it within his hands to light it. Almost miraculously, it did, bursting into bright flame against the dark storm.
"And…" Gerald said, bringing the flame down toward the fuse with a flourish.
For a moment, he thought it went out suddenly, but the truth was far more. Looking up, he noticed Frank hanging in mid-air just in time to see a small spark leave his hand.
When Gerald thought back on it later, it seemed plain that normal pepper wouldn't have exploded like that. It must have been a special batch. Then he laughed at the top of his lungs until the others gave him odd looks. Not that it was a particularly large explosion, mind, but even the most powerful Sea King could ignore a very large fire cracker straight to their eye. An unearthly screech escaping its maw, it flailed its tentacles about. One came down towards Mary once more.
She grinned. "Trois doesn't always have to be the charm."
Bowing low quickly, she sprung upward with a push of her legs. As she ascended toward the tentacle, the girl began to flip around rapidly in the air. Just before they collided, both her legs transformed, the vines coiling smoothly together.
"Broche…DEUX GODOT!"
At the apex of her final rotation, Mary kicked upward with the unified vine. Again the plants clashed with the flesh, but this time the result was very different; with an ugly squelching noise the tentacle was hacked into two, severed chunk falling into the raging sea below. Discolored blood poured from the stump as the Sea King's screeches increased. By now the smoke had dispersed, revealing an ugly, bloodshot eye.
Landing, Mary took a small bow. "And not a single drop on me: impressive, non?"
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"What the HELL! Why isn't the ship in pieces yet!"
Ahab stomped the deck hard, his peg leg cracking the desolate planking. His face was contorted again, the metal fused to it squeaking heavily. He snapped his fingers, calling one of the rabid mermen over to oil him.
Jack nodded, watching the chaos with an approving eye. "Yep, that's pretty much what I expected." By this point the whalers had joined in, after a few meaningful glares from their fearless leader. Ducking under a swinging hook from one of them, he lashed out with a quick punch to knock him away. Or her; it was hard to tell with these guys.
"After all, it's not like they're incompetent idiots or anything," he said, dodging a further three weapons before retaliating on their owners, "unlike some other crew I could mention!"
If Jack was making fools out of Ahab's men, then Drake was turning them into children. It seemed quite beyond even his brethren – most of whom he was fighting now – to even lay a hand upon him.
The Skull Pirate grinned. "Once we take these guys out, all that's left is Mr. Big Bad himself. Hah, this is no sweat for us!"
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"Ugh…anyone get the number of that galleon?"
Groaning heavily, Michaels slowly awoke to being shaken. The first thing he saw was Spider's face, looking as worried as possible for the stoic woman.
"Spider…damn, what the hell hit me…what's going on?"
In answer, Spider pointed across the deck at the continued melee. "Pirate ship showed up. Ahab shot at it. Captain didn't take it very well."
Michaels sighed. "So now he's pummeling his and our guys, huh? Great – I figured this would happen sooner or later."
He rose to his feet woozily, watching the battle. "You decided not to join in, I guess?"
"Didn't ask to, Tusk." Spider said calmly. "Not that you could."
The whaler nodded. "Right, right." He whistled. "Those two are pretty damn strong, though – it might not be too good for us if they win."
Spider gave him a careful look with one eye. "Enter, then?"
Michaels thought for a lengthy moment, then sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess we better, huh?"
He stood up straight, and unhooked the tonfas from his back. "Let's get it over with, then."
Unfortunately, someone else decided to finish things at that moment.
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They are still approaching, stated the voice calmly, but in a way that would make all who heard it shiver. All, that is, save for who it spoke to now. A storm of this caliber is no match for them, it seems.
The figure nodded. "Yes, they are both very persistent."
…, the voice was silent for a moment, and then spoke again. The answer is obvious, then. Summon forth a larger one.
They nodded, slowly lifting the flute they held up to their lips. Inches before the instrument touched them, it halted.
What is wrong? asked the voice. They are pirates, marauders of the seas, come to ravage these lands and everything that lies within them. Striking them down is nothing to feel hesitation about. They do not deserve pity from one such as you.
This got a hesitant nod. "I know. It is my role as your chosen one."
Then do your duty, now.
"Yes," they said after a moment, quietly. Exhaling, the small figure brought it up to their lips and blew heavily, producing a far longer and mournful note than before.
Across the waves, things began to shift slightly, like an anthill viewed from above.
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The Sea King abruptly stopped cold in mid-swing of one of its tentacles, its many eyes opening wide. It had been given quite a number of wounds by the Skull Pirates since the battle began, but none appeared to even be slowing it down. Yet all the same, it suddenly halted and disappeared in a flash, its giant bulk disappearing underneath the churning waves.
The Skull Pirates immediately began looking around. They weren't stupid; when something that large turned tail and ran, it had to be for a good reason. If three people attacking it at once hadn't produced such a reaction then that meant something bigger was coming, which didn't bode particularly well for people less than a fifth its size.
It didn't take a keen eye or a genius IQ to tell what the Sea King had felt instinctively – it happened almost immediately afterward. The winds, already quite vicious, began to strike even more savagely, and rotate in a very specific motion. The raindrops began to fall sideways, and sting like hail. The waves began to crash against The Flying Skull like it owed them money. With these few but significant changes, the storm had graduated to a-
"HURRICANE!" Gerald shouted. No-one could really begrudge him for stating the obvious.
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"Aw, dammit," said Jack stepping back as rain buffeted his face, "what now?" Hurriedly he clapped one hand over his head to keep his tricorn from blowing away. Sadly, he couldn't prove the relevant saying true, as the whalers were all occupied battening the steamship's hatches down, while the rabid mermen had all jumped overboard, oblivious to their alpha male's angry whistle blowing.
It was a very good thing that the whistle made no noise; otherwise Jack might not have heard the sound of a peg leg thumping rapidly toward him, and found himself sporting a new hole in his skull. Turning, Jack flung up both hands to pin the weapon inches away from his forehead. They held like that for a moment, both straining in the other direction – and the sight of Ahab's face straining was a sight that shouldn't have been beheld by any good-hearted man.
Taking his eyes away from it momentarily, Jack looked to Drake. "Hey, don't just stand there, go help the guys! This is gonna get a lot worse before it gets better!"
The merman frowned. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine!" Shoving Ahab away, Jack let loose with several punches to his jaw. It was like punching a bear trap.
Watching this for a moment, Drake nodded. "Alright – just don't die."
He turned and leapt overboard. Jack nodded with a confident grin. "No problem there," Dodging aside the hook once more, his roundhouse kick hit Ahab in the side, the skeleton-man concealing his wince admirably, "like I said: this guy's just small-time!"
Ahab's lips curled in burning anger. "Small-time, am I? Well, I think I have something just big enough for you…" He lifted up his blunderbuss, flipped a large switch on the back end…and then looked over Jack's shoulder.
"Well, well, look at that."
Jack whirled around quickly, and his breath stopped cold at the sight that met him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, like a mountain-wide avalanche, The Flying Skull began to tip over, the great galleon forced onto its side like a wounded whale by the wind and waves. As its captain watched, the mast splintered and snapped in half, the sails tore down the middle, and a massive gouge was made in the hull by a wayward rock.
Within a few horrible moments, it had disappeared beneath the waves completely, along with its skeleton crew.
"No…no, that can't be…" Jack whispered, barely able to keep upright. "GUYS!" He fell to his knees. "…guys…"
He barely felt the hook slash down his back, and the thud when he collapsed to the deck. Just as the ship began to tip underneath him, he shut his eyes, and fell into deep unconsciousness.
To be continued…
Next time, on One Piece: The Skull Pirates…
Ahab: We made it…this is what I've been looking for!
?: You do not belong here. Leave, immediately.
Frank: D-don't take that off…
Where No Pirate Has Gone Before! Enter the Rainbow Archipelago!
Jack: What the hell have you done with my crew!
Malchior the Draco – No problem, man; that just means you had more to read, right? And, sure, whatever you say, Kurai.
Raidentensho – Once again, I have to confess I came up with Drake when Jinbei hadn't appeared. Learning he could do pretty much what I said Umi no Ken could was…embarrassing, to say the least. Thanks for the review.
Shinobi-dono – Well, I kinda hope you don't enjoy this one, or I'm probably doing something wrong, heh. And no, Frank has nothing against mermen – Drake is just the first real one he's actually seen, as was guessed last chapter. He's just a bit nervous.
Kai Orihomunon – I was wondering when someone was going to ask me about that. The 'Doku' here is actually short for dokuro, the Japanese word for skull. I thought it would be more appropriate for a guy named the Skull Pirate than just saying bone. Glad I could clear that up.
Thepirateprophet44 – Ouch, sorry; definitely wasn't on purpose. And yeah, while Drake has Ryoga (and Shin, although not for quite a while), Frank doesn't really have a rival…yet. Not that I'm implying anything, of course. Glad you liked the chapter.
Until next time (hopefully sooner), see you guys.