"Well I can't tune a piano,
but I can tuna fish!"
The saloon door flew off its hinges as the bar was soon crowded by three more than before men, if men was the proper term for them.
The first, the one who kicked the doors off their hinges, the one who sang with the pitch of a rake on a chalkboard, was tall, skinny, and blue. His slick black hair was plastered down and his thick, purple, lower lip shook with every note he garbled out. He was wearing a loose, open-buttoned tropical shirt, low-hanging shorts, and black sandals, "And now for the encore! One more time! Because I can't tune~a pia~n~o..."
"Give it a rest, mon," The second of the fishmen was a bright blue guy with dreadlocks, whose skin was almost translucent. If one looked carefully they could see through his torso and make out whatever was behind him, "You been singin da whole way here. It's gettin old."
"Quit your yapping, Mambo," the first fishman flipped his collar up and ran a comb through his plastered hair, "The public will go crazy if they don't get their daily servings of Charlie Sunkissed, the best singer on Jaggerjaw Island."
"You mean da only singer on Jaggerjaw Island," Mambo rolled his eyes.
"All the more reason my adoring public shouldn't be deprived of the musical sensation of the nation."
"Uweeheehee..." The third fishman was more crustacean than fish. What looked like heavy red armor was actually his natural shell, and instead of hands he had two vicious pincers. His eyes darted about the room on two short stalks on his head, and just below a thin, curled mustache (which at first sight may or may not have been painted on) was a wide grin that stretched even farther than the mustache, "I actually find ze grating noise amusing as long as zere are many humans in agony as well. Zat part at least iz pleasurable."
Charlie the musician frowned, "Dammit, Torteau you sure know how to suck the fun out of anything, don't you?"
"Oui, it makez for a nice soup," Torteau smiled, clicking his claws together in excitement.
"Bloody hell, there's more of these fishsticks here?" As Michael chugged his grog down, three pairs of inhuman eyes glared in his direction. Charlie, in particular, morphed his grin into a grimace
"Who the hell are you?" Charlie sauntered up, eying Michael like a piece of rotten meat, "And where's the usual guy?"
Mambo grabbed the stool on the other side, letting himself hunch over the bar as he grabbed a free bottle, "Oh, just sit down and drink already. Who cares about dem?"
Doc just smiled from behind the bar, "No need to start a ruckus, gentlemen. Just so happens the current proprietor has left his patrons with a wonderful open bar. So what do you say to a hell of a happy hour? Drinks on the house for everyone!"
Charlie grinned, "Free drinks, huh? That'd be great except for one thing," A blue flash streaked across the bar, Charlie's webbed hand tightly wrapped around Doc's neck before he even finished pouring his drink, "This is our bar."
"Sunova..!" Michael quickly stood up, but quickly collapsed to the floor, "Me leg…" A searing pain shot up Michael's leg, the last thing it felt before going completely numb. Mambo, sitting on the other side of Michael, seemed to pay him no mind.
"Our island. Our town. Our bar."
"Holy hell, is this how you treat all your tourists?" Doc was still able to breathe for the moment, but he knew that if the fishman wanted to, he could probably crush his neck like a paper cup.
"We don't get tourists. So let's start out with how the hell you got here."
"Whoa, whoa. Slow down. We're all friends here, we came here with one of your folk."
"My folk?" Charlie's grin vanished again as he slammed the thin body against the bar wall, Doc flailing about helplessly, "What would a human know of 'my folk'?"
"How about a big, blue guy named Brody?" Doc spoke quickly, his vision blurring as he could feel the concussion coming on.
"Brody? Brody Martin?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, not out of confusion, but of intrigue. The other two fishmen stared at Doc as well, the crab cackling wildly.
"You hear that boys? Brody's back. The boss'll want to hear about this," Charlie smiled and dropped Doc on the floor, "Looks like you're off the hook for now, groundwalker. Like I said, we don't get tourists, but we've got room for a few immigrants," Charlie waved as the other two followed him out of the bar, "Enjoy the rest of your life in Jaggerjaw, however short it may be." Doc rushed over to Michael who was still grasping his immobile leg.
At Marigold's Inn,
Jude bolted out of the front entrance, still soaking wet, and ran as fast as he could towards the ship. If everything she said is true, I have to get back to the ship before something terrible happens. The inn's current proprietor merely stood in the doorway, blushing, holding Jude's freshly cleaned pants.
"All right, what do you think?" Hammie and Brody, both exhausted from the day's work, stood and admired their handiwork, a patchwork mast with different varieties of wooden planks keeping it together.
"Well, it's not going to be winning any beauty contests, but considering most would've junked this ship in what condition it was in, I'd say you did a pretty good job. It'll float at least. Hell, might even get you to the next island, unless…"
"Unless what?"
"You said you were going to the Grand Line. Getting there is an all in itself. You're going to need this ship to do more than just float."
Hammie collapsed onto a nearby barrel, "But I've already used up all the spare material we have on the ship."
"No worries. I'll see if there's anything left on shore. Besides, Wendy should be done with dinner soon," Brody grinned, this time without showing teeth, and walked towards the edge of the ship.
"How is her cooking anyway?"
"Well, she doesn't burn the fish. Or herself. Anymore. Usually."
"Ouch." Hammie was starting to miss Takashi.
"Hey, practice makes adequate." Brody jumped into the water and leisurely swam to shore while Hammie got back to work patching up what holes he could and nailing loose boards back together.
Brody hadn't swam in the ocean like this in a while. He'd forgotten how relaxing it was, how he could be alone with his thoughts. Up in the shallow waters like this was nice, but deeper in the ocean it was an almost endless blue. It was one of those pleasures he knew he could enjoy, but Wendy and other humans could never experience. Not once in his entire life did he take that for granted, but every day he wished there was a way to take Wendy down here.
Now letting himself drift to shore, his thoughts turned to his new friend. Hammie's a good kid, but way too green. His ship's one stiff breeze away from a pile of driftwood no matter how he patches it up, his crew's psychotic and don't follow his lead, and I just don't think he understands how brutal and unforgiving the Grand Line is. Most pirates, even those who take all the precautions possible, get shipwrecked before they can even officially enter the Grand Line. And without a real navigator… I just don't see any possibility of them surviving. Brody was approaching the shore now, so he let himself walk the rest of the way. The way Hammie's working at that ship, though, I don't see him quitting on this. The answer wasn't coming to him, so Brody decided to dwell on it and maybe see what Wendy thought.
As he walked up the beach, he didn't see Wendy, but he could already smell the fish burning. It seemed like it was Blackfish for dinner again, "Hey, Wendy, you aren't too lonely over here by yourself, are you?"
"Not at all," came the deep, gruff, stoic voice that was definitely not Wendy's, "She has us to keep her company at present." Stepping from behind the half-disassembled wooden shack was a muscular fishman, almost approaching Brody in size, with scars all over his body. On his nose was a 3-foot long sheathe that stuck straight out in front of him.
Brody's blood froze as he recognized the swordfish fishman, "Xiphias…"
"I'm glad to see you remember your old first mate, Brody. I wonder, do you remember the rest the crew?" As a half-dozen other fishman stepped out from the woods, Xiphias never smiled or showed any emotion, other than the slight tinge of anger, and even that was a rarity for him. The crab fishman Torteau appeared cackling and holding a tear-streaked Wendy, his large red claws wrapped around her head and neck, ready to tear it off in one clean swipe. "You were shown mercy for your crimes, Brody. Exile instead of torture and death, and this is how you give thanks?"
Every instinct in Brody's body told him to run. Some said to run away, while other said to run forward and deal with the attackers, but either way he couldn't save Wendy. Instead, he clenched his fists so hard they trembled and stood still, muscles tensed to leap into action at a moment's notice.
"Well, nothing to say for yourself?" Xiphias asked, but Brody's silence spoke for him. His mind was racing, running every scenario in his head trying to find some way that Wendy at least could walk away from this. "You were shown mercy, allowed to leave with your human and both of your lives intact, on the condition that you never show yourself in these waters again. For your crimes against our kind, exile instead of torture and death. A very lenient sentence indeed, given your transgressions." Xiphias's sheathed nose pointed out towards the marine ship floating in the ocean. "Yet here you are, not a week later, with a brand new ship and a human crew. What, were you hoping to take back Jaggerjaw for yourself?"
"You've got it all wrong," There was no way to tell how much they knew, as obviously there were plenty of assumptions. Nevertheless, while Wendy and himself might have been currently screwed, Brody's mind raced for a way to cover for Hammie's bunch. Hopefully, they can still get off the island without anyone else ever knowing they were here, "The raft was too flimsy, so we… I took the ship from some marines. It was hit hard by La Espada, and I just needed enough supplies to get to the next island. I didn't leave any survivors."
"Nice try, but we've already encountered two of your new crew, Brody. Drinking our alcohol and harassing our villagers."
Too late. I should've known that idiot gunner would cause a huge ruckus. "Them? They were prisoners the marines had. I hadn't decided whether or not I needed them to get the ship to the next island. They must've gotten out of the brig I left them in."
"Is that so?" Charlie Sunkissed sauntered forward, never one to miss an opportunity to showboat, "You always did have a good poker face. Well, if there's no one left aboard, how about I go make some flotsam and jetsam soup out of it?"
"No!" Brody's bluff had been called.
"Well, Xiphias?" Charlie started stretching his legs, limbering up.
"Do it," Xiphias coldly gave the order without hesitation. On cue, Charlie sprinted towards the water. Brody moved to try and intercept, but was quickly stopped by Xiphias's words and the reality of the situation, "Move, and she dies all the sooner." Brody could only stand and watch as Charlie dove into the water, rocketing toward the boat like a torpedo. The ship was too far out to see if Hammie was still on deck or even aware of the coming threat. Charlie shot through the water, soon vanishing from the other fishmens' sight as he hurtled further away from the shore. A few seconds of silence passed with anticipation before a column of water shot through the center of the boat, Charlie having nailed his target dead-on. The ship, battered already as it was, tore apart and slowly sunk to the ocean floor in halves. Brody kept his eyes peeled, watching for some sign of Hammie swimming away or catching a piece of driftwood, anything. Nothing. Brody fell to his knees, the weight of someone else's death on his shoulder too much to bear right now, and his and Wendy's fates weren't looking any better at the moment. It only took moments for Charlie to swim back to shore, strolling out of the water as if he had just gone on a routine swim.
"Why? Why destroy the ship when you want us to leave as soon as possible?" Tears started to stream down Brody's face.
"Wrong, Brody. Any comraderie that earned you leniency last time has vanished. Exile is clearly not enough for a punishment for you." Xiphias remained unsympathetic, but never broke eye contact with Brody.
"Then what is?" Brody's pupils turned to slits, and his teeth unconsciously bared themselves.
Xiphias's own eyes turned to slits as well, as an unspoken bloodlust filled the air, "That will be decided later. One thing for sure is that the girl's sentence is death."
"NO!" Brody leapt up, ready to lunge forward, but Xiphias was as stoic as before.
"The only reason we've delayed her execution thus far, is that part of your sentence should be to watch," Without turning his head or moving a muscle, Xiphias signaled his executioner, "Torteau..."
Torteau, grinning more widely than usual, leaned in close to Wendy, whispering into her ear, "I vill enjoy zees very much, mon petit cherie." Wendy screamed what would've been her dying screams.
In that instant, Brody wanted nothing more than to give in to his instinct and attack, and if Wendy's execution was successful, that very well may have been what happened. But Brody had one last desperate act left, "Wait!" Brody's bestial rage subsided, as he got down on his hands and knees and bowed, "It's me you want, not her. So take me instead."
The fishmen all sneered in contempt and disgust at Brody's behavior, some spitting on him and others trying to provoke him into violence. Xiphias remained unimpressed. "Your bargain is worthless. We already have both of you."
"There are two ways I can go with you, Xiphias. One of them involves a bloody fight on your hands," Brody raised his head to lock eyes with Xiphias, and the crowd fell silent.
"… Torteau, let her go."
For the first time all week, Torteau's grin vanished, "Vat?"
"You heard me. The human is less than garbage. But Brody's willing to come quietly," Xiphias calmly approached Brody, who stood up and bared his arms as Xiphias bound them with heavy iron manacles. "You know I can't and won't guarantee the human's survival after your sentence has been carried out, Brody," Xiphias spoke softly.
"I'll gladly give my life so Wendy can live one more day," There was no hesitation in Brody's voice, only pride.
"You're a disgrace to your race, Brody Martin," Xiphias spat in contempt before turning to the rest of the fishmen, "Let's go!" Torteau reluctantly released his grip on the girl and threw her to the ground, where she lay unable to do anything but cry and tremble. Xiphias and the fishmen led away Brody, who towered over the lot of them in comparison.
As he slowly marched away, Brody turned to Wendy. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you longer, Wendy. Forget about me. Just live as long as possible." Under his breath, he whispered the words that neither the fishmen nor Wendy could hear, but the words he most wanted to speak above all else. I love you…
Wendy could only sob face-down in the sand as she heard the footsteps grow quieter and quieter in the distance, until once again she was all alone. When she finally dared to look up, she first saw the footprints in the sand of the angry mob. Try as she might, she couldn't distinguish Brody's tracks from the rest, and even if she could by tomorrow the tides would leave the beach without a trace. She gazed out on the sea, and couldn't even spot any driftwood from the ship, as it had been sunk completely with Hammie still aboard. It wouldn't be long until they came for her too, and without Brody, there would be no sailing away this time.
Suddenly, something rustled from the forest. Were the fishmen back for her already? "Damnit, Michael, limp faster!"
"Shove a cork in it, old man. I still can't feel me leg after somthin' stabbed it." Michael was leaning on Doc as the two moved as fast as they could through the forest in their condition, Michael's leg was dragging along behind them. Michael was of course as loud and talkative as possible while Doc just rolled his eyes.
"You weren't stabbed. There's no knife wound and those asses in the bar never touched you."
"Bloody hell I wasn't! I think I know when I'm stabbed in the leg, damnit!" As soon as Doc spotted Wendy, he dropped Michael where he was and rushed over to the girl's side, leaving Michael to catch hold of a nearby tree. "Ey, where ye goin', Doc? Get back here! I call Malpractice!"
"Wendy, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?"
"B.. Brody, he…" The lump still hadn't left her throat, and she still couldn't stop crying even after what seemed like an eternity since Brody had left.
"What about Brody? Where is he? For that matter, where's Hammie?" Doc was frantically looking around for some sign of the others or maybe threats, but saw nothing.
Another rustle in the bushes caused the three of them to turn and see Jude running up, butt naked, and thankfully behind a conveniently placed bush. "Where's the ship?"
It was Michael who replied with the obvious. "Where's yer pants?"
"They took Brody," Wendy finally managed to choke out, "He sacrificed himself for me, but… they sunk the ship. With Hammie still on it."
"Damnit. I knew it," Doc gritted his teeth.
"No bloody way… I can't lose the bet this quickly."
"Say it isn't true!"
A deafening roar interrupted the lot as the water erupted on the shoreline like a tidal wave, a sea king launching itself out of the water. Or at least that's what it looked like for a split second, before the water subsided. Standing in the water was the drenched Hammie, a rope tied around his waist to a broken mast dragging behind him. As he was gasping for air, he didn't speak, but roared each word in between breaths.
"Who. Broke. My. Ship?"
To be continued…