One Piece: The Skull Pirates
Chapter Twenty-Six: Jack and Drake! Twin Battles Beneath the Ocean!
Jack had felt coral a few times before, usually as the result of a wager that always seemed really stupid in hindsight (but only in hindsight), and it had always felt pretty solid to him, but solid enough to be a building material? Guess knowing a talking whale had its perks. Hopefully sandals weren't too common around these parts, though; his feet would probably be twice their size by now if he were going bare-foot.
Ahab had a head start, but in the long term he had him dead to rights. Trapped like a rat, too, in case this thing went below sea…water. Well, hopefully that wouldn't come up. It wasn't like Ahab was really sea-worthy himself. If it did…you couldn't plan, really.
He took the last step, and flung himself to the floor as a cannonball streaked over head, almost hitting the steamship on its path down.
"You've gotta run out of ammo for that sometime, Ahab!" Jack shouted as he flung himself through the door. The entrance led into a wide hall, dotted with pillars. He slid up against one and risked a glance: the metal man was in the center of the hall, aiming his smoking blunderbuss, blood-shot eye swiveling to and fro.
"I only need to get lucky once," he shouted, the squeak in his voice almost being drowned out, "and right now I'm feeling pretty damn lucky!"
Jack heard the crank of the blunderbuss being reloaded, and edged closer, moving between the pillars. Funny though; hadn't he added in more ammo back on the ship?
Then Ahab fired. Well, fine by him if the guy wanted to waste ammo, but the familiar whistle of the cannon ball wasn't what he heard this time. Just a dull clunk…and then a quiet hiss.
He peeked out again, and saw what Ahab had fired, just a second before it exploded: an ugly-looking canister that shot a sick-green gas toward him. Jack shut his mouth, but caught a good whiff of it before then. He staggered.
"Don't like that, do you?" Ahab said happily. "Not many things do. That gas screws up your senses something fierce. Not sure how well it will work on a Devil Fruit user, but if you want to follow me, I hope you can find your sea legs quick. Shouldn't be hard for a brave pirate like you, eh?"
He turned and fled down the far corridor.
Coughing hard, Jack tried to follow, but his shaking foot landed hard on a slippery tile, and he fell against the pillar. His head was spinning back and forth, and his limbs felt like they were all in the wrong places. He forced his mouth to stay closed, though: if one gulp of that gas did this, taking in more would do him in for the whole rest of the day. Then every Fortress Whale in West Blue was as good as screwed.
No way was he getting his body in order while having to keep that gas out. But Ahab had a good point: he was a Devil Fruit user, wasn't he? The idea that had just popped into his head was really stupid on paper, and might kill him if he backfired. So, nothing new, really.
He crouched down even further than the gas had lowered him, concentrating on the fact that his legs were his legs, and tensed himself up. No, more than tensed, totally locked…and loaded.
"Skull Skull…SPRING!"
His coiled up legs shot back up like the bullet from a gun, sending him flying across the hall. That was fine, exactly what he planned. Flailing in the air and landing right on his head, not so much. But he was far enough away that the gas wouldn't reach him, which was good: winces of pain tended to let in air.
Then, staggering to his feet, he set off down the hall and after Ahab.
"…hang on a sec." Jack reached up and snapped his head back the right way. "There we go."
0
"So, you aren't giving up, then?"
Michaels raised one of his tonfas and stuck the deck again, making Frank jump. "You can both go take a short walk off a long damn plank! What gives you the right to come onto my ship and order me to surrender, huh!?"
"Hm, good point." Mary replied, tapping the side of her head. "If I had to give you something, I'd say about the same right you had to help a man like that kidnap an innocent girl. Is that good enough?"
The whaler growled, but he had nothing to reply with. For a moment there wasn't anything but the sound of Mary's foot tapping on the deck, and Spider's chain swinging in the breeze.
Afterward, the gardener sighed. "If that's how it has to be, then. Come on, Frank, let's-"
Something sailed right over both their heads and clattered to the deck noisily, and more important, distractingly. The sound of a rope being swung caem from behind the two, and they turned to see Gerald stumble as he landed.
"Sorry about that," he said cheerily, walking up, "I had to think fast once I saw my crewmates about to do something silly."
Without giving them time to respond he took another big step, coming in-between the four of them. "Maybe I don't have the right perspective, being the odd man out of this crew when it comes to fisticuffs, but I'm wondering: what's the point of fighting now, exactly?"
Mary looked at him like he'd said something intensely stupid. "Why?" she asked, and waved a hand at the whalers. "These two are in league with the man who began all this. Why shouldn't we fight them? You didn't ask this back at Newport."
"Well, there we had to, certainly." Gerald said, nodding. "But I'm wondering if that's really necessary here." He too indicated the pair. "Ahab's been on their ship, certainly, but is that the same thing as working with him, I wonder?"
Michaels eyed Gerald carefully. "What's your game, mister?"
"My 'game', you say?" he replied. "Hm, well, I suppose if keeping my crewmates from risking their lives in pointless fights is a game, then I'm a good player." Gerald smiled. "And you know, somehow I think you're the same way. So why don't we just sit down and talk this-"
For the past few minutes the fishmen, both feral and otherwise, had been largely ignored. If they weren't moving for the time being, the two crews had bigger fi…problems to worry about.
Now, though, Johnny's body suddenly sprang to life, charging across the deck – not toward any of them, but at Drake, who was just beginning to stir himself. Not as quickly as he could have, unfortunately. The angler fishman's flying tackle caught him, carrying the two of them across the rest of the deck and over the side, passing clean through the railing as they did.
"…" Gerald coughed. "Ha, ha…bad timing there, eh?"
0
Having your already sore back hit a wooden construct hard enough to break it wasn't exactly a pleasant wake up call, but it could always be worse. A pair of large hands wrapping around your throat, for example, would do it perfectly. If Drake hadn't hit the water a moment later, things would have ended very badly.
The rush of water around him reinvigorated the fishmen, and he kicked out, hitting the angler's rubbery body as hard as he could. Johnny's grip loosened, and Drake broke free, pieces of the ship's railing scattering around the two in the water.
"Darn. You looked like you were pretty out of it there." Johnny shook his head. "Now this is going to be a big pain."
"I'm not surprised someone like you wasn't affected much by it." Drake replied. "You don't even care what this represents, do you?"
The snort blew bubbles into the salt water. "Don't give me that crap. Do humans fall on their knees for anyone with a Devil Fruit power? No. Why should I do the same for some whale, just because there's some mumbo-jumbo behind it?"
He grinned. "Me, I'm a more practical kind of guy. I like things that are a bit more concrete – like money. You know how much one Fortress Whale is worth?"
"I don't care."
"You're in the minority. A whole school or two, not fighting back…saying they'll be worth a fortune is almost short-changing it." Drake grit his teeth as the angler's smile widened. "A man could live the rest of his life like a king on a score like that, fish or no. That's the only real barrier between us and the humans, money. Too bad not many of us have figured that out, huh?"
That did it. Drake dove forward, determined to wipe the smile off Johnny's face. Stevens would have give him a tongue-lashing for such a rash move, but the blow Johnny dealt to him was punishment enough. It was a perfect counter, totally reversing the momentum of the move he'd been about to make, and sending him reeling.
"I wouldn't really call myself a good fighter, but I don't need to be with this. Fishman Karate, Angler Style. How's it feel to get hit with your own move? Not great, RIGHT?"
As Drake was still doubled over, Johnny dove in and kicked him, right in the stomach. He gagged, trying to put distance between them. The angler-man was all too happy to help him with that, diving forward in a tackle that sent him hurtling back through the water. "You seem like more trouble than your Captain, Drake, even if he does have a fruit power. I'm not letting you within an inch of that place."
The shark-man forced himself upright with one kick. "You act like I'm going to try to go anywhere. Jack wants to get his hands on Ahab, but all I want is you."
"Aw, really? I'm flattered." Johnny smiled smugly. "Can you do that with a thrown back? I'd sure be impressed."
He watched as Drake settled back, raising his fists defensively. "There's one flaw to your strategy. If I don't attack, then you have nothing to counter."
The helmsman noted with satisfaction the look of irritation that passed over Johnny's face. "And I don't think that kind of fighting style is very good for attacking. You'll eventually make a mistake."
"Oh," Johnny said, holding up a hand, "if that's the opinion of such a brave, strong fishman like yourself, I'd better just give up now...not!" He powered forward in the water, pulling back a fist.
Drake had seen enough of Johnny's true colors not to take this attack at face value. He waited, and wasn't surprised when the angler swung his bulk to the side in a feint, aiming for his open side.
"Not good enough." he said, shifting his stance and going in for a blow to the stomach.
That was when something caught Drake by surprise. It shouldn't have, since it had been right in front of his eyes from the moment he'd met Johnny. The stalk on his head shot up like a snake striking at a mouse, flashing bright light directly into his eyes. Drake cursed as he was blinded; shutting his eyes, he struck out at nothing before powerful arms wrapped around his body.
"Angler's...CATCH!" Johnny roared, hurling him through the water. Most humans would have been surprised at how quick Drake's body moved, but underwater was where most martial arts like this were meant to be used in. He sailed through the rough waters like they were nothing more than open air, and slammed right into the side of the steamship.
It wasn't as smooth a landing as the first time. Drake had twisted himself so his back wasn't punished further, but now his head was ringing. Before he could stir, one of Johnny's hands gripped him by the throat.
The angler didn't look so weak in this light. "Didn't you wonder any why I'd taken you underwater, where we'd be both be stronger?" His grip tightened. "It's because I know exactly where I'm strongest, Drake. Down below."
Before he could get away, the shark-man found himself dragged down in the water, toward where the light didn't reach.
0
Jack had made it to near the end of the hallway. The people who'd lived here before, whale bless 'em, had really liked statues and pillars and things like that, which let him pick up the pace a bit, even if how soaked the floor was evened it out. Everything that wasn't made out of coral had some on it, too, so it wasn't like he could grab anywhere. Look don't touch, right?
The opening ahead didn't lead to another hall, but open space. Jack groaned. "Stairs? Seriously? You already built the whole thing out in the middle of the ocean, guys, no need to go crazy."
He concentrated at the last of the pillars, and his legs seemed about ready to stop being jelly. Emboldened by this, he picked up the pace.
The hallway led out onto a massive circular stairwell that went down farther than Jack could see. It was open at the top, letting him see just how bad the weather was getting. Rain pattered down on the steps, but it wasn't like they could get any wetter, could they? One bad step and you'd be tumbling a long, long way. "But I'm not the one with a peg-leg, am I?" he thought smugly, peering down-
"...and also, not the one with a gun on my arm." he thought less smugly, seeing the cannonball flying toward him.
No time to dive out of the way, and that would be a bad idea on these stairs anyway. Splitting up was pretty out of the question, too. So, he jumped, straight forward.
Hey, noticing when one or two things were a bad idea didn't mean you didn't take another afterward.
The projectile went barely an inch or two under his feet, blowing up part of the wall behind him. Then he was sailing for an uncomfortably long amount of time over a fall that would break every bone in his body, a thought that was all the more unpleasant for him. He flung out his arm, too scared for the gas to take hold now, and snatched hold of a lower step. His hand started slipping almost instantly on the slick, uneven surface. Breathing in, Jack started swinging his legs, trying to land on another stairwell when he dropped.
A click came from above. Jack groaned again. Ahab's blunderbuss was right in front of his face. Negotiating the stairs with his peg leg and holding Emelia must have taken some effort, but he'd done it. You could almost admire him if you forgot oh, everything else he'd done.
He didn't waste time talking, and fired. But Jack didn't feel like wasting time listening to anything he had to say, either, and threw himself to the side right away. He hit the stairs on that side in a hard sprawl.
As he tried catching his breath, footsteps hurried down toward him, and he hopped up just in time to catch Ahab's sharpened peg leg before it could skewer him. Tightening his hold on the weaponized limb, he stared into Ahab's face, took a step forward...
...took a step forward...
"Now? Are you kid-"
The relapse of the gas effects only lasted a moment, but that was long enough for Ahab's forehead to slam into his. Bone could be tough, but metal was tougher. He fell back down the stairs, passing a few steps before he forced himself up.
"You really thought it was a good idea to come in here alone?" Ahab said, sneering down at him. "Once I'm through with you, no-one's going to find your body."
Jack spat on the steps (probably some kind of sacrilege, but he was sure they'd understand) and rose. "Shut up." He pointed a finger at Ahab - or rather, the girl in his arms. "Hey, you. You're Emelia, right?"
Her face was a white sheet at this point, but the girl nodded. "I'm Jack, a buddy of Drake's. He sent me here, him and your whale buddy. I'm gonna beat this guy and get you outta here, alright? So just sit tight."
"You're not saving anything." Ahab shot back. "Not even your own hide!" He fired again, but Jack dodged backward, letting it blow a hole in the stairs.
"Gonna have to pay for that, buddy." the pirate said cockily. "But I'm sure all that steel you have there will pay for it. Just gotta take it out of you first!"
0
"And then, you know, I didn't really want to get into this line of work, I'm pretty sure it's not anyone's first choice. But I knew a guy who had an in, figured I'd be there a few months, tops." Michaels let out a long sigh, far from the first.
"...how did this happen, exactly?" Mary asked herself, also not for the first time. Despite the epithet her name had attracted, she wasn't an unkind young lady, but she still had the opinion this would all have been easier if she were allowed to kick a few heads. But then Gerald had started talking, and suddenly now they were sitting down and talking. It was odd. Apparently he'd done something similar back in Newport, too. Of course, a gift for speaking didn't mean much on its own...but still, none of them did know where Gerald had come from, did they?
The man in question nodded firmly. "Yes, I can certainly understand that. Sometimes I think there's more people in this world who didn't intend to end up where they are than did."
Michaels leaned back, smacking his head against the wood. He didn't seem to notice. "Yeah. And thinking about it like that, can you imagine anyone who'd intend to have a man like him on his boat if he knew what he had in mind? Can you think of a price that would make that worth it?"
Gerald nodded. "Nothing comes to mind. But I'm wondering, if it wasn't a matter of cost, why did you do nothing about him, exactly?"
The whaler looked like someone had stuck a hook in his mouth. "Because...if we're still on prices, the one he'd take out of me and my crew...was too big." He sighed. "But that's no excuse, is it? He came here to take a lot more out of West Blue's waters, and it took a bunch of pirates showing up before anything got done about it! Uh, no offense."
"None taken, I'm sure."
Drake fought, but Johnny was bigger, and certainly fresher. If someone had told him the tubby angler was capable of this when they'd met, he would have scoffed. But being underestimated seemed to be Johnny's main strategy, and unfortunately it had worked on him.
It was obvious what Johnny intended for him; the water around them was getting darker. Fishmen could live underwater certainly, he'd even heard that was where their home island was, although he'd never seen it. But how much pressure they could handle was another matter entirely. A depth that Johnny could handle easily might crush his body like a grape.
"It's a really painful way to die, you know." the angler-man said, as if reading his mind. "Not one very many people get to experience. And certainly not many fishmen. It's your organs that are going to go first. Starting to feel it?"
Drake was, and it wasn't nice. He had his arm free, however, and sent the elbow of it hurtling back, first into Johnny's stomach and then his face. He let go - a bit too easily, in Drake's mind. Kicking forward in the murky water, he turned to face his enemy.
"Not going to run?" Johnny asked happily. He pointed upward. "She's back up there, you know."
"I'm not going to be fooled by you again." Drake growled. "It'll only be safe to swim back up once you're floating belly-up. And I'm going to enjoy putting you there."
Johnny blew bubbles into the water. "Wow, and I thought you martial artists were supposed to be calm, serene types. But we're on the same page there at least." He grinned wide, showing off all the teeth in his uneven jaws. "This is gonna be fuuuuun."
Then he vanished, the grin the last thing Drake saw of him. It wasn't as whimsical as some picture books made it sound.
0
Jack risked a look down the staircase. Still at break-neck height, although he could at least glimpse the floor now if he squinted. Another hallway seemed to lead off there, and who knew where that led. Well, Ahab, probably.
He cracked his knuckles. "You waiting for an invitation?"
Ahab sneered back, but Jack knew he had to go past him to get where he wanted. He could probably walk away from that fall, but no way Emelia would.
They held the stare for a few seconds, and then Ahab broke it by firing another cannonball before reaching into his coat for more ammo. Jack juked it by hopping up onto the banister, then cleared the gap in one big leap.
"Hope you're ready for a great big-" Jack started, drawing his fist back. The man quickly held Emelia up in the path of his blow.
Only a really cynical guy would expect a nasty move like that. So it was a good thing he fit that bill exactly - and had another arm.
It felt pretty good, to say the least. Jack grinned as his fist ground into the metal around Ahab's jaw. He staggered, grunting, and Jack realized his screw-up just an instant before he tipped over the side of the stairs, Emelia letting out a shrill cry.
"Aw goddammit!" the skeleton thought to himself, just after he realized that he'd jumped off, too.
He couldn't fall faster than Ahab, but he sent his hand flying down toward him. All he had to do was get Emelia...
And then he saw the grin. "Don't tell me you really thought I was out of ammo!?" Ahab cried, firing a cannonball right into the detached hand. Jack let out a cry of pain, made worse when the hand flew back and hit him in the face. He fell back, and was lucky enough to land on the staircase. Ahab, lucky son of a bitch, managed the same from the cannonball's momentum.
...alright. Jack got up. His legs weren't too bad off, which was more than he could say for his hand. He probably had the fruit to thank for it even still being in one piece, but no way it wasn't broken. Same hand he'd hit Ahab with, too. "Call it karma, I guess."
He looked down and saw Ahab running again, down toward the hallway entrance. Like that was all it would take to make him give up. Maybe that wasn't exactly true, but Jack swilled that thought around, and let it build up. Definitely not healthy behaviour. He'd need a good outlet, and quick.
"I'LL SETTLE FOR YOUR STUPID FACE!" he roared, charging down after the metal man.
0
As buffoonish as Johnny had been before, in the waters he didn't waste any movement. Drake thought he saw glimpses of the angler as he circled around him, but were they from his own eyesight, or something he was allowed to see? He couldn't tell for sure, and that was why he was staying put. If he struck out when Johnny wanted him too, that would be like asking for defeat, and in turn his own death.
But although this depth wasn't fatal, it wasn't pleasant for him either. He had to finish this soon. The question was, where to begin? Any fight had to have a first step.
Johnny was a patient fishman. He'd been in that brat's company for that long without cracking, hadn't he? He was prepared to wait an hour or two if that was how long it took.
Suddenly, though, he saw Drake double over in the water, and smiled. "Not as tough as you look, eh big guy?" Well, he knew his stuff, after all. Out of their depth, sharks weren't so big and bad anymore. Smiling, the angler swam up behind him, slowly.
Drake would remember the look of surprise on Johnny's face when he whirled around, fist flying in. He didn't like to think of himself as someone who'd get much pleasure from things like that, but just this once he'd make an exception.
Johnny's mouth bent around his fist as it plowed into him, only for his smile to suddenly return, looking nastier than ever. The martial artist realized what he had in mind and tried to pull away, but far too late: the angler-man's uneven jaws clamped down around his fist. His species was designed to swallow anything smaller than them in one giant bite. Drake's arm quickly found itself pulled right to the back of Johnny's throat, and as the rest of him followed, Johnny stopped his movement cold with a mighty chop to the throat. The shark man gagged.
"What now?" the other merman hissed around the load in his mouth. "Any other smart ideas, buddy?"
"Just...one." Drake grunted back, and then shoved his head forward. As a headbutt, it didn't have much force behind it, but what it did have was his Drake's pointed nose. And what luck: the flab of Johnny's throat was right in front of him at the moment. When the angler's voice came this time, it was in a scream. He backed off, but not before biting down hard on Drake's arm.
Johnny didn't look so cool and confident anymore. His eyes had changed, coming very close to the rage their kind could slip into. And if it came to that, Drake wasn't so sure he could fight him off. The state his arm was in didn't exactly fill him with confidence, either. Streams of red were already staining the water around it.
The eye-light rose up again, but Drake made sure to shut his eyes this time. Of course, when the light cleared his foe had still vanished.
He'd dealt him two blows, but Johnny had given him a large one in return. The bite seemed to have missed his veins, but it wasn't good, either. But if Johnny thought he had the upper hand from that exchange, he was about to be sorely mistaken. Drake put a hand over the bleeding, and settled back to wait. With him that angry, it couldn't take very long.
0
Jack had wondered what would run out first: this set of stupid stairs, or Ahab's cannonballs. Probably a dumb question, but he was really, really getting suck of being used for target practice. It wasn't even that the guy was a really good shot - when your target was the biggest thing in the ocean, you couldn't really miss, could you? The real trouble was that when he dodged, the cannonball had to hit something, and they were under the ocean now for sure. Could he swim at this depth, or did he just not care? All Jack knew was that every time he dodged, he kept expecting to hear gushing water. It was kinda nerve-wracking, and he didn't use that term lightly.
He risked a glance down between shots, and saw his answer: Ahab was one flight or two above the end, and the hallway. The latter in particular; a cannonball or two to the ceiling could block that off for a while. And right now, a while was way too long.
Ahab fired again, and Jack moved, rolling to the side underneath it and off the stairs. He tucked as he fell, and rolled again when he touched the floor, with no more than a slight pang from his knees. "Heh, not bad."
Quickly he moved in front of the hallway, smiling. "Now what, pal? I'm right here."
The modified man glared, and made to shove the smaller ammo into his cannon arm. Jack grit his teeth, running forward. "Oh no you don't!"
He quickly got near Ahab before he could fire. "Ha. Let's see you shoot that crap now, Ah..."
Ahab's finger went down onto the trigger. "...ah."
Jack shut his mouth quickly, but that didn't really matter when the damn thing was going off in your face. He felt his senses begin to swim again before Ahab butted him off the stairs, and he sprawled on the floor.
"You complete idiot." Ahab said. "Exactly why would I fire something that could work on me?"
Okay, he had to admit, that was a pretty good point. Or at least he would have if the floor hadn't felt tilted at one angle.
Footsteps came closer as Ahab descended the stairs, and leaned close. "I could shoot you right now, while you're lying there like a dog. Or maybe a fish in a barrel, if you like 'em so much. But I think someone like you deserves something a bit more special." He fired another of the gas canisters, and this time Jack couldn't even hold his breath.
"When the whales come, I'm going to be right up there on top of this place." He pointed a finger toward the distant roof. "The way this room is set up should let you hear everything that happens perfectly. It'll be a real show, I promise."
He turned away, but Jack shoved out an arm and grabbed onto his boot. "Nnn...nnn..." The skull pirate tried, but no full word would come out of his mouth, even if it was only two letters.
Ahab kicked him in the head, but he didn't let go. "Are you serious? Show some dignity at least, you half-wit." He kicked again, and Jack went rolling.
The cyborg half-considered shooting the pirate anyway: it would almost be more satisfying. Oh well. He'd have to use his imagination while he got to work. Chuckling, Ahab walked off into the tunnel, firing two shots into the ceiling as he went. You could never be too careful, after all. A large chunk of the coral there collapsed, forming as solid a blockade as the stuff could.
Jack was left lying there, trying to breath and move. He wasn't doing a good job at either.
To be continued...