Nicolas tramped down the night at a brisk pace, every breath of his followed by a plume of silvery smoke and a trail of ash. He was huffing and puffing at a cigar that burned red as blood; biting the tip and chewing and spitting the bits that got in his mouth. If it wasn't clear by his sour face and twitching lip, he was having a bad time right then, having searched for his sister and her attacker and all he had found was ruin.

From the broken wall they had slugged it until a house where they had blasted a corner and you could now peek as if a window- they would have to live with the chill until they fixed it – and from there he found a street cracked and blown up, shards and darts of stone dotting the whole place. All signs of Martina.

He had tried expanding his Observation already, had screwed his eyes shut and tried to find her but he was no good at it. Whatever it was that let others make sense of that cursed, out of body experience it was lacking in him, it never failed to make him sick when he went back to only seeing what was in front of him; as if being crammed into a coffin. But even then, ill as he was, the sourness of worry forced him to move and search like a dog in the night, trying everything he could; from shouting and making the windows clatter to clapping and calling her name like a child lost in the dark.

Spitting the chewed-up butt he dragged a big breath of air and open his hands to begin clapping once more, just as he put his hands far apart, he saw someone walking his way. They were a blot of moving ink in all the gloom, but he saw them all the same; a confident and cadent stride to their walk and as they drew closer, he could see a sway that only the lithe and agile had. Just like Martina, except she would never be this quiet when she had been in a fight, she would be wielding a bottle in one hand and singing in that screeching voice of hers. No, this was someone else, a pity, he would have to keep shouting after they left, otherwise it would be rude to be so loud and be bother.

The both of them kept walking towards each other and for a second it looked like the just might pass by each other when they stopped in front of him, a hand next to them and the other at the small of their back. Wisps of tattered black clinging to them in his Observation and he thought that another fight had found him as he balled his hands and sighed.

"So, you are the one that has been breaking my men down to size," That took out all the doubt he had left, he worked his neck a little as he answered.

"Can we talk this out please?" He might not have doubts but hope was still aplenty in him.

"You didn't talk much with them, did you? Why start now?" An evil whistle went past Nicolas' neck, a breeze picking up only at that point and he felt a chill run down his body.

´That felt almost like…´ he couldn't finish his thought as the place was full of those shrills before he felt himself be pushed along his chest and shoulder, steel bearings pinging as they dropped and bounced against the floor- 'bullets'. The only thing that had saved him from being sniped were his instinctual Armament and his [Thick Skin] Skill, otherwise he would have been shot down right there.

After that first flurry neither moved, one not expecting for their attacks to be weathered so easily while the other was simply stunned by the suddenness of it all.

The shock gave way to determination as they both sprang into action, both set on crushing the opposition.

Within a second Nicolas clamped his arms tights against each other and locked them in place with Tekkai, trusting his Armament to protect his legs from whatever slugs that silent gun could throw. He charged and they retreated as their hands went towards their back and another drizzle of steel peppered his defences, this time digging into his skin like a rifle's munition. One hitting him in the thigh and making his muscles clench and shiver at the pain, his jaw was clenched tight as a clamp as another struck the bone sticking out of his wrist like a hammer.

Putting away the pain in his leg he attempted a Soru and only managed three kicks that eat at the distance between them savagely, he could see her now and the only thing his mind registered was the strands of rope like hair that danced behind her after every jump just like smoke trailing her. But just as he tried a second Soru the woman opened her hand, a transparent circle formed around it in which the steel caught the light of the lanterns as they floated around idly - like scum caught in the water's current- and he wasn't given the time to react as they stopped him dead in his tracks.

His back leg almost slipping as all his force was nulled, flesh burning in pockets of hot pain where he was struck and joints complaining as they were pushed against their limit. A satisfied nod came from the woman as that cursed orb appeared once again and blinked out as the projectiles were already deliver, again his arms were punished grinding his bones against the steel, one bullet ricocheting off his shaved head with a sharp sound.

"What is your head made of? No bone should make that noise when struck," She complained idly as her ability encased her feet and sent her off to the side, avoiding Nicolas' punch with ease.

"I drink a lot of milk," A snort was his answer as she blinked right in front of him, so close he could see her skin that was a kind of black to make midnight jealous and eyes so bright the moon might just be in them; but as he tried to reach for her and crush her as painlessly as possible he missed the pellet that went low. Until he felt it, that is.

A cold spread through his belly, ice on his face as he went pale and felt his body lose its strength. He cluttered down in a heap, breath taken away by the foreboding sensation before the pain spread, a single tear escaped his eyes as he watched the woman shake her head.

"Men are the result of such bad designs. Soft bits sagging uselessly down below and no bone to cover them this time," She spoke as she fetched more steel from her pouches and that damned miniature orb spluttered back into existence, bullets hovering once again and ready.

Pulling at the fraying straws of his strength he threw his body towards the side, into an alleyway damp with what could be water but was most likely piss and kitchen waste and all the refuse of the houses near. The street behind him broke and chipped as the stone was shot to pieces, and he pushed himself to stand up, but it was so hard, his limbs felt cold as the sea and his mind was worried beyond belief. He had felt that last blow as if it had carved its way up his stomach like a worm, a sensation that chilled his blood and he still couldn't come to terms with it as the thought clouded his mind.

'She shot me in the fruits,' was the psalm that kept repeating in his head. In his career as a rugbier he had seen similar things thrice and each was a scene of slaughter. Blood drivelling down their legs as they held a slacked face and teary eyes as if they still couldn't believe it had happened. 'God don't let me be like them' he prayed as he looked down. His pants had a tear that was thinner than a fish bone and nothing else.

Promising a good offering for it he felt his courage coming back up and so did his wariness, whoever it was he was fighting she had enough strength to stop his charges and that meant he would need to find a way to close that gap between them or run away if it probed too hard.

"No more hiding now," came the voice from the other side of the alley and out of fear he kicked the heap of trash that was sitting next to him with a fury. Cans and broken tools clinked as they flew, and bags and crates broke to spill the filth they hid and yet none managed to touch her as that cursed orb flickered around her whole body. A field of white that seemed almost sterile, barring passage to everything that got near her and flicking it away.

Digging his fingers in the plaster and bricks of the wall he climbed the house, leaving holes and cracks along it until he swung onto the roof. The awning was blown off by another hail of metal, wood chips and tiles started to rain as he began running on the roof but just as he was about to reach the end of it he saw her jump up until they were face to face.

"Who are you?" He screamed at her as his body fell slack and slithered around her attacks like a paper in the wind.

"A friend of the people you two mauled!" She answered in passing as she fell back to the ground. When Nicolas saw her readying for another jump, he lifted his leg and kicked, the tip of his foot catching the roof and ripping it apart in a wide spray of rubble and dust. Kicking once more he flew through the air towards her, shoulder angled to catch her stomach and arms ready to lock her in place for the fall; he was bent on tackling her to the ground. At least her Devil Fruit would help cushion the blow, he hoped.

But instead when the distance was nil, he felt himself be pushed away, shoved aside with such great force. Just like in the day he had died, the day they had died. And when he thought of that day as his back crashed against a window and felt the claws of broken glass tear his shirt, he also thought about his sister laying bloody and broken, and how futile his attempts had been. He had sworn not to allow such a thing again.

An eerie silence fell across the street as Diena cushioned her fall, she looked at the yawning hole the big boy had made with his back and let her ability expand. Allowed her reigns on it to loosen until she held onto a power barely contained within her hand; She avoided rushing in as a fight in that cramped a place would take her advantage away and it would be no surprise if he had a trick or two in store for her.

Only a fool wouldn't have a couple ropes to escape danger, and she liked to consider herself a danger to most. Best to keep her space and be ready to counter him, avoid that head that was hard like an anchor and aim for the throat and the balls and the knees. Aim for the pillows was her motto and she was going to stick to it.

Just as she managed to cover herself in her power she heard him shout, she did not know if it was out of anger or desperation that he did but the words boomed out of the gloomy opening and drowned the street.

"Scrum Tactics! Hand! Off!" Her neck whipped backwards as her shield hit the wall behind her and he stood above her, one palm outstretched and still trying to crush her against the bricks. For all his mountainous bulk the bastard sure was fast.

With a grunt she shoved his hand aside and let a bullet that was orbiting around her hip shoot forward, he slapped it aside and kept pressing forward; An animal that only knew how to attack. His blows rained down upon her and she could do nothing but hold it up, hands like stone kept trying to crack her, to make give way but she simply refused. She was a pillar of the family, she had people behind her back. She would simply not give. But gods be damned if the bastard could throw a hell of a punch.

She expected him to fall back as his barrage began to slow down, maybe even collapse from exhaustion as she felt her sweat drip down her face, but he simply kept going. Stubborn as a shark he kept at it until she felt her power begin to dwindle, the fatigue in her muscles affecting her field; And just as she was about to do something stupid she saw him lock both hands around her shield's circumference.

"Why won't this thing break!" He growled with his cheek pressed against her defences and trying to squeeze her to death, as if she was just a big fruit. The gall on him.

"This thing is my Devil Fruit! It allows me to apply the strength of every muscle in my body to anything touching it, you think you could crush me with just your arms when every part of me fights you!" She screamed back, anger bubbling up as she fought for her family.

"I have to protect my sister; I can't waste time here!"

"You think you are the only one with something to protect? The only one that has something? Look around, look anywhere in this island and you will find something I want to keep safe!" It might have been the battle anger or his words that angered her, Diena did not know but she wanted him to understand. "But here comes you, pirates, bastards that break everything you touch simply because you can,"

"I am no pirate, I just want my family safe," He tried to refuse, his veins clear in his neck and she laughed at him.

"Such pretty ideals, what in hell do you think you are? A knight? You are but a bastard wrapped in metal foil!" His grip faltered and she took advantage of it, shoved his arm aside and for the first time she took a risk. Compressing her field until it was wrapped tightly around her fist like a glove. Then she punched him.

Nicolas flew backwards. His stomach felt as if it had been hammered in as his back was ground against one then two walls, until he was sitting with his back against the third. A frame fell atop his head and the glass shattered as the people all screamed around him, a man shielding his wife and daughter. A knife in hand and pointed at him and a look of murder in his eyes.

He stared at the naked blade, its teeth and the rust that had begun eating it at the handle and a question floated in his mind. Spoken in an old woman's voice that he had come to know as another part of his small family, 'battles may have no winners, but they certainly have losers,'. His hand fell upon the waiting metal at his hips, a handle that shared its iron with the blade and the guard; 'This is all for the family,' he thought with dread and determination as he left what bills he had on him on the table next to the anxious father.

His steps were heavier as he walked back to the fight, as if he was trying to drag the meeting for as long as possible, stretch that time forever. But he had to do it, had to fight with steel in hand or risk everything – and as Martina would have said 'Nicolas is no gambler' she would have said more but that was the only important part- so here he was, about to walk the fine edge between regretting his inaction or regretting his actions.

When he went through the last wall, the woman with skin of night greeted him with a snort and sharp words.

"It must be easy to play guardian when you think you are invulnerable," She held needles in her hands now and a determination in her eyes to mirror his, "Let me show you just how wrong you are,"

He nodded and drew his sword; the blade came out singing a sharp melody as he slowly led its point towards her. There was no going back now. His [Aura of the Veteran] swept the area as he released it and her shoulders rocked slightly at the pressure. Pressing the advantage, he swung a great overhead and she twitched away, his sword missing her by a hand and opening a wound in the ground, earth and stone showering up.

Not letting up he kept cutting, each aimed at an arm or a leg that strayed near him and yet she kept holding those needles as if it wasn't time yet. That worried him to no end, when would they come? From which distance? But most importantly where, he was afraid he would kill her if she put a needle through his fruits.

Suddenly she missed a step, a loose stone twisting her ankle and his blade bit into her thigh before he could pull it back. It bit into the flesh and was spitting blood as she retreated, before he knew it, he had spoken.

"Are you alright?" A dumb question by any measure but it was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

"Are you daft?" She screeched and lunged forward; he felt a bullet coming and parried, felt the needle dig into his side and tried to crack her with the guard of his sword but she flickered away.

Following her trace with Observation he slashed once again and cut at her arms, that shield of hers sputtering as his Armament fought it once again before it broke like glass. She brought both her arms up and he dropped his Haki to avoid cutting her in half. His heart hurt as he watched her rise from the heap he had thrown her into, arms and leg bloody, sweat streaked across her face and grime clinging to it. He didn't have it in him to keep on.

"You stand defeated," His sword back in its sheathe he grabbed her shoulders as she resisted weakly, lifted her legs off the ground and laid her on the street. She looked at him with tired hate, if she could he had no doubt she would try to kill her.

Not knowing what to do now he sat next to her, not sure if he should leave or take her to a medic. He pulled at a pouch with a frame of steel to protect what was inside and opened it, and out he took a slice of crumbling cake. It was a big chunk of pound cake he held in his hand and he began to eat it one neat pinch at a time, when he was done with it he breathe a sigh of relief and remembered his company. He pulled another slice.

"I am no doctor but eating something after exercising helps with fatigue," He said and tried to put the slice in her hand but she closed it and refused to accept it, finally he left it on her stomach.

"I hate you," She intoned slowly, as if afraid the meaning of her words would be lost in him if she spoke too quickly. The words made him uncomfortable, made him scratch his cheek looking for an answer and let the silence between them stretch.

Finally, they both heard the sound of clapping in the empty street, it was hurried like the beat of a hummingbird's wing. A fast and annoying noise like a snare drum followed by hoots and cheers from atop a building. Done with her shtick Nicolas watched as she flipped forward and landed next to him, Puma stepping on his shoulder before bounding towards her in a single motion.

With her by his side Nicolas felt a surge of emotions that filled his chest, relief and annoyance mixed in great quantities until they marched out his mouth.

"Thank the gods you are okay,"

"Thought I would be done in? In our first island? Perish the thought," He felt his companion stir next to her as she tried to sit up to look at Martina.

"Where is Orillas?" She asked, her voice almost broken and his sister had that mischievous smile she got when she was up to no good.

"Dealt with, dear. Otherwise it would be him here and not me, right?" And with those notes Nicolas' opponent fell unconscious, her body sagging against him and he guided her so as not to hit herself against the ground.

"She got you bleeding, eh?" She asked while squinting at the still dribbling wound at his side.

"Yes, she did. Put a needle into me with her Devil Fruit, she could put all the strength of her body in a bubble and apply it against anything," He answered with a note of newly found respect, "it was similar to Law's Fruit in that aspect,"

"I know, I have been watching you two since you got thrown through a couple buildings," She replied calmly while eyeing the wound.

"You were watching?" His voice raised as his annoyance reared its head, "and you didn't help me?" She managed to look affronted at that, head cocked back and a hand on her chest.

"I am no kill stealer, Nicolas. I have manners,"

"What kind of manners are those?"

"Gaming manners, of course," Massaging his temples he let out a mournful sigh and winced as he stretched the wound by getting up.

"Mind sewing this for me?"

"We talked about this, remember?" He hated doing as she asked but he was simply too tired to argue about it.

"Can you stitch me up. Captain?" She gave him her widest smile as she started to pull a metal case with needle and thread.

"Its [Captain] Martina actually, but I will let you off since you are my First Mate. Who knows maybe you will even earn the Class now that you accept me as such," She kept speaking about nonsense as she worked on his side and then kept plotting their next steps as she put her hands on the woman he had cut.

And he gave her a nod and a thank you in his mind for the lesson taught and an apology for the pain. He hoped his pound cake would clear his debt to her.