Chapter 1: The Steel Soldier

A young child looked around at all of the men surrounding him. He saw the white uniforms, the caps with a small seagull, the rifles with filigree of gold and silver and intricately carved mahogany, as well as all of the castles surrounding them. The boy, small and innocent to the horrors of the world, was in a most intricate garden, filled with exotic flowers and plants of colours he could have never conceived before. A short distance away stood graceful castles of marble and gold, monuments of immense wealth, symbols of infinite power and absolute control. He stood in the Garden of Eden, an unworthy mortal transgressing against God's will.

"Who dares disturb the peace on my estate?" A portly bastard stormed over to them, followed by a half naked man covered only by rags around his waist and a collar on his neck, the chain of which was held by the World Noble. The noble himself was a disgusting fellow, with a foul, greasy look about him, rolls of fat all bundled around his neck and a rotund gut from many years of gorging his gluttonous desires on the finest meals the world could offer. He dressed himself in what looked like a spacesuit, but far more ornate, covered in more gold and jewels than he had ever seen in his life. The demure man in rags and chains who followed behind the arrogant fop was carrying a most peculiar rifle, looking like a bizarre fusion of a long-barrelled musket and a bazooka.

"Saint Jalmark, it's this young child. He somehow managed to infiltrate Mariejois. We were just about to deal with him when you decided to grace us with your glorious presence." As the Marine grimaced and forced himself to bow, prostrating himself to compliment and serve, the fat bastard stared down his nose at the child as he smirked.

"Uhuhu, you're a peculiar little thing, for an inferior. I don't believe I've ever managed to collect a thief before, especially not one so tiny," he turned to the Marine and clapped his hands, "Captain, fetch the custodians. They will take the new servant to it's new home." The Captain bit his lip as he nodded, clenching his fist as he stared at the young boy with forlorn eyes.

Jack was just confused. He barely understood what was going on, his senses still underdeveloped and disoriented. A mercy that would not last, as he would soon know just where he was and what he would soon suffer.

xXx Twenty Years Later, the East Blue, a ridiculously expensive cruise ship xXx

Jack smoothed out his shirt, tugging at the sleeves so that they covered his wrists securely, the Star of the East medal glinting proudly on his chest pocket, suit jacket discarded and folded over the back of the chair. It had been a very long time since he wore anything casual like this, and by God he would enjoy it. Standing at the bar with a cup of whiskey in a leather gloved hand, black steel briefcase by his leg, he'd be enjoying his evening for as long as he could.

If he knew that 'retirement' would be so fucking fun, Jack would have penned his letter of resignation years ago. Ok, that was a lie, since he missed his job and his family, but the point still stood. For the first time in about fifteen odd years he was just an average citizen once more. A man free of the parasites and unbound by the Wings of Justice. And finally able to take all that holiday time he had been too patriotic, for lack of a better word, to use.

"What's a cute guy like you doing all alone?" Drawn from his thoughts, Jack looked up at the person who interrupted his private musings. A tall orange haired young lady in a light pink blouse, red and white frilled miniskirt, topped with the bold choice of a magenta newsboy cap, she cut the image of a sophisticated lady with practical skill. A cut above the rest indeed.

"Heh, just trying to get past writer's block. I'm trying to work on the summary to my memoir, and I hope a good bit of Imperial Whisky helps soothe the nerves." Jack shook his hand lightly, watching as the ice spun wildly and clinked against the glass. The starlet merely grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and leaned onto the bar close by, her interest piqued.

"Oh, you seem a bit young to be writing some memoirs?" She gave a light, airy giggle at that, and even he could laugh about it. Early twenties was a bit early for writing up your life story.

"Its not about how long you've lived, its about how much you experience of this mad world, and how crazy and interesting it all is."

"Is that where those things are from?" She tapped at her face near her eyes, matching where a pair of metal half frames were attached to his face, accenting his electric blue eyes.

"A gift from an old friend. Doc can be scatterbrained sometimes, but he's an unparalleled genius. But don't worry about that. What is important is that you owe me." As Jack smirked at his proclamation, a coy smile crossed the mysterious young lady's face.

"And what do I owe a man in uniform such as yourself?" He simply shrugged.

"An answer. I told you why I'm here, now you do the same." Her smile turned to porcelain for a moment, fragile and fake, before she regained her composure and continued on without missing a beat.

"Oh, I just got some free time from work and I decided to use it to check in on some people." A curious look was in Jack's eyes, as he waited for her to continue. "Well, my friend's going to miss his brother's 17th birthday partly because of me, so I want to try and find a way to make it up to him."

"Ah. Wish I could help you, but I can't," he turned away to request another drink from the bar keep, "I was actually the little brother, not the friend or big brother, so I haven't got anything relevant to you." Seizing the chance for more information, she took it.

"Really? What was it like for you, and what was your older brother like? If you have anything you can tell me from your experience, it might help me make it up to him." Jack thought over the odd request, sipped his Whisky, and decided that it wasn't any of his business. She had a pretty trustworthy look about her, and he'd trust his gut on this one.

"Yeah, I was a little shit. Always tormenting Jonny with dumb pranks and embarrassing him whenever he was with his lady friend turned missus, Jessy." He smiled as he reminisced on old memories, "but I got nothing, nothing like missing a birthday. The closest thing was the runway incident."

"Well why don't you tell me about it anyway, this sounds like quite a juicy tale, and I can't just let you leave me hanging on a cliff hanger like that." Smiling, Jack jerked his head to a bar table with a pair of seats.

"Ok, but you can never breathe a word of this to anyone," finishing another drink and signalling for a new one, he regaled the synopsis, "Ok, so the heavily censored version is that me and Jonathon were sent on a sort of training mission by our Guru-ji, sorry teacher, and he wanted us to bring in a target of high value. The problem was where the target decided to hide. Ever been to a high end fashion show? Pray that you're never on the catwalk side. The target was hiding as one of the models, which left us with quite a screwed up situation given the need for discretion: the good news was that there was an easy way to the target; bad news was we would have to join the show as models."

She winced at that, already seeing that the situation was far beyond recovery.

"So, what happened next? Sounds like it all went poorly after that."

"Long story short, the show was somewhat fun, I learned that models have zero chill and so many knives, the target was recovered with some difficulty and many stab wounds, Jonny never forgot that I suggested our disguises, and I realised that I had quite a fondness for creamy white bonnets with a violet ribbon." The last line was too much, and the woman couldn't stop herself from bursting out into laughter, coughing her drink up onto the floor and table in the process as Jack patted her back to help with the choking.

"Yes, I know. How hilarious do you think it was in person? I will say though, I rocked that bonnet like a true lady." His smug claim did nothing to help as she merely started wheezing, coughing and laughing all over again.

"Now if you've finished coughing your guts up on my suit, why don't you tell me an embarrassing tale from your youthful misadventures?" He was hoping these stories might help him place why she seemed familiar. Maybe he'd seen her on duty or on leave before?

Before she could answer with either a hilarious tale or any details, the warning bell rang loudly. Everyone's attention was drawn to the port windows as they saw a pirate ship on the horizon. Taking a moment to release his lenses to cover his eyes, he focused them to better examine the ship. The dinosaur-like figure head and Jolly Roger were quite unfamiliar to him, but not to Marine intelligence, as a small text box appeared at the corner of his high tech lens.

[The Plesiosaur]

[Ship of the Ganzack pirates.]

A mad scramble ensued, as passengers rushed futilely to escape. Jack lost track of the mystery girl in the crowd, barely even keeping a track of his wallet, briefcase, and drink. Removing his leather glove, silver plates and micro pistons shining in the light, he placed his fingers and thumb together as they gleaned in the light as he snapped his fingers loudly, getting the panicked fools' attention with a loud bang of metal striking metal.

"All non-crew civilians please remain calm, the situation is under control. All members of the crew fit for combat, please follow me to the deck. Enough time has passed that it is highly likely that we are going to be boarded soon." His iron will cutting through the fear, they all bent to it, returning to their seats, cowed and subdued.

Stepping into the sunlight revealed that they truly had no time at all. A ranged battle was occurring between the rifle men of the Cruise, and the cannon fire of the Pirates. The air was thick with smoke, black powder and alcohol stores burning heavily. The ship's wood was scarred, wood splinters flying as they were bombarded with lead. Screams of the dying and maimed filled the air, just to his right was a man screaming in agony because a pair of bullets had torn the flesh from half his face, left arm reduced to bloody stump and shattered bone, the sight of a man's crippled form far too familiar to him. Placing a hand on the unfortunate sailor he knocked him out with a swift blow to his head, grabbing his rifle as he proceeded forth. Was it a justified action? Not quite. Did it at least lessen some of the screaming? Yes.

Calmly, he raised his left arm as he walked, rolling up his sleeve as a set of metal plates swung out from his clearly mechanical forearm, making a rudimentary shield. The bright shine of metal drew the eye of the pirates on the opposite deck, and within moments, they'd started shooting at him - for all the good it did, as the lead balls merely bounced off. Jack chuckled as he calmly strode through the barrage of bullets, towards who he presumed to be the Captain of the vessel, based on the heavily decorated coat he wore. Standing over where the man hid, behind a few crates to hopefully stop the interruptions, Jack began talking.

"Good Captain, might I inquire as to what is going on?" Apparently, years sailing even the East Blue had dulled the man's capacity to be freaked out by such an odd site as a dapper man with a metal arm.

"Wassit look like sonny? A bunch of dirty fookin' pirates come to rob, pillage and murder us dead. You willin' to lend a hand? Magic Fruit users like yourself are always helpful." Jack nodded and got to his feet, already grabbing another rifle and putting it to his shoulder with a smile.

"There's no magic here, only science." Lead the target, shoot, observe the splatter of pink mist from the man's skull. Watch the target as he leans to check on his now deceased friend, shoot, notice that more of that arterial and cranial spray coats the wall, watch as the two bodies form a small pile that trips over a younger pirate in a blind rush to cross the deck. Chuckle as the bumbling fool tries to steady himself and climb over the bodies of his friends. He simply joined the pile as his existence was reduced to a fine mist smeared on lacquered wood.

Deciding to keep up the sniper fire for a while more, he aimed his rifle and started to cut down more of the pirates. The counter sniper in the crow's nest, shot in the leg because he couldn't help the desire to watch him fall and splatter on the deck. The man running with a sword, dropped from a shot in the side. The man aiming the swivel gun, his throat torn open at high velocity, suffocating, lungs unable to suck in any air. Sadly his steady aim wasn't enough to hit any more than that with the remaining pirates moving to hide in cover or below deck, instead only managing to get a petty revenge in throwing the worthless rifle to the ground, he crouched behind the boxes again.

"I don't think we can stop them from boarding. And the more of them that die in the process, the more civilians are going to get hurt as a result. We need to let them board us." The captain simply looked in disbelief snarling at Jack in disgust for his supposed cowardice.

"The fook kinda man ya take me for? I won't surrender my boat and my crew to the mercy of sum' dirty pirates! And I will put one 'tween yer eyes if ye suggest such a thing again." Jack merely sighed and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Listen to me, they are going to get aboard this ship. And we need to let them. Once they are here, we have the advantage of familiar territory." The Captain let out a haughty laugh and spat on Jack's suit.

"Pretty words yer speciality eh? I won't trust the words of some fancy schmancy prick . Now either pick up that there rifle and shoot some fookin' pirates, or git' out o' me sight!" Wiping away the spit, Jack merely stared him down with hollow eyes.

"There are seven of your men still left in a condition to reasonably fight. They will not be able to fight off those pirates before they board. And the angrier those pirates are when they get on this ship, the more likely they decide to vent their frustrations on the passengers. We need them to board this vessel if we're going to stand a fighting chance." A dark look crossed the captain's face, twisting it into a violent sneer as he spoke with great disdain, gripping his rifle in anger.

"So ya want me to sacrifice me men, me passengers, and me precious ship, to the false mercy of those scum!" Jack didn't even flinch at the gun barrel pressing into his stomach.

"No. I'm saying that I want you to save your men and guests, otherwise you'll keep your pride, with which you shall ink letters of condolence." They held their gaze for a few moments before the Captain swore, putting rifle down and waving his white handkerchief at the crew, who while dismayed, followed the order and laid down their arms, drawing up the white flag on the main mast.

"Ya best pull through boyo, or I'll tear your guts out long before they get half a chance." Jack merely smiled, unphased by the scorn.

"Believe me, if I fail at dealing with pirates as weak as this, I'll hand you the knife." The dark laugh made it clear the Captain considered a knife to be a mercy, but there was little else to be said. Not when a boarding party had come aboard. A scruffy man in a green boiler suit, smeared with oil and blood, approached. He lifted his goggles as he came close, to expose the full brunt of his glare.

"You idiots have made your last mistake. The boss'll have your heads on a platter for this. Now we'll be taking the valuables, and we'll be taking the passengers too. Gotta recoup the loss, and it's all your fault." Jack stilled at the mention of the passengers, staring the pirate dead in the eyes as his luminous blue eyes flashed.

"May I ask about what your captain plans to do with the passengers?" The engineer simply laughed, a cruel sneer already prepared.

"The captain ain't bothering himself with the likes of you idiots, this is the first mate's gig. And he decided that labour is what we need so labour we shall get. We can always do with a few more hands to lighten the load."

"Well, my apologies captain. It seems I have wasted your time," Jack began striding towards the pirate, clenching and flexing his fist with the sound of moving gears, "I have become a hypocrite. I said you should surrender to save lives, and all it has done is put them in further danger."

"Oi, I'm warning you, if you so much as scratch me there'll be Hell to pay." The pirate gaze hardened as he drew his cutlass, pointing it at the suited gentleman.

"Here, allow me to rectify my error." Glancing at his briefcase, he sighed before continuing. The pirate swung the sword for his neck as Jack stepped closer. The blade was shattered with a fierce blow from Jack's hand. The pirate looked down at his broken blade, before a crushing grip lifted him into the air by his throat.

"You will tell me where the man who captains this vessel is, or I will teach you the noise a throat makes when the oesophagus bursts under pressure." A brief, warning squeeze dissuaded any attempts to swear or spit on his nice coat. Some people just had no respect for how difficult dry cleaning was.

"Ah! Talk! I'll talk," the pressure eased and the scum took several deep, shaky breaths, "its normally Captain Ganzack, but he's busy with his new toy. So, it was Zan Gya, he led us to get funds and labour." Jack let go, dropping the pirate in a heap as he knelt down next to the man.

"And you were looking to take the crew and passengers of this ship as slaves?" A dangerous edge entered his voice, but the pirate was too dazed to either notice or care.

"I mean, the captain asked for labour, so the captain gets labour." Jack grabbed the largest piece of the blade and examined his reflection in it. The cold, glassy, luminous blue eye. The faded scars of youth, and the slight discolouration around his neck and temple.

"I am glad to know the full extent of your crimes. It let's me do this freely." And just like that, he grabbed the back of the bastard's head and shoved the metal shard deep into his throat. He watched as the scum desperately choked on mouthfuls of blood, thrashing desperately for air he wouldn't receive, before stilling to only minor twitching as his blood pooled on the deck.

"Fuck me lad, didn't expect that from a fuckin' fancy pants like you." He simply shrugged his coat off and neatly folded it, turning back to the captain with a smile.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my good captain. Now, would you mind making sure no one crosses this bridge after me? Oh, and if it isn't a bother, I'll be leaving my coat and my case in your care." Now free to act, he walked over to his case, opening it slightly to draw his favourite gun from within.

Bringing it closer he examined the beauty, chosen specifically for the beauty that would pair with the high-class cruise he went on. A LeMat Revolver, 9 shot cylinder with integrated 20Ga under barrel shotgun, silver frame with a damascene inlay of intricate black filigree patterns, interweaving layers of waves and spirals, ridged grip of smooth and wavy ebony wood. A pride and joy to have made, and especially when he prettied it up for a more refined look. More than a gun, this was a work of art. As much a part of him as the hand that held it.

Comfortable with the familiar weight in his hand, he took a deep breath before calling out his declaration.

"Ganzack pirates. I will now board your ship. Surrender, I guarantee your survival until a trial. Fight me, and I will kill you. Live or die by your own choice." Tuning the sensitivity of his cochlear implant, he could hear the scattered laughter of the scum. They were confident, arrogantly so, and he would make that the death of them.

A single step onto the plank was all it took for him to finally feel comfortable again. Boarding an enemy vessel with the intention of subduing the crew? This was finally familiar territory.

The creak of the wood under heavy steps was the only sound he heard. Internal gyroscopes compensated as well as they could for unfamiliar legs. Hopefully he could use this as an opportunity to get more used to everything. Maybe the good doctor had left some extra tricks in him that would be fun to discover in the heat of the moment. There was a noticeable creak to his left, and he sighed lightly, cocking the hammer.

"Well, I did warn them to surrender." Bringing his gun up, he leapt towards the deck falling past the pirate's hiding spot, firing a shot at the man hiding behind the mast with a far too good rifle for the East Blue. The hole went through the skull of the pirate, face frozen in an arrogant sneer. He could clearly see another pirate, dazed at the pink mist he had just inhaled, blood coating his face. Another bullet took care of that nicely, the man's heart rupturing from the force of the high velocity metal. Jack watched coldly as he stumbled slightly, swaying midstep as his body realised it was dead, before he collapsed lifeless to the floor.

"Perhaps choosing to rebuild my strength from here was a good call. There are no true threats I must fear during my recovery." Taking a moment to grab the rifle to inspect it, he continued striding down the deck, kicking some of the pirate bodies as he went, until one body started groaning.

Jack knelt down by the man, pushing him on his back to see his target. An older fellow, wise in his years, and far too much shaking in his hands to belong on a pirate crew. A further examination revealed his attire held no markings or insignia for piracy, instead dressed in a simple coat and pyjamas. And the lack of a true weapon, holding only an old sword, dulled and oxidised from disuse. Despite everything, the man before him was not and could not be a pirate. "Where is the First Mate? And why are you here?"

"Captain's quarters… took warriors… would take someone else… better if it's me…" The old man simply coughed and wheezed, desperately getting oxygen back into his aged lungs.

"Rest now uncle, I will take up the fight from here. Rest easy, know I shall rescue your people soon." Jack nodded and rested a hand on his shoulder, head bowed to honour him. The old man had a slight smile at that, slipping into his peaceful rest with ease.

As he strode across blood soaked wood, he looked at the rifle. Percussion lock, Springfield model, of South Blue origin. The distinct cap the hammer was resting on was a dead giveaway. But there was one problem: South Blue Springfield percussion rifles were exclusively kept and used within and around the Briss Kingdom. And there wasn't even the slightest tar stains around the stock, or even any form of brand markings outside some sort of cog etching on the stock that meant nothing to him.

Whatever the mystery of the gun, it could wait until the pirates were dealt with. Knocking once to maintain etiquette, he kicked the door down and aimed his revolver into the room. There was a scattering of maps across very ornate tables, and more than a few treasure chests clearly meant for personal claims. Laying on a very large, and certainly soft, king bed, was an almost equally large man. He was portly, ugly, and covered in unpleasant burns and scars. Clad in a simple vest top and striped pants, he looked typical for the East Blue with only a single exception. His left hand was replaced with a large mechanical crab claw, sharp edges clamping together in delight at their new possible victim.

"Where is your captain, why are you here pirate?" At the corner of his vision, a small box of text appeared now that he'd gotten a good enough look to finally match the details to the databases of known pirates the Marines last had.

[Dead or Alive]

[Zan "Cleaver" Gya]

[3,400,000]

"Well you're quite the ballsy one. Most bounty hunters that get this far are shaking in their piss filled boots by the time I see them. What sterner stuff did they make you with?" Zan Gya took a cloth from his pocket and wiped at his goggles, clearing away soot and grime to better take in the sight before him.

"Tungsten rods and titanium plates. Do you want to see just how much they hurt when they punch you in the face?" Jack could not help the slight smirk from that, pride as a scientist at the forefront.

"My oh my, I cannot wait to peel the layers off to get a good look at you lad." Zan Gya laughed like a child with a new magnifying glass to burn ants with, clapping his crab hand with glee. Grabbing a large meat cleaver from the back of his belt, he aimed his claw right at Jack, opening wide to reveal a large barrel in the centre of the mechanism. A loud hissing of air was all the warning he got as a sudden explosive blast of air shot out of Zan Gya's hand to blast him back out the door.

"Hope you know carpentry, cause you'll be fixing that door later." Getting up, a few things were readily apparent to Jack. First, his shirt was now quite dirty. Second, despite everything that had happened, his joints still clicked like an old man. Third, whatever else may or may not be happening, Zan Gya should not be capable of that.

"Interesting hand. I recognise the type of air cannon, but South Blue tech like that shouldn't be here and definitely shouldn't be that small. Where the hell did your captain get that from?"

"Maybe if you're still alive in twenty minutes, then we can play twenty questions. Right now, I want you to show me a good time boy," taking aim he bellowed a mighty war cry, "Crab Cannon!"

A second blast sent him flying further back, fingers gouging deep into the deck to slow his flight. Standing tall he cocked back the hammer of his LeMat as he started running to close the gap between them. Zan Gya chuckled and began to rush forward, cleaver rearing back for a heavy blow. Nearing the blade's path, Jack fired a shot into his enemy's wrist, blood and loose flesh splattering on the deck as he dropped the cleaver. Following up by slamming the butt of his gun into Zan Gya's face, he grabbed the meat cleaver and slammed it deep into his kneecap. The cruel pirate fell to the ground clutching his leg, blood pouring freely from it.

"Wait, please! I surrender!"

"Did the people you kill surrender? Did you spare them? No, you didn't. Men like you never do. Why should I spare you?" Raising the cleaver with a dark look in his eye, Jack stared down at the vermin.

"I can bring you to the captain! He's worth way more than me. I'll tell you everything I know about what's going on with his Devil Cannon too!"

"You're making it worth my time to spare you. Just remember," he pushed Zan Gya down with his leg and swung the man's own meat cleaver, cutting off his left arm from below the elbow, "if you betray me or do anything I don't approve of, I promise you I'll take a lot more than just this hand."

Lifting it closer, he began examining the mechanical claw. The basic mechanism was pretty simplistic, simply a motor and hinge mechanism to allow varying degrees to open and shut it to, though he could admire the surprising quality of the metal and blade. The real prize though was the small air cannon hidden in the claw.

As he had suspected this was definitely South Blue tech. But further examination revealed something concerning: This specific model, with a number of small and hidden vents instead of larger circular vents, was based on a design that Zan Gya definitely should not have. This specific model was famed for having been produced in Centaurea, an island that hadn't produced weapons like this in the two years since the Revolutionary Army overthrew the existing government. And even more interesting, on the bottom side of the hinge, was that same cog like symbol. Was this perhaps a signature of the craftsman?

"I also recall you mentioned you'd tell me everything you knew about this hand of mine. Do you want to start talking or should I perhaps work on my persuasion?" Looking down at the blade of the cleaver, he took no small satisfaction at the reflection of fear from his prey.