[01] Naval Battle!

[Belle Hibiki]

Despite his initial reservations, Belle was having what they called 'a grand old time.'

Shoving one pirate away from him and to the deck, the hybrid rounded on two more. The rag-capped opponents brandished their cutlasses as they approached, one splitting off from his partner to try and flank the red-head. Both struck at once, but Belle was ready, lunging back his sword to neatly parry the rear while a vicious kick to the midsection made the other double over before his swing could properly begin.

Spinning around, Belle rapped the back of his knuckles against the side of his rear attacker's face, sending him spinning, then jumped towards the staggering pirate as he started to recover and slammed him head-to-head. The half-saiyan couldn't help but grin as both opponents hit the ground with satisfying whumps, and he flicked his sword over the back of his hand, twirling it before catching the grip once more.

Set adrift at sea in a computer program manufactured by a mysterious entity for a mindless purpose, there were a lot of things that Belle didn't know or understand about his situation. But battle? Battle was always the same, no matter what year or what the fighters wore. The weapons changed, but the principles remained the same.

A fighter's body should move with a unity of purpose, and it was that kind of coordination that the pirates seemed to lack. Belle smirked as the Maiden's Dream pulled away and swept around the front of the other vessel, locking eyes with the hesitant enemies that had opted to stay at their stations. If they had all rushed the Maiden's Dream at once, his crew might have been in trouble, but the half-way gesture that the pirates had finally committed to had never been a serious threat.

"Typical rabble," Belle said, meaning to say 'dumbasses' as he sheathed his sword.

Trafford's sudden maneuver seemed to have caught the pirates off guard. Belle could see the tumult on the black-sailed ship's decks as the recently diminished crew scrambled to move their attention away from the starboard guns and man the port. Cannon could be seen being moved into position, but Belle doubted whether they could mass the full fury of their mistress in such a short amount of time.

With her guns fully loaded and ready for battle, the Maiden's Dream straightened out of its turn and lurched forward, sails billowing full as they began their second pass.

There was a crate of cannonballs nearby, snugged on one of the large guns. It had been pressed up against the rail of the deck and tied with a loop of steel wire to keep it from slipping. Belle bent down as the ships' prows began to cross one another. He hefted a cannonball with a slight grunt. He could tell that it was extremely heavy, and would have been very difficult for a normal man to lift on his own.

Lucky for him, he was far from a normal man.

He tested the weight a few times, rolling the ball between his hands, then nodded to himself. Straightening up, he eyed the pirate ship and cocked back his throwing arm.

"Ready!" Trafford bellowed over a crack of thunder. The deck surged under him and Belle swayed, nearly losing his balance as he stumbled over a loose bit of rope that had been strewn across the deck in the chaos. "AIM!" the captain continued.

The final order to fire was drowned out by the bellow of cannon-fire, so loud and throaty that it silenced even the fury of the storm above. The air thrummed with the sound of passing fire and the crack of splintering wood. The railing in front of Belle disintegrated as something roughly the size of his head scorched past his ear.

Belle gritted his teeth and hurled the ball with all his might.

His shot hammered into the side of the enemy ship, opening another gaping hole in the hull and sending a shower of planks into the sea. Smoke filled the air, obscuring the other side, but Belle could still hear shouting as the pirates prepared their second volley, the crew on his side equally as excited and barking orders to one another as they shoved their shot deep within their cannons' iron throats. There was a short pause, as of the finding of the eye of a storm, before the air was suddenly rent by a second volley of cannon-fire.

They had the smaller ship outgunned, but the vessel was still laying into them with surprising viciousness. Where they lacked discipline and force of arms they made up for in the sheer accuracy of their gunners.

Belle looked around. The crew of the Maiden's Dream was competent, but of an entirely different mold than those of their enemy. They were defenders first and foremost, protectors of the sea, many having only a handfull of battles between them, against men who made their living through the calculated application of cruelty and malice. The battle, it seemed, might be closer than he had originally thought.

He bent down to scoop up another ball as the claps of the second round faded into the distance. At the very least, he could add another voice to the deafening roar of fire.

An loud boom made Belle look up. His eyes widened and he ducked just in time as a late shot from the pirate's ship whistled through where his chest had been a split second before. "Son of a bitch!"

The ball slammed into the portside rail with terrific force, obliterating it in the blink of an eye and narrowly missing one of the dormant cannons. The impact sent a deep, unsettling rattle through the deck, but it did not seem as if any fatal damage had been done. Belle let out a low, steadying breath...

And stared as the cannon that had nearly been hit by the errant shot rolled forward through the newly created gap in the railing and plunged off the side of the ship like a sailor committing suicide, the rope that had been used to pull the cannon into position whipping after it like the tail of an angry snake - the very same rope Belle had nearly tripped over, he realized.

"Commander!" someone shouted at him, "your foot!"

Reluctant to turn any more of his attention away from the battle than he already had, Belle risked a glance downward. He froze. His foot had somehow become tangled in the ropes.

"Son of a bitch," was all he had time to mutter before his foot was abruptly yanked out from under him. His arms flew up, cannonball sailing over the side as he slid across the deck, the thick rope's grip as hard as the jaws of a wolf. Belle turned over, hands scrabbling across the decking and trying to find a hold, but to no avail; his fingers slipped over salt-slick wood, and a moment later he flew off the side of the ship like a launched hockey puck. He fell through the air, arms outstretched, stomach twisting, and splashed into the water.

The shouting from the deck was briefly muffled in a gushing rush of water, then disappeared completely. He heard the vibrating thunder of cannon as he reoriented himself and fought his way back to the surface, breaking through a moment later. He came up sputtering, blinking salt water out of his eyes, and tried to pull his leg up and work the rope off of his foot. The opposite end of the tightly-woven coils evaporated before his eyes, smoothly diving beneath the surface of the waves as it was pulled relentlessly down by the weight of the sinking cannon, which as long as it was attached to Belle was nothing so much as an overly elaborate tombstone.

"Fuck!" Belle clenched his jaw and pulled, straining, but the effort only seemed to make it worse. What was it made out of, anyway?! "Shit!"

All too soon, the last bit of rope around him disappeared. He abandoned his efforts, kicking hard, arms pumping as he felt a hard pull. For a moment, it seemed like it would work, but then he started to sink - slowly at first, but gaining speed as his arms and legs tired, and he realized that he was about to go under. He tried to calm his mind, heart thudding loudly in his ears as they sunk beneath the water, and took a deep breath just before the sea swallowed him up completely.

As before, the water was oddly quiet for the chaotic battle that was being waged above. Here and there, through the relatively clear salt-water in which the ships looked like dark, semi-distinct blobs, he saw the shattered remains of hull and cannon drifting down... Down to the darkness below, forever...

He shook himself - mentally and physically, bubbles of air rising around him. That was a stupid thing to think, and wouldn't help him. He could hold his breath for a very long time - he didn't need to panic yet. Flexing his captured leg, he pulled himself down and jammed his knee against his chest, pinning it with an arm as he started to work at the knot which he had somehow managed to wrap himself in. For a moment he considered blasting it with ki, but although he had the power, he doubted whether he would be able to generate enough heat under water.

Don't panic, he told himself. Don't panic.

He was Belle Hibiki. He had fought monsters from across the universe, beings so strong that they could lay waste to entire planets. He had defeated ancient forest spirits, kidnappers, rebellions, and even survived a year in the Hell that was the Room of Spirit and Time, stewarded over by the Guardian of Earth himself, Dende. He would not die here; he couldn't.

Into his mind came the image of a young, smiling girl standing at the gate of her school, waiting for someone to pick her up.

He would not die.

The crash of the cannons faded as he sank, sounding like far-off artillery fire. He managed to pull one loop free.

Yes!

He started to go for the next, then abruptly stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck, thoroughly soaked, nonetheless stood on end, as if an electric current had suddenly passed through him. He felt a familiar crawling up his spine; he was not alone.

And then he saw it: enormous, impossibly huge, the shape of a dark something sliding through the distant water, outlined by the dim light that filtered through the water. It seemed to swell in size, a multitude of writhing shadows fanning out, then slimmed down as it shot forward, propelling itself through the water. The indistinct shape paused... Tweaked... And then suddenly started to move in his direction.

Oh shit.

Thunder rolled, pounding the water with sympathetic vibrations. Lighting flashed, brighter than the sun, and for a brief moment the entirety of the shadow was revealed.

Belle had the briefest impression of tentacles the thickness of oak trees, a bulbous head the size of a small building, and a large, angry, ichor-black eye, and then the underwater world collapsed back into darkness.

Oh... shit.